Kushiel's Mercy

ladyship sent for us to make a household in Cythera, when I was ten or so. All these years, she’d provided for the Maignard clan, but I’d begun to think it would never amount to more than that . . .”
    “This is your story. You are Leander Maignard. Each word is a stitch in the garment of your life . . .”
    “. . . the day we stepped off the ship, my father said, ‘We’re never leaving.’ He serves as her ladyship’s master of vineyards, but then, I was always more ambitious . . .”
    “. . . word is a stitch in the garment of your life. When you awake you will know this to be true. Hear and remember. This is your story. You are Leander Maignard.”
    It should have been irritating, listening to both of their voices at once, but it wasn’t. One wound around the other. I listened to the newcomer’s endless narrative unspooling, while Solon’s calm voice continued, stitching in and out, fashioning it into the garment of self I would wear when I awoke.
    It went on for a long time, but I didn’t mind. Solon had told me to sit quietly in peace, so I did, listening to the story of my life unwind until at last the spool was almost wholly bare.
    “Halt,” Solon said to the newcomer. “Do not recount these last days.”
    “Glad to oblige,” the other said wearily.
    “I’m forgetting . . . ah. Eardrops.”
    “ Must you?”
    “Yes.” Solon’s voice had grown hoarse, but he sounded amused. “I’ve never seen you without them. Surely they will serve as a last line of defense against the perils of nudity.
    Where did I put that needle?” And then, to me, “You will feel no pain.” He pinched my earlobes lightly, one after another. Afterward, they felt heavier.
    “Am I finished, my lord?” the other asked.
    “You may go,” Solon agreed. “Remember, keep out of sight.”
    “I know. I know.”
    I heard him leave and heard the door close. I sat quietly in peace.
    “Open your eyes,” Solon said to me. I did. The room was filled with late-afternoon sunlight. “You are Leander Maignard. You are departing on the morrow for Carthage to attempt to seduce General Astegal’s wife and break the spell that binds her, and to find the key to the ghafrid-gebla that Bodeshmun possesses.” He went on to explain this to me in considerable detail. “Do you understand?”
    “Yes, my lord,” I said politely.
    Solon gave me a tired smile. “In the morning, you will awake and know this to be true.
    You will forget this day. Sleep.”
    I slept.

Twenty-Four

    The crow of that damnable rooster that the cook insisted on keeping around woke me with a start. I’d slept long and hard. For a moment, I felt strange to myself, my heart racing. Then I remembered why.
    Today I sailed for Carthage.
    By the Goddess, it was about sodding well time her ladyship gave me somewhat meaningful to do! As much as I loved Cythera, it ate at my pride to cool my heels while others were given more interesting assignments.
    And this was a big one.
    I’d never have admitted it to her ladyship’s son, not if I valued my life, but in my heart of hearts, I was a little bit glad that Carthage had ensorceled the Dauphine and half of Terre d’Ange. It was horrible, of course. But it was exciting, too. And there had been precious few opportunities for her ladyship to deploy D’Angeline spies without rousing suspicion.
    This . . . this was perfect.
    And now that her sentence had been commuted to exile, there was no fear of exposure. At last we could play the game as it was meant to be played; and I would be at the very heart of it, a veritable lynch-pin in the scheme. I had the opportunity to seduce a Princess of the Blood and bring down a budding empire.
    It was a delicious thought. It was so delicious that I permitted myself to lay a-bed a few minutes, contemplating it and stroking my phallus. I wondered what the half-breed Cruithne princess looked like, although it didn’t really matter. I could rise to any challenge.
    The household was stirring.
    Duty beckoned.
    One couldn’t have luxury and adventure alike. With a sigh, I left off my musings and my pleasure. I rose, braided my hair, donned my clothing, and went to face the day.
    “Leander.” Shabaq intercepted me on my way to the kitchen. “Her ladyship wishes you to break your fast with her in the arbor.”
    “Truly?” I said in delight.
    He smiled. “Truly.”
    It was true. I found her ladyship awaiting me in the latticed arbor, sipping a cup of hot bitter kavah. I bowed