Naamah's Blessing

the
chocolatl
again. He wiped froth from his upper lip. “I think they are being honest, and it is a gamble. Do what you think best, Moirin.”
    “What do
you
think, my lady?” I asked Gamaliel’s wife.
    “Me?” Mariette Shahrizai looked startled.
    I nodded. “You.”
    Once again, she flushed; but she held my gaze without flinching. “I am not entirely sure what you are asking me, Lady Moirin,” she said slowly. “But I will tell you what I know of House Shahrizai. They are Kushiel’s faithful scions, and they serve him with honor and integrity. That may mean nothing to one such as you, touched only by Naamah’s bright grace. But it means the world to me.” She hesitated. “Will that answer serve, my lady?”
    I didn’t understand; not wholly. But I felt a sense of rightness. “I do believe it will.”
    “Then you will accept our gift?” Celestine demanded, sitting very straight and upright in her chair.
    I smiled at the matriarch of House Shahrizai. “Aye, it does. I will accept it with thanks, my lady.”
    This time, I won a look of approval from her. “A wise choice.”
    I took another deep drink of
chocolatl
, and hoped it was true.

EIGHTEEN

    T he house was perfect.
    As Balthasar had said, it was situated on the outskirts of the City of Elua—a modest dwelling surrounded by trees, many of them evergreens. I strolled the grounds, inhaling deeply.
    Bao regarded me fondly. “Have you been missing your wilderness?”
    “I have,” I admitted, resting one hand on the rough bark of a graceful cypress tree. “But this helps.”
    Once inside, I was surprised to find that the house came equipped with elegant furnishings, as well as a staff that was modest by D’Angeline standards, but extravagant by mine—a steward, a cook, two maidservants, a footman, and a groom.
    “We are here to serve at a moment’s notice should any of the House wish to entertain here.” The steward, Guillaume Norbert, was a grave fellow with silver-grey hair tied back in a severe braid, but he unbent enough to offer a faint smile. “Now we are here to serve at your pleasure, madame.”
    I hoped I had sufficient funds to pay their wages.
    As though reading my mind, the steward gave a discreet cough. “Of course, Lady Celestine has ordered all relevant details of our service to be directed to her factor.”
    “That’s… very generous,” I said.
    There was quiet pride in his face, in the faces of all the household staff. “I am pleased that you think so.”
    “Moirin?” Bao’s voice came from another room. He sounded strange.
    “Aye?”
    “Come see.”
    Guillaume Norbert arched his brows. “I believe messire has found the seraglio.”
    I found Bao in a sumptuous room beyond the far doors of the dining hall, covered with Akkadian carpets, strewn with cushions, and outfitted with many of the accoutrements of violent love-play the Shahrizai favored, including a tall, glass-fronted case that displayed an array of whips and paddles, and a tall wooden wheel equipped with four leather manacles.
    Bao spun the wheel. “Huh.”
    “Does messire desire a demonstration?” the steward inquired with perfect equanimity, beckoning to the younger of the two maidservants. She stepped forward willingly.
    “No!” Bao backed away from the wheel. “No, messire does not.” He eyed me uncertainly. “Does he?”
    “No.” I reached out to halt the wheel’s spinning. “I think not.”
    The steward Guillaume inclined his head. “Shall I have these items removed, madame?”
    “No.” I gazed at the weathered wood and the leather manacles, wondering who had worn them and what pleasures they had found in it. “Let them stay for now. It is a part of the house’s history.”
    “As you will.”
    There was one item I
did
ask to have removed—an iron hook that hung on a chain from the highest rafter of the master bedchamber. What it had been used for, I could not even begin to guess, but I felt better for having it gone.
    After that, Bao and I settled quite comfortably into our new lodgings. As expected, the news of House Shahrizai’s patronage caused ripples in the City of Elua; but overall the tide of fortune continued to turn in our favor.
    First and foremost came a message of support from the Cruarch of Alba.
    I had never met Faolan mab Sibeal, the Cruarch of Alba. But he had a name for being a strong, just ruler; and he was a kinsman, a descendant of Alais the Wise. His message was brief but succinct, thanking and