Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [209]
My temper flared. "Oh, indeed?" I accorded him a cynical bow, laying my right hand on the hilt of my dagger. "Well, the next time some drunkard thinks to hurl a torch into your shop and send up a lifetime's worth of tribute to the gods, I'll not bother to stop him."
The incense-maker sucked his teeth. "You did that?"
"For all the good it's worth." I jerked my chin at the barrel. "Where's Canis?"
"The beggar?" He shrugged. "How should I know?"
"He kept your shop from being robbed, once," I said in disgust. "You might be bothered to give a damn."
Master Ambrosius repeated his shrug. "He stinks. It's bad for business. The other one was here, though," he added grudgingly. "The one who brought a message. Didn't leave one, just asked after you."
"My thanks," I said curtly.
I found Anna and told her what the priest had said. She bore the news bravely, but I could see her knuckles whiten as her hands clutched one another. She'd buried one husband young, and it had taken courage to risk caring for another man; her unlikely D'Angeline, nursing his own broken heart. It hurt to see the fear in her eyes.
"May I see him?" she asked in a low tone.
"Later, yes. He'll not wake for a time." I hesitated. "Is there someone who can care for Belinda?" She nodded. "All right, then. I'll come back for you, the city's not terribly safe yet. We can buy a votive-offering for Asclepius together and take it there. Does that suit?"
"Thank you, my lord!" The gratitude in her eyes was worse than the fear. Bobbing an awkward curtsy, she caught my hand and kissed it. I knew then that Gilot had told her who I was, and I repressed a sigh.
"Imriel," I said gently. "Just Imriel."
I left her then and went back into the city. I didn't trust myself to confront Claudia. Not yet. I went first to the Old Forum. It was teeming with a volatile mix of irate citizens and disgruntled students, held in check by a cohort of the princeps' own guard, recognizable by the purple stripe that bordered their white cloaks. I lost myself in the crowd and listened for a time while a group of senators stood upon the rostra and spoke in turn, denouncing both the night's violence and the plans of the Restorationists and the citizen assembly to diminish Tiberium's claim to academic glory.
Neither faction seemed pleased, but there was little to be said in anyone's defense. After the senators spoke, the lord chancellor of the University took the rostra and gave voice to his profound shame at the conduct of the students. He was a venerable figure, and I'd only ever seen him at a distance, but spoke he well, and a number of my fellow students looked abashed. I listened to the crowd, hoping to hear a familiar mutter.
There was no sign of my attacker, nor even the sharp-featured scholar whose neck I had marked. I guessed there wouldn't be; not him, nor a few others whose voices had been loudest in inciting the riots. Scholars' robes or no, I didn't think they were students.
When the lord chancellor had finished, Deccus Fulvius took the rostra and began to denounce his fellow Restorationists for acting in precipitous haste. I didn't stay to listen, slipping away instead to make my way to his domus, taking my coiled anger where it belonged.
Once there, I pushed my way past the servant who admitted me. The atrium was empty, save for the impluvium in the center and the shimmering reflection of sunlight dancing on the walls. When I raised my voice, it echoed.
"Claudia!" I shouted. "Claudia!"
She came.
Her face was anxious, brows knit into creases. They eased at the sight of me. "Imriel! I was worried. I sent Nestor to ask after you, but he could learn nothing."
I crossed the atrium in swift strides, grasping her face in my hands. A knot of fury twisted in my belly. "House Trevalion," I