Kushiel's Chosen

between him and Cassiel-not me, and not even Ysandre. But in my opinion, he'd done considerably less than more.
    That, at least, I kept to myself. After all, no one was telling me it was my destiny and salvation to lead a people to a nation of glory in a far-off land.
    Ricciardo Stregazza had lookouts posted, and we were met at river's edge. He and his family met us in the gardens between the dock and the villa, a modest, gracious affair with marble columns to the fore.
    "Welcome, Comtesse," he said in D'Angeline, and gave me the kiss of greeting; I returned it unthinking. His demeaner seemed easier, and he looked younger than I'd thought before. "This," he said, turning, "is my lady wife, Allegra Stregazza, and these..." he indicated a shy girl of some seven years, and a merry, curly-headed boy of five or so, "... are our offspring, Sabrina and Lucio. My dears, this is Phèdre nó Delaunay, Comtesse de Montrève."
    We had greetings all around, and I introduced Joscelin, who gave his Cassiline bow. Allegra Stregazza embraced me warmly.
    "I'm so pleased you came," she said in Caerdicci, smiling, faint lines crinkling at the corners of her grey-green eyes. I guessed her to be some ten years younger than her husband; twenty-seven or eight. After the city, her attire seemed elegantly simple, and she wore her waving brown hair unadorned. "We don't get many visitors here, as it's not fashionable, although I daresay it will be one day. And since ... well. It's a pleasure."
    "You honor me," I replied politely, slightly bewildered.
    "Signore Verreuil," Allegra began to greet Joscelin, then gasped, gazing at his daggers and vambraces. "Oh! You're a Cassiline!"
    It sounded exotic, from her lips. Blinking, Joscelin gave another bow. "I had that honor once, my lady Stregazza," he said. "I beg your pardon, for wearing arms into your presence." Straightening, he plucked his daggers free and dropped them neatly at her feet, beginning to unbuckle his baldric.
    "Oh, no, no! Pray, keep your arms!" Allegra clapped her hands together like a girl, and then bent to explain to the children how no matter what the circumstances, the King or Queen of Terre d'Ange was always attended by two members of the Cassiline Brotherhood. The boy stooped to pick up one of Joscelin's daggers; the girl dug her toe in the grass and peered at him through her hair.
    "Lucio, no, leave it for Signore Cassiline," Ricciardo scolded, catching one arm about the boy's middle and hoisting him, giggling, onto his shoulder. "Shall we go inside? I nearly think Cook's outdone herself with a fine repast.”
    It was a pleasant stroll through the gardens, which were mostly yew and cypress, with some few patches where roses were cultivated. "Prince Benedicte had promised me the loan of his court gardener," Ricciardo said ruefully, "before the quarrel began. Still, he's a fair man, and I think we might come to some arrangement, if my dear sister-in-law hasn't poisoned his ear against me." When I protested that his gardens were lovely, he shook his head at me. "Thank you, Comtesse, but I know better. Still, Allegra's done wonders with the roses."
    "You grew those?" I asked. "They're lovely."
    She blushed. "My mother had some skill with plants. I wish I had more time."
    As they moved on ahead of us, Joscelin and I exchanged glances behind their backs. For once, he looked as bewildered as I felt, and I was glad of it.
    Inside, the villa was both elegant and comfortable, airy, sunlit spaces offsetting the dark weight of the gilt-trimmed wooden furnishings. A few Akkadian rags and bowls of blooming roses added a note of color. We had, indeed, a very fine luncheon. The children were allowed to dine with us and took on the guest-duties of serving Joscelin and me with a charming, well-coached solemnity. It was all very much as one might find at the country estate of a noble-born D'Angeline family.
    Our hosts made light conversation, but 'twas never dull. I found Ricciardo surprisingly well-informed regarding poetry, and we discussed in detail the latest verses of Thelesis de Mornay's Ysandrine Cycle. Allegra, in turn, was keenly interested in the role of education in D'Angeline society, and I realized in short order that Allegra Stregazza was one of those rare Serenissiman noblewomen trained to read and write. The invitation had been written by her own hand. All of them were fascinated to learn of the ten-year regimen of training the Cassiline Brethren underwent, which Joscelin