Kushiel's Chosen

at length. "No."
    "What else would you have us do? If we make it inside, we won't have the option of stealth." I watched the thoughts flicker behind his eyes. "Joscelin, we're outnumbered. Ysandre is outnumbered. Even if we succeed in gaining access to the warehouse, to reaching the Temple-what if it's not enough to warn her? Melisande and Marco have too much to lose, and too many allies at hand. We need to turn some of them, or at least confuse them. I can't think of another way. Can you?"
    He closed his eyes. "No."
    "I have sworn a vow," I said softly, "and this is how I mean to keep it.”
    He opened his eyes and looked at me. "And if it goes awry?"
    I shrugged. "We run like hell, and pray they haven't surrounded the warehouse." I looked around at their watching faces. "Does anyone have a better plan?" No one did. "All right," I said. "Shall we go?"
    In that, at least, no one was disagreed; we set out across the rough terrain, scrabbling our way through near-darkness to the water's edge, where our vessels lay concealed. Two skiffs in total, and our hard-won gondola. Dense ferns lay rotting in the water; to this day, the smell of decaying foliage brings that morning back to me in all its nerve-strung anxiety. A thin mist hovered above the river. I took my place beneath the awning of the gondola, as there was no room in the smaller skiffs. With soft splashing and a few muffled curses, we were launched.
    It was a tense journey, especially once we were off the sedge-choked river and into the canals proper, wending our path through the waterways of La Serenissima. Once a bissone full of drunken rowdies returning home from the mean tenements of the courtesan's quarter passed nearby to us, voices raised in a ragged, off-key tune, the lantern in their prow casting wavering light over the dark waters. We hid ourselves in the shadows alongside the canal, all of us crouching low and scarce daring to breathe. Once they had gone, the oarsmen set our vessels to gliding silently out once more.
    The street on which the warehouse was located was a quiet one; the residences were slightly more modest than those that lined the Great Canal, interspersed with some of the more elegant trade establishments, jewelers and drapers and the like. Beyond the two-storied roofs, I could see the pointed domes of the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea looming in the predawn sky to obscure the paling stars,
    "There," Sarae whispered, her voice carrying faintly over the water. She pointed to a marble building, long and low, with a single entrance at street level. In the first skiff, Ti-Philippe was already making for it. We came noiselessly alongside and disembarked. One oarsmen stayed in each of the smaller rowboats, and a pair of Illyrians in the gondola.
    "Get as near to the harbor as you dare, and turn the boats loose," Joscelin murmured in Caerdicci. "Come back swiftly, but have a care for guards."
    I repeated it in Illyrian, and Kazan nodded curt agreement. If we had any hope of going undetected, it would hardly do to have three strange vessels moored in the vicinity. The oarsmen pushed off and headed toward the harbor, quick and stealthy.
    It left fifteen of us huddled on the dark street, a motley assortment bristling with arms, dreadfully suspicious and vulnerable to any passersby. I thought of the looming temple domes and shivered. One outcry was all it would take to bring the Serenissiman Guard down on us.
    The door to the warehouse was of solid oaken construction, half again as tall as a man, with Asherat's crown of stars etched in silver. Joscelin and Kazan both felt at it, drawing daggers to pry at the hinges and the massive lock. It was well and truly bolted, secured from within, the hinges set deep and tight. The Illyrians muttered under their breath. I wrapped my cloak around me and shifted from foot to foot, tense and nervous. Kazan swore and struck the marble blocks of the building with the heel of his palm; one of the Habiru made a stifled sound in his throat.
    I couldn't stand it any longer. "Name of Elua! Joscelin, get out of the way," I hissed, wrenching loose the silver falcon brooch that clasped my cloak. He stepped aside obligingly and Kazan raised his eyebrows as I stuck the pin between my teeth, bending the tip into a tiny hook. Crouching, I worked it into the lock, feeling my way for the tumbler that would drop the bar on the far side and silently blessing Hyacinthe for having taught me this dubious skill. 'Twas not a difficult