Kushiel's Dart

offers."
    That got my attention.
    "My lord!" I breathed, scarce daring to believe. I had begun to think my ripening body would wither untasted on the vine. "No, my lord, I would not. . . take it amiss."
    "I thought not." This time there was amusement in his glance. "But there is somewhat we must make clear first. You need a signaled
    The word landed on uncomprehending ears. "My lord?"
    "Didier didn't tell you?" He sat down. "It is something they have devised at Valerian House; I spoke to their Dowayne at some length, to learn what was needful. Betimes a patron goes too far in the throes of transport. You know that protestation is part of the game, yes? The signals is beyond that. It is a word, if spoken, that halts all play. You must have one, Phedre." His gaze grew serious. "If a patron fails to heed the signale , he or she is guilty of heresy. It is your safeguard against injury, against violating the precept of Blessed Elua. They say it is best to choose a word that cannot be mistaken for loveplay. Do you wish to think on it?"
    I shook my head; the word came unbidden to my lips. "Hyacinthe."
    It is the first time, and perhaps the only, I saw Delaunay taken aback.
    "The Tsingano ?" If he hadn't been sitting in front of me, I would still have known his surprise from his voice. " That's the first thing you think of when you think of a safeguard?"
    "He is my one friend." I held his gaze stubbornly. "Everyone else desires something of me; even you, my lord. If you wish me to choose another word, I will. But you have asked, and I have answered."
    "No." After a moment, he shrugged. "Why not? It's a good enough choice; no one need know you mean a Tsingani soothsayer's by-blow when you speak it. I'll have it drawn into your contract, and be certain your patrons know of it."
    My words had given him pause, I could tell; I wondered if he were a little jealous, even. I hoped so, but didn't dare press the matter. "Who are they?" I asked him instead. "And whose offer are you minded to take, my lord?"
    "There have been several." Delaunay rose to pace again. "Most relayed indirectly, through third and fourth parties, as is often done when special. . . talents . . . like your own are involved. Except for one." A frown creased his brow. He glanced reluctantly at me. "Childric d'Essoms approached me himself to make an offer."
    A name, and a face to go with it. I felt my body tighten, but all I said was, "Why would he do that? He hates you, and he knows your game, my lord. He only bid on Alcuin to bait the others."
    "That's part of it. He likes the sight of pain." He sat down again. "D'Essoms is a hunter; he loves the game, and he's clever at it, clever enough to know you're meant as a lure. He thinks he can take the bait and evade the hook, and he wants me to know it. He's too arrogant to pass up a chance to claim a prize like you and deal me an insult in the process."
    "What do you want of him?" A simple enough question, fraught with so much meaning. This, beyond the provision of pleasure and the sight of pain, was my purpose; this was why Delaunay had bought my marque. No matter that he would not tell us the greater why of it, Alcuin and I had long ago realized that he valued us most of all for what we could learn.
    "Any information he might betray," Delaunay said grimly. "D'Essoms ranks high in the Court of Chancery; there is no grant, no treaty, no appointment that does not cross his desk at some point. He knows who has petitioned for what, and what has been ceded in exchange. He knows who will be appointed to what post, and why. And like as not, he knows who profited from the death of Isabel L'Envers."
    "And Edmee de Rocaille?" I shivered inwardly as I named Prince Rolande's first betrothed. Delaunay looked sharply at me.
    "Isabel L'Envers profited from the death of Edmee de Rocaille," he said softly, "and so did Childric d'Essoms, for he received his appointment not long after Isabel wed Rolande. You ask what I wish to know? I wish to know who pulls D'Essoms' strings now. Isabel is dead; so who does he serve and to what end? Find that out for me, Phedre, and I will owe you much."
    "As you wish, my lord." I would do it, I resolved, if it killed me. I was naive enough still, in those days, not to reckon how real a possibility it might be.
    "Then you assent to his offer?"
    I started to say yes, then paused. "How much is it?"
    Delaunay smiled at my asking. "You're a true child of the Night Court, Phedre. Four thousand and a half."