Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [145]
“So.” Kratos pursed his lips. “There’s a ring, eh?”
I shot a sidelong glance at him. “I don’t know what you overheard, but the less you know, the better for you, my friend.”
He snorted. “Friend, is it? Well, if you care to trust me, I’ve an idea.”
Overhead, the full moon was waning. I stopped and regarded Kratos. He returned my gaze evenly, his homely features silvered in the moonlight.
“Tell me,” I said.
Kratos did.
Fourty-One
All the way back to the palace, I mulled over Kratos’ idea. We didn’t speak of it again until we were safely behind closed doors in my quarters.
“It’s a huge risk,” I said to him. “What if she betrays us?”
Kratos shrugged. “If I understand rightly, it’s no bigger a risk than you asked the lady Justina to take.”
“I’d need your help. I’d need you to stand guard.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Sunjata blinked at us. “What in the world are you talking about?”
I told him about Justina’s refusal, which didn’t surprise him. And then I told him about the idea Kratos had proposed. Sunjata’s dark skin turned ashen.
“You’d risk everything to seek the aid of a bath-house attendant?” he asked, aghast.
“Do you have a better plan?” I asked.
“No.” Sunjata glanced at Kratos, swallowing hard. “You’re . . . you’re that sure of the girl?”
“Astegal’s favorite?” Kratos shrugged. “I’m sure he always chooses the same one. And I’m sure she’d gladly see him and every other Carthaginian on the face of the earth dead. His men are getting bored. And they’re not gentle. They take more than massages.”
I hadn’t been back to the palaestra since Astegal had wrestled Kratos, but Kratos himself had continued to take exercise there. I’d given him license, since we were all suffering from inaction and there was always the hope he’d pick up some useful piece of gossip. I’d known Astegal had been going more regularly and training with his men. I hadn’t known he had a favorite attendant.
I hadn’t known his soldiers were abusing the attendants, either. Not a surprise, I supposed. Still, it made me angry.
“Does she hate him enough to take such a risk?” Sunjata was asking.
“Have you ever been forced to play the whore for a large group of increasingly bored soldiers?” Kratos asked laconically. “Risk, risk, risk. That’s all I ever hear any of you talk about. Mayhap it’s time to quit talking and take one.”
I made my decision. “He’s right.”
Sunjata looked at me, then looked away. “Leander . . . don’t take this amiss. I disagree with this choice. And I don’t think we should both risk being exposed. With your permission, I’d like to borrow Captain Deimos and your ship to run a load of cargo to Carthage.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking of asking anyway.”
“You don’t need my permission,” I said. “Go.”
He looked back at me, his expression softening. “I’ll return in a week’s time.”
I shrugged. “As you wish.”
So the matter was decided. Sunjata made his preparations to travel. Kratos haunted the bath-house, observing the daily movements of Astegal’s favorite attendant. And I tormented myself with second-guesses, trying to think of another way.
The problem was, there wasn’t one. Right now, everything hung in stasis. New Carthage’s port was closed to foreign trade under Astegal’s orders and we weren’t getting news from elsewhere. Insofar as I knew, the game that Carthage had set in motion was at a stalemate, albeit a temporary one.
And it wouldn’t last long.
We waited until Sunjata’s ship had sailed. I didn’t blame him for wanting to be gone when this took place. As Justina had noted, the Aragonians hated D’Angelines almost more than Carthaginians. The girl at the bath-house might agree to aid us. She might refuse. Or she might say anything we wanted to hear, and then betray us.
Under ordinary circumstances, the bath-house would close its doors for some hours overnight, opening at dawn. In occupied New Carthage, it never closed. There were soldiers who had taken up permanent residence there. Still, Kratos had noted that it was at its quietest