Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [147]
He smiled wryly. “It’s an odd compliment, but I’ll take it.”
It was another piece of irony in an affair fraught with it. I’d arrived in New Carthage with one highly trained ally at my side. I’d thought I’d stumbled over a piece of great good fortune to find another in place, poised to do exactly what needed to be done. But for all the Guild training and skills her ladyship had imparted to her people, my fate now hinged on an idea conceived by an aging wrestler and executed by a young bath-house attendant.
I wished I were better at praying.
We wandered the streets of New Carthage for a time, buying spicy sausage pastries in the market once it opened. They were hot enough to burn my fingers and scald the roof of my mouth. I ate slowly, savoring the taste. If Esme betrayed us, it might be the last meal I enjoyed. And if she failed and was caught . . . well, I’d have to confess. There was nothing else for it. If the girl didn’t confess my role immediately, Astegal would have her tortured until she did. I would take the blame on myself, claim to have threatened her. Claim that Kratos had obeyed me with no knowledge of my plans. Mayhap Astegal would be merciful.
Although I doubted it.
After eating, we returned to the palace. Bodeshmun passed us in the great hall. He actually gave me a curt nod of acknowledgment. Astegal, hells! I hoped Bodeshmun would be merciful. Ptolemy Solon had told me what the man had done to create his demon-stone. He’d slit open an infant’s belly and stuck a gem inside it, managed to keep the babe alive long enough for a demon to devour it. I suspected the Chief Horologist was a fellow who knew a thing or two about inflicting hideous torment.
Astegal didn’t go to the bath-house that day. The next, he spent most of the day closeted with Bodeshmun and other trusted advisers. I knew, because Sidonie told me when she invited me to call on her for another game.
“Are they nearing terms for a full surrender?” I inquired.
“No, I fear not.” She frowned at the board. “It’s to do with some grievance of King Roderico’s. Astegal says he’s addled. I met him when we arrived and he didn’t seem addled.”
“No doubt this has been a trying time for him,” I said diplomatically.
Sidonie captured one of my pawns. “Well, I wish Astegal would permit me to join his conferences. Wait, wait, he keeps telling me. For what?” She gave me a level look. “I’m perishing sick of waiting.”
“Patience is a virtue worth striving for, my lady,” I said. “I’m sure your husband knows what he’s about.”
“I hope to Blessed Elua someone does,” she murmured.
To that, I made no reply. Since no one had come to take me away in chains, it seemed that for the moment, Esme had not decided to betray me, for which I was profoundly grateful. It might still happen, or like Justina, she might simply lose her nerve. But the thought had struck me that if she tried and failed, this might be the last time I saw Sidonie.
The notion was so ungodly painful, I felt unexpected tears sting my eyes.
“Are you all right, Leander?” Sidonie asked in surprise.
“Yes, of course.” I forced my voice to lightness. “Your beauty dazzles, your highness. Nothing more.”
She gazed at me a moment, then shook her head. “Some days I think everyone here is addled but me.”
We played out our game, which I lost. I wished I could make the time last forever, slow the passage of the sun in the sky. But in time I had to take my leave of her. I went with a heavy heart and slow steps.
The next day, all hell broke loose.
Kratos and I were both losing our wits with the suspense of waiting. He went to the bath-house to seek a bout to distract himself. I went to the market, having conceived the notion of purchasing some romantic token for Sidonie that I could leave in my things to be found if matters went awry. At a bookseller’s, I found an Aragonian translation of a famous correspondence between a pair of star-crossed D’Angeline lovers. I’d not actually heard of it, but the bookseller assured me it was a popular gift among