Kushiel's Chosen

quarters.
    "Phèdre, Joscelin!" The ink smudged on her cheek took nothing away from her glowing welcome. "I'm pleased you've come. Joscelin Verreuil, let me look at you." Thelesis took his hands, regarding him with pleasure. "You look splendid," she declared. He bent to kiss her cheek. Thelesis de Mornay was one of the few people for whom Joscelin felt unalloyed affection.
    "So do you," he said fondly. "I hope you've been keeping well."
    "Well enough." Thelesis gestured to her blazing fireplace. "Ysandre makes certain there's no chance of my taking a chill," she said, amused. "It's hot enough for a steam bath in here, most of the time. I hope you don't mind. So tell me, what brings you here?"
    I told her, and watched her expression turn keen and thoughtful.
    "I took some notes, I remember that much. Ghislain de Somerville was dreadfully upset; his father had entrusted the watch to his command that night."
    Joscelin and I exchanged a glance. He shook his head slightly.
    "You don't suspect-" Thelesis began, then stopped. "Ghislain. You do."
    "I don't want to," I said. "We travelled under Ghislain's command from the banks of the Rhenus to the mountains of Camlach. He could have laughed in my face, when I proposed we offer Isidore d'Aiglemort a chance at redemption, and he didn't. But still."
    "Not Ghislain," Joscelin said firmly. "I don't suspect Ghislain."
    I shrugged. "What did he tell you?"
    Thelesis moved stacks of paper and books, unearthing a bulky folio tied with leather thongs. "I think this is the right one," she said ruefully, glancing at a marking scratched hastily on an upper corner. "This may take a moment."
    We sat quiet, waiting while Thelesis de Mornay shuffled through sheaves of parchment.
    "If it were verse," she murmured, "I'd have it committed to memory, you know, but I chose in the end to give scant play to Melisande's disappearance ... let her be a footnote in the annals of history, after all, it is better than she deserves ... here it is." Holding her notes at arm's length, she read aloud. " 'And the night passed fair quiet, with the solemnity appropriate to an eve whose dawn brings the execution of a member of D'Angeline peerage. I made my rounds at one bell, and three, and five, and all was quiet. Then with the changing of the guard at dawn, all seven hells broke loose, when Phanuel Buonard made to relieve the guard at the postern gate and found him dead of a knife to the heart. He ran shouting through the lower halls for my father, and I caught him to ask what was the matter. By the time he had told me, half the guard had mustered in the lower quarters, and I had to order many back to their stations. By now, my father had emerged, and assumed command unthinking. He wasted no time in ordering a detachment to the second floor, to Melisande Shahrizai's chamber where she was confined. There, he found her guards slain; one with a dagger to the ribs, and the other with his throat cut. The chamber itself was empty.' " Thelesis cleared her throat and looked up apologetically. "That's all, I'm afraid. It's not much help."
    "Nothing we didn't know, at any rate," Joscelin observed.
    "That's not true." Pinching the bridge of my nose in thought, I glanced up to meet their surprised gazes. "We know that it didn't happen before five bells. We know that Ghislain commanded the watch that night, and not his father Percy. We know that the death of the gate-keep was discovered before the disappearance of Melisande, and we know the name of the man who discovered it. And we know that the gate-keep and the guards at Melisande's door were not killed in exactly the same manner."
    "Phèdre, there are a dozen different killing strikes with a dagger," Joscelin said reasonably.
    "Mayhap." I shrugged. "But it is worth noting, nonetheless." I turned to Thelesis. "Thank you, indeed. Was there anyone else you spoke to about that night?"
    "No." She shook her head, regretfully. "Would that I had, now. If you'll trust no one else, I still think you should speak to Ysandre."
    "I will," I said. "When I know somewhat more."

ELEVEN
    1 had learned no more by the day of the Midwinter Masque. It would have to do, for now the time was come to devote my energies unto the Service of Naamah.
    Everything was in readiness. My costume and Fortun's attire had been delivered by an Eglantine House courier. After making certain that no final adjustments were wanting, I began my preparations by luxuriating in a hot bath fragrant with scented oil,