Kushiel's Chosen

table between us. Remy and TiPhilippe took a stand on either side of me. "But I'm afraid-"
    "Ah, yes, of course." Magister Acco steepled his fingers, nodding wisely. "My lady, have no fear, your coin buys my utmost discretion. I ask only that if you find my advice sage-and you shall, you shall!-you drop a kind word in the ear of Prince Benedicte. It is not meet that I should be without a royal patron, being trained to serve kings."
    I leaned forward and held his eyes. "My lord astrologer, if you have the knowledge I seek, believe me, Prince Benedicte will reward you. I seek not counsel, but information." The astrologer drew back, a veiled look coming over his face. I smiled disarmingly, changing my tactic. "Forgive me, I did not mean to alarm you. You are a friend of the Aragonian historian Gonzago de Escabares, are you not?"
    Magister Acco relaxed. "Yes, Gonzago, of course. Did he send you? I know he's ever had a fondness for Terre d'Ange and ..." he chuckled, "... its fair cuisine. Pray, send the old rascal my greetings."
    "I shall," I said, and paused. "Magister, I know Maestro Gonzago visited you last year, and after he left, an acquaintance of his, Lucretius by name, came seeking him too late. You sent him on to Varro, whence the Maestro was bound, and gave him the name of a reputable inn in La Serenissima."
    "Yes." His dark eyes grew wary again. "I have some vague recollection of such a man. But I've no idea what became of him, if that's what you're seeking."
    "No." I shook my head. "I'm looking for a D'Angeline noblewoman who contacted him at that very same inn, the following morning." I smiled, shrugged, spreading my hands. "She is an old acquaintance of mine, my lord, and gave him a gift for Maestro Gonzago to carry for me. Alas, she left no address, and I would thank her for it."
    "I don't know what you're talking about." The astrologer's voice was tight, and even by the dim lamplight, I could see a sheen of sweat on his brow.
    "Surely you would remember the Lady Melisande Shahrizai," Remy offered, giving his sailor's rowdy grin. "A face to make men weep for beauty, black hair like waves of the sea at night, eyes like twin-set sapphires and a nightingale's voice? I saw her at fifty paces, and have never forgotten it!"
    Magister Acco gave a convulsive shudder. "No," he said hoarsely. "I've never seen such a person. If she found out Gonzago's friend, she must have gotten it from a servant. I'm sorry, I don't know anything about it."
    Compulsive motions, perspiration, altered tone, repetition-he wasn't merely lying, he was lying out of fear. I spoke to him in my gentlest voice. "My lord astrologer, I did not jest with you. Prince Benedicte would pay dearly for this knowledge. And whatever you fear, I promise, he will take you under his protection." Though I had no authority whatsoever to make that kind of pledge, I was reasonably certain Benedicte would agree; and if he wouldn't, I'd summon Quintilius Rousse if I had to.
    But 'twas to no avail.
    "I know nothing," said Magister Acco, desperation making him bold. "Do you hear? Nothing! Not even if you were to offer me the post of Royal Astrologer to the D'Angeline Queen herself! Now get out and leave me be, and don't come back!" He trembled with mingled fear and anger. "Do you people think I can't chart my own fate? Do you think I don't see the thread will cut my lifeline short if I cross it? Get out, I tell you!"
    "Magister Acco ..."
    "Out!" He screamed the word with corded throat, one shaking hand pointing at the door. There were veins throbbing at his temples, and I feared we'd give him a seizure if we stayed. I beckoned to Remy and TiPhilippe, and we went quietly. The astrologer's door slammed behind us and I heard the sound of furniture being dragged within, something heavy thudding against the door.
    We stood in the muck of the little courtyard and stared at one another.
    "Well," Remy said thoughtfully. "There's a man that's tangled with Melisande, all right. Only what do we do about it?"
    "We go to Prince Benedicte." The voice that spoke those words was so quiet and reasonable it didn't sound like TiPhilippe. He met my eyes reluctantly, rubbing at his nose, which no longer resembled a fruit. "My lady, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, whether you chased a will-o'-the-wisp or no, but if there's any merit to that man's fear, this business is too serious for us to handle alone. We've good reason to believe the astrologer knows somewhat about