Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [130]
“Why?” I asked. “You’re the one was clever enough to be concerned about my business being dangerous.”
“True.” A broad smile spread over his face. “Truth be told, I don’t rightly know. I’m curious. You’re not what I took you to be.”
“And what was that?” I inquired.
“A shallow fellow,” Kratos said frankly. “A smooth-tongued politician delighted by his own cleverness. Now . . .” He shrugged again. “I don’t know. You seem different, or mayhap there’s more to you than I gauged. I’m long past my prime. I’ve got nowhere to go, no family left to me. Those lads, the Carthaginian boys . . .” He jerked his thumb at the door. “They’re young. They’ve a chance to build lives for themselves. Might be they’ll succeed; might be they’ll fail. Me, I’m a broken-down wrestler with only a few good working years left in me. Might as well satisfy my curiosity. Good enough?”
I put out my hand. “Good enough.”
Kratos clasped it. “Care to tell me about this danger, my lord?”
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “For the moment, suffice to say that as far as you’re concerned, I’m exactly what you took me to be. And no careless remarks about the princess.” I released his hand and pointed at him. “I meant my threat.”
He grinned at me. “Not so effective now that I’m a freedman, my lord.”
“I don’t think General Astegal’s Amazigh guards will be concerned for such niceties,” I observed. “My lord Bodeshmun has made it clear to me that a similar threat hangs over my head, the mantle of Cythera’s protection notwithstanding.”
“Point taken.” Kratos sobered. “So why is it you’re doing . . . whatever you’re doing?”
I sorted through the reasons I’d once believed. None of them seemed adequate. Sidonie’s face surfaced in my memory, filled with that terrible mixture of fear, vulnerability, strength, and unlikely trust.
“Because I have to,” I said simply.
Kratos nodded. “I understand.”
I laughed. “That, my friend, makes one of us.”
I’d told my bearers that their freedom would take effect the day I sailed. To that end, I called on Captain Deimos and informed him that I required passage to New Carthage. He took the news with equanimity. We discussed the necessary preparations, including dispatching my letter to Ptolemy Solon by some other means. Happily, Deimos knew of an Ephesian merchant-ship that would be making port at Paphos, and promised to arrange for the letter’s delivery.
“What do you know of matters in New Carthage?” I asked him when we’d finished. Sailors always had the best gossip.
Deimos smiled briefly. “On the docks, they’re saying that Astegal’s set himself up like a king there. Every city and village within a hundred leagues is paying tribute and pledging loyalty to him. He’s not going to be content to wear the Council’s yolk for long. Is that what you mean?”
“Indeed,” I said. “What of this rebel, this Serafin?”
“Ah.” Deimos glanced around. “A stubborn fellow with a hopeless cause. I imagine he’ll be crushed in time.”
“No doubt.” I clapped his shoulder. “No doubt.”
As I returned from the harbor, I paid a visit to Jabnit of Philosir, ostensibly to inquire if he had an interest in purchasing a necklace set with rubies and seed-pearls that had been among Ptolemy Solon’s tribute-gifts, an item for which I’d found no suitable recipient. We haggled for a time and drank sweet tea. When I mentioned that I was bound for New Carthage and needed coin more than gems, Jabnit’s eyes lit up.
“At the invitation of the princess!” he exclaimed. “Such an honor. Will you sail under the auspices of the House of Sarkal?”
“No, no.” I sipped my tea. “My lord Ptolemy Solon has vouchsafed me the usage of a ship and crew for as long as I require.” I laughed. “’Tis a great deal of ship for a lone emissary, but his eminence has his foibles!”
Jabnit pressed his hands together, his eyes twinkling. “You know, I have a most excellent idea.”
I listened while he proposed to purchase the necklace for a generous price.