Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [265]
"Aye, sir!" We both saluted.
He jerked his chin. "Go on."
Through the deepening twilight, Eamonn and I rode toward the outskirts of the city. It was disconcerting. I was barely familiar with Lucca, and the streets looked less familiar than ever in the purple dusk. No one was about. We passed the closed doors and shuttered windows of shops and inns. Here and there, in townhouses, we could see a spark of lamplight, but already people were hoarding their stores as Gallus had ordered.
We reached the city wall, and beneath its looming shadow began to ride in a slow circuit around the inside perimeter of Lucca.
Gallus Tadius had been busy. At every substantial oak tree, there was a sentry posted. I craned my head at the first one, but I could see nothing save the vague silhouette of branches and leaves against the dusk.
"Mundus," I called.
"Manes," came the soft reply. "All quiet."
We rode onward.
"Gallus Tadius has an odd sense of humor for a dead man," Eamonn remarked. My stomach rumbled in answer. "Have you eaten since this morning?" he asked. When I shook my head, he rummaged in his saddlebag and handed me a meat pastry pie in greasy cloth. "Here. Filched from the kitchen."
"My thanks," I said gratefully.
Eamonn shrugged. "Thank Brigitta. It was her idea."
I ate one-handed, juices dripping down my chin. "She's…" I swallowed. "You're very fond of her, aren't you?"
"Aye." Eamonn glanced at me. "Does it bother you?"
"Because she's Skaldi?" I asked.
He shrugged. "All of it."
I thought about it as I finished my pie and Eamonn exchanged password and countersign with the next sentry. All was still quiet atop the walls of Lucca. "A little," I said honestly. "Not because she's Skaldi. In the zenana, there was a young man, Erich… did I tell you about him?"
Eamonn nodded. "At the Midwinter Masque. Remember?"
It seemed like a thousand years ago that we had attended the Queen's fete, dressed as Skaldic deities, reveling amid all the glittering panoply. I remembered Eamonn attired as Donar the thunder-god, dancing so carefully with Alais. And I… I had danced with Sidonie, and we had quarreled. That was the night I'd sworn fealty to her on a perverse whim.
"I remember," I said.
"It seems like a long time ago," Eamonn said softly. "And another world."
"It was." I tucked the grease-stained cloth in my belt. "Eamonn, I'm happy for you, truly. And yes, a little bit envious, and a bit jealous, too. It had naught to do with Brigitta. I miss you, that's all."
"I'm right here," he said.
"I know," I said, "But…"
"I know." He sighed. "It's different, it's all different. Why can't things be simple?"
I opened my mouth to reply. Up ahead, in the darkness, we heard shouting and splashing. Eamonn and I glanced at one another and set heels to our horses, racing toward the sound.
It was coming from the point along the wall where the aqueduct that fed the moat entered into the city, passing through a pair of sluice gates beneath the wall itself. The two riders ahead of us had dismounted and plunged into the canal. There was a good deal of splashing and grunting, but it was too dark to make out why.
"Hey!" a voice shouted from above. "Mundus!"
"Manes!" I squinted at the sentry-tree. "What's happening?"
There was scraping sound of a flint striker and a flurry of sparks atop the wall. A pitch-soaked torch kindled and I saw the sentry who held it, pointing. "Intruder. I saw him slip into the moat."
By the light of his torch, I could make out the dim sight of three figures struggling in the water. Whoever the intruder was, he was putting up a hell of a fight. Uttering a curse, I dismounted, unfastened my cloak, and jumped in to aid my fellow guards.
The water was only chest-deep, but it was cold and dank. In a heartbeat, I was soaked and chilled to the bone. The intruder wasn't a big man, but he was slippery as a fish and deceptively strong. One of the other guards gave up the moment I entered and flung himself over the edge