Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [264]
My throat tightened. "Thank you."
I didn't deserve his kindness; but Gilot did. So I accepted it and stumbled off to my guest chamber. There I fell onto my bed, the sheets still rumpled from my lovemaking with Deccus Fulvius' wife. A trace of Claudia's scent hung in the air. Tired beyond guilt, I sank into the depths of a sleep at once deep and restless, plagued by fragments of fitful dreams.
A few minutes later, Eamonn shook me awake.
At least it seemed that way.
"Imriel!" He shook me again. I opened my eyes to see his face hovering above me. A low amber light slanted through the shuttered windows of my bedchamber, indicating that I'd slept for hours. "We're to report for duty."
I sat up, confused. "Duty?"
Eamonn nodded and perched on the side of my bed. "Mounted night patrol," he said in a cynical voice. "Gallus' orders."
I rubbed my face, half-blind with sleep. "Why us?"
"Not just us." Eamonn shook his head. "Every man of age with a sword and a horse, Luccan or no. And if you don't move and hop to it, he's like to confiscate the Bastard and assign him to someone who will."
"Like to see him try," I muttered, but I moved with alacrity.
We reported for duty in the central square of Lucca, along with a score of others. We assembled in two lines, while Gallus Tadius rode slowly back and forth, surveying us. Since earlier today, he had obtained armor; a full corselet, vambraces, and greaves. It was very fine and a little outdated, and I wondered if it had been his own. The gilded steel glinted in the fading light.
Everyone else bore a mishmash of armaments; swords, spears, hunting bows. Some carried bucklers slung over their backs. There were padded gambesons and chainmail shirts, and one lad with a helmet the size of a bucket, riding low on his brow. But all of them were armed, one way or another, and all were mounted. Several of their mounts bore unmistakeable harness marks on their hides, and at least one, I was sure, was a plowhorse, placid and gentle, with feathered fetlocks and hooves the size of dinner plates.
That was the one the boy with the bucket-helm rode.
Elua, but he looked young.
"Greetings, warriors," Gallus Tadius called. "Welcome to the Red Scourge!" He paused to acknowledge the resulting cheer. "Captain Arturo, give them their badges."
The captain of the Luccan city guard nodded to a lieutenant. It was the rosy-cheeked lad from before, the one Gallus had struck outside the temple. He looked different, proud and somber, despite the down on his upper lip and the yellowing bruise on his cheek. He paced along the lines, handing out scraps of crimson cloth as though bestowing a grave honor.
Eamonn and I watched others lash them about their upper arms and followed suit.
"Right!" Gallus said crisply. "You're to divide into pairs and ride along the inner walls. I want a constant circuit, no more than a few minutes between each pair. We're mounting guards atop the wall at every tree. Not my choice of crenellation, but we might as well use 'em. You will check in with each and every guard. Is that understood?"
We agreed that it was.
"Good." He leaned over and spat on the ground. "Aught's amiss, you ride like hellfire. One to the gatehouse to alert Captain Arturo, and one to find me. Understood?"
We agreed, again, that it was.
"Good." He eyed the sky. Sunset's last afterglow was vanishing and a pale half-moon hung on the rise. Whatever warmth the day had held was vanishing, and autumn's chill was setting in with the night. "Dare-say you'll make do without torches tonight. Get used to it. We'll make do without wherever we can."
On his order, we paired off. Gallus Tadius gave us the night's password and countersign we were to use with the guards and began ordering us to leave, one pair at a time. He sat astride his horse, motionless, and each rider saluted as they passed him. When Eamonn and I took our turn, he gave us both a long, hard stare.
"Behave yourselves, my princelings," he said. "Whoever you may be outside these walls, so long