Kushiel's Mercy

shoulder. “Let’s go to Cythera.”
    I’d ridden out one of the worst storms of my life in a ship under Oppius da Lippi’s command. He was an able captain, one of the best, and though his men mocked him gently behind his back, they respected him and worked with cheerful efficiency. We were underway in short order.
    Once we cleared the harbor where the last of Quintilius Rousse’s ships was anchored, I shed my cloak. I stood in the stern of the ship, getting accustomed once more to the roll of the deck beneath my feet, the snap and rustle of the sails, watching the golden Dome of the Lady dwindle behind us.
    Another departure.
    Another leavetaking.
    It was to have been the last voyage I ever undertook in my life, this journey to Cythera.
    The one that paid at long last for all my mother’s sins. One way or another, I’d meant to return with Melisande in chains, leading her to her execution. I hadn’t looked forward to it. Sidonie was right; it was a lot to ask. But I would have done it. For our sake, yes; and for the sake of all those who had fallen during the Skaldi invasion, for the sake of those who survived and endured. Claude de Monluc, who had lost his father. Grainne, Lady of the Dalriada, who had lost her twin brother. Poor, pitiful Jean Le Blanc, whose wife had taken her own life after the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of the Skaldi.
    All of them.
    And now, instead, I was setting out to beg my mother’s aid to save Terre d’Ange and everyone I loved. It wasn’t a piece of irony. It was somewhat so far beyond irony, so vast, that I couldn’t even comprehend it. All I could do was pray, helplessly, that Melisande Shahrizai did indeed love her son that much.
    It was a long journey, but at least the weather held as summer wore on toward early autumn. We followed the warmth, heading southward along the coast of Caerdicca Unitas.
    I kept my promise to Jeanne and didn’t press myself as hard. I kept up the Cassiline disciplines, but I didn’t practice obsessively.
    Bit by bit, my strength and endurance returned. The ship’s cook was decent, and Oppius urged me to dine in the captain’s quarters with him. I ate well, putting on weight and muscle, until I began to look like myself and not a victim of famine. When I went shirtless in the sun’s warmth, my ribs no longer protruded. My skin grew brown, contrasting with the shiny pink scars.
    You needn’t look so tempting.
    This scarred thing?
    The first time he saw me bare-chested, Oppius let out a low whistle. “Jupiter Optimus!
    What happened to you?”
    “It’s a long story,” I said.
    He shrugged. “We’ve time.”
    I spent long hours dicing and talking with Oppius. I learned that the Aeolia had been in port to pick up a shipment of Namarrese wine that had never arrived, mysteriously diverted to Carthage. Jeanne de Mereliot had found him at loose ends, willing to take a commission to carry a single passenger to Cythera. She’d paid him a great deal of money to do it. I hoped I’d be able to make good on it someday.
    Over the course of our journey, we spent a good deal of time speculating about Carthage.
    I told Oppius what I knew, leaving out the Unseen Guild. I’d not told anyone but L’Envers about the Guild. If there was a danger, I reckoned at least he could take his chances.
    To my surprise, Oppius wasn’t inclined to disbelieve me. “Bad magic,” he said, making a sign against ill luck. “Sailors are a superstitious lot, but we’ve seen a lot of odd things in our time. I don’t like the sound of this. If Carthage conquers the west, they’re going to turn their eyes eastward.”
    “What do you know about Ptolemy Solon?” I asked him.
    Oppius pursed his lips. “A bit. In Cythera, they call him the Wise Ape.”
    “The what?” I said, startled.
    He grinned. “The Wise Ape. He’s got a name for being a deep scholar, dabbling in all manner of arcane study. Got a name for being ugly as sin, too. But fair,” he added.
    “Cythera’s been plagued by troubles in the past. It’s been occupied so many times, you’d have Hellenes and Ephesians at each other’s throats, Akkadians trying to quash them all.
    It’s been peaceful since Solon was appointed Governor.”
    “What about a mistress?” I asked.
    “Ah, yes.” Oppius steepled his fingers over his belly. “The Paphian goddess come back to earth to unite with her divine husband. Venus and Vulcan, the goddess of love and the twisted smith. I’ve heard that