Kushiel's Chosen

fight," Kazan said, satisfied. He eyed Joscelin. "You taught him that?"
    "Yes." Joscelin nodded his approval to Micah, who flushed with pleasure.
    "Why without swords, eh? It is clever, this fighting, but on a battlefield ..." Kazan drew his hand across his throat. "Pfft!"
    "Because Yeshuites are forbidden to bear weapons in La Serenissima," Joscelin said in a hard tone. "As elsewhere. And a dagger, a pair of daggers, may be concealed, where a sword may not. It is what I was taught, my lord Atrabiades, because I am trained first and foremost not to take life on the battlefield, but to defend in close quarters, where a sword may be hampered by innocent flesh."
    "But you carry a sword, you," Kazan said casually. "Do you know how to use it, eh?"
    "Yes," Joscelin said.
    I held my tongue at the understatement. "Kazan," I said. "Cassilines draw their swords only to kill. He does. Trust me in this matter."
    Kazan Atrabiades looked at me sidelong, and the whole of our history was in that glance. When all was said and done, it was a considerable one. He grinned and made me a sweeping bow. "As you wish. My men will fight beside his, eh, and that is enough. But I am interested, I, to see what happens when this D'Angeline draws his sword!"
    He left us, laughing, to join the others in commiserating with Stajeo on his defeat. Joscelin watched him a moment, then turned to me with raised brows.
    "You do find interesting companions, Phèdre," was all he said.
    "Yes." I looked evenly at him. "A score of his men died who might not have, had they not fought the Serenissimans on my behalf. All who are with him, and Kazan himself, are willing to die at our sides. Do you have a quarrel with that?"
    "No." Putting his hands on my shoulders, Joscelin drew me close. "Should I?"
    I rather liked this new side of him. It would be nice, I thought wistfully, if we both lived to enjoy it.

SEVENTY-TWO
    Ti-Philippe and Sarae returned in the early evening hours, excited and full of talk. It seemed the warehouse was unguarded from the outside, and largely unwatched by Serenissiman guards to boot. If any of us had had doubts, that sealed it. Our plan was set. In the small hours before dawn, we would take the warehouse by stealth, and gain our access to the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea.
    The young Yeshuite scholar Teppo returned too, albeit with less information. Marco Stregazza's guards set to enforce his brother's house arrest had allowed him to deliver his scrolls without much interest, but they had been taken by a maidservant; whether or not they had found their way into Allegra's hands-and what her reaction-he could not say.
    Well and so, I had expected no more, and was glad that all had returned alive.
    Pooling our stores of food in common, we put together a tolerable meal of small game-rabbit, and a brace of ducks-dressed with autumn berries, wild greens and a dish of pulses. The Illyrians shared around several skins of wine and there was fresh water in plenty from a spring-fed creek on the isle. Afterward, the hours of the night watch were divided among our company, with considerable arguing over who would take the vital duties.
    Dark was falling as the Yeshuites huddled together, quarreling among themselves softly in Habiru. Kazan watched idly, and I knew him well enough to guess that the Illyrians would maintain a separate watch of their own.
    "I will take the first watch," Joscelin announced, looking to put an end to it. "And Philippe the last. Settle the middle among yourselves. Will that suffice?"
    "But... Joscelin." One of the young men-Elazar, his name was-looked flustered. "We thought... you are D'Angeline, after all, and you risked your life to rescue her...."
    Joscelin looked uncomprehendingly at him.
    "Your tent," Elazar said lamely. "We... well, you will see."
    And see we did, how they had set a pair of lighted oil lamps within his humble tent, strewing the bedroll and rough ground with late-blooming wood roses, small and fragrant, painstakingly gathered from the dense undergrowth. I caught my breath and let it out in a gasping laugh. Ti-Philippe grinned with a trace of his old mischief, the Yeshuites shuffled in embarrassment and Oltukh, peering over their shoulders, called back a comment in Illyrian that roused laughter from several of Kazan's men.
    "Phèdre ..." Joscelin said, his voice trailing off and he glanced at me. "This need not..."
    "No?" I raised my brows at him. "We are D'Angeline, after all."
    After a second's pause,