Kushiel's Dart

would gain us passage if he were loyal. I thought of showing it to him. But if he were loyal, he wouldn't deny us access to Rousse in the first place, and if he were Melisande's ally . . . there had to be another way.
    House Morhban was not so old as the Shahrizai in Kusheth, but old enough to have attained sovereignty. He was a scion of Kushiel. There was one offer he would consider.
    "My lord." It is funny, how the tones and inflection of Cereus House remain with one. I lifted my head and rode forward to meet his eyes, close enough that he could not fail to see what mine contained. "My lord, there is somewhat else we may offer in trade for passage."
    Quincel de Morhban drew in his breath sharply, and his horse danced under him. "You!" he said, quieting his mount. His eyes narrowed again. "Melisande's creature, I thought. But I heard you were condemned for the murder of Rolande's poet, Delaunay."
    "No." Joscelin, realizing belatedly what I'd done, grabbed my arm. "Phedre, no!"
    I shook him off, holding de Morhban's gaze. "You know what I am, your grace. You know what I offer. One night. Free passage. And no questions."
    His eyebrows rose, but otherwise his expression was unchanged. "In Elua's City, you could not dictate such terms, anguissette . Why should I not seek you there? I have coin."
    "I own my marque and I dictate the terms I choose," I said evenly. "I have named my price. From you, I will accept no other."
    De Morhban's gaze strayed to Joscelin, who sat taut with anguish. "There was a Cassiline involved, I seem to remember. What would the Queen pay for such knowledge?" His grey eyes returned to me, gauging my reaction. "Or House Shahrizai, perhaps? Melisande likes to know things."
    Somewhere behind me, I could hear Hyacinthe muttering in black fury, could feel Joscelin's wild rage building. We were betrayed, they thought; I had erred. Delaunay used to think such things too, when I took dangerous risks with a patron. But if I had one confidence, it was in that: Never, yet, had I misjudged a patron's desire. I did not answer de Morhban's question, only sat beneath his gaze. You know what I am, my lord, I thought. And I am the only one of my kind, the only one born in three generations. I am born to serve such as you are. Kushiel's cruel fire runs in your blood, and I, and I alone, kindle to it. Choose now, or never know.
    The tension mounted between us like heat. At last Quincel de Morhban smiled, a smile that sent a shudder the length of my spine.
    "What business is it of mine if someone sends Tsingani horse-traders, whores and priests to the Queen's Admiral? Very well. Your offer is accepted." He bowed, sweeping one arm toward the south. "I give to your company my hospitality for one night. In the morning, you may ride to Quintilius Rousse. Is it agreed?"
    "It is not -" Joscelin began heatedly, while Hyacinthe said, "Your grace, perhaps-"
    "Yes." I said it loudly, overriding them. "We will draw up the contract in your quarters, your grace. Have you a priest to witness?"
    Quincel de Morhban's face reflected bleak amusement at my caution. "I will send to the Temple of Kushiel on the Isle d'Oeste. Will that suffice?"
    "It will."
    Thus did we come to enjoy the hospitality of the Duc de Morhban.

SIXTY-FIVE
    I have known worse. The castle of Morhban is set atop a rocky escarpment over the sea, impregnable on three sides, and well-guarded from the front. It was a cheerless place on a grey day, spring having gained but the most tentative of footholds in this outlying land.
    All of us shivered on the ride, Neci's family-even the children-silent and fearful. But de Morhban's word was good, and he saw to it that they were well-housed, the horses stabled.
    In this, he included Hyacinthe, who ground his teeth, but did not protest. He would have included Joscelin as well.
    "Your grace." Joscelin controlled himself with an effort. "I am oath-sworn to protect my lady Phedre no Delaunay. Do not ask me to foreswear myself."
    "So you say." Quincel de Morhban looked at Joscelin's Mendacant cloak. "Then again, it is the sort of mindless loyalty a Cassiline would voice. Do you actually perform as a Mendacant, priest?"
    After a moment, Joscelin gave a curt nod.
    "Fine. Then you may entertain my household."
    A couple of de Morbhan's men-at-arms nudged each other, grinning like boys at the prospect; it was the only thing on that journey that made me smile. It had been a long, dull winter in Morhban, I suspected.
    "Yes, your