Kushiel's Mercy

to do with magic and not history and poetry and law, comes from the Maghuin Dhonn.”
    “If we survive this, Sidonie wants to establish an academy to study magic in Terre d’Ange,” I informed her. “It’s to be our legacy.”
    “Truly?” Alais asked.
    Sidonie smiled with sorrow. “It’s a notion from a time when Imriel and I hoped that the key written on Bodeshmun’s talisman was all we needed.”
    “It’s a good idea, though.” Alais hesitated. “I’ve come to a realization over the course of these past months. I do not, not want this responsibility. Not here. I never wanted it here.
    And not in Alba, either. I thought I did, but I was wrong.” She met her sister’s gaze. “I know my duty. But what if I can fill it in a way no one considered? If we do survive this, I want to return to Alba to continue my studies and become an ollamh .”
    “An ollamh ,” Sidonie echoed.
    “In Alba, an ollamh is the Cruarch’s equal,” I said, remembering my first encounter with one.
    Alais nodded. “If I could attain that rank, I would wield a good deal of influence, which is all that the carping D’Angeline peers ever cared about. All that business about the succession was only ever about power anyway. And as for Talorcan . . .” She shrugged.
    “You don’t love him,” I said softly.
    “No.” Alais glanced at me. “He’s a good man. But no, I don’t.”
    “Then you shouldn’t wed him.” Sidonie stroked her sister’s unruly black curls. “After this, I suspect the peers of the realm may prove rather receptive to the idea of having a member of the royal family grown wise and powerful in the ways of arcane lore.”
    “Do you think the ollamh s might be able to help us now?” I asked.
    Alais shook her head. “Only with charms of protection like yours and that will help only if we’re able to get folk across the Straits. But I think the Maghuin Dhonn know things we’ve lost. You said the demon in the stone was an elemental, a desert spirit. The Maghuin Dhonn’s magic is old and wild and rooted in nature. If you should fail . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    “We won’t fail,” I said.
    “But if we do, you’ll look for further answers among the Maghuin Dhonn,” Sidonie said firmly. A glance passed between them.
    “We won’t fail,” I repeated, willing myself to believe it.
    Barquiel L’Envers returned shortly thereafter to inform us that the preparations were under way. “I sent a swift courier to alert Gilbert Dumel,” he said, sounding ragged. “He ought to reach Yvens a half day before you.”
    I got to my feet. “Is our carriage ready?’
    “Sit.” L’Envers pointed at me. “There are fourteen members of our shadow Parliament here in Turnone, representing the seven provinces. I’ve taken the liberty of sending for them.” He shifted his gaze to Sidonie. “You need to address them. I know time is short.
    Alais and I will tell them the whole of your tale later. But they need to see and hear you.
    They need to believe the madness can be broken. They need to believe that this battle is worth the cost, and to carry that word home with them. They need hope .”
    “Then they shall have it,” Sidonie said.
    Gods, I loved her.
    There was no time for sleep, but it didn’t matter. We could sleep in the carriage, jolting our way toward Yvens. We waited for the fourteen members of the shadow Parliament to assemble, woken from their own slumber in the grey hours of dawn. Alais sent her chamberlain to the kitchens. We broke our fast with bread and apricot preserves and many pots of strong tea.
    “They’re ready for us,” L’Envers said.
    Sidonie and I donned our cloaks and hoods. We were ushered to another room, a small chamber adjacent to a larger room, one that might have served as a musical salon in happier times.
    “Wait here,” he said to us; and to Alais, “Do you know what to say?”
    She looked ashen but resolute. “I think so.”
    It wasn’t the best of plans. The door to our chamber was thick and heavy, and L’Envers had closed it—all the better to make a theatrical gesture. I supposed it ran in the family.
    Still, it meant that whatever Alais said, we couldn’t hear it, only her muffled voice. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. When Alais finished, L’Envers wrenched open the door.
    “Go,” he said tersely.
    We walked out together. I’d emerged bareheaded; it was close and airless in the storage chamber. Sidonie didn’t push her hood back until