Kushiel's Chosen

bottle.
    "Never mind," I said absently, setting aside a pile of opened proposals to make room for the latest. "Put them here, thank you."
    "You'll need a larger house, at this rate." Ti-Philippe carefully detached the leaking bottle from the letter and placed it upright on the table, licking oil of cloves from his fingers and making a face. "Too strong."
    "It's not supposed to taste good, exactly. It sweetens the breath." I picked up the missive, glancing at the seal. The Baron d'Eresse, an Eisandine lord with interests in the spice trade. "Good for toothaches, too. If I were in the market for imports, I'd consider him." Since I wasn't, I put his letter on the likely-to-decline pile. "Here, help me sort through these latest."
    Happily, for there had been a great many proposals delivered in the past days, all three of my chevaliers found the prospect amusing enough that none minded playing at secretary. For a time, there was no sound in the sitting room save the faint crack of seals breaking and the rustle of paper.
    "Ah!" Remy laughed aloud. "A brother and sister, my lady; who hold jointly the Marquisate de Fhirze. Shall I put them on the decline pile?"
    "I should think-oh, wait." I caught sight of the seal, twinned masks of Diana and Apollo. "No, I liked her. I'll see it."
    "As you wish." He grinned, eyebrows raised.
    "My lady," Fortun said quietly, looking up from the missive he scanned. It was unopened, a scroll of thick vellum tied with a gold cord and sealed with red wax. "I think you will be interested in this."
    "Whose is it?" Accepting the scroll, I glanced at the seal; too crudely drawn for D'Angeline work, it depicted a Serenissiman carrack at harbor, a tower in the background. The insignia of the Stregazza family. "My lord Severio," I mused, cracking the seal and sliding off the cord. "I wondered how long he would wait." I skimmed the contents of his letter.
    No one noticed when the scroll fell from my nerveless fingers.
    "Phèdre?" Joscelin, entering the room, checked at my expression. I looked blankly at him. "Are you all right?"
    "Yes." I blinked, picked up the scroll and handed it to him. "Look."
    He read it quickly-it was only a couple of lines-and looked bewildered. "Does he jest?"
    "No." I shook my head. "I don't think so. He didn't seem much for humor."
    " 'No one outbids the Stregazza,' " Joscelin read aloud in a flat tone. " Twenty thousand in gold to be the first.'' Ignoring the collective indrawn breath of my chevaliers and a faint squeak of astonishment from Gemma, he tossed the scroll on the table. "No poetry, no protestations of desire and no pretty sentiments in honor of Naamah," he observed. "But you can't argue with the price, if that's what matters."
    I looked coolly at Joscelin. "Severio Stregazza is three-quarters Caerdicci, and raised in La Serenissima. If he lacks the grace and polish to compete with half the royal D'Angeline court, at least he has the wit to know it. I promised him no pretense. He has taken me, I think, at my word."
    "He's a boor," Fortun murmured.
    "Yes," I said. "He is. And I am going to accept his offer."
    "What-" Gemma was still wide-eyed at the figure. "My lady, what will you do with all that money?"
    I smiled. "You will see."
    As it happened, they learned sooner rather than later what I intended with the sum. It took the better part of two days to hammer out the terms of the assignation, with Remy serving as my representative. He had a knack, it seemed, for such things. It was necessary to explain to Severio the guild-laws that bound the terms of our contract, and the penalties for breaching them. It is a serious business in Terre d'Ange; to violate the rights of one of Naamah's Servants is to violate the precept of Blessed Elua, and is the gravest form of blasphemy. Elsewhere, I am told, courtesans are largely dependent on the whims of their patrons. It is not so among D'Angelines.
    The nature and purpose of the signale needed also be explained to the Serenissiman Prince, for although I heard a group of young gallants had taken him to the Night Court, it was to Orchis House they went, for lovemaking and merriment. Valerian and Mandrake alone among the Thirteen Houses use the signale, and at Mandrake, it is for the benefit of the patrons. In the arts of pain, protestation is a part of the game; it is therefore important that a signale be established. I should know, having gone to extreme lengths without speaking mine.
    Choosing the word itself was simple, for