Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [190]
But there was no end to her, only more and more and more, and I kept going until I could go no further, the force of my climax pressing down on me like a vast hand. With a shudder, I spent myself in her.
"I told you so," she whispered in my ear.
I rolled onto my back and propped myself on one elbow, glancing around to make sure there were no weapons close at hand, then allowed myself to collapse on the pallet. "It's not the same thing."
"Oh, but it is." Claudia plucked idly at my hair, where the vine wreath was tangled. "Right now, the game and I are one, Imriel."
"And you call this training?" I asked.
She laughed and covered my eyes with one hand. "How many items are on Erytheia's worktable and what are they?"
"Six stone jars of pigment," I said. "A marble mortar-bowl and a pestle. A corked clay flask, probably oil. A pot of glue. A small hand-mill. A rolled leather bundle, probably brushes. Oh, and a bowl of eggs."
"You forgot Silvio's work-apron." Claudia removed her hand. "He took it off before he left and laid it on the table." She smiled at me. "Shall I have you walk through the atelier blindfolded?"
I held her gaze. "How did you know?"
"Oh." She shrugged. "We assumed." Glancing at the dwindling hourglass, she rose from the pallet and began to dress. After a moment, I followed suit, moving slowly. "I don't know your foster-mother, Imriel, but by all accounts, Anafiel Delaunay de Montrève trained her well. The things she accomplished, all on her own, are quite remarkable." She paused. "Actually, they would be quite remarkable with the Guild's aid."
"You don't know the half of it," I murmured.
"Yes, I know, and it's quite frustrating." Hunting up a hand-mirror, Claudia tended to her disheveled hair. "The point is, based on what we do know, Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève is a woman of fierce loyalties. Since she adopted you as her son, it was safe to assume that she would train you in every skill at her disposal." She thought for a moment. "Well, perhaps not every skill. Or did she?"
"No!" I yanked ineptly at my breeches.
"Well, she's not really your mother." Claudia glanced at me, while I struggled with my tangled breeches and cursed. "What's that from?" she asked in a different tone, touching the Kereyit rune branded on my left flank. "I didn't notice it by candlelight."
I flinched away from her touch and got my breeches up. "Nothing. It's old."
"It looks like…" She frowned. "I'm sorry. Is it a slave-brand?"
"Something like it," I said briefly.
"I don't recognize the mark," she said.
"It's Tatar, Kereyit Tatar," I said. "The man who did it was named Jagun. He's dead." I smiled grimly. "What's the matter, doesn't the Unseen Guild have its tentacles amid the Tatar tribes?"
"No," Claudia said frankly. "We don't. There are a number of places where the Guild has no presence, Imriel. It's just that there are a great many others where it does. Especially here in Tiberium."
I dragged my shirt over my head. "So what is it you want from me, Claudia? What is it I'm supposed to be learning from you other than this?" I gestured at the pallet.
"Oh, you're already learning." Her smile returned. "How to deal with confusion and the shock of betrayal. How to keep your wits about you when you don't know who to trust. How gauge risks, the merits of secrecy, the price of loyalty. Am I telling the truth? Does the Unseen Guild exist, or is it mad fancy? If it exists, who are its members? Erytheia? Silvio? Master Piero? Deccus? Lucius? After all, I might have lied to you. What of your friend Eamonn, your fellow students? Answering these questions is your training, Imriel."
I paused. "Canis."
"Canis?" Claudia laughed. "A dog?"
"The Cynic." I narrowed my eyes at her. If she was lying, she did it well; very well. "My resident philosopher-beggar."
"Canis." She shrugged. "All