Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [277]
“You’re hurt,” Sidonie murmured. “You need a chirurgeon.”
I shook my head. “Later.”
“Imriel.” Sidonie freed her hand from mine, reached up to touch my face. “There are no words. There will never be enough words.” Her dark eyes were grave. “Thank you. I love you. Always and always.”
“And I you,” I said. “We did it, Sidonie. You and I, together.”
She smiled through the tears that still welled. “We did, didn’t we?”
“Yes.” I took her hand, kissed her palm. “I need to speak to Joscelin.”
Sidonie nodded. “Go.”
I made my way to the edge of the dais and stepped down. Joscelin’s head rose slowly, a new world of pain in his eyes. “Imri—” he began, his voice rough.
“Don’t.” I shook my head at him. “Please don’t, Joscelin. I couldn’t bear it. I remember my own madness. I remember what I said and did, and it was vile and hurtful. With all that happened, even at the worst of it, you were only trying to protect me from myself.”
His eyes shone. “I thought . . .”
“I know,” I said. “I do.”
Joscelin embraced me, his callused hands firm against my shard-studded shoulder blades. I stifled the pain. Still, he felt it and let go. “I’m proud of you,” he said simply. “So proud.”
I blinked away my tears. “I sought but to follow your lead.”
“Imriel.” At Joscelin’s side, Phèdre’s closed eyes opened. A sweep of lashes lifting, unshuttered. She looked at me with wonderment. “Blessed Elua joins more than the hearts of lovers,” she said. “For surely he knew what he was about when he sent us into Daršanga to find you.”
Joscelin glanced toward the south. “What in Elua’s name was that thing?”
“Ptolemy Solon called it a ghafrid,” I said. “An elemental desert spirit. I called it a demon. It was trapped in the stone.”
“Ptolemy Solon,” Phèdre echoed. “The Governor of Cythera?” She furrowed her brow, examining her restored memories. “The one rumored to be your mother’s patron?”
“Yes.” In the midst of everything her quick wits were beginning to work on the puzzle. Despite my aching head and stinging backside, it made me smile. “It’s a very long and very strange tale. And I will gladly tell you the whole of it, but not right now.”
“What can we do to help?” Phèdre asked without hesitation.
I looked around at the milling chaos. “Right now, help people stay calm. Tell them it’s all right; everything will be all right.”
It took a while to get everything sorted out. Dozens of people had been injured by the flying shards or suffered severe abrasions from the ghafrid’s passage. The Royal Chirurgeon, Lelahiah Valais, arrived. Although she was no less dazed than anyone else in the City, she took control of the situation at Sidonie’s order. Tents and cots were fetched and a makeshift infirmary quickly established in Elua’s Square.
Aside from one young soldier who was in danger of losing an eye, most of the injuries were superficial; but it took a long time to remove all the tiny shards of emerald. Teams of chirurgeons worked diligently with tweezing implements, washing and salving myriad punctures or bandaging raw patches of scoured flesh. Lelahiah Valais attended me personally. She would have tended to Drustan first, but the Cruarch insisted that I take precedence. For once I didn’t argue. I lay on my belly, listening to the sound of gem fragments plinking one by one into a metal pan.
Sidonie stopped in to check on my progress.
“How are they?” I asked, meaning everyone.
“Scared, confused, horrified.” She was quiet a moment. “I understand what they’re feeling. I was there, too. If you hadn’t found the gem, I would have been part of launching a civil war.”
“We knew the risks of entering the City,” I said.
“Yes.” Sidonie nodded. “It makes a difference. I’ve already been through the shock of awakening from a lie. I’ve had time to live with it. I’m talking to as many people as I can, trying to reassure them that