Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [263]
Then the Caerdicci idiot came.
His name was Antonio Peruggi, a name that became etched in my memory for its eternal association with sheer stupidity. The details of his story, I learned later; he was a merchant-captain trapped by the blockade in Amílcar with a cargo of silk he was unable to sell during war-time. When the blockade lifted, he decided his cargo would fetch better prices in Terre d’Ange.
And so he sailed to Marsilikos carrying silk and news out of Amílcar.
Barquiel L’Envers had been right; he and Alais had done an outstanding job of keeping the news from the City of Elua. They held the river and they held the roads, and no one they deemed unworthy of absolute trust had been allowed to pass. Unfortunately, Peruggi had heard the rumors in Marsilikos and gotten it into his head that Ysandre would surely reward him for being the first to deliver the news. He’d purchased a horse and hired a guide to lead him to the City of Elua across the countryside, avoiding all of L’Envers’ checkpoints.
Stupidity, cunning, and greed.
The first we heard of it was a summons from a Queen’s courier bidding me to Court. I thought mayhap I’d rejoiced too quickly at Marc Faucon’s successful escape and felt the blood drain from my face.
“Why do you look so pale?” Phèdre asked. “Mayhap the news is good.”
I forced myself to smile. “Mayhap.”
“Not likely,” Joscelin observed.
We arrived at the Hall of Audience to find Ysandre pacing in a fury, her color high and hectic. I glanced at Sidonie. She returned my gaze, but I couldn’t read her expression. Beside her, Kratos grimaced in warning.
“Imriel.” Ysandre fetched up before me, pointing toward a trembling figure. “Do you know this man?”
I looked at him. He was of average height and middle years, muscle running to fat. Brown hair, a forgettable face. He sported several ostentatious rings, and his chin was quivering. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“His name is Antonio Peruggi,” Ysandre said in a taut voice. “He claims to have news from Amílcar. He claims that you and Sidonie conspired to bring the Euskerri to defeat Astegal. He claims you killed Astegal with your own hand, and that my daughter aided you. And he seems to think I will reward him for this knowledge.”
I went ice-cold.
“Who paid you to say that?” The words were out of my mouth before I knew I’d thought them. Fear and rage drove my body and wits; I found myself standing before Peruggi without realizing I’d moved. He gaped at me, uncomprehending. I struck his face hard enough to wrench his head sideways. “Who?”
“No one!” Peruggi cried in broken D’Angeline. “It’s true! Everyone knows!”
I struck him again. “Who?”
“No one!” he cried again.
“Do you know me?” I demanded. “Have you ever seen me before?”
“No!” Peruggi said raggedly. “But I heard the tales—”
I backhanded him across the face. “Was it Alais? Barquiel L’Envers?”
“Enough.” It was Sidonie who spoke, her voice cool and commanding. “He speaks sedition,” she said to her mother. “I told you as much. I sense L’Envers’ hand behind it. It reeks of his tactics. This is some scheme to drive a wedge between us.”
Ysandre considered her daughter’s words. “Is that so?” she asked the Caerdicci merchant. She sounded eminently reasonable. “Will you hold to your story or shall I have you tortured until you divulge the truth?”
Antonio Peruggi shook his head. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth where I’d struck him. “No,” he whispered. “Please, your majesty.”
“So it was L’Envers,” Ysandre pressed.
“Yes.” He gazed at me, eyes damp. “Yes, the Duc L’Envers.”
“Sedition.” Ysandre lingered over the word. “You have sacrificed your rights here, Messire Peruggi, and I would be within mine to have you executed.” He flinched. She glanced at Sidonie. “What do you say?