Kushiel's Dart

the invitation arrived. He gave me no reason for it, but I knew he had need of his team. It would not do to arrive sweated and on horseback for a royal audience.
    Joscelin, of course, would accompany me. We had spoken little since my assignation with Childric d'Essoms, though I knew he was no happier with his posting than before. Well, I thought, he should be glad enough of Rogier Clavel, then, whose desires were so simply met.
    So it was that Joscelin cooled his heels in Lord Clavel's quarters-rather finer than the ones he'd had before, I noted-while we disported ourselves. I daresay Lord Clavel was well enough pleased, and if a good portion of my mind was elsewhere, he never noticed it. For my part, I could not help but think of Japheth's play being staged in the Palace theatre, and Delaunay's mysterious invitation to attend it. Rogier Clavel favored afternoon assignations, and I knew full well when the hour arrived for the performance to commence. 'Twas early evening by then, and we had finished with our sport; I fanned him while he lay on soft cushions, the sheen of exertion drying on his skin. By the time he donned his robe and went to his coffer, I had an idea.
    "Thank you, my lord," I murmured, tying the generous purse to my girdle.
    "You've kept your word, and more." He looked eagerly at me. "So've I, Phedre. The King has awarded me an estate in L'Agnace. Do you think your lord Delaunay might allow me to see you again?"
    "Perhaps." I eyed him thoughtfully. "My lord Clavel, tell me this; is there another exit from your quarters?"
    "There is the servants' route to the kitchens, of course." He blinked at me. "Why do you ask?"
    I had thought about it, and had an answer ready. "There is ... someone ... I must see, who made an offer to Delaunay," I said, putting a hesitation in my voice that suggested it was a patron I dared not name. "He would take it amiss, to have a Cassiline Brother on his doorstep, but they are rigorous in their service. Still, Delaunay bid me deliver word, if I chanced to do it without the Cassiline present."
    "I could send word for you."
    "No!" I shook my head in alarm. "My lord, the Servants of Naamah are known for discretion. I pray you, do not put mine to the test. But if you would send your coach to the west wing, and bid Brother Verreuil to meet me there, I ... and perhaps others . . . would be indebted to you."
    Rogier Clavel mulled it over, and I could see him assessing the risks and possible gain. The gain won out and he nodded, his plump chin wavering. "Easily enough done. You'll put in a good word for me with Delaunay?"
    "Of course." I swung my cloak about my shoulders and smiled, kissing his cheek. "I will do so gladly, my lord."
    I do not pretend to know the Palace so well as those who live there, but I thought I knew it well enough to make my way to the King's theatre in the west wing. It is a vast and impressive construction, which even a provincial would be hard-put to miss. Still, I was unfamiliar with the servants' passages, which were far narrower and more poorly lit than the main hallways, and managed to lose my way in them. At last I found an exit into the Palace proper, and stumbled into an empty hall, blinking at the light.
    Around the corner, booted footsteps were approaching; two men, I gauged by the sound, and moving swiftly. 1 heard their voices before I saw them.
    "Camael's Sword!" one of the voices exclaimed, livid with disgust. "It's not so much to ask, for the protection of the realm. You'd think the old fool owes me somewhat!"
    "Mayhap he's right, Isidore. Do you really think the Glory-Seekers would follow you, after you betrayed Baudoin?" the second voice asked diffidently. "Anyway, they're not Camaeline."
    "They're a hundred warriors, trained to fight in the mountains. They'd have followed, if I led; all but a handful, and we'd have soon been rid of them. Never mind, I'll recruit in the villages if I have to. Let Courcel see how he likes it, when D'Angeline peasants start dying in his name. He'll give me the Glory-Seekers." Isidore d'Aiglemort strode around the corner and halted, seeing me. "Hold, Villiers," he said, putting up a hand to his companion.
    With no other course of action open to me, I gave a quick curtsy and continued forward, my head bowed, but d'Aiglemort caught my arm and gave me a hard look. "Who are you and where are you bound?"
    "I am on Naamah's business, my lord."
    He took in my cloak and studied my eyes, and it was the latter he