Kushiel's Chosen

happens, they will not look to Prince Benedicte's quarter for betrayal." I gave a hollow laugh, remembering Joscelin's once-fierce loyalty to his vow. "Indeed, they are Cassilines; they will protect House Courcel to the death."
    "And death it will be," Kazan mused. The wine-jug went around again, and his men tossed dice to see who would bear the cost of a refill; it fell to Epafras, who went with a grimace. Kazan ignored them and reached out to brush his fingers down a lock of my hair. "You are not afraid of death, you, I think," he said softly in Caerdicci. "But I think, I, you are afraid of dying without seeing this, this Joscelin Verreuil once more."
    "What I have said is true," I said to him.
    He gave a crooked smile. "This much I believe, eh? I would like to meet the man, I, who assailed the black isle single-handed. I stood with you on the ship, yes, and I saw the tower empty, the bridge dangling. Others did not dare to look, but I did, I. And yet... your voice goes soft when you speak his name. I think that you love him, you."
    "Yes." I owed him the truth. "I do."
    Kazan nodded. "So we will see, eh? If he comes, it is to the good. And if he does not?"
    I turned the earthenware wine cup in my hands. "If he does not, we go to Lord Ricciardo Stregazza, and beg his aid. It will alert the Dogal Guard, and likely we will be hunted for it, but mayhap Ricciardo can rouse the other Scholae to counter Marco's attack."
    "Good," Kazan said briskly. "It is something, and Serenissimans will die. It is better to try than to surrender."
    To that, I made no answer; I could not but help thinking that most of the Serenissimans were merely following orders, knowing no more of Marco's machinations than a babe. It did not please me, to think on their deaths. In the cavern of the thetalos, I would be accountable.
    Time passed, and another wine-jug was drained; Stajeo and Ushak went to relieve Oltukh and Volos of their guard duty on the gondola. They came in reporting that the sun stood a few degrees shy of noon. Out came the dice, with good-natured quarrels. I began to despair, when the Yeshuite entered the tavern.
    He was alone, which marked him, and his eyes scanned the crowd, seeking and discarding. I did not know him for a Yeshuite at first; he did not wear the yellow cap, and his sidelocks were cut. We took no chances. When his gaze fell upon our table, Kazan pulled me onto his lap with a hearty laugh, making pretend indeed that I was a rented doxie for his pleasure.
    It would have fooled a casual observer; it did not fool the young man with the dark, intent eyes. He made his way to the table and asked in Habiru, "Be you the Apostate's oath-sworn?"
    Volos sprang to his feet and drew his dagger, setting its point at the Yeshuite's throat
    "Let him be," I said in Illyrian, and then added in Caerdicci, that Kazan might understand, "I am Kushiel's Chosen and Servant of Naamah, and Joscelin Verreuil has sworn Cassiel's Oath to protect me. Do you doubt it?" I drew back my hood, and the Yeshuite inhaled sharply.
    "No," he said simply and bowed, crossing his forearms in the Cassiline manner. Beneath rough-spun garb, leather vambraces protected his arms. "Do you doubt who has sent me?”
    "No." My heart hammered within my breast; Kazan's hands rested lightly on my waist. "Is he here?"
    "Not here." The young Yeshuite shook his head. His Caerdicci was faintly accented, and he ignored Volos' hovering blade as if it didn't exist. "I am Micah ben Ximon, and he has sent me to bring you where he is."
    I stood up; Kazan's hands fell away. "Then take us."

SEVENTY
    A quarrel broke out as we left the Inn of Seven Strangers; I saw Tormos deliberately jostle the elbow of a tall Umaiyyatì holding a pot of ale, and suspected it was staged. Insults were traded, with accompanying gestures; a few blows were exchanged. Kazan hurried me past unnoticed, following Micah ben Ximon, and Tormos caught up with us outside, grinning.
    The patrons of the inn might recall a handful of quarrelsome Illyrians leaving, but they would not remember a D'Angeline woman with them, nor a lone Yeshuite.
    Micah had a skiff, more disreputable than our hastily purchased gondola. He boarded it and leaned on the oars, waiting. Kazan decided that he and I would travel with the Yeshuite, as well as Oltukh; the rest would follow in the gondola, under Tormos' command. It sat ill with Stajeo, to obey his brother's orders. I saw the Yeshuite go wide-eyed, watching while the Illyrians