Kushiel's Mercy

The details of the intricate web of spells binding Terre d’Ange and its young princess, and how they might be dismantled.
    Some of it, of course, Sunjata knew—he’d been the one to alert her ladyship to Carthage’s plans. But he hadn’t known the inner workings of the horologists’ magics nor the extent of what they had planned, only bits and pieces of their preparations, gleaned through his supposed apprenticeship. It was Solon who’d guessed at what Carthage intended and sent the charmed needle he’d used on Prince Imriel, and Solon who had now determined how the spell might be undone.
    “Do you truly mean to attempt this?” he asked me.
    “Of course,” I said in surprise. “Why ever not?”
    “It’s dangerous.” His eyes were shadowed.
    I took his hand. “So is what you do.”
    “I’m merely a spy.” Sunjata’s full mouth twisted. “Eyes and ears. Does her ladyship ask more of me?”
    “Only your counsel,” I said. “Well, or so I think. She sent a trunk for you.” I rose and fetched it. “Here.”
    I watched him open it, picking the lock with an easy skill I envied. There was a letter on the top. Sunjata unsealed it and read what was written there. It took him some time, and I guessed it was written in coded language. He sat motionless, only his lips moving silently.
    Once, a little tremor ran through him. When he had finished, he bowed his head slightly, then straightened. He put the letter back in the trunk and closed it without meeting my eyes.
    “Bad news?” I asked.
    “No.” His gaze shifted to my face, his expression as guarded as I’d ever seen it. “But it’s naught I can tell you, Leander.”
    “All right,” I said gently. “What can you tell me? I’ve learned that Bodeshmun guards access to the princess. How might I convince him I’m harmless?”
    Sunjata’s expression eased somewhat. “Flatter him,” he said. “Let him believe Ptolemy Solon is amazed at his achievement and wants a report on the effects. Bodeshmun’s as clever as the devil, but there’s a spark of vanity there.”
    “Good.” I nodded. “How about the princess herself? Does he keep her under lock and key?”
    “Not exactly.” He tapped his lower lip in thought. “He’s . . . careful. She’s no prisoner, but she’s insulated and fed lies. I don’t believe she’s any idea what’s happening in Terre d’Ange. You’ll have to convince Bodeshmun you’ve not the slightest intent of telling her.”
    “I will,” I said. “What is happening in Terre d’Ange?”
    “Nothing good,” Sunjata said soberly. “The last I heard, the Queen’s accused her kinsman of fomenting rebellion.”
    “The Duc L’Envers?” I asked, searching my memory. He nodded. “Are they at war with one another?”
    “Not yet,” Sunjata said.
    “The prince was to send L’Envers a letter with Solon’s advice,” I said. “If the Queen can be convinced to send Terre d’Ange’s army to Aragonia, it will remove them from play.”
    “Perhaps.” He sounded doubtful. “I fear the advice may come too late. She’s not likely to commit her forces overseas if she fears a coup at home.”
    I shivered a little. “What a fearful thing it would be to have one’s wits stolen.”
    “Yes.” Sunjata gazed at me. “Fearful.” He gave himself a shake. “Ah. Your ring.” He reached in his purse and brought it out. “That was a clever piece of subterfuge.”
    “Thank you.” I took it from him. “I’m not bad at this, am I?”
    “No,” he said wistfully. “Not at all.”
    A silence fell between us.
    “So.” I cocked my head. “Jabnit implied that you were wont to tryst with patrons. Is it for business or pleasure?”
    Sunjata’s mouth twisted in another cynical smile. “What do you think? It’s always business, Leander. Her ladyship’s business . . . sometimes even the House of Philosir’s business. Happy patrons are generous customers.” He laughed harshly. “No one thinks of a eunuch’s pleasure.”
    I touched the smooth curve of his cheek. “I do.”
    “Yes.” Unexpected tears brightened his eyes. “You always did.”
    “Only did?” I leaned forward to kiss him lightly. “Must it be did ?”
    I didn’t press him; one didn’t press Sunjata. He was proud and he’d been used badly before her ladyship found him. I didn’t know what manner of lovers he had endured here in Carthage. But we had known each other well, once. And if I couldn’t give him back what had been taken from him,