Kushiel's Chosen

listened to the keening of women and children, and a cold anger filled me. "You sought to cross a hostile border into enemy land-an enemy who well-nigh conquered us not two years past! They had a right to question you. Is it Yeshua' s way to answer questions with steel?"
    The man's eyes shone in the firelight, and he spat at my feet. "When the Mashiach returns, he will come bearing a sword, and He will separate out the goats from the sheep, D'Angeline! It is the faithful who lay His path. Are we prisoners here? Must we suffer for your pride, your wars?"
    Those Unforgiven maintaining a watch stirred uneasily, and Joscelin twitched at my side, torn. I held up a hand, stalling them. "No," I murmured. "Will you make your people suffer for yours?"
    The Yeshuite looked at me, uncertain. I thought with grief of the needless death I had witnessed, the lives thrown away on the battlefield. What stakes are worth that cost? I did not know then; I do not know now. What prize he sought, I could not even fathom. A promise gleaned from a dead prophet's words. In the end, all I could do was sigh.
    "I have secured you safe passage through the mountains," I told him. "Captain d'Eltoine's men will see you to the pass on the morrow, and your weapons will be returned to you. Beyond that, I can only pray that you are right, and Yeshua keep you safe."
    Joscelin gave his Cassiline bow, putting a seal on my words. His khai pendant flashed in the firelight, but he made no comment, and the Yeshuite offered him no thanks for the intervention that had surely saved lives. I turned to make my way back to the garrison.
    "Tell me," I said to Joscelin as we reached the well-guarded entrance to the keep. I stopped and looked him full in the face. "Was it the terminus!"
    He hesitated, and did not meet my eyes. "No. I would have thrown, that's all. He was going to kill a man in cold blood."
    "You did as much, once." I said it softly. "Yes." Joscelin did look at me, then, hard. "I haven't forgotten."
    It had been my idea, my plan. I had not forgotten, either I will never forget, until I die. Who is to measure cause? It may be that Terre d'Ange stands as a sovereign nation and not a Skaldic territory because Joscelin Verreuil throttled an unsuspecting thane. It was still murder. Are the stakes the Yeshuites seek any lower? I cannot say; only that we gauged the need and the profit better. And what had been the cost to Joscelin's soul? He bore the guilt of our deed, and his own broken oaths. I could not see his left hand, on the field today. I would never know if he meant to bring the second dagger to his own throat.
    He'd done that once, too.
    Thus for the wisdom of Kushiel's chosen. I wish sometimes that the gods would either choose better, or make their wishes clearer. Small wonder, that my sleep was restless. Still, sleep I did, alone in my cold and borrowed bed, and awoke to find that the Unforgiven had planned a show of arms for my benefit.
    There were no women in the garrison of Southfort, only Camaeline lads eager to apprentice, for whom the taint of the Unforgiven held the glamour of the doomed, and a few grizzled ex-soldiers, who kept the lads in line. They made a considerable fuss over arranging for my toilet that morning. It would not do for me to visit the baths, oh no, but a great bronze tub must be hauled into the Captain's rooms, and bucket after bucket of steaming water to fill it. A guardsman, blushing, apologized for the lack of attendants; it disturbed his sensibilities that I must scrub myself and dress my own hair.
    I bore it with good humor, glad my restless night was ended. Cereus House may have trained me, but I am no night-blooming flower to wilt in broad daylight. Still, it impressed upon me that the Unforgiven took this matter seriously, and I dressed accordingly. I'd had most of my wardrobe shipped ahead, two trunks already boarded in Marsilikos, but I had kept back one of Favrielle's creations, a travelling gown in black velvet with a bodice and sleeves that hugged the form, and flowing skirts designed for riding astride.
    Over that, I wore my sangoire cloak.
    So it was that we rode out onto the practice-field at Southfort, and Captain Tarren D'Eltoine barked out commands while his corps of Unforgiven executed a smooth series of maneuvers. Worn armor was oiled and polished to a high gleam, black shields fresh painted. His pikemen advanced before the line of horse, knelt and held, then broke away smoothly as the cavalry