Kushiel's Mercy

deeply to her, holding my bow. “My lady, you honor me. I pray I prove worthy of your trust in this matter.”
    Her gaze, so terrible and beautiful and sad, rested on me. “As do I.”
    I marked, as she had taught me, how her hand trembled a bit returning her thin porcelain cup to its saucer. “Do you doubt me?”
    “No,” she said softly. “Sit and dine with me, Leander.”
    I did.
    There was fresh, crusty bread still warm from the oven, honey and preserves, and heartier fare, too. Sausage flavored with coriander, eggs cooked with goat cheese and herbs. I ate with a good will, mindful that I’d be dining on salt pork and beans during the voyage to Carthage. Her ladyship watched me, scarce touching her food.
    “Have you questions?” she asked me.
    I shook my head, chewing vigorously. “Have you advice?”
    “Yes,” she said simply. “Be careful.”
    I swallowed a mouthful of cooked eggs and smiled at her. “I will be. I will be the soul of discretion. I will be the perfect courtier, I promise. I will court the D’Angeline princess and make her love me. And I will ferret out all of Carthage’s secrets on your behalf.” I hesitated, glancing around. “Is he here?”
    Her throat worked. “Imriel?”
    “Yes.” I lowered my voice. “Your brooding son.”
    “No.” Her ladyship Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel shook her head. There were tears— tears!— in her glorious eyes. It made me want to kneel and comfort her. “No, we thought it best if he wasn’t here for this.”
    I nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
    When we had finished—which was to say, when I had eaten my fill—we departed for the harbor. Everything was in readiness. My mother, who ran her ladyship’s household, had seen to the packing of my things. All my garments were laid in a cedar chest, neatly folded. I embraced her fondly, resting my chin on her head. She returned my embrace awkwardly.
    “Don’t be frightened,” I said to her. “All will be well.”
    She avoided my gaze. “I’m sure it will.”
    “Women, eh?” I said cheerfully to my father, clasping his callused hand. He gave me a grave nod.
    “Have a care for yourself,” he murmured.
    “I will.” I ruffled my sister’s hair. Darielle, fifteen years of age and deep in her ladyship’s training, wrinkled her nose at me. “You too, brat.”
    “ You’re the brat,” she retorted.
    “No.” I grinned at her. “Today I’m a handsome young D’Angeline lord who happens to be in the service of the Governor of Cythera, and I’m off to pay tribute on his behalf to General Astegal’s poor, lonely young bride.”
    We rode in procession down to the harbor, where the Wise Ape’s flagship awaited. Solon was there himself, looking uncommonly sober. I put on a solemn expression, mindful that this was a serious matter. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation—all the gods of Terre d’Ange and Cythera knew, one didn’t rise far in her ladyship’s estimation by being frivolous and careless. It was just that I felt like a hawk about to fly free of the tether.
    I greeted Solon with a deep bow. “Good day, my lord.”
    His apish eminence inclined his head. “Good day, Leander Maignard. I am pleased that you have consented to carry the congratulations of Cythera to Carthage’s young princess.
    Doubtless it will gladden her heart to see a fellow countryman.”
    “I will do my best to convey your goodwill, my lord,” I said gravely. It was all for show, of course, but outside the veil of discretion that existed in her ladyship’s household, one had to be circumspect.
    “Captain Deimos has orders to give you every assistance,” Solon said, indicating the man beside him, a tall, lean fellow with piercing eyes. The captain and I exchanged greetings.
    “The tribute has been loaded.” He smiled faintly. “I trust you will find sufficient funds, gifts, and bribes.”
    “I’m sure you’ve been more than generous, my lord,” I said.
    Solon handed me a packet of letters. “These are letters of introduction to various Carthaginian lords of my acquaintance. I cannot say of a surety which you will find in residence, and which will have joined Astegal’s campaign.”
    “I’m sure it will suffice, my lord,” I replied.
    There wasn’t a great deal more to be said. Captain Deimos’ sailors loaded my belongings.
    Solon glanced at her ladyship. “Have you words in parting?”
    Her ladyship stood, tall and splendid as a goddess, and