Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [288]
Eamonn sighed. "So."
"So," I echoed.
"A few weeks, do you think?" he asked.
Time. Time for the delegation to return, time for Lady Denise Fleurais to set the wheels of diplomacy in action, time for Claudia Fulvia to prevail on the Unseen Guild to grease those wheels, time for Deccus Fulvius to convince the Senate to put Tiberium's collective shoulder to the wheel. Time for mercenaries to be hired, time to report and muster. Time for messages to fly to Terre d'Ange and back. Time for the wrath of a nation's Queen to gather.
"A few weeks," I said. "Mayhap."
He grinned at me. "Ah, well! If that's all, we can hold."
"Can and will," I agreed. "Can and will."
The Tadeii villa felt deserted upon our return. The Lady Beatrice, who had bade her daughter farewell at the door, haunted it like a ghost, wringing her hands. I'd gotten over the awkwardness of imposing on her hospitality—after all, I was engaged in the defense of her city—but it came back to me that day. She got around it by plying Eamonn and me with food. There was an abundance of it, since no one had alerted the kitchen staff that three members of the household were departing. Food was rationed yet, but there were enough rations for five.
If it was a deliberate oversight, it was much appreciated. I suspected Claudia. She'd been the one to hold everything together.
"So they're well?" Lady Beatrice asked anxiously. "They're well away, my Claudia and Senator Deccus, and oh! Your lovely bride?"
Eamonn nodded, shoveling food into his mouth.
I swallowed a mouthful of lentil porridge. It was tasteless, but filling. "They are, my lady. Away and safe under the aegis of Terre d'Ange."
She was glad, and we were sated.
Afterward, we slept; or at least I did. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but the body's exhaustion takes its own toll. One of the Tadeii retainers came to wake me near sundown, and Eamonn and I reported for night patrol.
There, Gallus Tadius greeted us with another pleasant surprise. As though he'd read my mind, he was dividing the night patrol into two shifts. Half the riders were dismissed, and the rest of us remained. I blew on my cold fingers, already luxuriating in the thought of returning to my warm bed hours earlier than anticipated.
"I expect a quiet night," Gallus said. "But stay alert."
"He doesn't look happy," Eamonn whispered.
"Does he ever?" I whispered back.
He was right, though. Gallus Tadius flagged us down as we rode past and saluted. His face was engraved in unwontedly somber lines. "The exchange was made?"
"Yes, my lord," I said.
"Good." He leaned over and spat. "It's worth the price of Valpetra's wounded baggage to see the Tadeii bloodline carried on safely. Lads, I'm calling a conclave tomorrow. I expect to see you there."
"Aye, sir." I hesitated, trying to see if there was anything of Lucius in his sunken gaze. It was hard to tell in the dusk. "My lord, if you don't mind my saying, you should get some sleep."
"Sleep!" He gave a hollow laugh, his eyes glinting briefly in their bruised sockets. "Plenty of time for that when you're dead."
"Some jest," Eamonn muttered after we'd ridden onward.
"Not really," I said.
As Gallus Tadius had predicted, it was an uneventful night. We rode our endless circuits, exchanging password and countersign, but nothing was stirring beyond the wall. Valpetra's forces remained withdrawn. There was no stealthy advance, no attempt to drag siege engines within range under cover of darkness, no effort to bridge the moat or begin the long process of tunneling beneath it to sap the walls.
So what, I wondered, were they doing?
Whatever it was, it had Gallus Tadius worried.
We found out on the morrow.
As before, the conclave met in the basilica. It was a smaller gathering and there were no women present, only men. Captain Arturo was there and two of his lieutenants. Gaetano Correggio and a handful of other nobles, though fewer than before. No sign of Publius Tadius. Several of the more competent conscripts in the Red Scourge were present, sporting their