Kushiel's Dart

forward, and my skirts encumbered my progress. Melisande's diamond hung free from about my throat, bumping against the wood; I was terrified that the glitter of it would give me away. It seemed an eternity before I was safely above the storeroom, and peered over the edge to see Joscelin tracking my progress with worried eyes.
    "Get down !" he hissed at me, holding up his arms. Now that I was out of sight of the Skaldi, the shock of what I'd witnessed struck me, and I found myself trembling. Still, there was nothing else for it. I clung to the rafter by my fingertips, lowering my body until I felt Joscelin's hands graze my ankles. "Let go," he whispered, and I did, falling to slide through his grasp until his hands caught me hard about the waist, and he set me down carefully on the barrel.
    We stood there like that for a moment, pressed close with nowhere else to stand, and I shuddered in his arms, face against the warmth of his chest. If anyone had told me a year ago that my sole comfort in life would be a Cassiline Brother, I would have laughed. I pulled back and looked up at him. "They mean to invade," I whispered. "They mean to have it all, and that cursed d'Aiglemort's given them a way to do it. Joscelin, this goes far beyond border raids. We have to find a way to warn them."
    "We will." He said it quietly, but with all the implacable strength of a Cassiline vow. With unaccustomed gentleness, he took my face in his hands and brushed away the traces of my tears. "I swear to you, Phedre, I'll get us out of here."
    Because I needed to, I believed him and took strength from it. The sounds of the Allthing rumbled and quieted on the far side of the wall. "The barrels," I said, and drew hastily away to clamber down a tier. Joscelin followed quickly, hoisting down the topmost barrel. We worked in tandem, urgent and silent, he doing the heavy lifting while I rolled barrel after barrel along its rim back to an approximation of its original place.
    Our fear, while prudent, proved needless; we finished, and still the Allthing continued, no one coming for us. I gave Joscelin back his grey coat. He sat on his heels, working out the worst of the dirt and soot, while I scrubbed at the grime ground into my sleeves and skirts. I stole glances at him while I worked, taking solace in the haughty D'Angeline beauty I had first despised in him, the proud, provincial features and his clear, summer-blue eyes.
    He must have been thinking along the same lines, for after a time he looked up at me. "You know, when I was assigned to attend you," he said softly, "I thought it was a punishment of some sort. I thought you were nothing but an expensive plaything for the worst of the scions of the Misguided."
    "I was," I murmured bitterly. I touched Melisande's diamond. "I still am. Were I not, we wouldn't be here, and Delaunay and Alcuin would still be alive."
    Joscelin shook his head, "if Melisande had one plan, she had others; I've no doubt she could have gotten the information elsewhere. It fell on you, that's all."
    "And I let it. And Waldemar Selig will do the same." I leaned back against a barrel, closing my eyes. "And Elua help me, I'll welcome it when he does. While I eat my heart out with anguish, I'll prove to him a thousand times over exactly how debauched and yielding a D'Angeline whore can be, and I'll thank him for it when he's done."
    I opened my eyes to see Joscelin blanch; he was enough of a Cassiline to look as sick as I felt at it. But his voice, when he spoke, was fierce. "Then do it," he said, "and live! And when he crosses onto D'Angeline soil and I'm there to meet him and plant ten inches of steel in his guts, I'll thank him for the pleasure of it."
    It made me laugh; I don't know why, except for the absurdity of his oath, given our present circumstances. I can't explain it to one who has never been a captive. Sometimes absurdity is the only thing that keeps one sane. After a moment, Joscelin saw the humor of it and smiled wryly.
    And then the bolt of the storeroom door was thrown back, and the White Brethren came for us. The Allthing was ended, and the Skaldi were ready to prepare for war.

FORTY-EIGHT
    The news rioted through the Skaldi encampment and the fires burned long into the night, casting a flickering orange glow on the snow-covered mountainsides, while shouted war-songs and the clash of spears beaten on shields rose up to challenge the distant stars.
    Waldemar Selig not only let them have their celebration, but