Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [249]
Kratos bowed.
Ysandre eyed him coolly and spoke in fluent Hellene. “I do not recall seeing this man when General Astegal’s delegation was here, and he has a rather memorable face.”
Beads of sweat broke out on my brow. It wasn’t a challenge any of us had anticipated. Gods, this was hard! They might have been in the grip of madness and paranoia and easily misled in some ways, but neither Drustan nor Ysandre had lost their faculties.
“No, your majesty.” Kratos offered another bow. “I was a wedding gift.”
Her brows rose. “A wedding gift?”
“My service was to the greater House of Sarkal.” Kratos pressed a fist to his chest. “My lord Astegal’s mother released me into the service of her son’s household that he might have one retainer he trusted beyond all doubt to watch over that which was most precious to him.”
If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed he spoke with absolute sincerity and conviction. Ysandre relaxed, and I thanked the gods for Kratos and his quick wits.
“And a wise woman my lord’s mother proved to be,” Sidonie murmured in D’Angeline. “For in the end, the House of Sarkal was betrayed.”
Although the rest of the tale was almost entirely a skein of lies, Sidonie spun it artfully, telling them how when word of Astegal’s death reached New Carthage, the city devolved into bitter factions grasping for power. That was a familiar notion that fell on willing ears. She told them that on Astegal’s orders, she was to flee with his kinsman Bodeshmun back to Carthage proper; but before it could be arranged, Bodeshmun was slain by the treachery of Gillimas of Hiram, who bribed the Amazigh guards. He’d told her of the protective gem, bade her to flee to the City of Elua instead of Carthage, to find the gem and renew its charm.
Sidonie had witnessed violent death since she’d left her parents’ side. Her description of Bodeshmun’s end, his gasped words and dying rattle, rang horribly true. And through it all ran that raw thread of genuine anguish, giving the weight of truth to her lies.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Ysandre said when Sidonie finished. The unexpected gentleness in her voice brought a lump to my throat. Ysandre glanced at Drustan. “We didn’t mean to doubt you. It’s just . . .”
“I know.” Sidonie shivered. “Alais.”
“You’ve heard?” Drustan asked gravely.
She nodded. “But why? Why would she do it? I don’t understand.”
“No one does. There are theories. But we’ll talk about that on the morrow. You should rest. You must be weary to the bone and grief-stricken atop it.” Ysandre rested her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “Sidonie, I am so very, very sorry about Astegal’s death.”
“Thank you.” The words were choked. I had to look away as Ysandre enfolded her in a comforting embrace. I couldn’t bear to see Sidonie cling to what was left of her mother’s goodness.
Drustan, too, embraced his daughter. “This gem,” he said. “Do you truly think it might help?”
“I do.” Sidonie dashed the tears from her eyes. “You saw . . . we all saw what marvels Bodeshmun and his horologists were capable of achieving. I think he may have seen that the City of Elua would be in dire need of protection. I think it’s terribly important that we find it.”
“Then we’ll do so.” Drustan held her hands. He glanced downward and frowned. “Why are you wearing an ollamh’s charms?”
“To keep her safe,” I put in quickly and anxiously. “It was my idea.”
This question, we had anticipated.
Sidonie glanced over her shoulder at me. “I fear Imriel remembers,” she said softly. “Alban magic, my cousin Dorelei’s death. It’s all mixed up in his thoughts. He’s afraid. Afraid that’s what’s behind Alais’ and Talorcan’s rebellion. He thinks this will help keep me safe from it.”
“It won’t,” Drustan said shortly. “It’s ambition, not magic, at stake here.”
“I know.” Sidonie smiled through tears at her father. “But I don’t mind and it brings him peace. Can we not let it be and concentrate on finding Bodeshmun’s charm? For that I truly believe might prove effective.”
Drustan released her hands. “Of course.”
“Of course,