Kushiel's Dart

Shahrizai's feet. And then she will have her answer to her question: It is Kushiel's Dart throws truer than Kushiel's line!"
    Joscelin retrieved the diamond without comment, tying it back around my neck. Better him, I thought, twining my hair forward, than anyone else who'd put it there. When he was done, he brushed the length of my spine with a light touch. "I'm sorry you had to leave your marque unfinished," he murmured. "It's beautiful, you know. Like you."
    I turned round at that to meet his eyes; he gave me his wry smile.
    "If I had to fall from Cassiel's grace," he said softly, "at least I know it took a courtesan worthy of Kings to do it."
    "Ah, Joscelin ..." I leaned forward and took his head in my hands, kissing his brow. "Go to sleep," I told him. "We've a long way to go, yet, and you've healing to do. I'll tell you a story, if you like ... do they tell Naamah's temptation of Cassiel, in the Brotherhood? They tell it in Cereus House . . ."
    I told him the story, then, and he fell asleep smiling before the end; as well he did, I thought, for it is one of those stories that ends without an ending, that the listener may judge for him or herself what happened.
    Tales of gods and angels may end that way, for they continue, we know, in the land beyond the end of the world, the true Terre d'Ange. Alas for we who are mortal, and are denied the luxury of dramatic license. We must live, and go onward.
    In the morning the fire had burned down to cold ashes and a few buried embers, and we dressed shivering in the chill. Of what had befallen us in the night, we did not speak. What would we have said, if we did? The romances would have it otherwise, but this I will say: There is no point in speaking of love when survival is at issue. I had spoken truly, when I said that we dreamed. It was only the waking that was grim. We went about the business of making ready to leave.
    The snows had ended, and the day bid to be overcast, but the lowering clouds held no more in store. A grey light filtered into the cavern from outside. I worked quickly to lash the last of the packs onto my pony, holding my fur mittens between my teeth and working with frozen fingers. Joscelin, much recovered from his wounds, checked the horses' hooves.
    "Phedre!" I heard him gasp as he released the foreleg of one of our Skaldi remounts. The horse stomped, the sound ringing off the stony walls. I looked up to see where he was pointing.
    There, etched in rock above the mouth of the cavern, was Blessed Elua's sigil. Caught by some trick of refracted daylight it gleamed, silvery, in the hard stone. I stared without speaking, then closed my mouth, realizing it gaped. Joscelin and I looked wildly at each other.
    "You know what this means?" he asked breathlessly. "They sheltered here, crossing the Skaldic hinterlands! Elua, Cassiel, Naamah ... all the Companions!" Approaching the cavern mouth, he laid his hands reverently upon the rock. "They were here."
    "They were here," I echoed, gazing at the silvery lines, remembering my wordless, snow-bound prayer. We had dreamed, I thought, in a sacred place. "Joscelin," I said. "Let's go home."
    Tearing himself away from the cavern wall, he glanced at me and nodded, settling the wolf-pelt of the White Brethren in place about his shoulders. "Home," he said firmly, leading the way.
    A dream, and the promise of our long-ago celestial begetters, who had not forgotten the distant generations of their children, in whose red blood a thin thread of ichor ran still. Home, a golden memory, from which we were separated by mile upon icy mile.
    Outside, the cold of a Skaldic winter awaited us.
    Home.

FIFTY-FOUR
    In the days that followed, no further pursuit came upon us. The weather was our only enemy, but of a surety, it was enemy enough. With horses somewhat fresher than our own had been, we pressed harder, stopping when the light failed and setting up camp to fall into an exhausted sleep.
    Betimes we encountered steadings along the way, but our senses had grown keen living in the wilderness, and each time either Joscelin or I detected signs of human habitation well in advance. We gave all steadings a wide berth, and never made camp within less than an hour's ride from the nearest man-sign. Once or twice more, we saw wolves at dusk, and one terrifying time, we disturbed a fierce bear from its winter slumber in a cave that proved not to be abandoned. I thought my gallant pony lost that time as we fled, the longer-legged horses