Kushiel's Dart

flowers made my head swim. Prince Baudoin's friends and supporters abounded, declaring in carelessly loud tones that they should call for a public referendum, that the King should appoint Baudoin his successor, that Parliament should intervene. None of the talk was new and none seemed more urgent nor serious than it had a year ago.
    Growing weary of circulating and wishing to avoid the advances of a certain persistent Chevalier who was plaguing me to dance with him, I slipped out of the Great Hall and made my way to a seldom-used pleasure niche on the first floor that had served as a refuge sometimes in my childhood.
    A flicker of lamplight and a man's beseeching voice stopped me before entering. I drew back into the shadows.
    "I have sent word to you five timesl How can you be so cruel to refuse me?"
    There was desperation in the tone and I knew the voice. It was Vitale Bouvarre.
    Alcuin's voice, cool and distant. "Sir, I did not think to see you here. You are not known to be a friend of Prince Baudoin's."
    "Nor am I known to be an enemy!" After the alarm in Vitale Bou-varre's voice, there was a pause. "The Lady Shahrizai pays for information on the Stregazza, and the Stregazza pay for talk of House Trevalion. Where is the harm in it? I am a trader, sweet boy." His tone turned wheedling. "Why will you not deign to ply your trade?"
    I heard a rustle and a scraping sound; Alcuin had shaken off his touch. "I am a Servant of Naamah, not a galley-slave, sir. Seven times I have agreed to your contract, and seven times you have stinted your offering!"
    Another pause. "I will make you a patron-gift." Bouvarre's voice trembled. "Any amount you name! Only say it."
    Alcuin drew a deep breath and his voice turned ardent as he answered. "Enough to make my marque. And the answer to Delaunay's question. That is my price, sir."
    At this, even I caught my breath sharply. There was a long silence, and then Bouvarre spoke again. "You ask too much," he said dully.
    "It is my price." There was adamant in the words. I was astonished at the depth of feeling in him. I had known, from the beginning, that he had no love for this work; I had not known, until then, how much he despised it. And if he had hidden it from me, how much better had he hidden it from Delaunay? Well indeed, I think, for Delaunay would never have permitted Alcuin to continue in the service of Naamah had he known. Not only was it against his nature, but blasphemous as well.
    "And if I pay it," Bouvarre was saying, the tremor back in his voice, "I will see you no more."
    "If you pay it," Alcuin said softly, "you will see me once more, messire. If you do not, you will never see me again."
    Another long silence, then once more, Bouvarre. "It is too much," he said, repeating himself. "I will think on it."
    Alcuin made no reply. I heard the swish of cloth as Bouvarre turned to leave, and retreated further into the darkness, not wanting to be seen. There was not much risk of it, as he had the look of a man much distracted as he hurried past me. When Alcuin didn't emerge, I stole forward to steal a glance.
    There was a small statue of Naamah in the niche, before which he knelt. Lamplight flickered on the ghostly white of his hair as he gazed up at her. "Forgive me, my lady goddess," I heard him murmur. "If I violate your precepts, it is only to obey those of our lord Elua. What I do, I do for love."
    It was enough; I did not want him to know I had witnessed it. Adepts of Cereus House and pupils of Anafiel Delaunay alike are taught to move without sound when need requires. I crept away in silence.
    Lovers clinched in the hallways and boudoirs, revelers danced and drank in the Great Hall, musicians played, apprentices served and adepts offered pleasure; in all the gaiety, only I seemed to feel solitary and alone. As a child, I could not have imagined one might aspire any higher. To be a courtesan of such note that I might attend a fete such as this-before I had even made my marque!-as the invited guest of a Prince's mistress ... it was more than ever I had dreamed. But my pleasure was tempered by too much knowledge; knowledge of Delaunay's teaching, knowledge of Alcuin's despite for this world I knew so well.
    This world in which I had no place, as patron or Servant.
    I missed Hyacinthe and wished he were here.
    I even wished the old Dowayne were here.
    Driven by melancholy, I sought solace in one of the lesser gardens, thinking to be alone with my unaccustomed emotions and