Kushiel's Chosen

twilight, hair of midnight.' " I knew it; it had been written for Melisande, though they sing it now with a different name. "At any rate," Fortun continued, "he sang it over half the city, beseeching everyone in sight for news of his beloved, who abandoned him for his lack of station." He looked gravely at me. "What we learned, you heard. But no one-no one, my lady-had word of a D'Angeline noblewoman answering to Melisande Shahrizai's description. And I do not mean that they were reluctant to betray her to a drunken sailor, my lady. I mean that they have not heard of her, ever. You taught me to recognize the signs of evasion and dissemblage. We talked to oarsmen, porters and nobles alike. Not a one knew of her, and not a one lied."
    A little silence fell over our table.
    "Phèdre," Joscelin said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "You think Melisande is in La Serenissima because she wanted you to think it. It stands to reason, therefore, that she is not."
    Ysandre had said as much, and as rightly. I could not explain to Joscelin any more than I could to the Queen my unreasoning certainty, because, ultimately, whether I liked to admit it or not, it was rooted in the belief that I knew Melisande Shahrizai's deepest nature better than anyone else alive or dead, even Delaunay.
    As she knew mine.
    I took a deep breath. "Gonzago de Escabares' friend was contacted after he paid a visit to the Doge's Palace. If the answer is here, surely it lies within those walls, and if Melisande took shelter within them, it may well be that no one outside them knows of her existence. Think on it," I added, gazing round at them. "We know the Stregazza capable of treachery, and, even now, they fight among themselves for a throne not even vacated. At least let me gain entrance within the Palace, before we conclude that this journey has been for naught."
    "Well," Ti-Philippe said optimistically. "It's not for naught if we profit by it."
    With that, no one of us could disagree. Money, after all, is a valuable thing to have.
    Indeed, I was to find that it was a great greaser of locked doors, before the sun set on the following day. In the morning, Leonora shook me awake to murmur anxiously that another courier awaited, once again clad in Stregazza livery.
    I kept him waiting while I washed and dressed, and then read his missive to learn that Severio had secured for me an audience with the Doge that afternoon, which he was most impatient that I should attend, that he might speak with me afterward.
    As to Prince Benedicte, Severio wrote, he had written his maternal grandfather with no response to date, but that was to be expected, with the strain betwixt their houses.
    Ah well, I thought; I tied my own hands, when I insisted on the appearance of a falling-out with the Queen. If I'd wanted entree into the Little Court, Ysandre would have been happy to provide it. But it was the Stregazza with whom I needed to deal, and no royal writ from House Courcel would obtain their trust. If I needed aught from Prince Benedicte, there were other names I could invoke-such as Quintilius Rousse, or even Anafiel Delaunay, if need be. I had made my promise to Rousse and I meant to keep it, but not until I knew somewhat worth the telling. And surely not while it posed the risk of jeopardizing my semblance.
    I wrote out a reply for Severio's courier, promising to arrive on the appointed hour.
    To my surprise, Severio sent his own bissone, a splendid affair with a canopy of midnight-blue, the Stregazza arms worked in relief on the sides, depicting a carrack and the tower I now recognized from the Arsenal. In the prow stood a gilded wooden statue of Asherat, extending her arms in blessing over the waters of the canal.
    By their attire, I saw that the oarsmen were noble-born; parti-color hose striped in blue and saffron, affixed by points to overtunics of velvet slashed to show the white damask of their shirts. One wore a short mantle of green fastened with a gold brooch, and it was he who stood and gave a sweeping bow as I descended the stairs to the quai, calling out, "Contessa Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, the Immortali welcome you to La Serenissima!"
    "That's one of the noblemen's clubs," Ti-Philippe murmured behind me. "Your Severio's, I'll warrant.”
    I had chosen him and Joscelin both to accompany me that day; the latter for his sober presence, and the former for his quick wit and knowledge of the city. I nodded briefly, and made the rest of my descent