Kushiel's Chosen

And all the length of the harbor, galleys and cogs were at dock, cargos loaded and delivered, the sound of shouting and the groaning wheels of oxcarts and the crack of whips snapping filling the air.
    Above it all, on a high hill overlooking the harbor, stood the Dome of the Lady.
    Sovereignty of the province of Eisande has passed from hand to hand with the whims of politics, but one thing has never changed: Marsilikos. It is ancient and wealthy, and it is ruled by the Lady of Marsilikos. If the heir to the city was male, no mind; his wife or consort was styled by the people the Lady of Marsilikos, and acknowledged as such, sharing equally in his power. I daresay there have been Lords who have challenged this, but none, to my knowledge, have succeeded in breaking the tradition. Eisheth herself was the first Lady of Marsilikos, and her precedent stands. So long as Terre d'Ange remains a sovereign nation, there will be a Lady in Marsilikos.
    In this instance, it happened that I knew her.
    The Duchese Roxanne de Mereliot was one of the few peers of the realm that Ysandre de la Courcel had trusted in those dark, precarious months before the war, when first she had ascended the throne-and she had proved a faithful ally.
    If she was still, she would be expecting me.
    I sent Remy and Ti-Philippe in advance, racing unburdened up the hill to announce our arrival, while Fortun bargained with a pair of shrewd dock-urchins to aid us with the packhorses. In truth, I was not certain what welcome we would find; I had been too long with my own suspicions, and too short a time a member of the peerage to expect the best. It is something to inspire awe, the Dome of the Lady, towering walls of white marble rising far above the city, gold leaf gleaming atop the dome. Siovalese architects were hired to build it, and there is a story about a lost ship being saved by seeing it shine on the far horizon like a second sun, a hundred leagues at sea.
    At any rate, I was soon to be shamed by my own doubts.
    The golden Dome reared up against a blue sky as we made our approach, flanked at its base by white minarets. It is a splendid structure, and highly defensible, walled fortifications encircling the peak of the hill. The standard of the Lady of Marsilikos fluttered from the minarets and the crenellated tops of the gate-tower; two golden fish, head to tail, forming a circle on a sea-blue field. It is ancient, too, by our reckoning-Eisheth's sign.
    This day, the gates stood open, and a guardsman sounded a long trumpet blast to herald our arrival. They bowed as we rode through, a double line of guards, clad in light shirts of chain-mail over sea-blue livery.
    In the courtyard, smiling, stood Roxanne de Mereliot, accompanied by her retinue of guardsmen and retainers, and another figure I knew well; red-haired, burly as a bear and half again as elegant, a broad, lopsided grin splitting his scarred face.
    "My lord Admiral!" My exultant cry rang in the courtyard, and before I thought twice, I dismounted and ran to him, flinging both arms about his neck.
    "Easy, child!" For all that he protested, Quintilius Rousse chuckled and enfolded me in a great embrace, crushing me against his brawny chest. "Sweet tits of Naamah, you're a sight for sore eyes, Phèdre nó Delaunay!" Resting his hands on my shoulders, he grinned down at me, eyes a bright blue in his weather-beaten face. "The Lady thought you might be pleased to see me. Glad to note she wasn't wrong."
    "Your grace!" Appalled, I turned to Roxanne de Mereliot, dropping into a deep curtsy and holding it, my head lowered.
    "Comtesse de Montrève, be welcome to Marsilikos," her voice said above me, rich with amusement. "And please, do rise."
    I did, reluctantly meeting her gaze. No longer young, the Lady of Marsilikos retained an abundant beauty, deepened with the passage of years. Her coal-black hair was streaked with white, her generous mouth smiled easily, and kindness and wisdom lit her dark eyes. "Your grace," I said. "Pray forgive my rudeness."
    "Rudeness?" She gave her warm smile. " 'Twould have spoiled my surprise if you'd acted otherwise! I miss my own children, who pursue their studies in Tiberium and Siovale. Spontaneity is the province of youth; indulge me my delight in it, young Phèdre."
    Over her shoulder, I saw Remy and Ti-Philippe, grinning like idiots, while behind me, Fortun and Joscelin exchanged hearty greetings with Quintilius Rousse. I could not help but smile, too. "By all means, my