Kushiel's Mercy

shrubs. There were vendors in the plaza in front of the temple steps selling incense, honey, oil, and votive offerings. On Leander’s advice, I bought a flagon of sweet oil and a piece of honeycomb.
    A priestess in a white chiton greeted us at the top of the steps, small, dark, and plump, with a smile at once merry and mysterious. We made an offering of coin and she directed us toward the rear of the temple.
    I’d thought to see an effigy there, but instead there was a black stone on a plinth, as large as a tall man’s torso, its surface polished and gleaming. I gave Leander an inquiring look.
    “It fell from the sky thousands of years ago,” he murmured. “Much like the genitals of the castrated Ouranos from which foam-born Aphrodite was begotten. You’re to anoint it.”
    Although I couldn’t have said why, it felt ancient. Older than the temple, worn smooth by countless generations of hands. I poured the flagon of oil over the top of the stone, then squeezed the honeycomb. Honey dripped, gliding over the oil.
    Honey-gold, onyx-black.
    I thought of Sidonie and my heart ached with longing. I rubbed the honey and oil, spreading it over the smooth black rock. “Divine Aphrodite, I pray you accept this offering,” I whispered. “If there is mercy in your heart for the plight of lovers, I pray you look kindly on my quest.”
    The stone felt warm beneath my hands, oil-slick and sticky with honey. It was peaceful and strangely erotic, and beneath it lay a sense of waiting stillness. When I had finished, the plump priestess approached with a basin of water and a linen towel. I washed and dried my hands while she gazed at my face.
    “Such sadness,” the priestess said softly. “Did a woman break your heart?”
    “No,” I said. “But the world threatens to.”
    She shifted the basin under one arm and took my right hand, pressing it to her warm breast. “If your heart knows its true desire, you must trust it.”
    I nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”
    With that, she let me go and departed. Leander stared after her. “Huh. I’ve made a dozen offerings and no one’s ever said such a thing to me.”
    “Do you know your heart’s true desire?” I asked wryly.
    He looked at me under his lashes. “Well, no. But I’m familiar with quite a few others.”
    Outside the temple, we bought sausages and olives and boiled eggs from a food vendor, eating them in the shade of a fragrant stand of myrtle. I was quiet and thoughtful. Leander watched me curiously.
    “What’s it like?” he asked. “Being in love.”
    “It’s awful.” I smiled. “And wonderful. Betimes you feel like your heart’s going to burst into a thousand pieces, flaying your chest wide open. Betimes you feel like you could leap off a cliff and take wing. And then it changes. It puts roots into you, deep and enduring. It becomes a part of you.”
    “Huh.” Leander wiped his hands on his loose breeches. “Hard to fathom.”
    “You’ll know it one day,” I said.
    “Mayhap.” He rose with careless grace. “Shall we go?”
    We returned to Paphos together. Leander hummed as he rode. For the first time, I found myself wishing I’d brought the wooden flute that Hugues had given me. I hadn’t played it since I’d avenged Dorelei’s death. Too many memories. I hadn’t thought of it when I’d beseeched L’Envers’ aid, and I daresay he would have laughed at me if I’d asked for it.
    But it had been a comfort to me in Alba; and in Vralia it had saved my life. I tried to recall the charmed tune of the Maghuin Dhonn that I’d played, the one that had sent everyone in the gaol to sleep, allowing me to escape with Kebek, the young Tatar.
    I’d forgotten it.
    I listened to my memories, moving my fingers. If I had a flute, I thought, mayhap I might be able to recall it. What the mind forgets, the body remembers. By the time we approached the gates of Paphos, I had resolved to visit the market in search of a skilled craftsman.
    “Leander—” I began.
    “Hsst!” Leander raised one hand, peering forward. “Shabaq?”
    A lean figure sitting cross-legged beneath a lemon tree rose and crossed over to us. I recognized him as the young man playing the blindfold game in my mother’s household.
    He laid a hand on Leander’s stirrup, flashing a white grin.
    “Her ladyship sent me to look out for you,” Shabaq said cheerfully. “His apish eminence awaits you at his palace.”
    Leander glanced at me. “Shall we—”
    I didn’t wait to hear