Kushiel's Mercy

inched along the thick branch, trying to hurry. To the juncture, to the fork. There was a mossy hollow there. I locked my ankles around the tree limb and plucked the dagger from my belt, probing.
    Nothing.
    The commotion grew louder. Joscelin was getting closer. I glanced down through the greening oak leaves. I saw Sidonie below me, her face upturned and puzzled. I stabbed at the crotch of the tree, prying away chunks of moss, chunks of bark. Bits and pieces of oak detritus fell like rain.
    An arrow whizzed over my head.
    “No!” Sidonie’s voice. “Hold!”
    Moss and bark, moss and bark. And then . . . hardened mud. A crude mortar, packed in a hole, crumbling under the tip of my blade. I kept my head low and dug frantically. My dagger scraped against somewhat hard. I dug harder, prying out large chunks of dried mud. I saw the silver link of a chain glinting. “I have it!” I cried, sticking my dagger in my belt and yanking on the chain. It came loose as a single piece, a dirt-encrusted emerald dangling from silver links. “I have it!”
    The crowd below murmured in wonder.
    Joscelin’s voice rang out, hard and urgent. “Get him down from there! Whatever he means to do with that thing, do not let him do it!”
    Too late, I thought. I clutched the chain in my fist and whispered the word.
    “Emmenghamon.”
    Nothing happened.
    “Your majesty, it’s a trick,” Joscelin called. The soldiers were parting for him now. He reached the dais, breathing hard. “I’m sorry; Elua knows, sorrier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
    I tried it again . “Emmenghamon.”
    “What passes here?” Ysandre’s voice could have frozen water.
    “Imriel attacked me,” Joscelin said grimly. “And this man’s in league with him.” He pointed at Kratos. “I don’t know why, but they’re frantic to get their hands on that gem.
    We’ve been deceived. Somewhat is very, very wrong here.”
    “Joscelin, no!” Phèdre’s voice, horrified.
    “I’m sorry,” he said more softly.
    My head pounded, sick and throbbing. I clung to the branch, clung to the chain, and tried to shut out their voices. I was saying it wrong. I had to be. I pictured Sidonie in the hold of Deimos’ ship, still disheveled from her sojourn in Bodeshmun’s rug, her lips working as she sounded out the Punic word. “Emmanghamon.”
    Nothing.
    “Imriel de la Courcel.” Drustan’s voice, the umistakable tone of command. I glanced down to see a bank of arrows trained on me. Sidonie was still almost directly beneath me, gazing upward. “You will descend and place yourself in custody of the Palace Guard.
    Now.”
    Sidonie.
    Spirals and circles.
    I wrapped the chain around my right wrist and drew my dagger. I fished Bodeshmun’s talisman from my purse. I took a few slow, deep breaths. Quick. I’d always been quick. I would have to be very, very quick. I whispered a little prayer to Blessed Elua and his Companions and felt a measure of my dizziness and nausea abate. It was a small mercy, but I’d take it.
    I inched back out onto the limb, swung my leg over and dropped.
    The guards moved swiftly toward me. I moved faster. I grabbed Sidonie, putting the edge of my dagger to her throat and setting my back against Elua’s Oak. “No one move!”
    No one did. The horror and loathing on their faces went through me like a spear.
    Sidonie’s body was rigid against mine, trembling a little. Whether with fear or fury, I couldn’t tell.
    “Sidonie,” I murmured in her ear. “I know you don’t remember it, but you once promised to trust me beyond all reason. And I swear to you that all that I am, all that I possess, including this gem-stone, is yours.” With my left hand, I held Bodeshmun’s talisman before her face. “I need you. I can’t do this alone. Forget your memories. Look into your heart. And if you find somewhat there, some lingering spark of trust and love that owes naught to reason, I beg you to speak the word written here.”
    She went very still.
    “Don’t!” Ysandre snapped. “Don’t you dare!”
    Sidonie reached for the talisman. I let her take it, keeping my blade at her throat. No one dared move as she studied the scrap of leather.
    “Always and always,” I whispered. “That was the promise.”
    Her body shifted. I lowered the dagger and let her turn to face me. If my words hadn’t reached her, I was a dead man anyway. But she was still between me and the guards and I heard Drustan order his archers not to attempt to shoot