Kushiel's Chosen

the Guard on the progressus, "Elua's Balls! Surely you jest, lady!"
    "No." It took courage for the Elect priestess who spoke to do so. Although she was pale and quivering, she held her ground; not one of those who had stood with the Priestess of the Crown, but one who had recoiled in horror at her blasphemy. "The lady speaks the truth. We granted her sanctuary upon her arrival in La Serenissima. She claims it now, in Asherat's holy presence. I do swear it upon my vows; her claim is valid."
    Cesare Stregazza, still, by the grace of Asherat, the Doge, supported her claim, though it pained him to do it. He had little choice, after what had transpired. Profanation of the Temple had brought down Marco and Marie-Celeste; the Doge could not indulge in it.
    Ysandre heard him out stone-faced.
    "While you linger here, you live," she said to Melisande. "Do you set foot outside Asherat's grounds, your life is forfeit. Your holdings, your possessions, your son-all forfeit. Do you understand?"
    "Perfectly." Melisande inclined her head with a faint, secret smile.
    It gave me the chills.
    By now the situation was well in hand. The Dogal Guard had escorted its D'Angeline prisoners away, and physicians had arrived, tending to the wounded. Ricciardo Stregazza and his tradesmen provided invaluable support that day, quietly and efficiently seeing to much that needed doing; and I was glad to see Severio working at his side. Their esteem rose that day in the eyes of La Serenissima, and rightfully so.
    The body of David de Rocaille lay facedown, blood seeping onto the marble floor.
    I learned, later, how it had finished. He had known himself beaten, at the end, and stepped into the killing thrust himself. Better if he had lived to be questioned; I daresay he knew it. Joscelin had asked him how he would answer for his oath. He had answered with his life.
    Once Ysandre's Eisandine chirurgeon had done all she could for Prince Benedicte, who was removed on a litter into the Doge's custody, I had a quiet word with her, sending her to the balcony where Kazan and his men lurked unobtrusively, forgotten for the moment. It was Volos who had fallen, a deep gash on his brow splitting it near to the bone. Ti-Philippe had already made a hurried trip through the runnel, ordering the Yeshuites to disperse.
    He had less luck with the Illyrians.
    I approached Cesare Stregazza, curtsying deeply before him. He was in his glory, restored to a fullness of command he had not enjoyed for many months; his wrinkled, hooded lids flickered to see me, and he looked amused. "So, little spy! You have kept your pledge to me after all. Where is the gift I gave you for it?"
    The collar of pearls, I remembered. It had saved my life, in a way, serving to identify me to Joscelin's Yeshuite seekers. "For that, you must ask the warden of La Dolorosa, your grace. If you would, I crave another boon."
    His brow creased with curiosity. "Indeed? Well, it seems I must grant it. What is it you ask?"
    I took a deep breath, not entirely unmindful of the effect it had upon him. Joscelin stood behind me, one hand upon my shoulder. "Clemency, your grace, for those allies who aided me in securing your throne. Your son Marco sought their deaths. Violence has been done. I would see them pardoned of all wrongdoing.”
    "Is that all?" The Doge smiled cunningly. "Then it shall be done."
    "You do so swear upon the altar of Asherat?" I asked.
    Cesare Stregazza waved his hand, the Dogal Seal glinting gold as he summoned witnesses. "I do so swear, Contessa, in the presence of Asherat-of-the-Sea, that I absolve of wrongdoing in the eyes of La Serenissima all who aided you in thwarting this treachery. Does this satisfy?"
    "Yes, your grace." I nodded to Ti-Philippe on the balcony, and in short order Kazan appeared, sauntering down the stairs and crossing the Temple floor, grinning fit to split his face. "This is Kazan Atrabiades of Epidauro, your grace, who stands for his men. They will be grateful for your pardon."
    The Doge's wrinkled lips pursed with wry displeasure. "The sea-wolf who has harried our ships these many years," he said sourly. "I know the name. You choose your allies strangely, Contessa. I thought you meant yon bladesmaster here, who gave us such a show."
    "Nevertheless," I said. "It required many allies to save your throne, your grace."
    He grunted, liking this no better than he had liked upholding Melisande's claim; mayhap less. But for the same reasons, he had to do it. "I have