Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [192]
I gave up.
It was true, Canis did stink; or at least his barrel did. It smelled like he had pissed in it, at least once, and mayhap more. If he was a member of the Unseen Guild, stalking me for their obscure purposes, he was going far beyond the call of duty to deceive me.
Why, I could not fathom.
"You might try the baths, my friend," I said, straightening. "They're very congenial."
"I'll consider it," Canis said obligingly, then tilted his head. "Would you mind moving? You're blocking the sunlight."
* * *
Chapter Forty
The weeks that followed were disorienting. I took greater care with my safety and there were no further incidences of violence. The captain of the city cohort had shrugged off Gilot's concerns. The dead man near the docks had been a Tiberian barge-hand and sometime ruffian, the sort of fellow likely to turn up dead in a tavern brawl or a botched robbery. No one had claimed to recognize the corpse outside the insula, but there was no reason to suspect he was aught but the thief Canis had named him.
Gilot had been circumspect about my identity, saying only that he was in the employ of a D'Angeline gentleman. The captain opined that any D'Angeline lordling foolish enough to take up residence in the students' quarter and traipse around the docks at night got what he deserved.
Well, and so. At night, we barred the door to our apartment. In the city, I made a point of travelling with at least one companion. Tiberium began to seem reasonably safe once more.
But my life had been split into parts; parts that failed to add up to a whole. In the mornings, I attended Master Piero's classes, where I was a young scholar, earnestly pursuing the meaning of virtue. In the afternoons, I went to sit for Erytheia of Thrasos, where I was a paid model until Claudia arrived.
And then we were left alone, and I was… what? Her lover, at least at the beginning. Time after time, we coupled in Erytheia's atelier, sweating in the hot sunlight, the stink of linseed oil surrounding us.
And then, afterward, I became Claudia's reluctant acolyte, listening to her speak of the Unseen Guild.
It had rules and ranks like any other guild, she told me. Upon swearing allegiance, one became an apprentice. After seven years, an apprentice might be elevated to journeyman status; she herself had only recently been made a journeyman. In another seven years, she would be eligible to be named a master.
"Provided, of course"—she smiled sidelong at me—"that I make no reckless mistakes."
"Is that what I am?" I raised my brows. "A reckless mistake."
"No." She traced my jaw. "You are a dangerous assignment in which I am required to take dangerous risks. But you're tempting enough to make me reckless."
"What happens if Deccus finds out?" I asked. "Surely, all your servants must know."
"A good servant knows the value of discretion," Claudia said placidly. "And I'm a generous mistress with a husband much distracted by politics. My household is loyal, and my activities give them no cause to suspect the Guild's existence." Her expression turned serious for a moment. "I am fond of Deccus, you know. And I'm not usually this careless."
"No doubt," I said wryly. "So these masters control the guild?"
"No, not exactly." Claudia drew her finger down my belly, leaving a line in the sweat that glistened on my skin. "The masters answer to the epopts."
I caught her hand. "Epopts."
She nodded. "It's an old word, a Hellene word. From the mysteries. You speak a lot of languages, don't you? Because that will be very useful."
"Yes," I said, keeping her hand trapped. "So the epopts control the guild."
Claudia blew out her breath in annoyance. "No, Imriel. The Unseen Guild is ruled by the Heptarchy. And don't ask me about them, because I don't know. Only that there are seven of them at all times. When one dies, another is chosen. Not even the epopts know the identity