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couch, his impassive slaves, his frescoed walls. In time, he regarded me. “I have never seen this boy. Iskandria enjoys free trade with La Serenissima. This woman of whom you speak was wife to the sole D’Angeline presence in that city-state. Our acquaintance is of long standing.”
    “Her fortunes,” I said, “have changed considerably from when first you knew her.”
    “Imprisonment.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Or sanctuary, if you will. Yes. Even so, I am given to understand that her son ...” he gave the word a subtle emphasis, “... stands third in line for the D’Angeline throne.”
    “He does,” I said. “Which is why her majesty Ysandre de la Courcel would as lief see him safe. It does not alter the fact that his mother has been condemned for treason and is sentenced to die should she set foot from her sanctuary.”
    Much to my surprise, Ptolemy Dikaios laughed, and did more than laugh. It was a deep and considerable laugh, roaring from his gut, until his eyes watered and he must needs use the fringed end of a sash to wipe them. “Ah, Phèdre nó Delaunay! Why did your Queen not send you to begin with? We would have saved a tedious dance. I have heard of you, indeed I have. This woman of whom we speak warned me of your wits.”
    I waited for his mirth to subside. “I have other business in Iskandria. My Queen only wants the boy returned.”
    “Yes, of course. His own mother asks nothing more.” He sat back down on his couch, sighing and dabbing at his eyes. “Oh, my! The gods themselves weep for laughter. You thought I had him?”
    “Until today,” I admitted.
    “Would that I did.” Ptolemy Dikaios heaved another great sigh and composed himself. “I’d have restored him, my lady, one way or another. I promised ... our friend ... as much, and she, I know, would not hold it overmuch against me had I sinned unknowing. A pity I did not, for she promised a formidable alliance should he take the throne. But no, my taste does not run to boys, not even D’Angeline boys.”
    “I would that it did, my lord Pharaoh,” I said quietly. “If the boy were to appear, dazed and unsure, with some wild tale on his lips ... there would be no questions asked. Only gratitude.”
    “You can guarantee that much?” he asked shrewdly. “You would swear to it?”
    I thought of the brooch Ysandre had given me, the Companion’s Star, and the boon unasked. “Yes, my lord,” I said to him. “I would swear to it. If it were true.”
    Our gazes locked, and it was the Pharaoh who looked away. “I spoke the truth,” he said. “I’ve never laid eyes on the boy nor heard whisper of his existence until your Lord Amaury inquired. A letter came from La Serenissima, on the very ship that brought you, and I learned more. Believe me, I’ve conducted a search of my own, to no avail. And now ...” He looked back at me. “If I were you, I would pray, to any god who would hear me. Because if there is any merit to your guess, if that boy’s been taken by the Drujani...” He shook his head. “I cannot help you. No one can.”
    “Well,” I said, light-headed with despair. “We will have to see. Do we have a bargain, my lord Pharaoh? My silence for your aid?”
    He paused, and nodded. “We have a bargain. For all that it is worth.”
    It was then that there came a discreet rap at the door, and the Captain of the Iskandrian Guard entered with the news that would sunder my world in twain.
    I had struck my bargain too late. Imriel de la Courcel was gone, far beyond the boundaries of any aid the Pharaoh of Menekhet might render. Once again, I was three steps behind, and only Kushiel knew into what dire darkness the path led.
    Drujan , I thought, and shuddered.
    Ptolemy Dikaios looked at me with pity. It frightened me more than I could say.
    To his credit, Lord Amaury Trente received the news with fatalistic aplomb. “I knew it,” he said glumly when we were able to reconvene and I gave the guardsmen’s testimony verbatim. He put his head in his hands and tugged at his hair. “Blessed Elua, things always get complicated when you’re involved, my lady! No chance, I suppose, that they’re mistaken?”
    “No,” I said sadly, refilling his beer-cup myself. “I’m afraid not.”
    There was no great secret to it, when all was said and done. Sure that the boy was within Iskandria, no one had asked. Yes, Pharaoh’s gatekeepers had testified readily, they had seen a Drujani party leave the city by the