Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [158]
"Oh, I might surprise you," I murmured. Lucius shot me a quick look, and I remembered that he was no fool. "Listen," I said, changing the topic. "How bad is this distasteful suitor of Helena's? Because that's the essence of the matter, isn't it? Which is worse? To wed her and take the risk of being made a cuckold? Or to condemn her to a life she abhors?"
"I hadn't thought of it thusly." He frowned. "He's a boor; a rather powerful boor. But their marriage would forge an alliance between Lucca and Valpetra. The problem is that it's more likely to benefit Valpetra." Lucius sighed. "Oh, enough! Would that I were an impoverished D'Angeline gentleman scholar, with nothing more to worry about than whether or not I could afford a second jug of wine." He lifted his cup to me. "You have no idea, Montrève, how fortunate you are."
"You're right about that," I agreed.
We talked of other matters, then. Before long, Eamonn and Gilot arrived, reporting on a successful mission. Gilot had ceded to my wishes, albeit reluctantly, and we would be lodged in a nearby insula like any other impoverished scholars. Eamonn had recommended a livery stable to board the horses, which would be cheaper than the stable at the inn.
Lucius Tadius excused himself shortly after their arrival.
"My thanks," he said to me. "I'll see you anon."
I nodded. "Tomorrow."
"So what was all that about ghosts?" Eamonn asked after Lucius had departed.
"It's a long story," I said. "I'll tell you later. Eamonn, I meant to ask the other day. Did you ever discover where Anafiel Delaunay learned the arts of covertcy?"
"Dagda Mor!" He smacked his forehead. "No, I forgot." He looked so remorseful I laughed. "And after all her ladyship did for me, too."
"Never mind," I said fondly. "She'll forgive you."
We shared a second jug of wine, one that I could easily afford, though I felt a measure of guilt at deceiving Lucius. Still, I was glad I'd talked with him. He'd been open and honest with me, and it was the first time since I was ten years old that I'd had a chance to extend a hand in friendship without being burdened by my complicated heritage. It felt good.
Afterward, with Eamonn's help, Gilot and I moved our baggage from the inn to the insula. The worst of the day's heat had passed and the streets were crowded with pedestrians. Eamonn led, forging a path, a heavy satchel on one shoulder. A good many people hailed him by name. I envied him his easy familiarity. He had been in the city long enough to make friends, to acquire a nickname that appeared more affectionate than not. Whereas I seemed to have managed to befriend the one soul in Tiberium perhaps more troubled than me.
Halfway down the block, I sniffed the air. "Are we near a temple?"
"Didn't I tell you?" Gilot, toting a pair of saddlebags, grinned at me. "The insula is behind an incense-maker's shop."
And so it was, filling the air with a wealth of aroma; frankincense and spikenard, cinnamon and sandalwood. I peered into the shop while Gilot fiddled with the gate on the passageway beside it. The incense-maker was there, grinding away with mortar and pestle. It reminded me of the first time I had seen Alais, grinding oak-galls for ink in the study of Thelesis de Mornay, and I felt a pang of longing for home.
We navigated the narrow passage, bumping against the walls of fired clay bricks. It opened onto a courtyard containing a well which everyone in the insula shared. The apartments rose in sturdy tiers above it, three stories high. A handful of women were waiting in line at the well, chatting amiably. A few of them waved, eyeing us with interest. Children ran about unheeded, and there was drying laundry strung on every balcony.
"Here we are." Gilot opened a wooden door without a lock.
The room behind the incense-maker's shop was just that; a room. It held a pair of straw pallets, a chamberpot, an empty brazier, a bath-stand, and a rickety table with two chairs.
"Where do we… ?" I nodded at the chamberpot.
"There's a sluice in the courtyard. It's connected to the sewers." Setting down the bags