Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [172]
I laughed. “Fine. I’d nearly forgotten about it. Let me send Kratos to fetch my things. I brought salve and clean bandages.”
Sidonie glanced around the hold and wrinkled her nose. “It can wait until we’ve cleared the harbor. I daresay it’s cleaner above-deck. Imriel . . .” She hesitated, almost afraid to ask. “Did you get the talisman?”
“Yes.” I fished the piece of lacquered leather out of my purse and showed it to her.
She perched on a water barrel, studying it. “Such an insignificant scrap of a thing,” she mused. “’Tis hard to believe it’s the key for undoing a spell that put the entire City of Elua under its sway.”
“Like as not it’s far more complicated and disgusting than it looks,” I observed. “Hide tanned from the skin of a stillborn babe or somewhat. At any rate, according to Solon, it’s the word of binding that matters. Can you read it?”
“Elua, I hope so. I can speak more than a little, but I can’t read much. I was only just beginning to learn the Punic alphabet.” Her lips moved as she studied the Punic script. “Emmen . . . emmenghanom. Emmenghanom.” Sidonie looked up in triumph. “It means beholden.”
I cupped her face and kissed her. “Gods be thanked that you’re not one to suffer tedium in idleness, love. I told Bodeshmun you’d know.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
I nodded. “Very.”
There was somewhat adamant in her expression. “Tell me how. Tell me everything.”
I told her all that had transpired. When I told her how Bodeshmun had died and what I’d said to him at the end, she smiled with grim satisfaction. “Good. How did you know what he was going to do?”
“He killed a young Aragonian lord the same way.” I kept forgetting there were gaps in her knowledge. “In front of an entire hall full of people.”
Sidonie shuddered. “Elua! No wonder they hated me so, thinking I’d betrayed Aragonia to subject them to that.”
“You didn’t,” I said.
“They didn’t know that. And I didn’t give them any reason to think otherwise.” She gazed into the distance, and I knew she was thinking of things she’d rather not remember. I kept my silence, waiting until her gaze returned to me. The familiar spark leapt between us. Sidonie took my hand and kissed it. “Thank you. I’m sorry for what you had to do.”
“And I for what you endured,” I said.
“Ah, well, my end of it was easy.” A little of her humor returned. “After all, I slept through most of it.”
“So I noticed.” I kissed her.
She returned my kiss. “Do you know, I even love you covered in . . . Imriel, what are you covered in?”
I rubbed at my face with one flowing sleeve. “Pork grease and ashes.” I glanced down at my Amazigh robe. The dark indigo hid the stains, but the second guard had bled freely on me. “And a fair amount of blood.”
“Ashes and blood.” Sidonie traced a line down my face. “I pray this is the last of it.”
“I too,” I murmured.
“My lord?” Kratos poked his head into the hold. “We’re well under way; it’s safe now.” He cleared his throat. “Captain Deimos wants a word with you.”
We emerged from the hold to find the sails full and the ship moving briskly. The Cytheran sailors went about their business, casting curious glances at us, or more accurately, at Sidonie. Deimos was pacing the foredeck, his hands clasped behind his back. He fetched up before us, offering Sidonie a bow.
“Your highness,” he said briefly. “Welcome. I am Deimos Stanakides, in the service of his eminence Ptolemy Solon, the Governor of Cythera. I presume you are Sidonie de la Courcel?”
“I am.” She inclined her head. “Well met, my lord captain. On behalf of Terre d’Ange, I extend our most profound gratitude to you and to Ptolemy Solon. The service you have rendered us today will never be forgotten.”
Deimos smiled tightly. “Save your gratitude. We’re not safe yet. And I’m not satisfied.” He fixed his intent gaze on me. “Solon doesn’t suffer fools, Leander Maignard. Why did the princess call you Imriel?”
I sighed.
“Because it’s my name,” I said simply. I unbuckled my sword-belt and let it fall. Dragged the Amazigh robes over my head. “Do you require proof of my