Kushiel's Dart

there is no one else I trust." She glanced apologetically at Thelesis. "I do not speak of you, of course; I trust you with my life, Queen's Poet, and I know your spirit is willing. But I have spoken with the physicians, and a winter voyage across land and sea would be the death of you, Thelesis."
    "So they tell me," Thelesis de Mornay murmured; and I did not doubt that she was willing to go anyway, though the ravages of the fever were clearly marked on her strained features. But her dark, luminous gaze fell on me instead. "My lady," she said to Ysandre, "Anafiel Delaunay had two pupils."
    The shock of it went clean through me. "What are you saying?" I whispered.
    "I am saying . . ." She had to pause, overcome by a fit of coughing. "Phedre no Delaunay, you could take Anafiel's place as the Queen's ambassador."
    "My lady," I protested, looking from Thelesis to Ysandre, not sure which one of them I was addressing. My mind was reeling. "My lady, I am an anguissette ! I am trained to be a Servant of Naamah! I'm not trained to be an ambassador!"
    "Whatever you're trained to do, you apparently do it damnably well," Barquiel L'Envers remarked laconically. "Did you know Rogier Clavel went into mourning for you and lost some twenty pounds? He's as thin as a rail these days. Any pupil of Anafiel Delaunay's is considerably more than a Servant of Naamah, little anguissette . You're the first whore I've heard of to double-cross a Skaldi warleader and survive to warn a nation of treason."
    "My lord!" I heard the terror in my own voice. "What I did to survive, I hope never to do again. I do not have the strength to live through it twice."
    "The Cruithne are not the Skaldi," Ysandre said reasonably. "And you would be under the protection of Quintilius Rousse, who is one of the greatest admirals ever to set sail. Phedre, for what you have done, I am grateful. Never think it is not so. I would not ask this thing if our need were not urgent."
    I sat without answering, unseeing with shock. Near to me, Joscelin rose, giving his smooth Cassiline bow to the Queen. He turned to me, then, and I gazed up at him, his face shining with bright fearlessness. "Phedre," he said, his voice ringing with a hero's courage. "We have survived worse adventures. I will go with you. I have sworn it. To protect and serve!"
    For a moment, his courage kindled my own. Then the Prefect's voice came hard on the heels of Joscelin's ringing tones, like a dash of icy water.
    "Brother Joscelin!" he said crisply. "We are glad that your innocence has been established in the matter of Anafiel Delaunay's death. But you have confessed yourself in violation of your vows and remanded yourself to our justice. For the salvation of your soul, you must atone and be shriven. Only those who strive to be Perfect Companions are fit to serve the scions of Elua."
    Joscelin blinked, staring at him open-mouthed, then regained his composure. "My lord Prefect," he said with a bow. "I am sworn still to the household of Anafiel Delaunay." There was a note of anguish in his voice. "If there is salvation to be found for me, it lies in honoring that vow!"
    "You are relieved of your vow to Delaunay's household," the Prefect said flatly. "I decree it so."
    "My lord!" Joscelin winced as if struck. "My lord Prefect, please, no!"
    The old Prefect leveled his hawk's glare at Joscelin. "What transgressions have you committed, young Brother?"
    Joscelin looked away, unable to hold the Prefect's gaze. "I have failed to safeguard my charge," he said dully. "I have slain in anger instead of defending. I have ... I have committed murder. And I have . . ." He looked at me for a moment, his expression grave. I remembered Elua's Cavern, and what had happened between us there. Then his gaze slid away from mine and he glanced at Hyacinthe. "I have drawn my sword merely to threaten," he finished.
    "These are grave sins." The Prefect shook his head. "I cannot allow it, Brother Joscelin. Another will go in your stead."
    It was very still in the King's hunting lodge. No one, not even Ysan-dre, would intervene in a Cassiline matter. Joscelin stood alone, lost in thought. He raised his blue gaze toward the ceiling, then looked once again at me. I remembered him standing alone in the deadly veils of snow, casting down his sword before the Skaldi. He had made choices no other Cassiline ever had faced. He had been tempered, by chains and blood and ice, and not broken. I did not want any other protector to stand in his