Kushiel's Mercy

eyes stung. “Thank you.”
    I turned to Phèdre and Joscelin. It was a bright day, the sun pinning a silvery cap on Joscelin’s fair hair, illuminating the scarlet mote in Phèdre’s dark eyes. They were smiling, happy, unaware that the world had fallen to pieces all around us. My heart ached at what I was about to do.
    “I love you,” I said to them. “I love you both.”
    “We’ll be here.” Phèdre stretched to kiss my cheek. “You have your offering?”
    My throat tightened. “I do.”
    “Drink deep,” Joscelin advised me.
    “I will,” I murmured, blinking away tears.
    And then I left them, Phèdre and Joscelin, the parents of my heart, to entrust myself into the hands of a man who’d wanted me dead since I was born. I followed the priestess as she led me into the inner sanctum, a rocky little garden. There was the spring, bubbling gently, lined by moss-covered stones on which votive candles burned, their flames almost invisible in the sunlight. There was the effigy of Eisheth: the figure of a woman, half again as large as life, kneeling beside the spring, her hands cupped. Streaks of green moss reached up her marble flanks. Her cupped hands held the ashes of other offerings.
    “Make your offering.” The priestess pressed my shoulder, pushing me gently to my knees.
    “Drink, and seek healing.”
    I knelt and she left me.
    Eisheth’s head was bowed, curtains of marble hair hiding her features. Humble. The mossy stones were damp beneath my knees. I fumbled for the packet tied to my belt, poured an offering of incense into her cupped hands. Hyssop and cedar gum. There were wax tapers piled neatly at her feet. I took one, kindled it at a votive, and lit the incense. A sweet thread of smoke arose from her palms, bluish in the sunlight.
    “Merciful Eisheth, grant me healing,” I whispered. “Grant it to us all.”
    I cupped my own hands, dipped them into the spring, and drank. The water was cool, with an acrid mineral tang. I drank deep.
    “Ready, highness?” a man’s voice whispered behind me.
    It was one of L’Envers’ guards, beckoning from the entrance, a grey cloak folded over one arm. He didn’t have to tell me to hurry. I crossed quickly over to him and donned the cloak, pulling up the hood to hide my features.
    “This way.” He steered me down the wide corridor, then turned into a narrow hall used by the initiates and acolytes who served the priesthood. I could tell, because he pointed to the crumpled figure of one on the floor. “Mind the body.”
    I stepped gingerly over it. “You didn’t . . . ?”
    The guard shook his head. “He’ll have a lump on his skull, that’s all.”
    I was relieved. Barquiel L’Envers had a name for being ruthless. At least he was efficient, too. His guardsman navigated me with swift certitude down the back hallways of the temple. Once we had to duck into a storage room filled with strips of willow bark while a pair of acolytes passed, but we managed to exit the temple by the postern gate. There was a plain carriage waiting, another guard at the reins.
    “Get in.” The first guard opened the carriage door and gave me an ungentle shove. He followed as I slid across the seats, shouting to the driver, “Go!”
    The driver snapped the reins and the carriage lurched into motion. “My thanks,” I said to the guard.
    “Don’t thank me.” His face was shuttered. “I’m just following orders. It’s a sodding mystery to me why his grace is helping you.”
    “Love of country?” I suggested.
    “How on earth is packing you off to some strange isle supposed to help?” His expression slipped a little to reveal utter bewilderment. “No mind. Like as not, he’s finally found a way to get rid of you.”
    “Like as not,” I agreed, wondering if it was true.
    The carriage took us to the wharf. Barquiel L’Envers was there alongside a sizable merchant-barge, drumming his fingers impatiently on his sword-belt. I dismounted from the carriage, careful to keep my hood up.
    “Everything’s there.” L’Envers jerked his chin at the barge. “Your horse, your things.
    Passage paid to Marsilikos. After that, you’re on your own.”
    I took a deep breath. “Thank you, my lord.”
    “The captain and crew are sound,” he said. “They were outside the City when it happened.
    I paid them to keep their mouths shut, and they’re scared enough to do it. If you need help in Marsilikos, try the Lady’s daughter. She wasn’t here for it,