Kushiel's Mercy

“Don’t argue.”
    It didn’t matter. The point was moot. Janpier translated her words for the others. There was a long, heated argument. At the end of it, he turned back to us. “No,” he said simply.
    “I am sorry, highness. If the decision were mine, I might grant your request. But there is anger and fear.”
    “Anger and fear,” she echoed.
    “Anger because twelve men have died already,” Janpier said soberly. “Anger at the thought that your kinsman, who is a valuable warrior, would refuse to share our risk while others died. Fear because your country is in the grip of strong magic. We do not doubt this, highness. We know such things in the mountains. I myself am afraid. I fear that if we allow your kinsman to pass, matters will worsen.”
    “My lord.” Sidonie closed her eyes briefly. “We hold the key to undoing the spell.”
    “Or unleashing war among your people,” Janpier said. “Can you swear it will not take that to accomplish your ends? Can you swear that it will not end with the army of Terre d’Ange arrayed against us?”
    I felt sick.
    Of course we couldn’t swear to it. We knew far too little of what had passed in Terre d’Ange since I left; and of what little we knew, none of it boded well. We had no idea if Barquiel L’Envers had succeeded in finding the demon-stone, no idea what transpired save that madness yet reigned, and Ysandre had declared Alais, her own daughter, in rebellion against the Crown.
    “No,” Sidonie said quietly. “I cannot.”
    Janpier nodded. “Then we shall deal with what is known and nothing else. We have Aragonia’s offer. You have our terms. In an hour, we will convene in the square. You will give us your decision and your word beneath the oak.”
    With that, we were dismissed.
    In the small room we shared, I could feel the fury radiating from Sidonie like heat from an overstoked oven. Elua knows, I was angry, too, but I’d had more experience with life’s unfairness, and I hadn’t been raised to carry the weight of the realm on my shoulders.
    “They’ve left us no choice, have they?” she said in a tight voice.
    “Not much,” I said. “Assuming they’re not actually planning to restrain us, we could go southeast and try the coastal towns north of Amíl-car. We might be able to find a ship willing to carry us to Marsilikos in another month’s time.”
    “In a month’s time, Astegal’s likely to have discovered what happened here. Do you imagine he won’t have his navy patrolling the coast?” Sidonie asked. “Like as not he already does after our last attempt. He’s not stupid.”
    “What about the western coast?” I asked, thinking. “Does he have ships there?”
    “Not as many.” She scowled. “But the goddamned Euskerri control the northernmost ports on the western coast and those to the south have agreed to Astegal’s terms.”
    “Not happily,” I observed.
    Sidonie glanced sidelong at me. “He’ll be looking for us. And you and I aren’t exactly the most inconspicuous people in Aragonia.”
    “I know.” I frowned. “Sidonie, I’m not afraid of battle. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. If that were the only term, I’d swallow my bile and accept it. Risking your life and the whole of Terre d’Ange for no good reason is another matter. And the only way I’m willing to accept their terms is if the Euskerri pledge to have a company standing at the ready to whisk you north and across the border at the first sign of defeat.”
    She searched my face. “Do you think that’s our best option?”
    “Truly?” I nodded. “I do.”
    She sighed. “I want a courier. That’s my demand. A courier sent north immediately bearing a letter for Alais and my damned uncle in Turnone. I don’t care if the Euskerri are frightened. If we can do nothing else here, we can send the key home. After all, that’s what truly matters, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” I said. “And if the Euskerri don’t agree . . .”
    “. . . we take our chances elsewhere,” Sidonie finished my thought. Her anger had drained away, leaving weariness in its wake. “Blessed Elua grant they see reason. I have a feeling that’s not the first time those words have been uttered.”
    A short time later we returned to the village square, escorted by Janpier Iturralde and the committee of Euskerri we’d met with an hour ago. The square was thronged with people, even more crowded than it had been the other day. As we pushed our way through to mount the low