Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [151]
To my surprise, our saviors from the wharf, Lucius Tadius da Lucca and his companions, also numbered among Master Piero's pupils. I saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye, wondering.
"… thus we behold the workings of the group-mind," the Master was saying. "It is easily scattered by the unexpected; and yet, upon scattering, it moves swiftly to attain a consensus of direction, without leadership, without discussion." He broke off his words, smiling at us. He was a homely fellow with a wide brow and a thin beak of a nose that looked to have been set askew, but there was an unexpected sweetness to his smile. "Welcome, friends. Will you join our conversation?"
I bowed in greeting. "Forgive us, Master. We did not mean to interrupt you."
"Surely, there is no need to apologize," he said. "There can be nothing but good in witnessing two friends reuniting, can there?" There was a shrewd glint in his eye. "We agree that friendship is a virtue. Does a display of virtue in others not inspire it in ourselves?"
"Not necessarily, Master," Lucius Tadius observed. "It may inspire envy."
"Ah!" Master Piero beamed at him. "Yes, indeed. What, then, are the roots of envy? If a virtue inspires that which is negative, is it itself lessened by it?"
"Master Piero!" The blonde girl spoke out in frustration. I was startled to hear a thick Skaldic accent. "I am sorry, please. But it is hard to follow when you wander."
"Are you in a hurry, Brigitta?" he asked gently.
"No, but…" She bit her lower lip, stubborn and vexed. "You were talking about pigeons."
"And so we shall." Master Piero smiled at her. "Pigeons and virtue and envy. We shall wander together, wherever the road of thought takes us. It matters not how swift or straight our path, merely that we travel it."
Having said so, he returned to the topic of pigeons and the group-mind. Despite his demeanor and the fact that I had laughed myself silly at him, I found myself listening, rapt, as he expounded on his example.
"… it is easily swayed by hunger and greed, and flocks to the promise of providence. It is easily led by a cunning hand. It lives from moment to moment, forgetful of betrayal. Heedless of danger, it returns to the familiar…"
Upon concluding his lecture, Master Piero engaged in open discourse with his pupils. They speculated on the means by which the pigeons attained unspoken consensus in their flight, and how it mirrored the transmission of ideas and agreement among humans. They discussed how a swiftly propagated rumor turned into a held belief in a matter of days or even hours in a tightly knit community. I caught myself nodding at several points, thinking how members of the Court resembled a flock of pigeons in their behavior.
"You see?" Eamonn whispered to me when it ended.
I nodded, no longer inclined to laugh. "I do."
He hauled me over to meet the man. The other students made way for us with good-natured grumbles. "Master Piero di Bonci, may I present to you my very dear friend, Imriel nó Montrève de la—"
I coughed, covering my mouth with my fist, then executed a courtly bow. "Imriel nó Montrève, my lord. Thank you for permitting me to attend your discussion."
Eamonn, who was no fool, added nothing further.
Master Piero tilted his head, regarding me. I saw the same shrewd glint in his eye, and realized I was a fool, having thought I could hide my identity in a community of scholars. "Montrève," he said slowly. "Is that so?"
"Yes, my lord," I said humbly, willing him not to ask me about it.
He knew. I could see it in his expression. And I could see him read the unspoken plea in mine, measuring it with kindness and compassion.