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Kushiel's Chosen

Kushiel's Chosen

Titel: Kushiel's Chosen Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Jacqueline Carey
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duty announced me.
    My three chevaliers were there, and I could tell by the gleam in TiPhilippe's eyes that they had learned somewhat.
    They fell all over themselves offering me a seat, a cup of wine, a bowl of barley stew, all of which I declined.
    "My lady," Fortun said soberly, bowing. "We have been reliving times of old, which you will well remember. This is Geoffroy of L'Agnace, who served at Troyes-le-Mont. And Ignace, and Jean-Vincent, and Telfour, all veterans of the same. You missed Kerney and Meillot, I fear, who were called to duty, but I am told there are others here, as well. Meillot promised to send them if he might."
    Six or better of the missing guardsmen? I exclaimed in partially unfeigned surprise, and did take a seat, then-and since I'd no idea what had already been said, I kept my mouth closed on the topic of Melisande's escape. For the better part of an hour, they rehashed the fateful battle. My role in it-crossing the Skaldic encampment to alert the fortress-was related with especial glee. I smiled as if flattered, and ignored the phantom pain that flared on my left shoulder, where Waldemar Selig had begun stripping my skin from my flesh. All in all, that escapade was one I did not like to remember.
    "Raimond!" The entry of another guardsman was hailed by his fellows, and he was introduced all around as another of the survivors of Troyes-le-Mont.
    "Well met, soldier!" Remy rose to clap him on the back, laughing. "Come, we're fighting the battle over, and trying to settle somewhat besides. Tell us, what did you see, the night of Melisande Shahrizai's flight?"
    "Ah, well." Glancing at me, the new arrival bobbed a nervous bow. "Begging your pardon, my lady, to speak of such unhappy things."
    "Pray, speak freely." I smiled, and took a gamble. "It is a matter of many outstanding wagers at home, in the betting-houses of Mont Nuit. We might all be the richer for your perspective."
    Raimond the guard accepted a full mug of wine and quaffed half its contents before sitting. "Naught out of the ordinary, I'm afraid. I was on duty when young Lord Ghislain came 'round at five bells, outside the war room on the first floor. Afore him, I saw naught but Lord Barquiel, the Queen's uncle. Escorting the Lady Persia, he was, her what turned in her cousin."
    Others murmured agreement.
    My heart beat faster within my breast and I felt dizzy and short of breath. "Duc Barquiel L'Envers. You're sure?"
    "Sure, I'm sure." He drank off the second half of his wine and looked straight at me. "I served next to him, didn't I? Him with that scarf wrapped round his head, like the Akkadians do, and eyes like the Queen. Never saw aught else, until the alarm sounded."
    I glanced round at my chevaliers. Remy and TiPhilippe were vibrant with triumph; Fortun wore a different look, somber and watchful. He shook his head a little when I caught his eye. "Well," I said lightly, "you're like to make his grace the odds-on favorite, although it's no help to me. Whatever happened to the poor fellow who found the sentry at the gate? The one who sounded the alarm?" Snapping my fingers, I glanced at Fortun. "What was his name?"
    "Phanuel Buonard," he supplied. "From Namarre."
    Raimond shrugged; all the veterans of Troyes-le-Mont shrugged. It was one of the others who said thoughtfully, "Wasn't he the one as resigned his commission? Scarpered to marry a Serenissiman lass, I recall."
    Another laughed. "He resigned without permission. Captain Circot was like to track him down, I think, only he wed into an Isla Vitrari family, and those glassblowers protect their own. Likely he's still there, tending the oven-fires and watching his bride grow a mustache."
    Amid the jesting that followed, Fortun asked Raimond, "What made you choose to take a commission in the Little Court?"
    "I'd a mind to see somewhat beyond the bounds of Terre d'Ange," the guardsman answered promptly. "Anyway, it pays well, and the Old Man asked for volunteers."
    I heard it with half an ear, my mind reeling. Barquiel L'Envers with Persia Shahrizai! If it was true, and my suspicions and Marmion's confession held good, 'twas not Persia at all, but Melisande-and the Duc L'Envers himself the traitor. Ysandre's uncle. I kept my countenance serene as I rose, summoning my chevaliers, bidding farewell to all and concealing the dull, terrified thudding of my heart.
    It was a short journey homeward along the Great Canal. Remy and TiPhilippe were exuberant, and I had to caution them to

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