Kushiel's Mercy

aching ghost.
    I carried Sidonie. I carried my guilt— our guilt. The murdered guards. My slain wife, Dorelei. Our lost son. All of it. I carried all of it, tired and terrified. I kept going. I thought about the night that Phèdre, Joscelin, and I had rowed to Kapporeth. Joscelin, his bleeding hands on the oars. We had both known failure once. In Skaldia, he’d surrendered to despair. In Vralia, so had I.
    Not there.
    Not here.
    I prayed to Blessed Elua and his Companions, making every step a word in my litany.
    And as I neared the harbor, with the night sky dimming, I felt the burden on my right shoulder stir feebly. I hurried my steps, hurried to the wharf.
    “Hey!” I shouted at Captain Deimos’ ship. “Lend a hand!”
    Kratos hustled down the plank, blessed Kratos, his blunt-featured face suffused with alarm. He eased the carpet from my shoulder, carried it in both arms aboard the ship. I followed. Deimos was waiting, watchful, arms folded. On the deck of his ship, Kratos and I unrolled the carpet with reverent hands. I knelt beside it, anxious.
    A very tousled Sidonie blinked sleepily at me. “Imriel?”
    My eyes stung. “Yes, love.”
    She blinked again, touching my veiled face. “Look at you. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to drink, but Bodeshmun was suspicious. I had to do it. Are we aboard the ship? Why aren’t we fleeing?”
    I nodded at Captain Deimos. “Tell him.”
    Deimos leaned over her. “Your highness?”
    Her eyes flashed. “Name of Elua, go !”

Fifty
    Ptolemy Solon had chosen well in Captain Deimos. He was in truth a man of his word, and he knew a royal command when he heard one. By the time I escorted Sidonie down to the ship’s hold, where we’d both be out of sight until we passed the harbor patrol, the oars were out and the ship was moving.
    Safe at last, at least for the moment, we held one another for a long, long time.
    “How’s your back?” I murmured at length.
    “I don’t know. It hurts.” She gazed up at me. “How’s your head?”
    I laughed. “Fine. I’d nearly forgotten about it. Let me send Kratos to fetch my things. I brought salve and clean bandages.”
    Sidonie glanced around the hold and wrinkled her nose. “It can wait until we’ve cleared the harbor. I daresay it’s cleaner above-deck. Imriel . . .” She hesitated, almost afraid to ask. “Did you get the talisman?”
    “Yes.” I fished the piece of lacquered leather out of my purse and showed it to her.
    She perched on a water barrel, studying it. “Such an insignificant scrap of a thing,” she mused. “’Tis hard to believe it’s the key for undoing a spell that put the entire City of Elua under its sway.”
    “Like as not it’s far more complicated and disgusting than it looks,” I observed. “Hide tanned from the skin of a stillborn babe or somewhat. At any rate, according to Solon, it’s the word of binding that matters. Can you read it?”
    “Elua, I hope so. I can speak more than a little, but I can’t read much. I was only just beginning to learn the Punic alphabet.” Her lips moved as she studied the Punic script.
    “Emmen . . . emmenghanom. Emmenghanom .” Sidonie looked up in triumph. “It means beholden.”
    I cupped her face and kissed her. “Gods be thanked that you’re not one to suffer tedium in idleness, love. I told Bodeshmun you’d know.”
    “Is he dead?” she asked.
    I nodded. “Very.”
    There was somewhat adamant in her expression. “Tell me how. Tell me everything.”
    I told her all that had transpired. When I told her how Bodeshmun had died and what I’d said to him at the end, she smiled with grim satisfaction. “Good. How did you know what he was going to do?”
    “He killed a young Aragonian lord the same way.” I kept forgetting there were gaps in her knowledge. “In front of an entire hall full of people.”
    Sidonie shuddered. “Elua! No wonder they hated me so, thinking I’d betrayed Aragonia to subject them to that .”
    “You didn’t,” I said.
    “They didn’t know that. And I didn’t give them any reason to think otherwise.” She gazed into the distance, and I knew she was thinking of things she’d rather not remember.
    I kept my silence, waiting until her gaze returned to me. The familiar spark leapt between us. Sidonie took my hand and kissed it. “Thank you. I’m sorry for what you had to do.”
    “And I for what you endured,” I said.
    “Ah, well, my end of it was easy.” A little of her humor returned. “After