Kushiel's Chosen

to earn the gratitude of the Queen of Terre d'Ange." I had no kin to speak of, but he need not know it.
    Kazan toyed with his wine-cup and looked shrewdly at me. "Why? I find you in rags in the middle of the sea, eh, and you ask me to believe this? Glaukos says it is true, that you are who you say; I know he is right, I, because he is not wrong about such things. Who, yes, but why is another question, yes?"
    I had thought about it; I knew he would ask. I would have, if I were him. "The Queen has enemies," I said simply. "I know who they are, and where. If I do not warn her of their plans, she will be in danger."
    "Enemies, ah!" He rubbed his chin. "In Serenissima, eh? You tell Glaukos you have money there, you, but you do not say to go to the D'Angeline Prince there, no. When he says I will not go to Serenissima, you say Marsilikos, that is so much farther."
    "If you will go to La Serenissima," I said without a tremor, "we will have done with it swiftest of all. I am my Queen's servant and Prince Benedicte does not know me to pay a ransom, but I have money on account with a factor there. I sold lead at a good profit. Name your price, and I will match it if I may."
    "Ah, no." He shook his head. "Glaukos, he spoke true. I will not go there, I, nor send any man loyal to me. Maybe you set a trap, eh? Serenissima will pay a good price for the head of Kazan Atrabiades, more than any ransom."
    "So." I spread my hands on the table. "Then Marsilikos is closest, where her grace Roxanne de Mereliot is my hearth-friend, and will honor my letter. I will swear to you, by any oath you wish, that no harm will come to you or your men and there is only profit in it for you."
    Kazan regarded me, black eyes glinting in the lamplight. "This we say in Illyria: May the kríavbhog swallow my soul if I lie. You have seen it, you. Do you swear this?"
    I thought of the thing I had seen, coiled and hissing in the mast. I thought of the shadows twining around Kazan Atrabiades, and shuddered. "Yes," I said hoarsely. "I swear it. The ransom paid, and no harm to you or your men. May the kríavbhog swallow my soul if I lie."
    "Good." He drained his wine-cup and refilled it. "Why did you fall off a cliff, you?"
    I'd thought we were done; I closed my eyes wearily. "It was an accident, my lord. Kazan. It happened in a riot, when some prisoners escaped."
    "I think there are many ... riots ... where you are, you," he said wryly. "You say you are translator for the Queen, eh, but I think maybe there is another word, and that is spy."
    I opened my eyes and returned his regard. "Will you send to Marsilikos or no?"
    "I will send, I." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What are you worth, eh? Only to make the journey, for the men I will send, the time and the crossing, it is costing me a hundred silver denari. More than that, eh?"
    Fury kindled in me, a slow-burning anger at Kazan, at the injuries and indignities I'd endured, at the horrible toll my fate had exacted. "Severio Stregazza, grandson of the Doge of La Serenissima, once paid twenty thousand gold ducats for a single night with me," I said in bitter precision. "Yes, my lord pirate, I am worth more than a hundred denari."
    "Glaukos is right, it must be true who you say," Kazan retorted, grinning and showing the gap in his teeth. "Or you would not be so angry, eh? So, good. I will ask for thirty thousand gold, I. You are rich, to have so much! I am not so greedy, and more is to tempt the gods, yes? If they pay, then I believe everything you say."
    "They will pay," I murmured. "You may believe it."
    "We will see, we," he said off-handedly. "You want me to send swiftly, yes? To me it is no matter, now or in the spring. It is you who asks for speed. What is it worth to you, eh, that I send now?"
    I had no illusions about his query. "Does it matter?" I asked, gazing at him in the lamplight. "All I have, you are capable of taking, whether I offer it or no. You said if he lived, you would give me to your brother. What sop does your conscience require now, my lord, that you must force my acquiescence and put a good face on rape?"
    His face hardened. "Do not speak of my brother to me," he said shortly, rising and walking some distance away to stare at the dark bay. "I would give your life, yes, and your Queen's too, to have Daroslav alive again. That is what you are worth to me, you. No more." He turned around, expressionless. "I have treated you as a guest, eh. Other men, they would not ask. I ask, I; I