Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [287]
Chapter Sixty-Four
I didn't even make it to the gate before I was seized.
Four soldiers saw my approach and rode me down in a hurry, surrounding me. They stared at my face, then exchanged glances with one another. I dropped the reins and raised my empty, mittened hands, leaving my sword-hilt untouched.
"Peace," I said in Rus. "I am here in peace.”
One pointed to me. "Are you Imriel de la Courcel?" he asked in Habiru.
"Yes," I said. "I am.”
His face was grimly exultant. "Come with us.”
I went without protest. Having committed myself to this course, I had no choice. I wasn't sure if I was a prisoner or a guest. They didn't disarm me, but they didn't give me time to speak, either. They hustled me through the gate and down the streets toward the town square. Outside the guardhouse, we dismounted and two of them ushered me inside.
The outer guardroom was packed with guards and soldiers alike. Some spectacle transpired in the next room, the captain's study, but I couldn't see what passed therein. The guards were thronged before the open door, their backs presenting a solid mass of humanity. Beyond them, I could hear the captain's voice shouting in Rus.
"Ask her, my lord! If he is innocent, why did he free the Tatar?”
"The captain asks, if he is innocent, why did he free the Tatar, my lady?" a vaguely familiar voice repeated in Habiru.
My soldier escorts shoved futilely at their comrades and the Tarkovan guards, pounding on backs and muttering urgently in low tones.
"Name of Elua! My lord Micah, I've no idea. Probably because he has a soft heart." It was a woman's voice, exasperated, speaking Habiru with a D'Angeline accent, and I would have known it anywhere in the world. I felt my heart crack open and soar, and an impossible grin spread across my face. "I let all the prisoners in La Dolorosa free, and I've no idea what they'd done.”
"Yes, but—" Micah ben Ximon began.
The guards in front of us began shifting reluctantly. Someone pushed me from behind. The guards gave way. I stumbled through the open doorway of the captain's study and caught a glimpse of its occupants. No one noticed me yet.
"You know perfectly well he's not a spy," Phèdre said. There was a flush of anger on her cheekbones. Her eyes were bright with it. Every man in the room was staring at her in rapt fascination. Joscelin stood beside her, arms folded. Her voice turned calm and reasonable, with somewhat implacable behind its sweetness. "I don't care what your role in this was, my lord. You could have spared one man from the battlefront to send word that you vouched for him. Because I swear to Blessed Elua, if this idiot's men have killed him—”
It was Ti-Philippe who saw me first. His jaw dropped. He stared. His mouth worked, but only a squeak emerged. He grabbed Hugues' arm and pointed.
"Imri?" Hugues whispered, dumfounded.
It was enough to cut Phèdre's speech short. Her head whipped round. For a moment, I don't think she dared believe her eyes. I couldn't stop grinning. I watched her take a sharp breath, hands rising involuntarily to cover her mouth. Beside her, Joscelin found his voice and loosed a victorious shout of laughter.
And then we were all laughing and crying at the same time. One of the soldiers behind me gave me another shove and I stumbled forward to be hugged and pounded. Phèdre took my face in her hands and said my name over and over, kissing me.
"Stop." I pulled away, laughing. "Stop! What in Elua's name are you doing here?”
"Looking for you," Joscelin said softly. "Did you think we wouldn't?”
"No, I …" I took off my mittens and wiped my eyes. "I didn't know. Oh gods, it's good to see you. But there's somewhat I have to do here. I'm sorry. Give me a moment." I took a deep breath and turned to face the Tarkovan captain. "My lord," I said to him in Rus, "I am sorry I was not honest. I am not a spy. I was hunting the man who killed my wife. He fled here. I was afraid he was a pilgrim and you would stop me if you knew.”
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