Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [133]
“Do you suppose Ptolemy Solon was wrong about Astegal’s token being hidden on Sidonie’s person?” I asked after I’d told Sunjata about my last encounter with her. “She seemed quite convinced it wasn’t.”
“It’s possible.” Sunjata reclined in a hammock, one foot braced on the floor, rocking himself gently. “As I understand, there’s more than one way to construct a spell.”
“You’re the one secretly apprenticed to a horologist,” I observed. “Your guess is likely to be better than mine. Why do they call themselves that, anyway? It seems to me that they study a good deal more than the cosmos.”
He smiled. “True. It didn’t begin that way. The study of arcane arts have flourished since Bodeshmun was appointed.” He rocked in his hammock for a moment, then added, “You know, it may well be Solon’s inquiries long ago that piqued Bodeshmun’s interest.”
“That’s a dire thought,” I commented.
“Mayhap it’s one of the reasons he agreed to help you,” Sunjata said. “Who knows what goes through the Wise Ape’s head?”
I snorted. “It’s not me he agreed to help. I’m the one taking the risks, that’s all.”
“Yes, of course.” Sunjata smiled crookedly at me. “You just seem to have grown singularly . . . invested . . . in the cause.”
I ignored the comment. “So what do you think? About the spell?”
“Hmm.” He pushed with his foot, rocking. “Leander, what if it’s not one thing you’re looking for? What if it’s everything?”
“How so?” I asked.
Sunjata gazed fixedly at me. “Everything. What if Bodeshmun’s managed to stitch and bind the spell into every garment, every piece of jewelry the princess possesses?”
I thought about it. “Is that possible?”
“Yes,” he said. “I believe it is.”
“There’s bound to be some point . . . the bath, mayhap . . .” I thought more about it. “Well, no. I suppose it could be managed if her attendants were careful and clever. Hairpins, earrings, nightgowns.”
He nodded. “So you’d have to get her mother-naked to break the spell. Or at least that half of it.” Another crooked smile. “That’s a prospect you shouldn’t mind.”
“Yes, well it would have been a great deal simpler to remove a single ring,” I said.
“Oh, like Astegal’s will be?” Sunjata raised his brows at me.
I shook my head. “That’s different. I don’t expect that to be easy. But if his token had been the House of Sarkal’s signet ring, I tell you, Sunjata, half the spell that binds her would already be broken.”
“And you a happier man,” he said.
“I can’t help how I feel.” I gazed at him. “I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Are you jealous?”
“Jealous.” Sunjata folded his arms behind his head. “I’m not sure that’s the right word for it. We’ve been friends for a long time, you and I. Lovers when it suited us. I never expected anything more than that, and I daresay you didn’t, either. So, no. And yet . . .” He stared at the ceiling. “What you’re feeling, I’ve never felt. Let us say I’m envious.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “Remember, if I do succeed in breaking the spell, the first thing she’ll remember is Prince Imriel.”
“There is that.” He glanced at me. “Are you so certain she’s not capable of loving more than one man?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Believe me, I wonder about it every day.”
“I think you need to believe it, Leander.” Sunjata smiled with surprising gentleness. “Will it truly hurt all the more if you’re wrong?”
“Yes,” I said. “It will.”
The weather cleared at last on the day we sailed into the port of New Carthage. I nearly wished it hadn’t, since it felt almost as though the weather itself was in league with Astegal. Still, it meant we were able to be comfortable above the deck, gazing at the city that was our new temporary home.
It wasn’t nearly as formidable as old Carthage, but it was imposing enough. The harbor was large, with heavy fortifications on either side, fortresses mounted with engines of war. Here and there, one could see foundered ships that had not yet