Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [213]
Janpier looked startled and impressed. “I will tell them.”
I relaxed a little. “Thank you.”
Whether or not that made the difference, I couldn’t say. All in all, we were asking little compared to the sacrifice the Euskerri asked of us. The price they would pay for their freedom was like to be high, yes. But in the end, it was their choice. Ours was forced upon us, and it made me ache inside to turn my back on Terre d’Ange when we were so very close.
And after another hour of clamorous discussion, they agreed to accept our terms.
There beneath the oak tree at the center of Roncal, we swore our oaths. Sidonie and I swore in the name of Blessed Elua and his Companions, I that I would fight at the side of the Euskerri, and she that she would bear witness to the signing of the agreement that granted Euskerria sovereign status in Aragonia’s eyes in the event of our victory. The Euskerri called the sun to bear witness and pledged to fight Carthage unto the death.
The matter was settled.
Once again, we were at war with Carthage.
Sixty-Three
Once the matter was settled, things moved quickly.
The Euskerri who had descended on Roncal dispersed like the wind, carrying word to every town and village perched in the mountains. There would be a great force amassing, Janpier Iturralde assured us. Six or seven thousand, he thought, although the Euskerri had never mustered in force before.
Sidonie and I wrote a letter to Alais on a piece of much-scraped parchment Janpier procured for us.
I watched her outline the important details in her neat, precise hand. The truth of what had befallen us, the accord to which we had agreed. The key to undoing the spell: the word, emmenghanom. Beholden. And then I watched her falter.
“What do you say, Imriel?” Sidonie asked me in bewilderment. “How do you say it?”
I’d written too many such letters.
“Tell her you love her,” I said gently. “Tell them all. I will, too.”
I liked the courier Janpier found for us: a bold-faced fellow named Nuno Agirre whose family originally hailed from the D’Angeline side of Euskerri territory. His grandfather had been an ardent scholar and all his descendants spoke fluent Caerdicci along with their native tongue. He swore without hesitation beneath the oak tree that he would do his utmost to see the letter delivered.
“It will be an honor,” he added. “Is there any sign by which they will know it is genuine?”
I glanced at Sidonie, who looked dismayed. I thought about how I’d sent my ring, the gold knotted ring, back to her from Skaldia. Alais wouldn’t know the significance of the ring, but there was another item that would suit. I eased the gold torc from around my neck.
“Here.” I handed it to Nuno Agirre. “Alais will know this. Her father the Cruarch gave it to me with his own hands on my wedding day. I wear it in honor of the wife and child I lost.”
Nuno stowed it in his packs along with the letter. “Very well, your highness. May the sun shine brightly on your venture!”
“Blessed Elua hold and keep you,” Sidonie said in reply.
With that, Nuno mounted and departed, lifting one hand in farewell. He was riding one of the swift, tireless Amazigh horses; Janpier hadn’t stinted. We watched his figure dwindle as he reached the far end of the valley and began to climb toward the longed-for and forbidden pass. Sidonie’s lips moved in a silent prayer. I uttered one myself in my thoughts.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” she asked me.
I took her hand. “Of course. He knows the territory, and he strikes me as a man with his wits about him. I reckon his odds are better than ours.”
We sent another courier in the opposite