Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [334]
"Yes, darling," she said now; softly, so softly. "That's Gilot."
"He died…" I paused, hearing the rawness of my voice. "He died a hero—"
"Stop." A quiet fierceness. Anna covered her eyes with her hands, then lowered them. "I don't want to hear it," she said to me. "Not here. Not now. I don't care."
I nodded and withdrew the banking house's letter of credit from inside my doublet, setting it on the table. "A beginning," I said quietly. "For you and Belinda. It was his wish. There will be more soon. If you have need of aught, you need only ask. There is a standing order at the embassy."
"Need!" Anna drew a long, shuddering breath, then loosed it, her shoulders slumping briefly. "Thank you, Prince Imriel," she said formally, rising to her feet. "It was good of you to come."
"Anna…"
"Please go." There were tears in her voice. "Please go, now."
I went.
I heard a single sharp, choked sob as the door closed behind me, and then the low murmur of Anna's voice attempting to explain to her daughter that Gilot was gone, that Gilot, like her father, was never coming back. I leaned my brow against the door and wept.
So it was done, my last errand and the hardest one. I gathered myself and walked away from the insula. Away from a young widow's grief and a child's incomprehension. Away from the self that had lived in this place. Only a lingering scent of myrrh from Master Ambrosius' shop followed me, and within a block, that, too, was gone.
At the stable, I reclaimed the Bastard, tipping the stable-lad a silver denarius. He gaped so widely he nearly forgot to thank me. I didn't care. Anna was right, money meant nothing. Tomorrow, after the worst of grief's blow had been absorbed, it might. Tonight it didn't.
I rode slowly through the streets of Tiberium, alone with my thoughts. Gilot would have scolded me for it. If he hadn't been so damnably worried about my safety, he'd never have gotten hurt in the rioting, never had sustained the injury that killed him. He was always trying to protect me.
I carry a lot of guilt, I'd said to Valpetra.
And when all was said and done, the worst danger I'd faced had come from a man I barely knew. A stranger, bound to me by ties as narrow as the edge of my sword. A woman's terror, a missing hand. I'd created an enemy for myself far more determined than those I'd inherited from my mother's legacy.
And Canis had saved me from them all.
At the base of the Esquiline Hill, I drew rein and gazed back at the city. There had been the riot, of course; and the footpad in the alley the night I'd wandered the streets of Tiberium alone. The dead man outside the insula, his throat slit. Canis, trembling with fear, telling a tale of quarreling thieves. I'd taken pity on him, given him my cloak.
"I'm an idiot," I said aloud.
The Bastard snorted in agreement, pricking his ears toward the embassy.
The Guild had known about Bernadette de Trevalion. Surely, my mother must have known, too. But she had withheld her hand from seeking vengeance, content merely to protect me. Or was it the only thing it lay in her power to do?
I didn't know.
I might never know.
And yet, if I had other enemies I couldn't put a name to, enemies known to her, I didn't doubt she would seek to protect me. It was a strange thought. I stared out at the darkened city, sprawling across Tiberium's hills. Light spilled from the wealthier homes; the poor quarters were dim. I wondered if my mother was out there somewhere, or if she was elsewhere, far, far away. I never had succeeded in identifying Canis' accent.
I raised one hand. "Kushiel's mercy on you, Mother."
A shudder ran through me, a memory of bronze wings. There was a taste of blood in my mouth. The Bastard shifted restlessly beneath me, pebbles rattling under his hooves. I turned his head back toward the embassy and we began to climb.
It was quiet when we arrived.
Since it suited my mood, I was glad. After the visit to Anna's, I craved it. Lady Denise was entertaining Eamonn and a noted Master of Skaldic studies in the dining hall. I begged off on