Kushiel's Chosen

different; I'd have lured him with flirtation and subtle half-promises, duping him into aiding me in escaping. Alas, in reality, not even lowly prison guards are stupid enough to risk certain discovery for the promise of lascivious pleasure. In truth, there was nothing alluring about my plight. It was high summer and the heat was oppressive, rendering the stench of an unemptied chamber pot nigh unbearable. The coarse woolen dress itched like fury and grew rank with sweat, dragging hem and trailing sleeves growing frayed and filthy. I took it off when I dared, scrambling to don it when I heard a key turn in the lock.
    It stank, 1 stank and my cell stank. Nights brought utter blackness and reduced the world to the crash and moan of Asherat's awful grief. Days brought tedium and misery that made madness seem almost welcome.
    Such was my existence.
    It was some weeks later when Tito entered my cell with arms laden. I watched curiously as he set down a brimming bucket of fresh water and a bundle of cloth. Reaching into his pockets, he drew forth two hard-boiled eggs and an apple, a rare feast. "Eat," he said, handing them to me, and then, procuring somewhat from another pocket, "Wash."
    It was a worn ball of soap, smelling harshly of lye, and I daresay I have never accepted a patron-gift with as much grateful reverence as I did that lint-stippled ball. Tito averted his head and picked up my chamber bucket with one hand, holding it carefully away from him as he left my cell.
    Ignoring the food, I stripped off my loathsome dress and knelt on the floor before the bucket of water. The soap was gritty and produced little lather. It stung as I scrubbed myself assiduously. It felt wonderful. I washed even my hair when I had scrubbed every inch of skin, bending over the bucket to dunk my entire head. The water was none too clean by then, but I didn't care; 'twas cleaner than I. When I had done, I investigated the cloth bundle and found it was a clean dress, of the same crude-spun grey wool.
    Tito returned with the chamber bucket well scoured, and another smaller bucket of fresh drinking water. I sat curled on my pallet and finished my apple, reveling in the luxury of being clean for the first time in weeks.
    "Thank you," I said as he gathered up the discarded dress, the scrap of soap, the eggshells. "For all of this." To my surprise, he gave me a look of grave misgiving, shaking his massive head and departing.
    It wasn't long until I learned why.
    Wearing my clean dress, I was standing on the stool at the window, working one hand through the iron bars to toss crumbs from a heel of bread I'd saved to the gulls that skirled around the isle. All it took was one to discover it for half a dozen to descend, squalling and fighting with raucous cries on the ground outside my window, fierce beaks stabbing. It was somewhat unnerving, viewed at eye level, but it relieved my tedium and their squabbling drowned out the sound of the sea.
    It also hid the sound of my door unlocking.
    "Phèdre, what on earth are you doing?"
    It was Melisande's voice, rich and amused, sounding for all the world as though she'd encountered me in the City or at court, and not imprisoned half-underground in a forsaken dungeon by her own decree. My heart gave a jolt. Pulse racing, I turned slowly to face her.
    In the dim grey light of my cell, Melisande shone like a jewel. No veil concealed her features, her flawless ivory skin, generous mouth and her eyes, her eyes that were the deep blue of sapphires. Her hair hung loose as I remembered it, rippling in blue-black waves. Her beauty was dizzying.
    "Feeding the gulls," I replied foolishly.
    Melisande smiled. "And will you make one your especial pet, and train him to carry messages, warning Ysandre and saving the nation?"
    I stayed where I was, standing on my stool, back to the window. Whether it looked ridiculous or no, it gave me the advantage of height and kept me as far from her as possible. "You have won," I said in an even tone. "Do me the courtesy of not mocking me further, my lady. What do you want?"
    "To see you," Melisande said calmly. "To offer you a choice. You have seen, I think, what your future holds; squalor, boredom and madness. And that is the least of it. While I remain in La Serenissima, you are protected, Phèdre. The warden is ordered to see you come to no harm and his guards do not molest you. When I am gone..." she shrugged, "... it will be worse."
    I thought of Malvio's darting eyes and felt