Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [81]
You will find it and lose it, again and again…
It was cold and clear that night; almost wintry, except for the moist odor of spring in the air, rising in a mist from the damp, quickening soil. The inns and wineshops of Night's Doorstep were doing a rollicking business, but it took place behind closed doors and sealed windows, leaving the streets relatively quiet.
"Mont Nuit." At the base of the hill, Hugues breathed the name. "Ready, Imri?"
I nodded. "I'm ready."
We passed other parties leaving as we arrived; riders and coaches, some of them unmarked. Ti-Philippe exchanged good-natured greetings with several of them, and I found myself glad he was there. He was Phèdre nó Delaunay's chevalier, and no one thought it strange to find him on Mont Nuit. For my part, I kept my head low, gazing at my hands on the reins.
All of the Thirteen Houses had their estates on Mont Nuit, and all of them were splendid in different ways. Each estate was gated and fenced, with the insignia of the House rendered on the gates. Cereus House, first and oldest, sat atop the hill's crest. The others lay lower. We reached Balm House before I had a chance to see the place where Phèdre spent her childhood. The insignia on the gates matched the relief on my ivory token.
"Here we are," Ti-Philippe said softly.
There was a gatekeeper. Behind bars of wrought iron, he bowed to us. "What seek you, my lords?"
I showed him the token. "Healing."
He bowed again, deeply. "Then find it," he said, opening the gates.
We rode up to the courtyard of Balm House. It was a pleasant place, low and sprawling. The air smelled green and good, like Richeline's herb garden. Ostlers descended on us, solicitous and friendly, taking our horses to be stabled and directing us to the main door. I found my feet faltering.
Hugues nudged me. "Go on, Imriel."
The door of Balm House opened, spilling a square of lamplight. There was a figure silhouetted in it; a woman's figure, broad-hipped and solid.
"Young highness," she said in a grave voice. "I am Nathalie nó Balm, the Dowayne of this House. Be welcome here, you and your men."
I took a deep breath and entered. "Thank you."
She looked like a mother; or someone's mother. Not mine, surely. There was somewhat in her presence and her manner that eased me. "So," she said, smiling at me, ushering us into the foyer, where servants in the livery of Balm House bowed and took our cloaks. "You seek healing here."
I held out my hand with the token on it. "Phèdre sent me."
The Dowayne Nathalie took it from me, her eyes crinkling. "Yes, I know. We have spoken. Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève is wise in Naamah's ways, and you are wise to trust to her wisdom. Will you trust to mine?"
I hesitated. "How so, my lady?"
"Ah." She steepled her fingers and touched her lips. "Come and see."
She led us into the reception salon. It was a vast space, but it was arranged on an intimate scale, divided by carved screens which formed a number of smaller spaces. There were clusters of couches, with hanging oil lamps casting a warm glow above them. Everywhere, potted plants grew, lending an herbal fragrance to the air and mingling with the scent of beeswax candles. In the center of the room, a small fountain trickled gently, and somewhere a flautist was playing, low and sweet. There were a handful of patrons arrayed on the couches, conversing with graceful adepts. Apprentices circulated with winejugs and trays of cordial, quiet and unobtrusive.
"A peaceful place," Ti-Philippe observed. "Very pleasant, my lady."
"My thanks, chevalier." The Dowayne inclined her head to him, then turned to me. "Balm House is not like other houses. If it is your wish, I will arrange a showing of those adepts available and willing to serve you.