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remnants of an early meal were scattered across the table and the wine had flowed freely; for once, even Joscelin had drunk enough for it to show.
    “I’m sorry,” he said unevenly, greeting me with an embrace. There was a tension in his body that the wine had not dispelled. “Phèdre, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t go with you, I couldn’t bear to watch. I knew you were safe enough. I’d have gone, otherwise.”
    “I know.” I found a clean glass and a flagon of brandy, and downed a measure, welcoming the burning heat of it in my belly. “It wasn’t something you needed to see.”
    “No.” His expression twisted, nostrils flaring. “But I was near angry enough to want to. And it frightened me. What did you learn? What have they done with Imriel?”
    “Sold him.” I poured another glass and curled myself into a corner of a dining-couch, letting weariness claim me. “Sold him to a Menekhetan slaver, bound for a buyer in Iskandria. How are the children?”
    Joscelin sat down beside me, head in his hands. “Menekhet,” he murmured. “Blessed Elua. They’re sleeping,” he added belatedly, nodding in the vague direction of the guest quarte rs. “Well enough, under the circumstances. Ramiro’s chirurgeon examined them, and said they’ve taken no serious harm. Fear mostly, and lack of proper food and light. Opium sickness is the worst of it. It will be some days before they’re fit to travel. Weeks, mayhap.”
    “Weeks.” I watched Nicola, Ramiro and Luc in conversation. “We can’t wait weeks. If we book passage tomorrow, we can be in Iskandria.
    “No.” Joscelin lifted his head and stared at me. “Phèdre, are you mad? This has gone far enough. We found the trail here in Amílcar because of Nicola and Lord Ramiro’s help. How far do you think we’d get in Iskandria, the two of us, alone? Neither of us even speak the language, and we’ve scarcely funds enough for passage.” He shook his head. “No. Enough. We’re going home to the City, and making a report to Ysandre. She’s the Queen, Phèdre. If she wants to pursue it, she has resources at her disposal.”
    “I could find a factor in Iskandria willing to loan money-”
    “No!” Across the room, Luc startled at Joscelin’s raised voice. Joscelin sighed. “Name of Elua, you’re like a bloodhound on the scent. Phèdre, listen to me. Luc’s agreed to stay until the children are strong enough to travel, and Ramiro’s offered his hospitality. Luc and the men of Verreuil will see the children restored. If this Menekhetan’s coming back, they’ll catch him here in Amílcar. You and I are catching a ship to Marsilikos, and going home.”
    “Fine.” I closed my eyes, the warming heat of the brandy spreading lassitude throughout my limbs. I hadn’t slept since the night before we arrived in Amílcar. He was right, of course; right, because he was Joscelin, and sensible when it came to risking my safety, and right for reasons both of us, in our exhaustion, had forgotten. “And then what?”
    “And then we make our report to Ysandre, and it is in her hands,” he said grimly.
    “And afterward?” I opened my eyes to look at him. “I promised to return to La Serenissima, Joscelin, and report as much to Melisande. Do you remember what she promised in turn?”
    He stared at me a moment, then began to laugh, the soft, humorless laugh of a man defeated by irony. “A guide,” he said, pouring a tumbler of brandy and drinking it at a gulp. “The name of a man in Iskandria, who swears he can lead us to Shaloman’s people in the south of Jebe-Barkal.”
    Hyacinthe.
    Aware of the presence of an unseen pattern closing upon me, I nodded. “Even so.”

Twenty-Three
    NICOLA’S CHEEK, soft and perfumed, lingered against mine as we embraced in farewell. “Take care of yourself, Phèdre nó Delaunay,” she murmured. “I would miss you if anything happened.”
    “I will.” I smiled at her when she released me. “Come to the City, when this is all over. How can I believe you’d miss me, if I never see you?”
    “Naamah’s Servant, still.” She laughed. “I come when I can, and you know it. ’Twas easier before Ramiro’s appointment. I may have lacked money, but I had time in abundance. You have my letter for Ysandre?”
    “Yes.” I patted one of our bulging packs.
    “Good.” Her expression turned sober. “I promise you, the Harbor Watch stands on full alert. The Menekhetan will be in our hands before his foot touches shore,