Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [134]
“What happened to the Aragonian fleet?” I asked Sunjata.
“Destroyed,” he said soberly.
“The whole thing?” I asked. He nodded.
Like old Carthage, New Carthage was walled, although the walls were a fraction of the size. And too, the city was built on a hill, sloping down to the harbor. Unlike old Carthage, here the hill was topped with a sizable palace, dominating all it surveyed.
That, I thought, would be where Astegal had ensconced himself.
We were stopped and our papers examined. New papers, stamped with the seal of the House of Sarkal, courtesy of Sidonie’s steward. The captain who examined them shrugged quizzically, but he let us pass.
There was a procession of mounted Carthaginian soldiers in full regalia making its way toward the quay to meet the flagship. As we waited our turn to dock, I studied the fellow at the head of the procession.
“Astegal?” I asked Sunjata.
“That’s him.”
He was a tall man, but he sat lightly in the saddle. Black hair bound with a gold fillet. Strong features in the hawk-nosed Carthaginian mold. A narrow beard dyed a striking scarlet. Above it, he was smiling broadly, watching as the flagship was moored. His teeth were very white.
I hated him already.
Trumpets blared as Sidonie appeared at the top of the ramp, flanked by her Amazigh guards. Today it was warm enough that she needed no cloak. She was wearing the pale yellow gown. Sunlight gleamed on her hair, sparkled on the diamonds at her ears and throat.
My heart ached more than I would have thought possible.
Astegal’s smile widened as she descended. He made her a courtly bow, a cloak of Tyrian purple swirling around him. He didn’t need a cloak, either. It was just for show. The trumpets blared again. To the accompanying cheers of his soldiers, Astegal swept Sidonie into his arms and kissed her.
“Easy, my lord,” Kratos said at my left shoulder.
I hadn’t realized I was gripping the railing with such force that the wood was splintering beneath my nails. Sunjata gave me a worried look. I forced myself to breathe slowly and relax.
We had to wait some time to dock and disembark, but a second delegation arrived, composed of Aragonian peers with stilted smiles and hatred in their eyes. Foremost among them was a tall, slender old fellow with silvery hair and beard.
“Roderico de Aragon, I’ll wager,” Sunjata remarked.
Kratos whistled. “The deposed king?”
“He’s a political hostage . . . ha!” Sunjata nudged me with his elbow. “Well, well. Look who’s here. Justina.”
I followed his gaze to spot an old childhood companion in the midst of the Aragonian peers. Justina. I hadn’t seen her in the better part of five years. Long ago, she, Sunjata, and I had all trained together under her ladyship’s aegis.
“I didn’t know she was in Aragonia,” I said.
“Neither did I,” Sunjata replied. “But her ladyship casts her nets far and wide. Well, that’s a gift from the gods.”
“Good,” I said. “Because we’re going to need all the divine providence the gods have to offer.”
Kratos glanced from one to the other of us. Over the course of the voyage, I’d assured Sunjata that he was trustworthy. Still, it was the first time we’d spoken openly in front of him. I could see the flicker of curiosity in his gaze, but he kept his mouth shut. Good man.
The throng was still there when we finally disembarked. I paused at the top of the ramp. On the dock, Sidonie turned her head, gazing in my direction. I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as our eyes met. What if she had changed her mind? But no, she tilted her head slightly and made a beckoning gesture.
“You do plan on introducing me, I hope,” Sunjata said.
“Yes, of course.”
We left Kratos and the sailors to keep watch over our things while Captain Deimos made inquiries regarding lodging. I felt lightheaded and sick making my way along the crowded quay. We waited our turn amid other well-wishers, and then there they were before us.
Sidonie and Astegal.
“Messire Maignard.” She smiled at me.