Kushiel's Mercy

voyage off my skin, unbraiding and washing my hair, letting it float on the surface of the water. When I climbed out of the pool, clad in naught but my ruby eardrops, there were a handful of peeping gazes. I stood beside the pool, shaking water out of my hair.
    “See anything you like, ladies?” I called.
    Most of them giggled and scattered. My chambermaid came forward, blushing, to proffer a linen robe.
    “If my lordship wishes . . .” she whispered.
    “He does.” I lifted her chin with two fingers. “But I have duties to attend to, my peach, and I am weary from my journey.” I kissed her lips, feeling them part beneath mine.
    “Another day, mayhap.”
    The chambermaid trembled a little. “Do you promise?”
    I smiled into her eyes and lied. “Of course I do.”
    Later, the words haunted me. Unfulfilled desire made me restless. I tossed and turned on my sheets, which were not so fine as those in her ladyship’s household. I should have bedded the chambermaid. After all, who would find that odd? Like as not, it was odder that I’d refused. After all, I wasn’t meant to be coming to Carthage with the intent of seducing the Dauphine. Not so far as the world knew, not so far as she knew. There was no reason I shouldn’t bed a willing girl. It might even have had more impact if the princess knew, later, that I’d eschewed all others, ostensibly in love with her. On the other hand, if I established myself as a rake, whatever dragons Astegal had left guarding his household would hardly be inclined to allow me access to his wife.
    Gods, this was more complicated than I’d reckoned.
    Why did the lie trouble me?
    Because, I decided, it wasn’t worthy of her ladyship. Despite all the vitriol leveled at her, she lied very seldom, and only to a purpose. And she never made false promises. She maintained her own unfathomable standards of integrity. And although she did not demand that of her people, it irritated me that I’d fallen short of it for so little reason.
    I resolved to do better. I would give the chambermaid some little trinket and an apology; like as not, that would suffice to thrill the lass. And as far as slaking my desire went, I’d err on the side of discretion.
    After all, that wouldn’t be a problem. I hadn’t seen Sunjata for a couple of years, but I couldn’t imagine that much had changed between us. And for a surety, one couldn’t ask for a more discreet lover than Sunjata.

Twenty-Six

    In the morning, Maharbal escorted me to his cousin’s villa. It seemed the lady’s husband was a minor Carthaginian lord and a captain in the service of General Astegal’s army.
    While he was away, she had retired to their country estate, and Maharbal saw no reason why the villa should remain empty when there was a tidy profit to be turned.
    I liked it. It was a bit small, but then I was accustomed to her ladyship’s vast and labyrinthine estate. The mosaic floors were of good quality and the frescoes on the walls were tasteful. The gardens were pleasant.
    It wasn’t in the most elite neighborhood, but it was clearly a neighborhood of quality.
    The surrounding villas spoke of well-to-do families, ambitious without being grasping.
    Nothing ostentatious, but nothing overly modest. If I wanted to be careful and discreet, this struck just the right tone.
    As an added advantage, the lady in question had left a handful of her household behind to tend to the maintenance and security of the villa. All I’d need to hire were bearers for a palanquin.
    “My cousin’s servants would be at your service, naturally,” Maharbal said, pointing out this fact.
    I pursed my lips. “I prefer to oversee the hiring of my own household.”
    He sniffed. “I assure you, they are more than competent.”
    I glanced around. “It’s rather small.”
    “You are but one man,” Maharbal observed. “It is space sufficient for a small family.”
    “Ah, but I may wish to entertain while I’m here,” I said. “One could not hope to dine with more than a dozen folk.”
    Maharbal shrugged. “I suspect you’ll find that many of his eminence’s acquaintances are not in residence during wartime.”
    We played the game for a while longer; then I relented and expressed grudging interest.
    Maharbal made an outrageous offer, which I countered. After copious haggling, we came to an accommodation.
    “Very good,” he said. “If you wish, I would be pleased to accompany you to the slave-market to purchase bearers. I can tell