Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [168]
A generous host to the end, Deccus Fulvius sent a servant with me to light my way. He led me through the streets of Tiberium. It was late enough that the city had grown quiet, though a few taverns were still doing business. I thanked him outside the insula gate, giving him a coin for his trouble.
The incense-maker's shop was dark, but by the light of the servant's torch as he departed, I could make out the beggar's barrel, situated in the same place. The sound of snoring emanated from it and a pair of legs protruded into the street, grimy feet shod in worn, mended sandals.
I fingered the medallion around my neck and shook my head. Wisdom.
"You're better suited to the quest than I, my friend," I said softly.
In response, the barrel gave a hearty snore.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Five
Days passed without word from Claudia Fulvia.
On the first day, I was tense and fretful. Master Piero noticed it in the Temple of All Gods, though he said nothing. Although it was a misnomer, for it honored only the gods of Tiberium, it was an impressive structure, reminding me of the great Temple of Naamah in the City of Elua; perfectly round, with an oculus at the top. It was divided in quadrants in accordance with the four seasons. Listening to Master Piero speak about whether the pantheon of the gods represent a true multiplicity or a multitude of aspects, I found myself pacing its interior, thinking about the Cassiline spheres of defense and offense.
Without thinking, I traced the steps of the first hours, my empty hands moving as though I held the sword that hung untouched at my belt.
The Skaldic woman, Brigitta, wrinkled her nose at me. "Stop that," she said irritably. "I'm trying to listen."
I made myself halt. "My apologies, lady."
"Do you even know how to use that blade?" It was Aulus who drawled the question, one of Lucius' comrades. There had been a falling-out between them, and I sensed he held me to blame.
"Oh, he does!" Eamonn came behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "We fought a mighty duel once, didn't we, Imri?" He looked at Brigitta with interest. "Would you like to see us try it again?"
She sniffed with disdain and turned away.
Master Piero dismissed us early that day. I apologized to him, knowing I had behaved badly. He gave me a long, level look.
"Do not give me cause to regret my choice, Imriel nó Montrève," he said.
I tried not to. Sensing my mood, if not its cause, Eamonn suggested we go to a brothel as we used to do back in Night's Doorstep. Having already abandoned my resolution, I agreed, but the contrast was dispiriting. They were not Servants of Naamah, and there was nothing sacred in their calling. The girl I chose wept, turning over her hand-mirror in private, averting her face from me. She had never been with a D'Angeline before. I had chosen her for the way her face glowed when she looked at me, but once we were alone, she grew shy and timid.
"No," she whispered. "Don't look at me."
When I offered to choose another, she wept all the harder and begged me not to. So I stayed, though it was in my heart to go. I thought about what I had learned at Balm House, and I was gentle with her; unwontedly gentle. I aroused her as Emmeline had taught me, coaxing her with soft words and touches. She cried out at the end, hiding her face against my shoulder.
My own pleasure felt furtive and fleeting. It eased my body and troubled my soul. I reclined on my pallet, watching her perform her ablutions, feeling the black wings of melancholy descend upon me. I wished I hadn't come. In another room, I could hear Eamonn's laugh booming, echoed by feminine giggles. I still envied him.
I wished Claudia Fulvia would send word to me.
I hoped she wouldn't.
At the insula, Gilot had flung himself headlong into a romance with Anna Marzoni. She