Kushiel's Chosen

without speaking, and then looked away. "Others have argued as much; but Kriti is ancient, and we are ancient in our ways. Still, ways change, and there are new things born under the sun. You are one such, you children of Elua. I will think on what you have said, and speak of it to Demetrios."
    "Thank you." Pressing his hands, I gave him a kiss of farewell. "Tell the Archon I am grateful for his aid, and keep you well." I stepped back, smiling. "Next time, I will come at a more auspicious time, I promise."
    At that he laughed, and shook his head, and we parted on a note of cheer. It was naught but bravado on my part, but so will warriors make jest on the battlefield, and having said a thing, be heartened by it. So it was that I half-believed my own words and found my spirits rising as I left the Palace of Phaistos, escorted by a squadron of the Archon's guards through the city to Kommos Harbor. Though I was headed once more into certain danger, the sun shone brightly overhead, the glances of the guards and the folk in the streets were filled with covert admiration, and I left behind me at last a thing well-done.
    If the Kritian ship could not win through to Marsilikos, 'twas out of my hands, whether I was aboard it or no. And if it did-well, Roxanne de Mereliot would heed my words, that much I trusted. I had not told the Archon of my past, beyond those events in La Serenissima which pertained to the situation, but the Lady of Marsilikos surely knew I of all people would send no false warning. As for Barquiel L'Envers, he would honor the password of his House or not; he did not love me so well that it would help to plead the cause in person. In truth, if the letters arrived safely, I thought, I could do no more if I were there myself.
    The harbor was crowded and busy, for trade was urgent in these last fair weeks of autumn. My escort surrounded me, forcing a path along the wharf until we came to Kazan's ship. Sharp-eyed Oltukh spotted me first and gave a cry of welcome, and all of them echoed greetings, jostling for a place at the rail to aid me aboard the ship; a warm welcome, from the superstitious pirates who had once shunned me as a fearful spirit. Glaukos, who had never been aught but kind, folded me in a great embrace.
    Kazan watched it all with a look of irony. "You have become a luck-piece, eh?" he said to me. "It is a thing I never dreamed, to go home to Epidauro. If you are ready, we sail, we."
    The wind was blowing fresh and steady, the sea beyond the harbor dancing with white-crested ripples; a brisk sea, but not treacherous, the kind of challenge Illyrian sailors dearly love. I felt the wind tug at my hair and smiled.
    "I am ready, my lord pirate. Let's sail."

SIXTY-FIVE
    It was, for once, an uneventful sea journey. Although the nights were cool, the winds and the weather held fair. The repairs made to the ship in the Temenos served admirably, and it was wholly seaworthy. Kazan had made good use of his time in Phaistos and our stores were replenished; moreover, he had bartered for charts of the Hellene waters, enabling him to plot a swift course homeward.
    We crossed first a vast expanse of open sea, the steep mountains of Kriti dwindling quickly to a speck behind us.
    From thence it was a mere day's sail to reach sight of the Hellene mainland. Mindful of our terrifying, storm-born flight southward, Kazan was careful to keep always within sight of the coast, which lay off our starboard bow.
    Although our progress was steady, it was a slow business, working our way up the coast. My euphoria at the sending of the Kritian courier had faded, and my thoughts turned once more to La Serenissima, rendering me fretful and overly conscious of the passing of time. I spent fruitless hours guessing at the course of Ysandre's progressus, and I daresay strained even Glaukos' patience quizzing him on the length of Caerdicci roadways. He knew them well enough, having been a merchant's clerk during his slave days, but he could guess no better than I how swiftly a progressus regalis would travel, nor how long the D'Angeline monarch would linger in any given city.
    Of a surety, though, we were well into autumn, and Ysandre's entourage would turn for home before ,the season's end. I slept poorly at night and took to wandering the decks, wrapped in my woolen mantle, the Kore's gift. The sailors on watch seemed glad enough of my company, and taught me Illyrian songs and jests, showing me, too, such games as they played to pass