Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [246]
And my role was easier than Sidonie’s. She had to convince the entire City she was mourning a man who had violated her very will, had to convince them to believe an intricate web of lies and truth. All I had to do was let them go on believing I was disordered in my wits. We’d considered telling them I’d been cured in Carthage, but that raised in turn the problem of explaining why the rest of the realm couldn’t be cured of their own apparent madness. In the end we had decided that the simplest, safest course was to let them continue believing as they did.
When the sun was sinking low on the horizon, Sidonie rose. She paused briefly to address us. “I’ll be retiring for the night. Kratos, would you be kind enough to bring me something to eat?”
He rose. “At once, my lady.”
Her gaze shifted to meet mine. She gave me a quick, sad smile that broke my heart. “I’ll see you on the morrow.”
“On the morrow,” I agreed.
That night I made my bed belowdeck on a narrow bunk, surrounded by the snores and wheezes of men deep in slumber. And if I’d let myself, I could have lain awake all night in futile thought or desperate prayer, but there was no merit in it. My thoughts would only turn in helpless circles, and if Blessed Elua hadn’t heard our prayers by now, he never would. So instead, like a soldier preparing for battle, I forced myself to sleep.
By the time I rose and made myself break my fast, the City was in sight.
Like spring, the sight of those white walls shining in the distance had always been cause for gladness. Not today. I remembered all too well watching them recede as this very barge had carried me away. It had been summer then. Three seasons had passed since I’d left. The spell that gripped the City was malevolent at its core.
How much worse had it gotten?
Some distance from the City, Gilbert Dumel ordered his oarsmen to cease progress. We waited until Sidonie emerged into the sunlight. She looked pale and hollow-eyed. I didn’t think she’d slept like a soldier. She gazed toward the City, expressionless.
“We’ll not be able to enter unchallenged, your highness,” Gilbert informed her. “They’ll raise the chain and insist on searching the barge before we’re allowed to enter the harbor.”
“I’ll speak to them,” Sidonie said.
Gilbert gave a curt nod. “We’ll take our lead from you, highness.”
The oarsmen resumed their stroke. Before long, we could see that the massive chain used to protect the harbor from invasion was already raised. A swift, sleek galley with a ballista mounted on its prow hailed us.
“State your business!” came the shout.
Sidonie was silent.
We followed her lead.
The galley bore down on us fast. As it drew nigh, I saw there were additional ballistae mounted on the sides and aft. Every one was manned, and there was a sizable contingent of armed men aboard, a thicket of crossbows pointing at us.
“Halt the barge,” Sidonie said quietly. Gilbert gave the order. As we drifted slowly to a halt, the galley turned broadside to us.
“State your business,” the galley’s captain repeated. He had a hard face. They all had hard faces. Sidonie stood in the prow without moving, Kratos and I a few paces behind. Although the captain didn’t notice me, I watched his face as he recognized her. It only got more grim. “Your highness.”
“My business is the business of Terre d’Ange.” There was a raw edge to Sidonie’s voice, but it held a note of command, too. “And I will state it only to her majesty the Queen.”
The captain gestured and his men lowered their crossbows. “You bring tidings out of Carthage?”
“I bring tidings of woe,” Sidonie said, low and savage. “Tidings of death and defeat and bitter betrayal. But I will not deliver them to you, messire.