Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [174]
“No,” I said. “I know. It’s awful in a different way. I was there, I saw. And I have the misfortune of having escorted Astegal to Jasmine House, where his performance appeared to be received with considerable satisfaction by not one, but two adepts. So if you think you’re going to shock and horrify me, don’t.”
Her mouth quirked. “There’s a question most men would have asked by now.”
“Ah.” I took her chin in my hand, turning her reluctant face toward mine. “Do you want me to ask it?”
“No.” Tears stood in her eyes. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
“When you said what?” I asked gently. “That you never felt the very gods themselves were attendant on your love-making with Astegal? That you never experienced his feelings as surely as your own, as though you were one person in separate skins? That it wasn’t intimate and glorious and terrifying all at once?”
She smiled through her tears. “Well, yes.”
I shook my head. “Sidonie, if I didn’t know that without having to ask, I might as well go back to Carthage and take up with Sunjata.”
That made her laugh and the moment passed. It was all right, I thought. Sidonie had borne the first blow of knowledge with amazing resilience, but she’d warned me it might not last. It was good that we’d begun to speak of it.
In time, she would heal.
And I knew a thing or two about dealing with the burden of unwarranted guilt. As long as we were together, we could survive anything.
Thus was my positive state of mind on the fourth day of our journey, when our luck changed.
It was Captain Deimos who summoned us to the aft deck of the ship and pointed toward the south. I shaded my eyes and squinted, making out the distant form of a war-ship riding the choppy grey waters behind us.
“We’re being pursued,” he said grimly. “And they’re fast.”
Fifty-One
“You’re sure?” Sidonie asked, her voice strained.
Deimos gave a curt nod. “Fairly. The captain Astegal left in charge of the harbor reserve is no fool. I doubt it took him long to realize he granted us passage on the very day the princess and Leander Maignard vanished.”
“What can we do?” I asked.
He took a deep breath. “You’ve three choices. We can try to outrace them long enough to put ashore at the next port, but I reckon we’re only a couple of leagues south of Amílcar, and it’s blockaded. We can take to open water and pray they’re not foolhardy enough to follow. Or we can surrender.”
“No,” Sidonie said.
We glanced at one another. “Open water?” I asked.
She nodded. “Please, my lord captain. It’s very, very important.”
Deimos’ lips moved in a silent prayer. “I’ll try.”
He strode along the deck, shouting orders. His sailors scrambled to obey. The ship’s prow swung toward the east, nosing away from the Aragonian coast.
Sidonie shivered. “I thought we had enough of a lead to get away.”
I took off the cloak I was wearing—Leander’s cloak, striped and gaudy—and draped it over her shoulders. I didn’t like her color. Her face was unwontedly pale, hectic slashes of pink high on her cheeks. “So did I. Lord Gillimas must have known enough to realize we took Bodeshmun’s talisman and sent one of their fastest war-ships after us.” I felt at her brow. “You’re hot.”
She shivered again. “I feel cold.”
“Let me have a look at your back.” I led her to our cabin and examined her. The wound was worse, swollen and inflamed. I bathed it and dressed it as best I could, wishing I were one of Eisheth’s scions with healing in my bones and trying not to let her hear concern in my voice. “Just think, if you were an anguissette, this would be healing cleanly.”
Sidonie made a face. “Yes, and you’d have to worry about me bedding your mother.”
I shot her a mortified look. “Perish the thought!”
She laughed. “Well, at least mayhap I’d be racing toward Terre d’Ange with the Name of God rolling like thunder on my tongue, prepared to grapple with a servant of the One God himself, instead of hoping to free a demon from a stone using a term from my latest Punic language lesson.”
“Beholden,” I said. “Lift your arms.