Kushiel's Chosen

knows nothing of your fine ways? I was a warrior always, I, but my brother, he was a scholar, he studied in Tiberium. Daroslav, he knew D'Angelines there, they told him, ah!" He drew in his breath and clicked his tongue. "Men and women, sworn to your goddess of whores, eh, marked for pleasure. He swore to have one for his own, one day. I know what you are, I. The kríavbhog, it shows itself to make warning to your goddess, no more."
    "Naamah," I said automatically. "I am a Servant of Naa-mah, my lord, and believe me, she takes no interest in your blood-curse."
    "Maybe." He shrugged. "Maybe not. I find you floating in the sea like so, what am I to think, I? Do not tamper with the fate of Kazan Atrabiades, the kríavbhog warns. Your Naamah of the bedroom pleasures, she will be sorrowful"
    I gave a hollow laugh, passing my hands through my salt-tangled hair. "My lord Atrabiades, I am Naamah's Servant and Kushiel's Chosen, which I think is betimes a curse to put your own to shame. I owe fealty to Asherat-of-the-Sea, who saved my life, and I am bound to cleanse her worship in La Serenissima by my own oath. I bear an ill-luck name, and of those who have aided me, more lie dead or ruined than live. I would caution you and your kríavbhog, whatsoever it may be, to steer as clear of my fate as you warn me of yours. And you might do that, my lord, by sailing to Marsilikos at all haste and claiming your ransom."
    "Do not name me 'lord.' " He ignored the rest. "I am Kazan Atrabiades, I. And I do not sail at your bidding."
    As I opened my mouth to retort, the sailor in the prow gave a soft cry, pointing over the horizon to where a light glimmered. In the clear night, I could make out a low land-mass. Atrabiades rose with leisurely haste, giving commands as the ship stirred to life.
    I stayed where I was. He paused before he left, staring down at me. "I will claim your ransom, D'Angeline, do not fear. But know this. If he lived, I would give you to my brother Daroslav, eh, my little brother the scholar, who never got to keep his vow."
    Whether or not 'twas meant as a warning, I took it as such, gazing up at his shadowed face. "What happened to him?"
    "I killed him, I," Kazan Atrabiades replied curtly.
    And with that, he strode toward the stern of the ship, leaving me to ponder his words.
    If I had thought that our journey was done when we made landfall, I was mistaken. By moon and starlight, aided by the lamphouse at the outermost point, our six ghostly ships sailed into the harbor of a small town whose name I never knew, on the isle of Gavrilos, which is famed for its olive oil. There we dropped anchor, and a delegation of townsmen came out to meet the pirates on the wharf, bleary-eyed by torchlight, but full of good spirits and jest.
    Some manner of trade, it seemed, was taking place. Too alert for sleep, I stood watching on the deck while Kazan's sailors ducked in and out of the hold, carrying out goods for the townsfolk's consideration. Salt and spices were met with cries of excitement; silks and fine linens with shrugs, although, here and there, I saw men fingering the fabrics with guilty pleasure.
    To my surprise, Kazan was treated with respect and admiration. I did not know, then, the degree to which trade had been suppressed on the Illyrian coast, nor the heavy tariffs imposed on imports. His goods were stolen, true, but among his countrymen, Kazan Atrabiades bought and traded at a fair price. If he made a profit at it, so be it; 'twas at the expense of La Serenissima, and the Illyrians admired him for it.
    At the time, I could only gauge this by their demeanor and attitudes, grateful that Delaunay's training allowed me that much. All around me was the give and take of conversation, a hushed midnight banter, full of barter and exchange. I understood not a word of it, and it was maddening.
    No few of them cast glances my way, and I saw their hands move surreptitiously in gestures to avert evil. I daresay I looked unearthly enough, a bedraggled D'Angeline apparition in trailing grey, oddly corseted in bandages. Kazan Atrabiades took little heed, ignoring my presence, busy with matters of trade.
    I was relieved when the deal was concluded and Glaukos reappeared at my side, tutting with concern and ordering me off my feet. He sat companionably with me while Kazan's men loaded massive jars of oil into the hold, lashing them in place with ropes.
    " 'Tis sleeping you should be, my lady," he said to me. "We'll be off again at