Kushiel's Mercy

his work—would have chosen it.” He turned back a page, pointing to an image depicting a drawing of a ghafrid with a single word inscribed beneath it. “Symbology. Somewhere, likely on his person, Bodeshmun possesses a similar image. It is necessary to maintain the bond.”
    I studied the page. “What if the image were destroyed? Would that free the ghafrid ?”
    “Well reasoned,” Solon said approvingly. “But alas, no. It would merely bind the elemental into the stone for all eternity.”
    “Why wouldn’t Bodeshmun do so?” Melisande inquired. “It seems simpler.”
    “Oh, because the ghafrid would go mad with rage,” he said cheerfully. “Violently, horribly mad. And because Bodeshmun would be bound to it, he would slowly succumb to madness himself. No, no. He’ll keep the talisman safe until such time as he deems it reasonable to release the ghafrid. It’s a dangerous business, trafficking with elementals. I suspect he plans to free it at some point, perhaps when Carthage’s ascent is secure and the Queen’s daughter has provided Astegal with a few heirs.”
    “ That ,” I said, “will not happen.”
    Solon glanced at me, sobering. “Forgive me. It’s begun, though. I heard word late this morning. Carthage’s fleet has set sail for Aragonia.” He cocked his head. “The good news is that General Astegal has left his young bride in Carthage. So I suppose that reduces the chances of begetting an heir, unless she’s already with child.”
    I gritted my teeth. “So in order to undo Carthage’s spell, I need to obtain the word of binding and unbinding, which Bodeshmun is likely to have on his person. Is that correct?”
    “Yes.” He nodded. “And speak it in the presence of the ghafrid-gebla once you have claimed possession of the stone.”
    Irony piled on irony. I’d travelled to the far ends of the earth with Phèdre and Joscelin to find the Name of God, a word capable of binding an angel. Now it seemed I sought a word that would loose a demon from its bindings. The bright mirror and the dark reflected one another: good and evil, the sacred and profane.
    I sighed. “And the stone lies in Bodeshmun’s possession?”
    “No, no.” Solon pursed his lips. “That I neglected to mention. The gem must remain in Terre d’Ange to be fully effective. Bodeshmun will have hidden it somewhere.”
    “What if it were removed?” my mother asked with interest. “Would it diminish the effects?”
    “Diminish, yes,” Solon said. “Undo, no.”
    “You should have said that at the outset,” I muttered. “What about Sidonie?”
    “Ah!” His wizened face brightened. “Now that’s easy. She’s safe beyond the ghafrid ’s reach. All you need to do is obtain the ring from Astegal, find his token, and remove it from her.”
    “Another ring?” I asked.
    “Perhaps.” Solon shrugged. “A ring, a necklace, a pair of eardrops, a ribbon. . . .
    whatever it is, it will be something of significance that he’s given to her and bade her never remove. A ring is likely. If you were able to obtain even one of the tokens, it would weaken the binding.”
    I rose to pace the room, restless. “So Sidonie is in Carthage. Astegal is, or will be, in Aragonia. Where’s Bodeshmun?”
    “I don’t know,” Solon admitted.
    “Carthage,” Melisande said. She met his glance with amusement. “Oddly enough, I received word this morning, too.”
    “Then I need to go to Carthage,” I said slowly, thinking. “I’ll send word to Barquiel L’Envers. I can tell him to try his damnedest to get Ysandre and anyone who will go to Alba—”
    “Or Aragonia,” my mother interrupted me. “Let him agree to send the Royal Army and all of Rousse’s fleet in support of Carthage’s invasion. It won’t matter. Once they’re on Aragonian soil, the spell will lose its hold, yes?”
    “Oh, well reasoned, my love!” Solon said in delight.
    “Aragonia, then,” I agreed. “And I’ll tell him to find that thrice-cursed jewel and take it with him, away from the City. But I need to go to Carthage.” I paced, still thinking.
    “There are two pieces of the puzzle there, Bodeshmun and Sidonie. And I can reach her. I know I can. I was bound by magic in Alba. I never forgot that I loved her. Even through the bindings, I knew it.”
    “Imriel.” The gentleness in Melisande’s voice halted me. “You can’t go. Bodeshmun knows you.”
    Solon blinked. “That’s true. Perhaps Sunjata—”
    “No.” I raked a hand