If ever I had doubted that Melisande Shahrizai was dangerous, I doubted it no more that night, for alone among her kin, she did not laugh and jest, but narrowed her eyes in thought. "Something for nothing, from a Tsingano? That is something indeed. Marmion, pay him, that there be no debt between us."
One name, at least, to a fair Shahrizai face; a younger brother or cousin, I guessed, from the good-natured speed with which he obeyed, digging in his purse for a gold coin and tossing it in Hyacinthe’s direction. The coin flashed in the torchlight, and Hyacinthe plucked it neatly from the air, bowing with a flourish and tucking it into his purse. "My thanks, O Star of the Evening," he said in his normally unctuous Prince of Travellers tone.
At that, Melisande did laugh. "Your friends never fail to amuse in their honesty," she said to me. I made no reply. Someone gave an order to the servants, and the Shahrizai began to move onward, taking up their song. Melisande joined them, then wheeled her horse. "As for Baudoin de Trevalion…you grieve in your way," she said, her gaze making contact with mine once more, "and I in mine."
I nodded, glad of Hyacinthe’s presence between us. Melisande smiled briefly, then put heels to her horse, catching up to her party with ease.
Hyacinthe let out his breath in a long sigh, brushing his black ringlets back. "That, if I am not mistaken, is the jewel of House Shahrizai, yes?"
"You spoke the dromonde without knowing?" My placid mare tossed her head; I glanced down and saw that my hands trembled on the reins.
"One’s future knows one’s name; it matters not if the teller knows," he said absently. "That was Melisande Shahrizai, wasn’t it? I’ve heard songs about her."
"Whatever they sing, it’s no more than the truth, and only a portion of it at that." I watched them disappear around a corner at the end of the street. "Stranger to tell, she knew who you were, and they sing no songs about you, Hyacinthe."
His white grin flashed in the darkness. "They do, actually. Haven’t you heard the one Phaniel Douartes wrote about the Prince of Travellers and the Wealthy Comtesse? It’s a great favorite at the Cockerel. But I take your meaning." He shrugged. "She is a friend of Delaunay’s; mayhap he told her. Still, it is something, to so catch the interest of a Prince’s consort. I suppose you should be flattered."
"Her interest is first in Delaunay’s intrigues," I murmured. "As for the rest, she is Kushiel’s line. It is writ in her blood as surely as mine is writ in my gaze."
"That much is obvious," Hyacinthe said dryly. "Only Kushelines would do their grieving at Valerian House, and only you would be fool enough to go with them."
"I didn’t-"
"Nor would you," a third voice said behind us, flat and inflectionless in the dark. I twisted in the saddle to see Guy, unmounted, leaning against the alley walls with his arms folded. He raised his eyebrows at me. "I’m sure you wouldn’t betray Lord Delaunay’s trust in such a way, would you, Phèdre?"
"I thought you were on horseback," I said, for lack of a better response. Guy snorted.
"The way the two of you ride? Easy enough to follow on foot. Though you’ve a knack for it, when you forget to think about it," he added to Hyacinthe. To me, he said, "You, Delaunay should have taught. And if you’ve had enough of leading me on a merry chase, I’ll take you home to him and tell him so."
There was no gainsaying Guy once his mind was settled. We returned the horses to the stable, and he had the coach brought round. Hyacinthe grinned at my annoyance, and it galled me, as it usually did not, to be subject to Delaunay’s will. Guy merely gave me a resigned shrug, and called to the driver to take us home.
Delaunay was not even there, I discovered when we arrived, and was galled twice over by the knowledge that Guy had dragged me out of Night’s Doorstep of his own wishes.
The fact that he might have other things to do with his time than spend it shepherding his master’s headstrong, thousand-ducat-a-night anguissette through one of the most unsavory quarters of the City never crossed my mind. For that, I can only say that I was young, and filled with all of youth’s self-regard. If I had known what was to come, I would have acted differently toward Guy that night, for he had been kind enough, in his fashion, but I am ashamed to say that I treated him with sullen disregard.
Restless and irritated on my return, I prowled the house as if it were a prison and came upon Alcuin in the library. I was on the verge of giving vent to my frustration, but something in his face stopped me as he looked up from the letter he was reading.
"What is it?" I asked instead.
Alcuin folded the letter carefully, smoothing the creases. His white hair gleamed about his face as he bent to the task. "An offer. It came by messenger this evening, from Vitale Bouvarre."
I opened my mouth, and closed it. He glanced up sharply at me. "You know?" Alcuin had always been better than I at hearing the unsaid. I nodded.
"I overheard you, the night of Baudoin’s natality." I paused. "I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, truly. I’ve said nothing of it."
"It doesn’t matter." He tapped the folded letter against the desktop, lost in thought. "Why now, I wonder? Does he have somewhat less to fear, now that House Trevalion has fallen? Or does he fear he’s outlived his use to the Stregazza?"
I perched on a chair opposite him. "He has seen peers of the realm point fingers at one of the Great Houses, Alcuin, and live to gain by it. It has made him bold, and if the profit outweighed his fear, he would do it publicly." I shook my head. "He is sick with desire, and these events have made him rash enough to seek a cure, no more. Have a care with him."
"I will have care," Alcuin said grimly, "this once, and never again."
"Will you…tell that to Delaunay?" I asked hesitantly.
Alcuin shook his head. "Not until it’s done. The letter says only that Vitale agrees to my request regarding a patron-gift. Let Delaunay think it’s an assignation like any other; if he knew how I felt, he’d not let me go." His dark eyes dwelled intently on me. "Promise me you won’t say anything?"
It was not much to ask, and he had never asked me for anything before; it was not Alcuin’s fault he had been offered his freedom the very night I was chafing at my own bonds.
"I promise."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Though it was not my art to do it in the bedchamber-indeed, my gift lay in my very inability to do so-I am fairly well-skilled at dissembling. In all this time, for example, no patron of mine ever suspected the nature of my education as Delaunay’s anguissette save Melisande Shahrizai, but she was a separate matter. Even Childric d’Essoms, who knew in his bones that Delaunay had a game at stake, never fathomed my part in it until the day I told him.
But if I thought my skills considerable, they were nothing to Alcuin’s. I had heard in his voice and seen in his face the depth of his loathing for Vitale Bouvarre, yet in the days before his final assignation, no trace of it reflected in his demeanor. He was the same as he had always been, gentle-spirited and gracious, calmly accepting whatever fate dealt his way.
That which yields, I thought, is not always weak.
True to his word, Guy told Delaunay that Alcuin and I should be taught to sit a horse properly. Delaunay agreed, and Cecilie Laveau-Perrin graciously offered the usage of her country estate. It was still maintained by the seneschal appointed by her late husband, the Chevalier Perrin, when he had accepted his post as a counselor to the King.