Kushiel's Chosen

or at need in the arts of covertcy, I was not. In La Dolorosa, I endured it because I had no choice. Here, it was different
    I gazed out the window, where the honey-colored sunlight warmed the distant pines, releasing their resinous fragrance into the air. I gazed at my feet, clad in unlovely sandals Glaukos had gotten from Dobrek's cobbler. I got up and opened the clothing-press, which was empty except for a cloak of fine-combed, dark-blue wool, bordered with a white pattern.
    Well and so, I thought, if Kazan Atrabiades did not want me to leave, then he would have left a guard on me or ordered the door locked. Since it stood open, it must be that I was free to wander. After all, if I had it in mind to escape, where would I go? Dobrek was an island, secluded and secure, I was imprisoned by water as surely as walls.
    The house stood quiet and empty in the morning hours; in these parts, people labored until the unbearable heat of midday drove them to rest, resuming in the early evening hours. There was, alas, no library, though I hadn't really expected to find one. Kazan Atrabiades was no Waldemar Selig to grasp with both hands generations of recorded thought as a tool to shape his destiny. No, it was Kazan's slain brother who had been the scholar. Clearly, my pirate lord wanted no reminders of that pursuit. I did find one room that surprised me into pausing outside the door when I heard a sound within. Inside was an old-fashioned vertical loom, at which sat Marjopí, her back to the door, weaving. She was humming as she wove, plying the shuttle with a speed and dexterity that belied her bulk.
    As I had no wish to catch her attention or disturb her pleasant mood, I slipped quietly past the door to continue my exploration. Kazan's room I recognized without difficulty. It held an enormous bed with a carved, gilt-trimmed headboard depicting a frieze of hunting dogs. Items of clothing were strewn carelessly across the bed, and a pair of well-worn boots leaned against each other on the floor beside it. By contrast, his arms were hung neatly on a stand in the corner. The short sword in its tooled-leather scabbard, I knew by sight; I did not recognize the corselet and helm with its crisp scarlet plume, the full-length shield painted with a bird of prey clutching a leafy branch in its talons, black on red.
    These were not the arms of a common soldier, and by the care he took with them, I guessed they were his own, and not stolen plunder, like so much else in the house. Well, I thought, he said he was noble-born; mayhap it was true. I glanced around the rest of the room, seeking to learn what I might about my erstwhile rescuer and captor.
    On a table by the bedside sat a pomander of silver filigree, unmistakably D'Angeline in workmanship. It was wrought to resemble a twining ball of grapevines, rounded bunches of grapes showing in rounded relief. It opened with a cunning twist, holding a lump of camphor, aromatic as the sun-warmed pines. So, I thought, Kazan Atrabiades has a liking for beautiful and pleasant things. Well, that was good for me; and bad, though no worse than I expected. If he takes a care with them, so much the better.
    The only other item of note in the room was a rather battered cabinet of dark cypress wood, inlaid with ivory in a pattern of moons and crescents. The ivory was yellow with age, cracked in places, and the wood bore old scratches long since worn dark with handling. I daresay it had been a fine piece, once, but it seemed an odd item for plunder. I opened the doors onto the lower shelves, which held only clothing. At the top were two small drawers.
    One held some parchments, written in Illyrian, and a gold signet ring. Tilting it toward the window and peering at the seal, I made out a device of three bees and a faint inscription. I replaced it carefully and opened the other drawer.
    What I had expected to find, I cannot say, but surely not a child's toy. Still, so it was; a wooden soldier and horse, neither much larger than my hand. The soldier's limbs were jointed, so he could sit astride or pace forward and back, and raise his sword and shield. Worn traces of red and black paint were visible on the wood.
    I was still holding it and frowning when I heard Kazan's footsteps.
    There was nowhere to go, and I could do naught but put the best face on it I could as he came through the door. Careless, to let myself be caught thusly, I was thinking; Delaunay would have lectured me.
    Kazan Atrabiades took one