Kushiel's Mercy

my face.
    “Elua have mercy!” Sidonie whispered.
    “I tried to tell you.” Alais shivered. “It is worse than you can imagine, Sidonie. We tried everything we could think of. We tried reasoning with her. We offered proof from the archives, testimony from hundreds of delegates from outside the City. All she could see was a vast conspiracy.” She shivered again. “We tried pleading, too. Uncle Barquiel and I offered to stand down, to beg for clemency, to do aught that she desired if only she would come with us to Alba. Nothing worked. And it’s not just her. It’s all of them. Everyone who was in the City that night.” Alais fell silent, and Barquiel L’Envers reached over to squeeze her hand.
    Sidonie met her sister’s gaze. “Do you truly think she means it?”
    “I do,” Alais said in a broken tone. “This spell . . . it’s horrible. It twists everything. And yes, I am very much afraid that Mother means to make good on her threat.”
    L’Envers nodded in mute agreement.
    “I see.” Sidonie gazed into the distance for a long time. When at last she spoke, her voice was low and anguished. “Then I think we all know the answer. Do I have to say it aloud?” No one replied. She closed her eyes briefly. “Do we at least have the numbers to prevail?”
    “Yes,” L’Envers said gently.
    “Then if Imriel and I fail, Terre d’Ange must fight.” She dashed impatiently at her tears.
    “Rouse the countryside. Send urgent word to Talorcan in Alba for as much additional aid as he can send. Is there aught the Master of the Straits can do?”
    “He’s reluctant,” Alais murmured.
    “Beg him to think on it,” Sidonie said. “If you can amass enough strength and numbers to overpower them, and with his magic, mayhap . . . mayhap you can force them to surrender without giving battle. Take them prisoner. And then you could ferry the survivors and the women and children to Alba.”
    “Once the army takes to the battlefield, I fear none will allow themselves to be taken prisoner, no matter how overwhelming the odds,” L’Envers said. “You can’t think about them as though they’re rational.”
    The entire Royal Army, slaughtered. It would be worse than the carnage at Amílcar.
    Sidonie shuddered. “The women and children, then.”
    Barquiel L’Envers nodded. “As many as we can save.”
    So it was decided. We’d committed to a course that would lead to civil war in Terre d’Ange. I remembered the words of the Euskerri who had spoken at the ceremony in Amílcar. Yesterday we gained a nation and lost the flower of a generation . I felt sick and hollow inside.
    I daresay all of us did.

Seventy-One

    After the awful decision was made, we discussed getting into the City as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion. L’Envers and Alais determined that our best ploy would be to return the way I left, hidden on a merchant-barge. We could tell everyone that we had hired them in Pellasus and travelled secretly upriver.
    “The fellow who ferried you before, Gilbert Dumel, knows how to keep his mouth shut,”
    L’Envers said. “He’s moored at the village of Yvens. Ought to be a short journey if you meet him there.”
    He left us for an hour or so to send advance word to Dumel and begin the terrible process of making arrangements for the war; and I think also to give Alais and Sidonie some time alone together, something for which Alais was clearly yearning. When he left, she curled up beside her sister, resting her head on Sidonie’s shoulder. I had to own, either Barquiel L’Envers had more sensitivity in him than I’d reckoned, or this experience had altered him. Or mayhap both were true.
    “Shall I leave, love?” I asked Alais.
    “No, please don’t. I’ve missed you both and been so horribly worried.” She gathered herself and sat upright. “I don’t mean to act the baby. It’s just such an ungodly relief to know this spell can be thwarted.” Alais traced the bindings on Sidonie’s wrist. “I’ve an idea why the charm might have worked. You’ve an affinity for its magic in your blood, Sidonie.”
    “I do?” She sounded surprised.
    “Of course. We both do. It comes from Grandmother Necthana’s bloodline,” Alais said.
    “The Maghuin Dhonn claim that our gifts, like my dreams, come from them . That we intermingled long ago and there’s a strain of their blood in ours. The Cruithne deny it, but it’s true that a lot of the ollamh s’ lore, at least the part that’s