Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [295]
Tadeuz Vral frowned. "That is a sin.”
"Not yours nor mine, my lord." Rebbe Avraham was speaking to Vral, but out of the corner of his eye he was watching Phèdre. He'd been doing so for a while. "Did you have aught to say, my lady?" he asked, switching to Habiru.
"Not yet." Phèdre answered in Rus, slow and careful. After all, she'd had a good ten days since Tarkov to improve her skills. "I listen." She tilted her head. A shaft of wintry sunlight fell across her face. The scarlet mote in her left eye floated, bright and vivid. She was Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, and she held the Name of God in her thoughts. Beside her, Joscelin shifted, fighting the urge to cross his arms and rest his hands on his dagger-hilts. Phèdre gave the Rebbe a disarming smile. "If there is need to speak of…" She switched to Habiru, her vocabulary failing her. "…to speak of ransom, I will negotiate on Queen Ysandre's behalf, of course. Imriel is her kinsman and my foster-son.”
"Rebbe Avraham!" Tadeuz Vral said irritably. "Rus, if you please.”
"Indeed." The Rebbe inclined his head to Phèdre, then faced his lord. "If you would have my counsel, it is this. Berlik of Alba came to Vralia bearing his sin. Let them depart and take it with them.”
"That's all?" Vral sounded disappointed.
Rebbe Avraham shrugged. "It is what is best for Vralia.”
"You know, I wanted to like you," Tadeuz Vral said to me. "I wish you hadn't proved to be false." I felt an unexpected pang of guilt. He took off his crown and rubbed his brow. "So be it. Outside this room, we will not speak of what transpired here. You will remain as our guests. You will bear witness to the oath-taking of a thousand new Yeshuites. When the ice breaks, you will go." His voice turned fierce. "And you will tell your people, your Queen and your Cruarch, that Yeshua's kingdom reigns in the north!”
I bowed; everyone else followed suit. "As my lord wills.”
With that, Tadeuz Vral left us. I translated what had passed for the others, speaking in D'Angeline. And now it was my turn to watch out of the corner of my eye as Rebbe Avraham descended from the dais and approached Phèdre.
"Shalom, Father," she said softly.
"Child." He reached out to touch her cheek. I reckoned Rebbe Avraham was old enough to call anyone "child" if he wished. "Even here in the north, the Children of Yisra-el pass tales from mouth to ear. Pilgrims come bearing them. Some years ago, one came to my ears. I have heard the tale of how the angel known as Pride was defeated when a D'Angeline woman spoke the Name of God, and the Master of the Straits was freed. I spent my youth in the Flatlands. I know his power. And I see knowledge that does not belong there in your eyes.”
Phèdre said nothing.
"You did not tell me," the Rebbe said to me.
"Would it have mattered?" I asked, echoing Tadeuz Vral.
The Rebbe smiled. "I suppose not.”
"Did you expect me to invoke the aid of the Master of the Straits and threaten to bring heaven's wrath down on Vralia if Prince Tadeuz had sought retribution against Imriel?" Phèdre asked mildly.
"I thought it was possible." His voice was grave. "You have named the young man your son. I do not discount the ferocity of a mother's love.”
"Ah, well." She favored him with another sweet, disarming smile. "I would have negotiated first.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
During the time we spent in Vralgrad, waiting for the ice to break, I thought about love and ferocity.
I'd known, of course; I'd always known how much Phèdre loved me, and Joscelin, too; or at least I had for a long time. It hadn't really been me they'd come for in Daršanga. It had been an idea of me. A child; Melisande's child, but still a child, undeserving of his fate. By the time we'd reached Saba together, that had changed. We had become, however unlikely, a family. When Phèdre offered her life for mine on the temple threshold, she'd known exactly what she was doing and why.
I thought I had, but I hadn't, not really.
I hadn't grasped it wholly.