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proceed accordingly. There is our alliance with Khebbel-im-Akkad, but it is a tenuous one, and I suspect my uncle Barquiel would oppose me in this matter. It is his own daughter wed to the Khalif’s son; without him, I do not like the odds of Akkadian support. If I offer a ransom for the boy’s return-what then? Without the teeth of a threat, it admits weakness. In what risk do I then place my own people, my own children?”
    “Treat it as a matter of trade,” Drustan offered. He shrugged as she glanced at him. “A private matter couched in a greater, a Queen’s whim fulfilled to grease the wheels of trade. If I have learned anything since Alba entered the broader world, it is that no nation disdains trade. Parliament may not authorize the threat of force against Menekhet-and I think you are right; for Melisande’s son, they will not-but they would have no likely objection to a trade delegation. Especially,” he added, “if your delegates bear an interest in Alban goods. Then it is the Cruarch’s concern, and not Parliament’s.”
    “A clever thought, for a barbarian.” Ysandre’s voice was soft. “You would do that?”
    “Our goods, your delegates. Why not?” Drustan grinned. “We might make an exchange of it. Do you think you could persuade a few Azzallese shipwrights to winter in Alba?”
    “I might.” Ysandre smiled back at him. How strange it must be, I thought, to be wed not merely as husband and wife but Cruarch and Queen, trading men’s lives and the wealth of nations as love-tokens.
    I said none of this aloud, asking instead, “Who would you send?”
    “Amaury Trente,” Ysandre said without hesitation. “He’ll argue against it, but he’ll go in the end and I can trust to his discretion. Whatever transpires, I’d as soon this stayed quiet, Phèdre. Too many people would like to see it fail.”
    “Of course.” I inclined my head. Her choice was a good one. I had ridden with Lord Amaury Trente on the flight from La Serenissima, when he served as her Captain of the Guard. For all that he would rail against the wisdom of it, he would do all in his power to locate Imriel de la Courcel and see him restored to Terre d’Ange. His loyalty was beyond question.
    “What do you say, Messire Cassiline?” Ysandre asked Joscelin with genuine curiosity. “Is it wisely done?”
    Joscelin bowed to her, his forearms crossed. “It is. Do you send to Verreuil, I give my word that my family’s discretion will equal our own.”
    “I doubted it not.” The Queen looked at me. “What will you do now?”
    “Now?” I squared my shoulders against the burden of it. “I have some few things to be done in the City, my lady. There is a Yeshuite scholar I would consult, and some others. Then ...” I drew a breath. “Then we ride to La Serenissima. I have a promise to fulfill, and a name to garner. Elua willing, we will be in Iskandria not long after Lord Trente.”
    “I thought as much.” Ysandre’s expression softened. “Ah, Phèdre! If you must do this thing, must you do it on Melisande’s terms? Surely a courier could bear the news, and some other guide be found. I will not demand it of you, but Blessed Elua knows, if you are going to Iskandria, I would be passing glad to have your presence at Amaury’s side. What do you owe Melisande, that you must deliver this news yourself?”
    It caught me out; I’d not expected the offer, nor the question. They were looking at me, all of them, awaiting my answer. I felt my heart beat, slow and thudding, in my breast, the blood beating in my ears.
    “I don’t know,” I said. My voice sounded small. I raised my hand unthinking, reaching for the diamond that no longer hung at my throat. “Forgive me, my lady, but I truly don’t.”
    “So be it.” Ysandre sighed. “You are bound on this quest to free the Tsingano?”
    I nodded mutely.
    “And you will go with her?” She bent her gaze on Joscelin.
    “I have sworn it.” His voice was flat.
    Ysandre raised her brows. “Is there aught I may do to aid you in it?”
    Joscelin shook his head. “Pray for us, your majesty.”
    “Wait. There is one thing.” I met Drustan’s eyes. “You will return to Alba come autumn? And Sibeal with you?”
    “We will,” he said slowly, catching the shape of my thought. “You think that the Master of the Straits will hear her?”
    “I think he will.” I swallowed. “They are seers alike, Anasztaizia’s son and Necthana’s daughter. I didn’t understand