Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [258]
I met her gaze and she returned it steadily. "All right," I said. "Thank you."
Brigitta inclined her head. "You are welcome."
We found our way to the kitchen, where the mood was tense. The servants of the Tadeii household spoke in urgent, hushed whispers. Nonetheless, a sweet-faced scullery maid came to our aid. Seated at the servants' table, we broke our fast on bread sopped in an egg posset and sprinkled with shaved curls of a hard, sharp-tasting cheese. Until Eamonn made me eat, I hadn't realized I was a trifle lightheaded with hunger. Brigitta was right, it had been a day and more since I'd eaten. I could have consumed a dozen possets.
"Is there more?" Eamonn asked hopefully.
The maidservant who had procured them for us glanced at the master cook. He hesitated, then scowled and shook his head at her.
"I'm sorry, my lords." She clasped her hands together and wrung them. "We're on short rations, all of us. Lord… Lord Lucius' orders."
"Lucius!" Eamonn exclaimed. "Lucius wouldn't—"
"Eamonn." I forestalled him. "Lucius wouldn't, but Gallus Tadius would, and rightly so. The city's under siege. Elua knows how long it will last. He's back, then?" I directed the last to the maidservant.
"Yes, my lord." Her head bobbed. "He came late yesterday evening. He works alone in his quarters. No one… no one wanted to disturb you, my lord."
"Imriel," I said. "My name's Imriel. What's yours?"
She flushed to her hairline. "Teresa."
"Teresa." I smiled to put her at ease. "Who came? Lucius or Gallus?"
"G-Gallus, my lord." The scullery maid swallowed. "So they say." She shivered. "Is it true, then? I think it is. I know it is. Everyone says so. I knew Lord Lucius before he left. He had a sharp tongue, but he was always kind beneath it. Now… it's all different."
"It's true." I stood up. "Eamonn, tighten your belt. Let's go."
By the time we left the kitchen, the Tadeii villa was awake. The embalmers arrived, and it was Claudia who directed them to Gilot's chamber and sent a runner to find me. I went and watched them prepare Gilot for removal. They were somber men and they treated his body with care, covering it with a linen shroud and easing it gently onto a litter.
"You wish the full treatment?" one asked Claudia. "It is costly. And in such times"—he shrugged—"More so."
She caught my eye and raised an inquiring brow.
"Yes," I said. "I mean to bring him home."
Deccus Fulvius laid his hands on his wife's shoulders. "I will stand the cost."
The embalmer bowed. "My lord senator."
I felt guilty at it, but not so guilty as I did at Gilot's death. If Deccus Fulvius wanted to stand the cost, well and good. When Gilot had jammed the cog-wheel that lowered the drawbridge, he had bought us all a respite. And when he had slipped its chains that it might be raised, he had paid the final price. We all owed him a great debt, Deccus included.
I watched the embalmers carry him away.
"My mother carried my uncle's head home from the battlefield of Troyes-le-Mont," Eamonn said thoughtfully. "Preserved in lime. You might consider it, Imri."
I shuddered. "I'll think on it."
Somewhere in that time, Lucius—Gallus Tadius—emerged. There was a good deal of confusion in the villa. Publius Tadius had become a ghost in his own right, vanishing into the depths of his chambers. Beatrice had taken to her bed. What had happened had broken their spirits, at least for the moment. It was Claudia who had held the family together, backed by Deccus' authority and wealth.
A day had passed.
There were no more priests, no more incantations, no more herbs and braziers. In the scorched bell-tower, I understood, the mundus manes remained uncovered. And when Gallus Tadius sauntered through the villa, yawning and scratching himself, wearing Lucius' face, there was no doubt who was in charge.
If anything, there was relief.
He called us into the large dining room, where we perched uneasily on