Kushiel's Mercy

together.
    “I pray they do,” I said.
    “So do I,” Jeanne murmured. “Elua forgive me, but so do I.”

Seventeen
    Around midday on the morrow, a message arrived from Jeanne de Mereliot.
    I’d gone for a ride in the early hours of the morning, taking the Bastard outside the city into the countryside, where I could fling back the hood of my cloak and give him free rein to stretch his legs, working off the pent frustrations of our barge trip.
    I shouldn’t have taken him. It had been pure selfishness on my part. I knew I had to do this alone. Still, it felt good to have the companionship of one living creature.
    The Bastard was blown by the time we returned, his nostrils flaring and his spotted hide damp with sweat. I tipped the ostler at the inn an extra coin to be sure he was well-tended.
    Inside, the message awaited.
    “Messire Cadmar?” The innkeeper passed me a sealed letter. “For you.”
    I read it and laughed.
    Jeanne had booked passage for me aboard the Aeolia, the self-same Tiberian ship that had brought me to Marsilikos . . . how long ago? Not quite four years. It felt like a lifetime.
    But then, I had lived a lifetime in those few years.
    The Aeolia was scheduled to depart at dawn the next day. I passed a quiet evening in Marsilikos, nursing tankards of ale and dining on lamb shanks, listening to the continued profound confusion and dismay on the part of my compatriots.
    It hurt.
    They hurt.
    They were scared, bewildered, and confused. It worried me. I prayed that L’Envers was able to keep his temper in check, that the delegation he assembled was able to make Ysandre see reason. Because if they weren’t, fear and confusion would begin to give way to anger. L’Envers, the minor lords, and the commonfolk had numbers on their side, but Ysandre had Ghislain nó Trevalion and the Royal Army. If things got ugly, they could get very ugly.
    I slept poorly that night, my dreams troubled, and woke in the dark hour before dawn. A yawning chambermaid fetched me bread and honey to break my fast, and then I fetched the Bastard from the inn’s stable and made my way to the harbor.
    The sky was beginning to lighten by the time I arrived, and I found the Aeolia without any trouble. There was a familiar rotund figure giving orders on her decks.
    “Greetings, Captain Oppius!” I called from the dock.
    He leaned over the rails, plump chin quivering. “You!”
    “Cadmar of Landras,” I agreed.
    Oppius da Lippi’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “Well, if you’re her ladyship’s mysteriously urgent passenger, we’d best get you aboard before someone recognizes that spotted hellion you ride, man!”
    Elua, I was an idiot. To be sure, there were other spotted horses in the realm, but the Bastard was fairly distinctive looking—enough so that if there was any kind of search afoot for poor Prince Imriel who’d lost his wits and gone missing from the City, a man wearing a hood and cloak astride a spotted horse in this heat would be an easy target for suspicion. It was sheer dumb luck that I hadn’t been noticed earlier.
    It made me realize that despite my protestations, I wasn’t thinking at the height of clarity these days. I dismounted and unslung my saddlebags, making myself breathe slowly while Oppius’ men hurried to lower the plank. Of course the Bastard balked at being led aboard, and I had to use my cloak to bind his eyes. Step by trembling step, bareheaded and exposed, I managed to coax him up the plank and into the hold, all the while conscious that the sun was rising and sailors were beginning to stir around the harbor. I didn’t permit myself to heave a sigh of relief until we were both safely aboard, the Bastard was hidden from view, and I was able to don my cloak.
    “So.” Captain Oppius strolled toward me with his rolling waddle as I emerged from the hold, pale and shaking. He extended his hand. “Cadmar of Landras, is it?”
    I clasped his hand. “Until we’re at sea, yes.”
    “Heard some odd things about you.” Oppius tilted his head. “In fact, there’s precious little news out of Terre d’Ange these days that isn’t odd as all hell.”
    I nodded. “I know, my lord captain. All too well.”
    Oppius studied me long enough that I began to grow anxious, then his plump face broke into a grin. “Well, you don’t seem like you’re raving, and the gods above know if there’s anyone in this city with a sane head left on her shoulders, it’s the Lady’s daughter.” He clapped my