Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [38]
“My thanks,” I said, rising.
Strange but true, I trusted the Tsingani more than I trusted most of my peers. Most D’Angelines held them in a measure of suspicion, although it is better now, I am told, than before I was born. In fairness, the Tsingani did take a certain delight in bilking outsiders whenever possible, but they could be fiercely loyal friends. Of a surety, they’d been that to Phèdre—and to me. It was a Tsingani kumpania that had reported seeing Carthaginian slavers with D’Angeline children in tow long, long ago. If not for that, I would have been dead years ago.
I rode back to the Palace and awaited Sidonie.
When at last she entered her quarters, she took one look at my face and stopped dead. “What is it?”
I showed her the letter. “Word’s come.”
Nine
Ysandre took the news better than I would have reckoned.
We met in private, just the three of us. She glanced briefly at the text of the letter itself, then examined the vellum edges, lingering over my transcription and checking it against the chart in the Hellene book. At length, her fair brows rose.
“That’s it?” she asked. “I accept Carthage’s tribute, and some mysterious agent of the Guild will divulge Melisande’s whereabouts?”
“So it seems,” I said.
“It’s not much of a favor to ask,” she observed.
“I know.” I spread my hands. “Your majesty, I can’t say why the Ephesian ambassador would ask such a thing in such a covert manner.”
Ysandre leveled a hard gaze at me. “Give me your best guess.”
“I don’t know!” I said in frustration.
“A favor may be transferred if all parties are in agreement,” Sidonie said pragmatically. “I imagine the Guild must deal in such currency. For some reason, Diokles Agallon has transferred his favor to Carthage. He seeks to align himself with their interests, which, at the moment, appear to be courting your favor.”
Ysandre tapped the vellum, her face thoughtful. “He’s wary, though.”
“He is,” Sidonie agreed. “Carthage is poised to make a gambit. If it succeeds, and the axes of power shift in their favor, well and good. If it fails, he may yet distance himself—and Ephesium—from it.”
I felt hopelessly over my head. “What gambit?”
“Therein lies the question,” Ysandre said in a wry tone. She tapped the vellum idly again, thinking. “I must confess, I am curious about this General Astegal, and I’m weary of trying to settle the bickering of Aragonia and those damned Euskerri. I’d cede sovereignty to the Euskerri over the D’Angeline territory they want if Aragonia would do the same, but there’s no reconciling them. And I’ve half a mind to hear Carthage’s suit anyway. We’ve had poor relations with them since . . .” She glanced at me, her face softening. “For a long time.”
“Carthage still practices slavery,” I pointed out.
“So do many nations,” Ysandre said gently. “But at least there has been no further traffic in D’Angelines. Imriel, I thank you for your candor in bringing this to me. I have promised a reply to General Astegal in a fortnight’s time. I have taken counsel with the Royal Admiral Quintilius Rousse, who sees no harm in their overture. I will take counsel with Drustan when he arrives, convene Parliament, and give my answer.”
“Father’s late this year,” Sidonie commented.
“Yes.” Queen Ysandre eyed her. “Our children are a trial to us.”
The days that followed were fraught with tension. Emile in Night’s Doorstep located the Tsingano lad who’d delivered the missive, but the boy could tell me nothing useful about the lady who’d given it to him. A foreigner, he said, but he couldn’t guess from what nation. She’d asked him to deliver it because she was leaving the City in haste, or so she claimed. I spoke to the City Guard, but any number of foreign women had come and gone in the past two days. In the end, it didn’t really matter how the message had arrived. What mattered was what we would decide regarding it. And so we waited. We waited for Drustan to arrive; I waited for Phèdre and Joscelin to arrive. The Carthaginians awaited a reply. Quintilius