Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [79]
She looked at me. "I don't speak Caerdicci.”
"Alais does," I said. "And you might learn some. Anyway, I suspect Brigitta would welcome the kindness. She'd as soon leave on the morrow, but they're staying another week in the hope of hearing from Eamonn's father. 'Tis enough time to make a beginning.”
"Tis a generous thought." Dorelei considered it. "I'll talk to Alais.”
I smiled at her. "Oh, good.”
Truth be told, it was a good idea. Alais took to it with immediate enthusiasm and Brigitta received it with something that very nearly resembled gratitude, well aware that once she reached Alba, she'd be nearly devoid of the ability to communicate. Alais was clever and patient, and I'd no doubt she'd make an excellent teacher. It proved to be true, and Dorelei's gentle guidance an asset in the process.
I was glad, since my motives were selfish.
It gave me a chance to talk with Eamonn.
Once I had it, though, I found myself strangely reluctant. I couldn't help but wonder if that was how my mother had managed to enlist so many allies in her schemes; advancing her own motives by means that pleased them, at least up until the moment she betrayed them or no longer had a use for them. I suspected it was. At least in this, my motive was simple and none too dire. I wanted only a chance to ease my troubled heart by talking to my dearest friend.
And yet…
It would burden him. And then there was the memory of his glad exclamation at the sight of Dorelei, the fond embrace. It was all very much at odds with his opinion of Sidonie, and I wondered if it would be better to keep silent. I didn't mind Mavros speaking ill of her; I was used to it and he'd proved himself a friend to us both in other ways. I didn't know if I could bear it from Eamonn.
We went to Night's Doorstep to revisit our old haunts. In the spring before Eamonn had left for Tiberium, we were wont to spend hours there, drinking and talking. Naamah's Servants plied their trade there, too, serving those who couldn't afford the Night Court. A few familiar faces called out merry greetings and invitations to Eamonn, who merely shook his head and grinned.
There were new faces, too. I wondered how many of them were priests or priestesses in training, planning to take their vows in a year's time. I tried to picture Amarante among them, and found the image at once disturbing and arousing. It made me glad she was in no hurry to leave Sidonie's side. Safe harbor, indeed.
At the Cockerel, there were greetings all around. It was a long time before Eamonn eased himself into a chair opposite me, stretching out his long legs. He took a long pull on a foaming tankard of ale and smacked his lips. "Oh, that's good!" He sighed. "It's good to be here, Imri. I feel like I'm being smothered at the Palace.”
"I know the feeling," I murmured.
"Oh, aye?" Eamonn drank again and eyed me. "Care to tell me why?”
I shrugged. "There's naught to be done about it.”
"Imri, Imri!" He set his tankard down. "We've played this game before in Tiberium. I didn't care for it then, and I don't care for it now. I know you and your brooding and secrecy. So tell me, what new Claudia Fulvia is casting a shadow over your marriage?”
"You know, it's funny." I toyed with the change lying on the table, left over from the purchase of our ale. "I had a similar conversation with Joscelin at this very same table." I smiled. "He said he and Phèdre drew lots, and he lost.”
"Very funny," Eamonn said. "So who is she?”
One of the coins was a silver centime, old and worn. It must have dated back to the early years of Ysandre's reign. I studied her youthful profile. Softened and blurred by time, it still held a resemblance to her eldest daughter. "Eamonn, if I tell you, will you do me the courtesy of trying not to laugh?”
"Of course.”
I balanced the coin on edge and set it spinning with the flick of a finger. "Sidonie.”
Eamonn's jaw dropped.