Kushiel's Chosen

presently. "That Yeshua has the power to redeem sin?"
    "I don't know," Thelesis said thoughtfully. "The ways of gods are strange, and Yeshuites do not reckon sin as we do, any more than Cassilines. I cannot say. The Hellenes claim the descendents of the House of Minos have the ability to cleanse a man of a blood-curse; it is a gift of Zagreus, after they atoned for... well, you know the story." I did, for I bore the ill-starred name of a Queen of that line. "But I have heard, too, that few mortals can bear the process at less than the cost of their wits."
    I shuddered; it was a frightening thought. "Well, Elua grant that neither of us need find out. I will heed your advice, and give Joscelin leave to choose. So a priest foretold for him, once, that he would ever stand at the crossroads, and choose and choose again. But I am fearful, that this Rebbe presents him with a third path."
    "All paths are present, always," Thelesis de Mornay said philosophically, "and we can but choose among them." She stood. "Phèdre, thank you for your hospitality, and for your..." she smiled, "... for your trust. I will honor it, with the promise you have asked. Promise me in turn that you will have a care, and divulge to Ysandre aught that you learn." She raised her eyebrows. "I take it that you do not suspect her, at least?"
    "No." I laughed. "Not Ysandre. Other than myself, and probably Joscelin, Ysandre de la Courcel is the one person I am sure had no interest in seeing Melisande freed. And if I'd not been there, I'd likely suspect myself as well. Thelesis, thank you." I rose to embrace her. "I'm sorry to have made a fool of myself. Truly, I will cherish this gift beyond words.”
    "You are welcome." She returned my embrace. "Phèdre, please know that you have a standing invitation to call upon me at the Palace. For any reason."
    "I will," I promised, escorting her to the door.
    When she had gone, I returned to my sitting room, gazing at the bust of Delaunay. Ah, my lord, I wondered, what would you tell me if you could speak?
    Beautiful and silent, his marble face kept its oblique, secret smile.
    I was on my own.

NINE
    The fabric for my costume had arrived, and a courier had sent word from Favrielle nó Eglantine that I was to come for a fitting. One matter, however, pertaining to the Queen's Masque remained unsettled.
    "I would like you to come," I said to Joscelin, "but if you want to maintain your vigil, I will understand."
    We had made peace, after a fashion; he had brought me a silent offering of apology, a beautifully wrought plinth of black marble on which Delaunay's bust now stood. Where he had gotten the monies for such a thing, I did not know, nor did I ask. Later I learned that he had pawned a jeweled dagger for it, a gift of Ysandre.
    "I think it might be best if you took one of the lads," Joscelin murmured. "I don't... It's been a long time since I held Elua's vigil on the Longest Night, Phèdre, and I think I am better suited for it than sharing joie with nobles right now." He gave a faint smile, to remove any hurtfulness from his words. "Let Fortun escort you; he's more sense than the other two."
    "All right." I stooped to kiss his brow on my way out; he shivered under it.
    So it was that Fortun accompanied me to Eglantine House, where Favrielle eyed him with approval. "Asmodel," she said, measuring the breadth of his shoulders with the span of her arm. "One of the seven courtiers of hell, who served under Kushiel. We'll put him in a black velvet doublet and hose, and a great bronze key on a chain about his neck. A simple horned domino, I think; black satin. A fitting attendant for Mara. Noreis!" Raising her voice, she beckoned to a tailor. No adept, he hastened to obey. "Will you see to it? Something elegant, not this season's forsaken nonsense."
    "Of course." He bowed his head. Genius rules in Eglantine House. If Favrielle was unfit to serve Naamah, she clearly reigned over the fitting-room.
    "Very well." With a sigh, Favrielle turned back to me. "Let's see what we have."
    Once I had stripped and donned the half-sewn gown, I had to admit a grudging acknowledgment of her skill. Truly, it was splendid. The scarlet of the silk jersey-cloth matched the accents in my marque perfectly, and it flowed on my skin like a living thing. Standing on a stool while Favrielle grumbled about me, gathering and pinning, I gazed wide-eyed at my reflection in the mirror.
    "Favrielle, my sweet!" The door to the fitting-room swung open to