Kushiel's Dart

rattled under his assault; outside, I could hear the shuffle of riders, and a muttering. "Stop the cart, I say! Let us out!"
    A tremendous blow from the other side shocked the boards. A quar-terstaff or a mace, at least; Joscelin snatched his hands back, stung by the reverberation of the wood. Another fierce blow descended onto the taut canvas, landing on his shoulder with a dull thud. Grimacing, Joscelin rolled out of the way of a second blow.
    "You in the cart, keep it down," a male voice said in a soldier's clipped tones, "or we'll beat you like badgers in a sack. Understood?"
    Joscelin crouched low beneath the canvas, eyeing it warily as he tried to track the shadow of a weapon above him. "I am Joscelin Verreuil, son of the Chevalier Millard Verreuil of Siovale, member of the Cassiline Brotherhood, and you are holding me against my will," he called. "Do you understand that this is both heresy and a crime punishable by death?"
    The weapon-a staff, by its reach-came down on the canvas again with another muffled thump. "Shut up, Cassiline! Next time, I aim for the girl."
    I caught Joscelin's arm and shook my head at him as he opened his mouth to retort. "Don't," I murmured. "Don't make it worse. There are a dozen or more fully trained, armed and mounted soldiers out there. If you're going to play the hero, at least pick a moment when you're not outnumbered and trapped like a... like a badger in a sack."
    Joscelin stared at me. "How do you reckon the odds?"
    "Listen." I nodded around the cart. "Horses, and armor creaking. Four before and four aft, two on the sides, and I've heard at least two riding scout. And if they're under Melisande's orders, likely they're D'Aiglemort's men."
    "D'Aiglemort?" He was still staring, but he had the sense to keep his voice low. "What's he to do with it?"
    "I don't know." Cold, sick and weary, I huddled under my blankets. "But whatever it is, they're in it together. They brought down House Trevalion, and his men killed Delaunay and Alcuin. He bid for Ysandre's hand. I think he means to have the throne, one way or another. And if they're D'Aiglemort's men, you may be sure they're well-trained."
    His face showed perplexity in the dim light. "I thought you were but a Servant of Naamah."
    "Did you learn nothing of what we were about in Delaunay's house?" I asked bitterly. "Better if I was and had stayed in the Night Court, gone to Valerian to be a whipping-toy to ham-fisted tradesmen. Then Melisande Shahrizai would not have had me to use as her hunting dog, and flush out Delaunay's allies."
    "Is that what happened?" He checked himself, shaking his head. "Phedre, you couldn't have known. Anafiel Delaunay should have, to use his bond-servants that way. It's not your fault."
    "To blame or no," I said softly, "it doesn't matter. I was the cause. Delaunay is dead, and Alcuin too, who never harmed anyone in his life, and everyone else foolhardy enough to serve him. I caused it."
    "Phedre . . ."
    "It's getting darker." I interrupted him, holding my hand out. It was harder to see than before. "Mayhap they'll make camp, come nightfall. We've been going north, I think. It's colder than in the City."
    "Camlach." He said it grimly.
    "It may well be. They would be wary, inside the borders of L'Agnace; they ordered us to be silent, not still. They fear detection. If it's so, they might be less cautious in their own province."
    "Delaunay taught you well," he murmured.
    "Not well enough."
    Worn out with fear and pain, I dozed for a time, waking only when the cart came to an abrupt halt. Utter darkness surrounded me. Then came the sound of men and chains rattling, and the rear gate of the cart opened. I squinted into blinding torchlight, flames streaking my vision.
    "Come out," a harsh voice said from behind the swimming flames. "You first, girl; come out slowly."
    Still clutching my blankets around me, I crawled out the back of the cart to stand blinking and squinting in the firelight, half-frozen and covered with straw. Rough hands took hold of me, guiding me toward a campfire. A helmeted soldier handed me a waterskin, and I drank greedily.
    "All right, all right, easy, Cassiline." They were more cautious, allowing Joscelin to emerge, but he came docilely enough, his first concern for my safety. He was a Cassiline Brother and I was his charge; no matter what had befallen him, obeying that oath was foremost. I saw it in the relief in his face.
    As my eyes adjusted to the firelight, I saw I had guessed