Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [194]
"It's not that easy, Imriel!" she repeated in frustration. "There's a good deal I'm forbidden to tell you. And matters on that scale take months to play out, or years."
"Like what?" I challenged her.
"All right." Lying on her back, she gazed at the ceiling of Erytheia's atelier. "You know Deccus is a Restorationist." I nodded. "Well, it's not going to happen," she said. "The Senate won't get the popular support it needs to restore the republic."
"You're a senator's wife," I said wryly. "You're privy to information."
"Which is why I was approached in the first place." She rolled over. Damp tendrils of dark red hair clung to her temples. "But that's not why I know, Imriel. The Restorationists support diverting funds for the University to rebuild Tiberium's trade status. The Unseen Guild opposes this."
"Why on earth?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"Because the University of Tiberium attracts scholars from nations all over the world," she said. "It's an endless resource for the Guild's recruiting. We're careful and selective, but we do make use of it. And we don't want to see it reduced or eliminated."
"So you spy on Deccus and his comrades, and report to the Guild?" The thought gave me a chill. It seemed wrong, very wrong.
Claudia's eyes flashed. "I'm not a cold hearted monster, Imriel! I'd not do anything to endanger Deccus. Indeed, with the Guild's aid, I can protect him from the repercussions of his own politics. But yes, some things I report. And if I can sway his thinking on the matter of the University, it may be that the Restorationists will find the political balance tipping."
"I don't believe you," I said stubbornly. It wasn't true, but I thought that mayhap if I clung to my position, it would force Claudia to reveal more than she intended, one way or another. In that, I was mistaken.
"Believe what you like," Claudia said with a shrug.
Would that I could.
So I lived my divided life and reflected ruefully on the not very distant past, when it seemed that escaping to Tiberium and becoming a simple student, a scholar among many, would free me from the snares that entangled me.
As if to make matters worse, I returned to the insula one afternoon to find yet another unexpected missive awaiting me. It was sitting on the rude wooden table, creamy parchment stamped with the seal of an unfamiliar D'Angeline device, and my name written in a graceful, flowing hand: Imriel de la Courcel. The sight of it was like a dousing with cold water.
"Gilot!" I snapped. "Where did this come from?"
He glanced up from the sword he was whetting. "A messenger from Lady Fleurais, the D'Angeline ambassadress."
I tapped the letter against the table. "Did you see the name on it?"
"Aye." His gaze was steady. "So? What do you expect me to do, Imri? You are who you are. I'm not about to lie to the Queen's appointed envoy about it." Gilot frowned. "You're not exactly invisible, you know. If you wanted to vanish altogether, you should have run away and joined the Tsingani. Or at least registered at the University under a false name."
"The University doesn't require a residence of record," I pointed out. "And you were the one rented the apartment room, not me. We did that a-purpose, remember?"
Gilot shrugged. "You're not exactly inconspicuous."
I cracked the seal and read the letter. It was an invitation to dine with the ambassadress on the following day. Although it was couched in pleasant terms, it was clear that Lady Fleurais was doing the Queen's bidding and expected me to do the same. I tossed the letter on the table and flopped onto my pallet with a sigh.
"What is it?" Gilot asked.
"An invitation to dinner," I said. "It seems her majesty the Queen wishes a report on my well-being."
"Well, and why not?" he said pragmatically. "She has a right to be concerned. As I recall, she went to considerable lengths to secure it."
It was true, and I felt guilty. "I know. It's just… I don't like being so easily found."