Kushiel's Chosen

here and there with fishing boats. Along the half-moon of the shore, I saw a charming village. A low terrace rose on the hill behind it, invisible from the sea, planted with grapevines; further to the right, below the pine forests, I could make out white specks that were surely grazing sheep on the hillside.
    "The isle of Dobrek," Glaukos said, standing beside me. "Home."
    "It's so..." I could hear the bewilderment in my voice, ". .. pretty!"
    He chuckled. "Ah now, did I not tell you I had no regrets?"

FIFTY-ONE
    Across the bay, the wind picked up once more, a merry breeze that sent our six ships scudding across the water like seabirds. We were spotted ashore, and it seemed the village entire turned out to meet us.
    At some twenty yards out, the sailors launched into a flurry of action, taking down the sails and lashing them to the yard with swift, coordinated gestures. Others took to oars, checking our incoming speed and maneuvering the vessels skillfully alongside the waiting docks. The heavily laden craft wallowed a bit, but flat-bottomed as they were, they had a shallow draw and managed the docking without scraping the sandy bay.
    Throughout it all, Kazan Atrabiades stood in the prow of the lead ship, legs braced, arms upraised in a sign of victory. And the folk ashore cheered him mightily, men and women alike.
    It was a hero's homecoming, and no mistaking it. Kazan leapt ashore once the first line was lashed to the pilings, greeted with hearty embraces by the men and doting smiles or squeals of admiration by the women. 'Twas a grand reunion all around, as the other sailors were welcomed home by family and friends; even Glaukos moved spryly to disembark, greeting a sturdy young woman less than half his age with resounding kisses on both cheeks, making her blush prettily and clasp his hands.
    Amidst it all, I stood on the ship, forgotten.
    It did not last long. I saw the first glance, heard the first voice fall silent, a silence that spread like a ripple from a dropped stone, rings of soft murmurs following in its wake. "Ështa në Vila!" I heard more than once, knowing now what it meant; now, it merely made me glance uneasily at the mizzenmast, sail furled harmlessly. If the kríavbhog was there, it did not show itself.
    "Djo, djo," Kazan Atrabiades said soothingly, holding up one hand for silence. Once they were listening, he pointed to me and spoke at length in Hlyrian.
    I could see from the way the tension left their expressions that he was explaining I was no Vila, but a mortal hostage, reassuring them. Nonetheless, my inability to comprehend a word he spoke filled me with mingled fear and frustration. When I cast an imploring look in Glaukos' direction, he hurried to the dockside. "Ah, now, don't fear, my lady!" he exclaimed. "Kazan, he's telling them you're D'Angeline, that's all, and to be treated as an honored guest during your stay here. Didn't I promise you he'd honor the conventions?"
    "You did," I said, taking little comfort in it. Kazan Atrabiades' words were all too fresh in my mind. If he lived, I would give you to my brother. I did not care overmuch to trust to the honor of a fratricide, no matter how much his people admired him. Better a hostage than a slave, but it came down to much the same. In the end, I was what I had been all too often for the duration of my short life: valuable goods.
    Whatever Kazan said, they seemed to accept it, reluctantly setting aside their curiosity to go about their business, unloading the ships and implementing a complicated system of distribution. Glaukos led me over to where Kazan was directing the operations.
    "My lord," I said, taking a deep breath, forgetting once more not to address him thusly, "if I might speak to you-"
    "Sa të djambo!" he snapped at me, and I did not need a translator to know I'd been told to keep quiet in the rudest possible terms. I closed my mouth sharply, and Kazan Atrabiades turned to Glaukos, giving him instructions in a string of rapid Ulyrian. Glaukos replied in the same tongue, explaining somewhat and pointing to my bandaged midsection. The exchange continued for some time, growing heated. In the end, Kazan shrugged and turned away, dismissing us.
    "You're to come with me, for now, my lady," Glaukos informed me. His weathered face was flushed. "Come, my little Zilje will see to those wrappings and draw you a bath." His young wife--for I learned later she was such-came forward with a half-curtsy, coloring to the roots of her