Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [43]
"You're careful," he said. "Wise.”
The tea was good. "I try, my lord.”
He smiled. "I have been thinking, your highness. Your aid in this matter would not be unwelcome. A youthful prince's voice urging for the vigor of change. Perhaps an exchange of favors might be made.”
"Which matter is that?" I asked.
Another noisy sip. "The matter of Ephesium.”
"Do you speak of trade or marriage?”
"I speak of both," Agallon said. "Though of course, our hopes are modest.”
"I see." I set down my cup. "And what do you offer?”
His smile was a diplomat's, smooth and practiced. "The medallion you wore …very interesting. Perhaps if you were to tell me more about it, I might be able to tell you somewhat about where it originated.”
I gazed at him for a long moment without speaking. There were no telltales of a lie, but there were cracks in the veneer of his composure, a subtle discomfiture that surfaced the longer I stared. I thought about his careful wording, and I thought about what Claudia Fulvia had told me about the Unseen Guild. There were currents and cross-purposes within it. If this man was my mother's ally, he would have known where the medallion came from. He wouldn't have needed to dig.
It smelled like a trap, though I couldn't have said why. I didn't want to be beholden to the Guild in any way. And of a surety, I didn't want to argue the case for Sidonie's wedding the Sultan's son or brother, or whatever he had in mind. It wasn't just my own feelings at stake. The very notion had the peerage in an uproar. For me to argue in favor of it would have smacked of sedition.
My mother would have known that. And strangely enough, if she had enemies in the Guild, I didn't want to treat with them.
"Thank you, my lord." I inclined my head. "You are generous and I am grateful for it. I will gladly argue on behalf of enhanced trade, for your cause seemed good to me. But as for the rest…" I spread my hands. "I fear I must decline.”
"Indeed?" Diokles Agallon mused. "Interesting.”
"Is it, my lord?" I asked lightly.
He showed white teeth in his diplomat's smile. "I find you very interesting, Prince Imriel de la Courcel. Remember my name, young highness. You may find yourself interested in trading a favor of your own one day. Not many are willing to entertain such an offer.”
That, at least, I could be reasonably sure would never happen. "Of course, my lord," I promised. "I will.”
Leaving his quarters, I made my way downstairs and decided to loiter for a few minutes in the Hall of Games, listening to the lively buzz of gossip. The rumor had grown in the telling; already, Sidonie was said to be contemplating a marriage with the Sultan's second son. I accepted an offer to play a hand of piquet with an Azzalese lordling I knew by sight, listening to the murmurs and shaking my head to myself.
"Imri!" Mavros manifested, winding through the crowd. He laid his hands on my shoulders and peered at my cards. "You're not going to lead with that, are you?”
I batted at him. "Shut up, Mavros.”
"You're so unkind, cousin." He leaned over, his lips close to my ear. "The priestess' daughter was looking for you.”
I lost the trick and then the hand, paid my wager, and left the table, leading Mavros over to the colonnade. "Where is she?”
"I'm jealous," Mavros said, narrowing his eyes. "Or am I?”
"Mavros!" I shook him.
He laughed. "She left, Imri. Couldn't stay, said she'd look for you on the morrow. Tell me, did you succeed in poaching where I failed? Or does the lady run her mistress' errands?”
A pair of strolling passersby glanced at us with idle interest. I put my hand over Mavros' mouth. "Will you please shut up!" I hissed.
"Ooh, forceful." His voice was muffled and his twilight-blue eyes gleamed above my smothering hand. "Do you want me to