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deciding how much to tell me. “Yes,” he said at length. “I’ve looked.” He set down his glass and looked frankly at me. “Your methods differ from mine, anguissette ; on that much, we are agreed. The last time we failed to trust one another, we nearly gave the realm into Melisande Shahrizai’s hands. If I tell you what I know, will you return the courtesy?”
    The sound of Joscelin’s movements paused, then continued. “I will,” I said.
    “All right.” Barquiel L’Envers drew a breath and ran one hand through his fair, short-cropped hair. “You know I’ve ties to Khebbel-im-Akkad, and to Aragonia. I’ve had agents search for word in both places, high and low; and from thence, Ephesium, Carthage and the Umaiyyat. No one has found a trace of the boy. I trust you’ve implored your connections in La Serenissima, Hellas and Illyria to do the same?”
    “Yes.” There was no strain in his voice, no flicker to his eyelids, not a single one of the tell-tales of a lie. “And I have sought rumor in Terre d’Ange as well.”
    L’Envers nodded. “As I thought. Anafiel Delaunay trained you well. If it were anyone close to Ysandre, I trust you’d have found them in ten years.”
    “It wasn’t.”
    He stared at me. I saw his pupils dilate as comprehension dawned. Fear and excitement look much the same at close range; I wasn’t sure which it was. “You know.” He caught his breath in his bruised throat, coughed impatiently, closed one hand hard around my wrist. A few feet away, Joscelin unobtrusively readied his daggers. “You know!” L’Envers’ eyes gleamed, his lips parted in a eager smile. “Who is it?”
    “It doesn’t matter, my lord,” I said, ignoring his grip. “The boy is missing.”
    Letting go my wrist, Barquiel L’Envers swore a stream of invective filled with heartfelt passion. On the floor, Joscelin relaxed and continued cleaning his gear. I waited until the Duc had finished, and then told him an abbreviated version of Melisande’s story.
    “And you thought I had done it?” he asked when I was done.
    “My lord has the means and the wits,” I said diplomatically. “It occurred to Melisande as well. And,” I added, “I suspect you’ll be hearing from the Queen.”
    “A dubious compliment. I’ll take it as such.” Barquiel L’Envers grinned and shook his head. “Elua’s sanctuary! I thought she must have spirited the lad off to Skaldia. It’s the one place we’ve no means of searching, and like as not she’s still got ties there from Selig’s day. I never dreamed she’d allies among Elua’s priesthood.”
    “Nor did I, my lord,” I said. “Nor did I.”
    Joscelin, scrubbing at the buckles of his vambraces, made a sound of profound disapproval.
    “Well.” L’Envers glanced reflexively in his direction. “If she’s outsmarted you and me, my lady Phèdre, it seems she’s outsmarted herself as well. I’ll not pretend I’d be sorry to hear of the child’s demise. Innocent he may be, but while he lives, he’s a weapon to be used against the descendents of House L’Envers. And I mislike not knowing whose hand might wield him,” he said, looking back at me. “Has Ysandre summoned the priest responsible?”
    “Not yet.”
    “She will.” He leaned back in his chair. “It may take her some time to work up the resolve to confront the priesthood of Elua, but she’ll do it. I know my niece.”
    I nodded, taking his words for warning. “Duly noted, my lord. My thanks for your candour.”
    “Ah.” L’Envers grinned at Joscelin’s bowed head. “You paid a fair price for it. I trust you’re satisfied I was not less than forthcoming? Or do you require me to swear on it... by the burning river?”
    I flushed as he spoke the ancient password of House L’Envers, the vow that binds its members to truth and succor. It was with those very words that I had charged him to defend the City of Elua against the traitorous Percy de Somerville, words given me in trust by his kinswoman, Nicola L’Envers y Aragon. “Would you so swear, if I asked?”
    The Duc’s gaze never wavered. “I would.”
    “No,” I said. “I believe you.”
    It was late afternoon when Joscelin and I took our leave of Champs-de-Guerre, reckoning we could make the City of Elua by nightfall if we rode without stopping, for the days had grown long with the coming of summer. Barquiel L’Envers’ valet had done a good job of cleaning Joscelin’s clothing, now dry and only slightly