Kushiel's Dart

Ysan-dre's House Courcel guard, as well as her ever-present Cassilines, surrounded us; still, I think there was no one else to whom she dared speak her mind.
    "I have your book, still, your majesty," I said presently, casting about for something to say. "Your father's diary. It is with my things, in our camp. I kept it with me, all this time."
    "Did you read it?" She smiled sadly. "It was very beautiful, I thought."
    "It was. He loved wisely, too. Delaunay lived for the memory of that love." I didn't mention Alcuin, though I was glad, now, that Delaunay had known a second happiness.
    "I know." Ysandre glanced down into the courtyard far below and to the fore of us, filled with a tight mass of men. "I'm glad he made his peace with my uncle before he died. My mother caused a great deal of pain, I think."
    "Yes." I couldn't gainsay her. "People do, for love, or for power."
    "Or honor." She looked sympathetically at me. "I'm sorry you were drawn into this Phedre. Please know that whatever happens, you have my gratitude for the role you played. And for ... for what you told me of Drus-tan." She smiled at Joscelin. "Both of you. What became of your friend?" she asked then, remembering. "The Tsingano? Is he with Ghislain's army?"
    It hurt to think of Hyacinthe; I caught my breath, and met Joscelin's eye, glancing round from the arrow-slit. "No, your majesty," I said. "It is a long story, our journey, and Hyacinthe's may be the longest."
    "A Mendacant's tale," murmured Joscelin.
    We told her, then, there on the battlements of besieged Troyes-le-Mont, while arrows clattered against the merlon and her guards kept watch. I began it, but Joscelin told it better, with all the skill he'd gained in his Mendacant guise. It was his tribute to Hyacinthe, and I let him have it, as he had let me have mine, the last night on that lonely isle.
    Hyacinthe would have liked it, I think.
    Caspar Trevalion came back to find his Queen round-eyed with awe, uncertain whether or not to credit our tale.
    "De Marchet is ready," he said brusquely, returning us to the dire reality of our situation. "He'll fire on my command. Any sign of d'Aiglemort or the Albans?"
    "No, my lord." I had been watching, while Joscelin told the story of Hyacinthe and the Master of the Straits. "Not yet."
    Caspar glanced up at the sky, turning a pale blue as the sun rose steadily. "Pray they don't fail us," he said grimly. "They've near filled the moat with rubble at the barbican, and Selig's sappers are digging under the northwest tower. Farrens said they felt the stone tremble underfoot. They're moving one of the siege towers toward the north wall, too. We've let him get deadly close, if help doesn't come."
    "It will come," I said, with a confidence I didn't feel. It was harder to believe, here.
    "It is coming." Joscelin, back at the arrow-slit, pressed his eye to the aperture. His hands, flat against the wall, clenched, fingertips digging into stone. "It is coming. My lord! Look!" Heedless of station, he grabbed Caspar's arm and drew him to the wall.
    Caspar Trevalion looked silently, then drew back. "Your majesty," he said, gesturing for her to look. Ysandre took a turn for a long moment, then stepped away and drew a shuddering breath.
    "Phedre," she whispered. "You brought them. You should see."
    I stepped up to the arrow-slit, standing once more on my toes and ignoring the pain of my injuries, and looked.
    In the distance, at the base of the foothills, a shining line of silver advanced toward the fortress.
    High on the battlements of Troyes-le-Mont, we had the advantage of sight, despite the greater distance; still, it was not long before Selig's sentries spotted their advance. None of his scouting parties had returned alive, and it was a mercy that Ghislain had found a path where they could descend undetected, but there was no hiding an entire army, once they were on level ground.
    I gave way to Ysandre at the arrow-slit-she was Queen, I could do no less-but it was agony, not to see. I bore it as long as I could, then stepped out from behind the merlon, to stand at the low crenelation. Joscelin was a mere step behind me, and I thought for an instant that he would drag me back to safety, but he merely gave me a quick glance and set himself at my side, vambraces crossed before him.
    We didn't have much to fear, as the attention of the Skaldi began to shift direction.
    Nothing I have ever seen can compare to it, unless it be the seas roiling under the duress of the