Kushiel's Mercy

Carthaginian lords I didn’t know set out in hot pursuit, followed by others.
    “You’re not a terribly good shot, are you, Leander?” Beneath the shade of an olive tree, Sidonie drew rein alongside me, accompanied by Gemelquart and his wife.
    “No.” I smiled because she’d used my name. “Are you?”
    She laughed. “No.”
    “I am,” Gemelquart said. “But I’m under orders not to overexert myself.”
    “That, and you use your weak lungs as an excuse for laziness,” his wife, Arishat, said, but she was smiling as she said it.
    “Alais would enjoy this,” Sidonie mused. “She likes the hunt, and she loves dogs. She had one for many years—”
    “Ah, yes, Alais!” Gemelquart interrupted her. “Your highness, I would be delighted to make your sister a gift of one of these dogs. They are royal Phoenician hunting dogs, a very ancient strain. As you can see, they are possessed of tremendous speed—”
    “It was a wolfhound,” Sidonie said, frowning. “She was killed.”
    “Such a sad thing to lose a beloved pet!” Arishat exclaimed. She was a Carthaginian lady some years younger than her husband, with pleasant features and a lovely speaking voice.
    “Why, I had a cat, a pretty little Menekhetan cat, that I’d raised from a kitten. She used to follow me—”
    “Killed by a bear?” Lost in thought, Sidonie blinked. “Or was it a boar?”
    “Let me summon the huntsman,” Gemelquart said smoothly. He raised one arm and gave a shout, beckoning. “Doubtless he’ll be able to advise us on the dogs’ qualities and recommend one suitable for a young lady’s companion.”
    In the distance, the huntsman turned, heeding Gemelquart’s summons. Bodeshmun heard it, too, and reined his mount in our direction.
    “Why can’t I remember?” Sidonie reached out and grabbed my wrist without thinking.
    There was a panicked strength in her grip and slow terror rising behind her black eyes.
    “Was it a boar or a bear? Leander, why can’t I remember how Alais’ dog was killed?”
    Ah, gods, what in the seven hells did Prince Imriel have to do with the death of her sister’s dog? I couldn’t even begin to guess. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bodeshmun looming nearer. Gemelquart gave me a helpless grimace.
    “Sunstroke.” I freed my wrist, leaned over in the saddle to place my hand on Sidonie’s brow. “Forgive us, my lady, we were thoughtless. The sun is much stronger in Carthage than you’re accustomed to. Being raised on Cythera, I forget.”
    “I don’t have sunstroke,” she said in a low tone, batting my hand away.
    I caught her hand and squeezed it hard enough to feel the small bones grinding together.
    “Yes,” I said. “You do.”
    She stared at me.
    “I fear he’s right, your highness,” Arishat said in her soothing voice. “Oh, I feel a fool!
    You feel disordered in your wits, yes? ’Tis a common malady. I’ve suffered it myself. In the cooler weather, one forgets the sun’s strength.” She dismounted and took hold of Sidonie’s mount’s bridle. “Come, let us sit here in the shade together. We’ll have the picnic brought to us.”
    I let go of Sidonie’s hand and nodded imperceptibly.
    “Sunstroke,” she murmured.
    “A touch of fever, likely,” Gemelquart said with cheerful sympathy. “A cool compress will help. I pray you will forgive us our thoughtlessness. Ah, Bodeshmun!” He greeted the Chief Horologist. “I fear her highness is unwell.”
    “I’m very sorry, your highness.” Bodeshmun gazed down at Sidonie. “I’ll send for a physician immediately.”
    “Thank you, my lord, but that won’t be necessary.” She returned his gaze, her face pale.
    “Already, I’m feeling better. I’m sure if I rest here a little and have something cool to drink, I’ll be fine.”
    “Nonetheless.” He snapped his fingers and summoned one of the minor lords. “We can’t be too careful, can we?”
    A physician arrived in short order. He examined Sidonie and confirmed a diagnosis of sunstroke, prescribing cool baths and rest in a darkened room. Bodeshmun sent for her covered palanquin. While we waited, he strolled some distance from the olive grove, beckoning for Gemelquart and me to accompany him.
    “What provoked this?” the Chief Horologist asked us.
    Gemelquart shrugged. “Damned if I know. Something to do with her sister’s dog getting killed. She wouldn’t be swayed from talking about it.”
    “She couldn’t remember how it happened,” I added.