Kushiel's Mercy

inches. “Is my mother on Cythera?”
    He drew a long, ragged gasp of air. “Yes!”
    I held the pillow at the ready. “Where?”
    “Governor’s mistress,” he croaked. “Paphos.”
    “Thank you.” I sat back on my heels and regarded him, setting the pillow aside. “Name of Elua, man! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I clambered off him. “Why in the seven hells didn’t you just tell me?”
    “Not how the Guild works,” Gillimas said shortly. He glared at me, his chest rising and falling hard. “Not with outsiders.”
    I helped him sit upright. “Well, it ought to be.”
    He smiled bitterly. “It’s not.”

Twelve
    It was a long night.
    I had to credit Astegal; he got his money’s worth. It was near dawn when he emerged, looking heavy-lidded and pleased with himself. And in fairness, the adepts he’d chosen seemed pleased enough. The Dowayne was pleased; I’d given her a generous donation for her assistance. I daresay everyone was pleased except Lord Mintho, grumbling sleepily over missed opportunities, and Gillimas of Hiram, although he gave no indication of it.
    For my part, I was delighted.
    My mother was in Paphos on the isle of Cythera, mistress to the Governor. I had the information I needed. Now all I needed to do was figure out how to act on it without tipping my hand. Ysandre had promised assistance, and I meant to hold her to it.
    I was a little concerned about Gillimas, but not overly. He was a Guildsman and a magistrate of considerable standing, and he’d been careless. I doubt my bluff would have worked if I hadn’t caught him unaware, sotted, sated, and sleeping, but I had and it did.
    He could admit to it, or he could keep his mouth shut and let the Unseen Guild believe I’d assembled the cryptic pieces of their puzzle myself. If I was lucky, mayhap Ti-Philippe’s inquiries would turn up somewhat that would lend credence to the notion.
    Either way, I knew.
    I couldn’t bear to wait. With dawn breaking over the Palace, I woke Sidonie and told her, watching her sleepy eyes widen in shock.
    “You did what ?”
    “It was worth it,” I said. “I got the idea in Bryony House when I realized that for once I was surrounded by supporters and loyal guards. It was the perfect time to bluff.”
    She shook her tousled head. “What if Gillimas had called it?”
    I grinned. “Well, it would have put him in the position of having to explain why I was trying to smother him in a D’Angeline pleasure-house without exposing the Guild. I daresay that thought flashed through his mind, too.”
    “Still,” Sidonie murmured. “It was a big risk.”
    “I know,” I said. “But now we know. And as soon as these damned Carthaginians stage their damned horologists’ celestial mirror-show and leave, we’ll all sit down, pool our knowledge of Cythera, and make a plan.”
    Sidonie frowned. “What about the eunuch? What was his name? Sunjata?”
    I flopped down on the bed beside her and closed my eyes, feeling weariness from the long night settling into my bones. “To hell with the eunuch. If he has a message for me, let him deliver it. I’m not chasing him.”
    “Well, he is rather fetching,” she said with unexpected humor.
    I cracked one eye open. “Not half as fetching as you, Princess. By the way, the Dowayne of Bryony House expressed the hope that you and I will partake in certain adventures in the future.”
    “Mmm.” Sidonie leaned down and kissed me. “Let’s get our future in order first.”
    The horologists’ spectacle was to take place on the morrow. The mood in the City was festive, and the City itself was ungodly crowded. An unwarranted number of peers had chosen to stay to witness the spectacle. Scientists and engineers poured into the City, many from Siovale, skeptical but curious. Ghislain nó Trevalion had the entire Royal Army billeted within the walls of the City. Quintilius Rousse had a dozen war-ships anchored in the Aviline River, and his lads thronged the taverns.
    It seemed like the only preeminent figure not in the City was Barquiel L’Envers, who had withdrawn in disgust to his estate in Namarre, having never abandoned his opposition to the Carthaginian delegation. Even the other members of Parliament who’d opposed it had lingered, drawn by curiosity. Not L’Envers. In truth, I didn’t blame him, but I welcomed his absence nonetheless.
    The day before the spectacle, Sidonie and I rode out to observe the preparations, accompanied by her guard.
    I must