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you take an apprentice, or let the knowledge pass with you upon your death?”
    For a long time, he did not answer. “I don’t know,” he said at length. “Phèdre ... I’m only still getting used to the notion that I am free to wander the earth, that I may live and love, beget children, grow old and die ... die , like any mortal, and not dwindle endlessly into shriveled madness. It is too big to decide at once.” He glanced at me again. “Do you wish to learn it?”
    “ No !” I gave a startled laugh. “Name of Elua, no!”
    A hint of his old smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “So your curiosity has a limit.”
    “Yes,” I said. “I do believe it does.”
    Hyacinthe reached over and touched my hand as we rode side by side. “Nor would I wish this on you,” he said soberly. “You of all people, for you’re wise enough to understand that power of this nature is more burden than blessing. Know this, though. I will never forget what you’ve done for me, you and Joscelin ... and the boy. As long as I live, you may count yourself under my protection. Any aid you require is yours, always.”
    I squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
    No more did he say. I had not told him, yet, the whole of our story, nor of what had befallen in Nineveh, where an assassin’s blade had sought Imriel’s life, but Hyacinthe could guess well enough that Melisande’s son would have enemies, and I was truly grateful that he had offered freely the protection I had been so quick to boast of to Ysandre de la Courcel. There would be no guarantees, for Alba’s shores lay far from the City of Elua and my estate of Montrève, but of a surety, the friendship of the Master of the Straits was a powerful dissuader.
    Imriel.
    He rode in the thick of Rousse’s sailors, Phèdre’s Boys, and one of them had entrusted him with bearing the company standard, the banner that bore the image of Kushiel’s Dart. Imri grinned with pride at the honor, but they’d taken to him out of genuine liking, impressed with his unwavering courage aboard the Elua’s Promise . I swear, it seemed he’d grown another inch on this journey. I thought with rue of Hyacinthe’s offer. In truth, it tempted me ... if only the tiniest bit. Not for the power, no, but the knowledge . To master the tongue of Heaven! Ah, Elua, that would be something. Mayhap I would recognize in the strange characters those I had seen forming in the dust of the Ark of Broken Tablets, that I might record them, writing for posterity the unpronounceable Name of God.
    All knowledge is worth having .
    So my lord Delaunay used to say, so I have always believed. Seven years, it had taken Hyacinthe to learn it, the tongue and script alone. How long would it take me? Less, I daresay; I had the advantage of ten years of Habiru behind me. That should halve it, at least.
    In three years, Imriel would be fifteen.
    And not for anything, not for the knowledge of all of the One God’s secrets, did I want to miss those years. The furious, terrified child I had found in Daršanga had grown into a boy on the brink of youth, proud and touchy and damaged, but with a streak of courage that awed grown men, a heart capable of love and tremendous sacrifice. While he grew to manhood, it would always be touch and go with Imri, his generosity of spirit at war with the bitter unfairness of the lot he’d drawn, of the horrors that had been visited upon him and the scars they’d left. Love alone could sway the balance.
    I touched my bare throat, where once Melisande’s diamond had hung.
    I had a promise to keep.
    Although, I thought, riding under the bright blue D’Angeline skies, it may be that Hyacinthe would be willing to share with me the alphabet alone, and mayhap a phonetic guide to the pronunciation of the unknown characters. After all, I’d done a fair job of teaching myself Jeb’ez from Audine Davul’s guide. Kaneka may have laughed at me in the zenana , but she’d understood me well enough, and I’d garnered that much studying on shipboard and over campfires. A few hours here and there ... I need not devote the last years of my youth to an all-consuming apprenticeship, but a good deal can be accomplished in a few stolen hours over time, if one is determined enough. Who knew what texts might be unearthed if correspondence was established between Saba and Terre d’Ange one day? Eleazar ben Enokh would be glad of the endeavor, of that I was sure. As the schism grew deeper among the Children of