Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [279]
They were a squadron of embassy guards, I guessed. They rode fully armed, some thirty strong, with surcoats and cloaks of Courcel blue. There on their banners were two of the seals I'd longed to see—the golden lily and stars on a green field that represented Elua and his Companions, flying above the silver swan of House Courcel.
And, too, they carried the pure white banners that requested a peaceful parley.
Valpetra's cavalry interecepted them before they reached the gate, galloping across the blackened fields. I watched with my heart in my throat, praying they wouldn't be turned back. After an interminable length of time, one of the cavalrymen headed back toward their new encampment on the far side of the river. The rest waited out of range while the D'Angeline contingent moved forward.
Gallus Tadius pulled me back from the window. "Hold, D'Angeline. Don't be hasty."
I glared at him. "They're my people!"
"And it's my city." He shrugged. "Let's just see, shall we?"
Outside the gate, the delegation drew rein. Gallus nodded to his guards, who took careful aim at them, crossbows cocked. "State your business!" one of them called.
"Quentin LeClerc, servant of her majesty Queen Ysandre de la Courcel of Terre d'Ange, commander of the Tiberian garrison of her ladyship the ambassadress Denise Fleurais," came the reply in D'Angeline-accented Caerdicci. "We come seeking the ransom of his highness, Prince Imriel nó Montrève de la Courcel of Terre d'Ange!"
Gallus glanced at me with a hint of amusement. "I take it that's you, fancy-boy?" I nodded. "Well, I'll have a word with them."
Without further ado, he ducked through the outer door and sauntered out onto the wall. From the tower chamber, I watched him fold his arms and address them.
"Right," he said easily. "I'm Gallus Tadius, Prince of Lucca, and as far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to the whelp. But unless your whoring Queen's sending a few thousand more like you to guarantee the bargain, I'd think twice about it." He jerked his chin toward the north. "You want safe passage for him, barter with Valpetra."
"My thanks, your highness, on behalf of her majesty and Terre d'Ange, for your generosity. We will negotiate with the Duke of Valpetra." The unseen commander's tone was circumspect. "Might it be possible to speak to Prince Imriel? I would confirm his well-being."
"Why not?" Gallus beckoned. "Come on out. You've leave to talk as long as you like," he added, passing me and heading back for the tower. "It's your lookout if you get shot by the enemy. And mind, the guards have orders to shoot you themselves at the first hint of treason." Ah, Elua! All the homesickness I'd been holding at bay overwhelmed me at the sight of my countrymen. D'Angeline faces, clear-cut and handsome. I found myself beaming involuntarily at Quentin LeClerc. He was a tall man with dark brown hair braided in a tidy cable, a bemused look on his face as he peered upward. He accorded me an uncertain bow from his saddle.
"Your highness?" he asked in D'Angeline. "Prince Imriel?"
In my haste to see them, I'd thrown on last night's worn, dirty attire. I hadn't had a proper bath since before Eamonn's wedding, either, just another cursory wash at the basin. I dragged my sleeve over my face, smearing lingering soot-stains. "Forgive me, messire. Last night's patrol was… eventful."
"So I see," he said.
One of the guards laughed. "That's him, my lord. He turned up at the embassy dressed like a beggar and smelling somewhat fierce one day."
I flushed, remembering. "Not me. It was the satchel."
"Oh, aye!" He winked and bowed. "The satchel it was."
"No mind." I sat on the edge of the wall, dangling my legs over the moat. The water was higher than it had been since Gallus Tadius ordered the sluice gates blocked. "Messire LeClerc, how did her ladyship