Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [212]
With that, we were dismissed.
In the small room we shared, I could feel the fury radiating from Sidonie like heat from an overstoked oven. Elua knows, I was angry, too, but I’d had more experience with life’s unfairness, and I hadn’t been raised to carry the weight of the realm on my shoulders.
“They’ve left us no choice, have they?” she said in a tight voice.
“Not much,” I said. “Assuming they’re not actually planning to restrain us, we could go southeast and try the coastal towns north of Amíl-car. We might be able to find a ship willing to carry us to Marsilikos in another month’s time.”
“In a month’s time, Astegal’s likely to have discovered what happened here. Do you imagine he won’t have his navy patrolling the coast?” Sidonie asked. “Like as not he already does after our last attempt. He’s not stupid.”
“What about the western coast?” I asked, thinking. “Does he have ships there?”
“Not as many.” She scowled. “But the goddamned Euskerri control the northernmost ports on the western coast and those to the south have agreed to Astegal’s terms.”
“Not happily,” I observed.
Sidonie glanced sidelong at me. “He’ll be looking for us. And you and I aren’t exactly the most inconspicuous people in Aragonia.”
“I know.” I frowned. “Sidonie, I’m not afraid of battle. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. If that were the only term, I’d swallow my bile and accept it. Risking your life and the whole of Terre d’Ange for no good reason is another matter. And the only way I’m willing to accept their terms is if the Euskerri pledge to have a company standing at the ready to whisk you north and across the border at the first sign of defeat.”
She searched my face. “Do you think that’s our best option?”
“Truly?” I nodded. “I do.”
She sighed. “I want a courier. That’s my demand. A courier sent north immediately bearing a letter for Alais and my damned uncle in Turnone. I don’t care if the Euskerri are frightened. If we can do nothing else here, we can send the key home. After all, that’s what truly matters, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “And if the Euskerri don’t agree . . .”
“. . . we take our chances elsewhere,” Sidonie finished my thought. Her anger had drained away, leaving weariness in its wake. “Blessed Elua grant they see reason. I have a feeling that’s not the first time those words have been uttered.”
A short time later we returned to the village square, escorted by Janpier Iturralde and the committee of Euskerri we’d met with an hour ago. The square was thronged with people, even more crowded than it had been the other day. As we pushed our way through to mount the low dais beneath the oak tree, it gave me an uneasy memory of the night we’d gathered in Elua’s Square to witness a marvel promised by Carthaginian horologists.
Janpier raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “Have you reached a decision?”
“Yes.” Sidonie faced him. “We will agree to your terms if you will agree to ours. There is one condition without which I will refuse. There is one condition without which Prince Imriel will refuse.”
He nodded impassively. “Speak.”
Sidonie presented our terms. Janpier Iturralde translated them for the crowd, and the now-familiar roar of argument arose, delegates on the dais shouting back and forth with the villagers they represented. I studied Janpier’s face. He met my gaze squarely, but his nostrils flared in a defensive manner.
“We’re not bluffing, my lord,” I said to him. “You have forced our hands, but we will walk away from this agreement.”
“There is—” he began.
“Anger and fear.” I cut him off. “Yes. Believe me, I am passing familiar with the emotions this day. Whatever it is you fear from Terre d’Ange, it will come more surely without the key than with it. It is a malevolent magic that binds our realm. Do not be a fool.”
Janpier pointed at Sidonie. “And her? Is her safety worth more than the safety of our wives and sisters and daughters?”
“It is to me,” I said calmly.
He bristled. “You would dare to claim—”
“Yes!” I raised my voice. The blood beat in my ears, clashing