Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [188]
"I'll wager you're right," I murmured.
"I promised her I'd do this if anything happened to her before the babe was born," he said. "See you home.”
My eyes stung. I tilted my head and gazed at the ceiling. "Why?”
Urist was silent a moment. "She said if I didn't, she feared you'd let guilt and anger eat out your heart. She said you'd understand.”
I did and I didn't. Dorelei had known. She'd known about Sidonie; she'd known me. I didn't want to go. I didn't think I could bear to face that guilt, not yet. And yet, nor did I want to deny Dorelei's spirit her final wish. I drew a shaking breath. "And if I do …?”
"I'll stand by you." Urist looked at me without blinking. "Honor your wife's last wish, lad, and I'll ride to the ends of the earth to get vengeance for her.”
"Your word?" I asked.
He nodded. "My word.”
I got to my feet and clasped his hand. "So be it.”
Urist had spoken truly; that evening, Girard told me he thought I'd be fit to travel after another day's convalescence. He made me promise that I would continue to heed his advice, that I would confine myself to travelling by carriage or litter.
I agreed readily. By now, I could move my arms freely without pain and walk for short distances, but I couldn't even wear real clothing. I was forced to wear a loose-fitting shirt to cover my bandages, and a pair of baggy drawstring breeches that reminded me horribly of the breeches Dorelei had donned for the Day of Misrule, when she'd laughed so hard at the sight of me wearing her kirtle. I'd tried putting on my sword-belt, but my wounds were knitting, and the hard rhinoceros-hide chafed and dug into the tender flesh.
So it was decided. Drustan was notified and the arrangements were made.
I was going home.
On my last evening, I went to the temple proper. Sister Nehailah had visited me in my sickbed, of course. The first time, shortly after I'd emerged from darkness, she had simply offered her deepest condolences. The second time, she had spoken words intended to be consoling. I'd thanked her for her courtesy and told her I was in no fit mood to hear about the mysterious agencies of Elua's mercy.
Somehow, I felt different after talking with Urist.
The effigy of Elua was similar to the one installed at Clunderry. It was located in the central courtyard, an open area left to grow wild. I couldn't bring myself to kiss the effigy's feet, but I knelt in the grass and gazed at his face.
"If you wished to punish me for failing to heed your precept, my lord, I would that you had punished me" I murmured. "Dorelei was innocent.”
There was no answer. I thought about what Sister Nehailah had said. It is in my heart that even he cannot protect us from ourselves.
It was true. In the end, that was the crux of the matter. Dorelei and our son had died because I was in love with someone else. Oh, there were other reasons, but I couldn't hide from that truth. If I hadn't loved Sidonie, there would have been no mannekin charm, no dark magic with which the Maghuin Dhonn could attempt to twist my fate and alter the future.
And yet, despite all of it, knowing it, Dorelei's last wish had been to send me back to Sidonie.
"Why did she do it?" I asked. "Why?”
There was no answer, but none was needed. In my heart, I knew. Dorelei had loved me. She'd loved me in that awful, glorious, maddening way I hadn't been able to love her. She had known me well enough to know that if aught happened to her, I would blame myself, punish myself. She had wanted, more than anything, for me to be free; and yes, to be happy.
How in the world that could come to pass, I couldn't imagine.
I rested my hands on my thighs and bowed my head. There were the strings of red yarn tied around my wrists; one faded and worn, one bright and new. During my convalescence, I'd barely even been aware of them. The croonie-stone around my neck weighed no more than a feather. I'd have borne them lightly, gladly, for the rest of my life if it would have brought Dorelei and our son back. If it would have undone that terrible, terrible night.