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told her such a thing is impossible, the Comtesse asks your aid in restoring the boy, my lord husband.”
    His face darkened, strong brows drawing together. “Alas,” he said, regret heavy in his voice. “I would like nothing better than to try the strength of the Drujani, but it has been tried, to no avail. I will send no more of my people to die in that accursed land. I am sorry for your loss, Comtesse, and it grieves me to deny your boon. If it comfort you at all, the boy is not the only one. It is said that the Mahrkagir’s vile priests have brought slaves from many nations for his seraglio.”
    Well and so; Valère had warned me. I had forced her hand in vain, and lost her goodwill in the bargain. “Do you know why, my lord?” I asked him. “Why does he assemble them?”
    “I know what the Persians say.” Prince Sinaddan looked thoughtfully at me. “Is your stomach strong, lovely translator?”
    I could have laughed, at that. I didn’t. “A man once tried to skin me alive, my lord Lugal. Is that strong enough?”
    He did laugh, showing white teeth against his beard. “Aiee, Shamash! D’Angeline women are always full of surprises, is it not so? Well, you are here, so I suppose you may bear it. The Persians say the Mahrkagir has turned Drujan from the worship of Ahura Mazda, the Lord of Light, to Angra Mainyu, the Lord of Darkness.” He shrugged. “It is an eternal battle between the two, they say. And it is written in their prophecies that Angra Mainyu shall be defeated, but he shall rule for ten thousand years before it happens.”
    “The Mahrkagir is willing to settle for ten thousand years,” I said.
    “Even so.” Sinaddan nodded. “And to win Angra Mainyu’s aid, he has extinguished the Sacred Fires, and raised up the priests of darkness. All things he may do to repudiate the Light, he has done. As for the act of love, which begets life ...” He smiled grimly. “He has transformed it into an act of hate, begetting only death. These are the seeds he would sow in the nations of the world, enacted upon the flesh of its denizens. Hence, his seraglio. It is said the Mahrkagir searches,” he added, “for the perfect victim, an offering beyond compare, whose violation will secure Angra Mainyu’s ascendance.” He shrugged. “It is folly, so claims the priesthood of Shamash, all folly and play-acting. But when the bone-priests of the Drujani walk the streets, they hide behind locked doors and pray.”
    My blood ran cold at his revelation; it was not, I supposed, the most dreadful thing that could be done. I have heard of worse atrocities, including those committed by Akkadians. But I am D’Angeline, and a scion of Blessed Elua, and I could conceive of no greater blasphemy. And too, I remembered the children left behind in Amílcar.
    Fadil Chouma had sought one child; only one. Peerless; a gadjo pearl, the Tsingani had called Imriel de la Courcel.
    And his mother had seen to it he was raised in perfect innocence.
    “What does he say?” Lord Amaury placed a peremptory hand on my wrist. “Will he send men into Drujan on our behalf?”
    Unable to speak, I shook my head.
    “So be it.” Amaury’s tone rang with relief. “My lords, my lady de Rives, listen well! We have exerted ourselves at the Queen’s behest, above and beyond the call of duty. Though I am sore grieved at our failure, we have come to the place where we can go no further. As I am entrusted with the Queen’s command, I so decree it: Our quest ends here.”
    There was unabashed cheering. I do not think they lacked pity for Imriel’s fate, but the fear of Drujan had grown strong. I looked at their happy, relieved faces. The Akkadians, thinking it a tribute, smiled with pleasure. Valère was whispering to Prince Sinaddan, explaining what had transpired. Renée de Rives was flushed and joyous, her youthful beauty like a candle in the feasting-hall. It was, I thought, passing strange that her offer had so failed to move me. I had never found surcease from my own nature before.
    This is how it ends.
    I looked at Joscelin, his quiet, capable hands curled around a cup of honey-beer, no rejoicing in his expression, only quiet compassion awaiting my reaction. I thought of my dream, my vow, the diamond held forth on Kushiel’s hand. I wondered at the absence of desire within me, that terrible, waiting emptiness. And I felt the looming pattern that had hovered over us since that first awful moment in Siovale, when I realized that