Kushiel's Chosen

hundred, of which nearly two hundred were household attendants, cooks, grooms, seamstresses, hairdressers, poets, musicians and the like. Two dozen noble peers, men and women alike, accompanied the Queen; the number set down in ritual centuries ago. Some had brought their families and men-at-arms. It made me nervous to see children in the entourage-for there were several-knowing the danger we were leaving behind, and the danger that lay ahead.
    The progressus has never been intended as a show of D'Angeline force in Caerdicca Unitas; it is an act of respect and mutual trust. No monarch has undertaken it when the city-states were at war-which is one reason it had not been done in so long-and no monarch has undertaken it without being secure in the knowledge of D'Angeline loyalties being united behind them, promising dire retribution on any nation that dared threaten the progressus. Although there were valid political reasons behind it, most especially the need to rebuild the Caerdicci alliances whose absence was evinced during Selig's invasion, I do not think Ysandre would have done it if it had not been for the steady urgings of Benedicte de la Courcel.
    The Queen's Guard-the Queen's Guard numbered only five hundred men. And one hundred of these would remain in La Serenissima to secure the Vicomte de Cherevin's stewardship of the Little Court.
    If there was a good face one could put on it, it meant that we would be able to move swiftly, retracing a course across the Caerdicci peninsula strung with alliances solidified mere days and weeks before. Elua willing, they would provide us with aid in the matter of supplies and fresh horses.
    Ysandre held a brief meeting with her Captain of the Guard and his four remaining lieutenants, her Bursar and the Master of Horse. Whatever transpired, it did not fare well-a tent affords poor insulation for voices raised in heated argument. I know that Ysandre left the meeting in considerable temper, a flush of color on her high cheekbones, and Amaury Trente stormed angrily about the tents, calling for the encampment to be struck.
    It was done in record speed, supply wagons loaded, train ordered and formed. One of the Master of Horse's assistants found mounts for Joscelin, Ti-Philippe and me; there were riderless horses aplenty, since the guardsmen remaining in La Serenissima would have little use for them. There were carriages for some few members of the party, but most rode astride, as Ysandre preferred to do on the road.
    We were assigned a position in the ranks of peers behind the Queen, surrounded by a cordon of her Guard. No one had bothered to tell us the plan of action; the chain of command had slipped by us, having never included us in the first place. Ti-Philippe tolerated this for all of a half-hour's march before he began querying the guards and learned that we were headed to inland Pavento, two days away. The Queen's emissaries had already ridden ahead to alert the Principe of the city.
    It was Ysandre's intention to leave the nonessential members of the entourage quartered safely in Pavento, and acquire stores to proceed with all speed to Terre d'Ange by way of Milazza. Lord Trente's quarrel was not with this, it seemed. According to the rumors Ti-Philippe garnered, the Queen was refusing to consider his adamant advice that she raise a Caerdicci army to accompany us into Terre d'Ange.
    In truth, I didn't know what to think; I was glad enough, for a change, to have no decisions on my head. We travelled briskly along the well-built Tiberian road, wrapped in cloaks against the autumn chill. Despite everything, I could not help but feel a certain joy. I was young and alive, and I had Joscelin and Ti-Philippe at my side. As much as we had lost-and I grieved anew every time I thought of Remy and Fortun-none of us had thought to set out on this homeward journey. Whatever lay at the end, every step of it was a blessing.
    For Ysandre de la Courcel, it was another matter.
    "It will be a risk just crossing the border," Jocelin murmured to me that night, as we lay together in the small soldiers' tent allotted to us; there was a sufficiency of those, too. "With four hundred men? It wouldn't take much for de Somerville to lay a trap.”
    "De Somerville doesn't know she's alive," I reminded him. "Though I wouldn't put it past Melisande to have thought of it anyway."
    "No." He propped himself up on one elbow, regarding me in the faint light our campfires cast through the oiled silk of the