Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [337]
"I'll try." I blinked back tears and laughed. "Come home safe?"
"I'll try," he promised.
All we could do was try. I boarded the barge and the barge-captain gave the order to shove off. We swung away from the wharf and the oarsmen began to stroke. In a few short minutes, we were on our way, travelling down the wide expanse of the Tiber. The figures on the shore began to dwindle. I stood at the aft end of the barge, watching until I could no longer see the glint of the autumn sun on Eamonn's bright hair.
"You all right, your highness?" one of the guards asked; Romuald, who'd ridden twice to Lucca and warned me about the dam. He was the one who'd laughed at me at the embassy gates the day I'd arrived with a stinking satchel full of incense. I was glad he'd drawn one of the lots.
"Yes," I said. "I will be."
Our journey to Ostia was swift and uneventful. We were travelling with the current and there was little traffic on the river this late in the season. As the seven hills of Tiberium fell away behind us, I stood beside Gilot's casket, remembering. There was the bridge we'd passed under before, the worn figure of Janus maintaining his vigil, his two faces gazing in opposite directions. Last time, a finger of foreboding had touched me as we glided beneath the bridge's shadow. This time, I saluted him, thinking of the split halves of a wax mask falling into the floodwaters. The man with two faces. Alais had been right, I'd met him after all.
Was he a friend?
One of him was.
As Lady Denise had promised, there was a ship awaiting us in Ostia. It was a Tiberian ship, and its captain had been paid handsomely to make the late crossing. He was a short, rotund man named Oppius da Lippi, good-natured and merry.
"You're the D'Angeline prince's party?" he shouted from the deck as we made our way across the quai. When one of the guards answered in the affirmative, he nodded so enthusiastically that his chins quivered. "Come aboard, come aboard!"
All his men were in good spirits. I watched in bemusement as they loaded our gear and horses quickly aboard the ship, laughing and dodging as the Bastard balked on the ramp, snapping at his would-be handlers.
"Here." I took the reins. The Bastard eyed me with profound mistrust, but he suffered me to lead him aboard. Once he was safely esconced in a narrow stall in the dark hold, he settled down, and I returned abovedeck.
"A right bastard, eh, sir?" asked a cheerful sailor.
I smiled. "You might say so." They were loading Gilot's casket and I was worried that they'd handle it carelessly, but they treated it with the respect due a dead hero, at least until the casket was safely stowed away below.
"Your highness!" Captain Oppius approached me with a florid bow. "Welcome aboard the Aeolia! 'Tis the first time she's carried royalty, but I promise you, she's up to the task. Cradle you on the bosom of Ocean, she will, as safe as a babe at the teat."
"My thanks, lord captain." I extended my hand. "Call me Imriel."
"Imriel!" He pumped my hand, beaming with delight. "Not one to stand on ceremony, eh? Wise, very wise! Makes for a more pleasant journey, and a good thing, too, since we're like to run into a few rough patches. Call me Oppius. Do you dice?"
"Betimes." I glanced around. "Captain Oppius, forgive me, but why the merriment?"
"Marsilikos, lad!" A wide grin spread across his plump face. "We'll be forced to winter there, and every man of us with a fat purse thanks to your lady ambassadress' generosity." He rolled his eyes and kissed his fingers. "Have you seen the women there?"
"Ah." I smiled. "Yes."
"They look like…" The captain's voice trailed off and he stared at me for a moment, his lips pursed. "Don't really need to tell you, do I?"
"No," I said. "Not really. But do me a kindness and bid your men treat Naamah's Servants with the courtesy and respect they would accord their own mothers and sisters and daughters.