Kushiel's Chosen

Kings, and he told me the tale of the enchanted ring of the glorious King Shalomon, that compelled the demon Ashmedai to build a temple at his bidding. A word, a ring; tokens powerful enough to compel. Somewhere was a key to free Hyacinthe, I thought. For now, a tale only. When he was done, I spoke, couching my words respectfully hi Habiru.
    "I heard a boy was killed, Master."
    The Rebbe sighed heavily, exhaling through his copious beard. "Yeshua weeps."
    "I am sorry." I was, too.
    Rolling the scroll from which we'd read, Nahum ben Isaac stowed it carefully in its cabinet. "You are a member of the D'Angeline nobility, yes? Do they seek justice against us?"
    "No." I shook my head. "It was a quarrel; the Baron de Brenois was provoked, and acted rashly. He is to blame, though there was no legal fault. The boy drew first. He is doing penance for it," I added, meaning the Baron.
    "It is not enough for these children." The Rebbe lowered his head, resting chin on fist. "They are eager, and fearful. They seek to rouse their anger, that it might make them less fearful, and daring enough to break us in pieces. For two thousand years, the Children of Yisra-el have endured as a people." His deepset eyes measured the distance. "I fear for the soul of my people, Naamah's Servant. There is blood on our hands, ancient blood. Yeshua ben Yosef bid us sheathe our swords and turn our cheeks, awaiting his return. Now these children, these hasty children, would carve out a place with steel to await him. It is not right.”
    "No," I murmured. "Master, you say the Baron's penance is not enough. Do they blame us for the boy's death?"
    "Your D'Angeline pride, your arrogance, your lustful ways." Nahum ben Isaac looked gravely at me. "Yes, Naamah's Servant, they blame you. And yet you-" His laugh was sad. "To me, they will not listen, and you; you come, at my bidding, to sit at my feet and learn the Tanakh and dream only of freeing your friend. What you do, the patrons you serve ... I know of it. We hear such things, even in the Yeshuite quarters. It is an abomination to me. And yet." Reaching out, he laid his aged hand against my cheek. "You are a good child, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and a good pupil. I have pride in you."
    No one had spoken to me so since Delaunay had died. "Thank you, Master," I whispered, leaning against his hand. "I do not wish to grieve you."
    The Rebbe withdrew his touch, tucking his hands into his sleeves and smiling sadly into his beard. So old, and so mortal, he looked to me. "Ah, perhaps even Adonai says the same, when he considers his ill-begotten son Elua. I do not know, Naamah's Servant. But I fear in my heart, when I think on the fate of my people. If your Queen will hear wisdom, counsel her to temperance. They are but children, who draw their blades."
    "I will." Rising, I curtsied to him. Still seated, he looked up at me.
    "Your ... your Cassiline, the follower of the Apostate." He cleared his throat. "He comes no more, to sit at my feet and hear the teachings of Yeshua. When he comes, he listens now to the others, these children of steel." His eyes were deep with sorrow. "It is true, what they tell him; it is prophesied, that if Cassiel should return, Elua's Companions will follow. But in my heart of hearts, I do not believe it was meant to happen at the point of a blade."
    "No." Swallowing hard, I made myself ask. "Rebbe ... was Joscelin involved in what happened the other night?"
    "No." He looked at me with pity. "Not this time. But next - who knows? If you love the lad, heed my words, and marry him."
    I could have laughed at that, or wept. Instead, I thanked him, and left.

TWENTY-FOUR
    It was a splendid day when Drustan mab Necthana rode
    into the City of Elua.
    Ysandre met him outside the gates, and I was part of the vast receiving party. All the banners of Terre d'Ange were flying, uppermost the golden lily on a field of green, surrounded by seven gold stars, sign of Blessed Elua and his Companions. Below it, side by side, flew the silver swan of House Courcel and the black boar of the Cullach Gorrym, Drustan's line, Earth's eldest children in Alba.
    We saw them coming a long way off, and heard the cheers. An honor guard of D' Angeline soldiers flanked them on either side, riding helmetless and crowned with wreaths of violets and irises, parade-trained mounts prancing and arching their necks, violets braided into their manes. There were Alban war-chariots in the procession, covered in chased gold-work and