Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [309]
Of a surety, that was changing in Vralia.
We sat for a while longer, sipping wine and exchanging pleasantries. I couldn't help wondering about Ditmarus and Ermegart. He wouldn't have worn the ring if he hadn't meant for me to recognize him—or them, I suspected her, too—as Guild. They knew I was aware of its meaning. If there had been any doubt, I'd erased it myself by wearing a replica of Canis' medallion at the Longest Night when the Ephesian embassador was present. Was it a warning? A reminder of their reach? A renewed invitation? A subtle message from my mother?
"I'm curious, my lord," I said to Ditmarus. "What piece of news sent you to Maarten's Crossing in the depths of winter?”
"Ha!" He chuckled and cupped his ear. "I'm a merchant, young highness, and I keep my ear to the ground. Perhaps I heard there was news brewing in the north and opportunity on its heels. Perhaps I was merely lucky. I'll not give away my trade secrets without your most solemn oath, understand?”
"I believe I do," I said.
He smiled. "I thought you might.”
The audience came to an end. Ditmarus and Ermegart bade us a cordial farewell. We did the same, and thanked Adelmar once more for his assistance, promising to speak well of his generosity to Queen Ysandre. I wondered if he'd been recruited as a member of the Guild. I couldn't imagine him consenting to be trained by them; but mayhap they made exceptions for sitting regents. To be sure, he was well-situated to make himself useful. Or mayhap during their time here, they had recruited a spy in his household. Or several spies.
In the end, I had no way of knowing.
Not without giving myself to the Guild.
We emerged from the audience into the cold, bright day. It had been dim inside Adelmar's great hall, which was sturdily constructed, but an unsophisticated and poorly lit piece of architecture. Skaldia had a long way to go before it reached the level of civilized comfort we enjoyed in Terre d'Ange. Even in isolated Vralia, where a handful of ambitious princes had managed to establish a rule of law over the course of generations, they had made greater strides. When all was said and done, I was glad that there were folk like Adelmar of the Frisii willing to pursue such a goal through trade and alliance, rather than warfare.
"Well," Phèdre observed. "That was interesting.”
I glanced at her. "You saw his ring?”
"Name of Elua!" Joscelin said wryly, "I saw his ring." He yawned and shook himself to alertness. "Enough talking. Onward to Alba.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
The balance of our journey was unremarkable.
To my mind, the best part of it was being reunited with the Bastard. I'd been almost afraid to ask; but no, Kinadius had kept him safe and found a place to stable him upon returning from their abortive excursion to Vralia.
"He's a headstrong, ill-tempered bugger," he said, watching our reunion, which consisted of delight on my part and wariness on the Bastard's. "I'll miss him.”
Outfitting the rest of our company took some doing. Brun had also retained a mount, but the rest were lacking. Unfortunately, Adelmar's generosity in escorting us from Norstock and granting us safe passage from Maarten's Crossing didn't extend to the loan of mounts and pack-horses, and without pressure from him, the Skaldi weren't eager to bargain with us. In the end, we had to beg and barter with a handful of Flatlander traders wintering here, spending far too much coin on horses that wouldn't have drawn a single bid at a Tsingani horse-fair.
It left us with barely enough funds to cross the Flatlands, and not nearly enough to buy passage across the Straits when we arrived there.
"There's this," I said when we discussed the matter, tugging at the collar of my Vralian coat to reveal the golden torc around my throat. It was the one possession my gaolers in Tarkov hadn't taken from me; although I suppose it wouldn't have mattered, since I'd stolen all the rest back. Still, I'd not taken it off since Drustan gave it to me on the day I wedded Dorelei in Alba.