Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [192]
“Forgive me,” Serafin said in a low voice. “But this is an Aragonian matter, and I think it must be decided by Aragonians. It’s going to be mayhem if you stay. Let us have this debate, let the people have their say, and let the council vote. I will send word.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Sidonie rose, and I accompanied her.
“Wait!” Rafael de Barbara said sharply. “I note that you did not address my concerns regarding your fitness as an emissary, young highness.”
She met his gaze. “Did I not?”
He gave a sour smile. “That was a cheap theatrical gesture at the end.”
“Indeed.” Sidonie inclined her head. “I would not have resorted to it were there not urgent need. I would expect a man of your rhetorical skill to understand.”
We left the great hall unescorted; no one wanted to leave the debate. A guard closed the doors behind us, and we could hear a fresh clamor arise.
“Gods.” Sidonie shuddered. “What do you think?”
“I think you swayed the crowd. And I pray the crowd sways the council.” I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her. “I think you were splendid. Sidonie, if they fail to aid us, it can be through no fault of yours.”
“I did my best,” she murmured. “Cheap theatrics and all.”
“You were splendid,” I repeated. “And later, we can discuss this matter of serving as bait if they accede.”
She gave me a tired smile. “How else did you suppose Astegal might be persuaded to divert his forces?”
I sighed. “I hadn’t thought on it.”
“Pray we get the chance,” Sidonie said soberly.
Fifty-Six
There was no word forthcoming that afternoon or evening. We stayed awake late into the night, hoping to hear. The chirurgeon Rachel came to examine Sidonie’s injury, decreeing at last that it might be bandaged and covered, but she had no news. I fell asleep at length with Sidonie in my arms, waking briefly at the sound of her murmuring the word emmenghanom in her sleep.
Later I was told the debate raged late and long. After the commonfolk had given voice to their wishes and the council had voted, members were up until the small hours, hammering out details of the agreement they reached and laying the foundations of a plan.
We didn’t find out what it was until Serafin sent for us.
Along with General Liberio, Serafin received us in the quarters that had once belonged to the Count of Amílcar. His violet eyes were bleary for lack of sleep, his face looking creased and older. Liberio was the fresher of the two. As an old military hand, I daresay he had experience doing without sleep. Sidonie appeared calm, but I could sense the tension in her.
“Tell us what was decided,” she said. “Please.”
Serafin yawned. “Forgive me. In principle, everyone more or less came to agreement, with a notable exception or two. ’Tis too valuable a chance to waste. And yet, ’tis too desperate a chance on which to risk much.”
“What does that mean?” I asked warily.
He tossed a sheaf of paper at Sidonie. “Read.”
She skimmed it briefly. “It’s a charter granting sovereignty to Euskerria.”
Serafin nodded. “Of course, it’s contingent on their full support against Carthage. And my continued regency.”
Ambition, I thought.
Sidonie glanced up. “Will I be representing you as well as Terre d’Ange, then?”
“Therein lies the ‘more or less’.” Serafin smiled wryly. “Yes. All the necessary assurances are in the charter. We’ll do our best to give you a chance. What you make of it is up to you.” He gestured. “The both of you.”
“You sound as though you’re sending us off on our own, unaided and alone,” I observed.
Serafin and Liberio exchanged a look. “Nearly,” Serafin admitted. “You’ll be assigned a guide, of course.”
“Imriel, me, and a guide?” Sidonie asked flatly. “That’s all?”
General Liberio cleared his throat. “Your highness, I’d send an entire squadron if I thought they could protect you. I don’t. Astegal knows that you’re here and he knows you’re desperate to get to Terre d’Ange. The moment we send out a sortie, he’s going to be on the alert. This escape can succeed by only one of three means.” He ticked them off on his