Kushiel's Mercy

Euskerri; the cost had been too high. And Amílcar was a city torn between victory and loss, aware of the struggle that lay ahead. But it was done.
    Afterward I yielded to wisdom and retired to my bed to ease my leg. The wound appeared clean enough, but it felt as though someone were holding a hot poker to my thigh. And I reckoned if there were any folk who could be trusted to make travel arrangements with swift efficiency, it was Sidonie and Lady Nicola. I slept fitfully and woke to find Sidonie perched on the side of the bed and gazing at me.
    “Well?” I asked.
    She smiled for the first time in days. “I found Captain Deimos. With Lady Nicola’s aid, he’s procured a new ship and reassembled his crew, and he’s willing to carry us to Marsilikos.”
    I pushed myself upright. “Truly?”
    “Truly,” Sidonie said. “He’s impatient to be free of Amílcar and he thinks the seas will be calm enough. He also thinks your mother will have his head if he doesn’t see you home safely.”
    “That’s good news,” I said. “Did you find Kratos?”
    “Oh, yes.” Her smile deepened. “He was very excited. He embraced me and turned fifty shades of red while apologizing for the importunity. His burns are well on their way to healing. He wishes to travel to Terre d’Ange with us and plans to meet us tomorrow.”
    “Can Deimos make ready to sail on the morrow?” I asked.
    “He thinks so,” she said. “At least by noon.”
    “After Astegal’s execution,” I said.
    Sidonie took my hand. “I spent an hour in the infirmary visiting the wounded. It’s . . .”
    She shook her head. “It’s awful, Imriel. I’m willing to cede my own need for vengeance.
    But I need to see him die. For everything he did.” She was quiet a moment. “I talked to several of Duke Leopoldo’s men in the infirmary. Paskal fought alongside them after he brought word of our plan. One of them remembered seeing him slain on the battlefield.
    And I asked after Captain Aureliano and his men, the ones who helped us escape. They never returned.”
    “Ah, Elua!” I whispered.
    “I know.” Sidonie sighed with sorrow and regret. “Do you know, I begin to understand my mother better. I pray to Blessed Elua that the likes of this never comes again in our lifetimes. But if one of our haughty girls declared herself in love with Astegal’s son, I suspect my reaction would be less than rational.”
    I squeezed her hand. “Your father tried to tell me as much.”
    “He’s a wise man,” she murmured.
    My throat tightened. “Are you sorry?”
    “About you?” Sidonie gave me a quick look. “No! Gods, no. About a thousand other things, yes. I wish I’d had the courage to trust in Blessed Elua’s precept years ago and defy my mother. I wish I’d argued more forcefully against letting Bodeshmun show us his damned marvel. I wish I didn’t have the weight of thousands of dead Euskerri on my conscience.” She freed her hand and laid it on my breast. “But I will never, ever regret loving you.”
    “Nor I,” I said.
    “Always and always,” Sidonie said. “I understand more, that’s all.”
    “All knowledge is worth having,” I observed. “So on the morrow we watch Astegal die, then sail for home?”
    She nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Sixty-Six

    We greeted the dawn in the Plaza del Rey.
    There was a massive crowd in the main square at the center of Amílcar. Everyone in the city—everyone within ten leagues of the city—wanted to see Astegal of Carthage executed.
    A certain macabre enthusiasm pervaded the square. I understood it, although I didn’t share it. Not quite. It wasn’t just that I’d had my surfeit of death. I did want to see Astegal die. He’d earned his death a thousand times over. But I would take no joy in it. As with Amílcar’s hard-won victory, there would be only a grim satisfaction.
    It would be done.
    Finished.
    The skies were still leaden when we assembled. Sidonie and I would be very close to the executioner’s block, standing with Lady Nicola and her husband and son, with the council members and Duke Leopoldo of Tibado, his weathered face seamed by a sword-cut. There were a good many of the walking wounded in that crowd. I myself leaned on a gilt-headed walking stick that the chirurgeon Rachel had procured for me, and I was grateful for its aid.
    Dawn broke in the east, streaking the skies with fire. Along the route from the palace’s dungeon, drums began to beat. The crowd