Kushiel’s Dart

Indeed, there was very little about Joscelin Verreuil that was not beautiful. He had the old-fashioned, noble features of a provincial lord and the somber, ash-grey garb of a Cassiline Brother adorned a tall, well-proportioned form, like the statues of the old Hellene athletes. His eyes were a clear blue, the color of a summer sky, and his hair, caught back in a club at the nape of his neck, was the color of a wheatfield at harvesttime.

At this moment, his blue eyes considered me with scarce-concealed dislike.

"Joscelin assures me that what happened to Alcuin, and Guy, would never occur to someone under his warding," Delaunay said in a calm tone. "I have measured my blade against his daggers, and I am satisfied that it is true."

A Cassiline Brother never draws his sword, unless it is to kill. T had heard of it once, when an assassin attacked the King. I turned my head toward Delaunay, considering. "He bested you with daggers alone?"

Delaunay made no answer, nodding toward Joscelin, who gave his formal bow, arms crossed. He was not, I gauged, much older than I was.

"In the name of Cassiel, I protect and serve," he said stiffly.

Wholly unbidden, I took a seat, choosing one where I could see both of them. The back of the chair stung the new lines of my marque. If I agreed to this, Delaunay would allow me to return to the service of Naamah. If I did not…well, Delaunay had not offered a choice in the matter. I shrugged. "My lord, at least he is pretty enough to be an adept of Cereus House wearing fancy dress. If you will, then so be it. Is there an offer to entertain?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see Joscelin Verreuil glare at being compared to an adept of the Night Court. Delaunay’s mouth twitched, and I was sure he’d seen it too, but he answered seriously. "Offers aplenty, if you wish them, Phèdre. But there is a matter I would have you attend first, if you would hear it."

I inclined my head. "In the name of Kushiel, I-"

"Enough." Delaunay raised his hand, silencing me, but his glance took in Joscelin Verreuil as well. "Phèdre, you of all people should know better than to mock the service of Elua’s Companions. Joscelin, your Prefect has gauged this matter worthy of your order’s attendance, and you stand in danger of heresy if you question his judgment."

"As my lord bids," Joscelin said with restraint, bowing. It would have grated on my nerves, this constant bowing, were his every motion not such a damnable pleasure to behold.

"What is it?" I asked Delaunay. He gazed steadily at me.

"The Duc L’Envers is due to return in a fortnight’s time. I would have you request of Lord Childric d’Essoms that he send word to Barquiel L’Envers that I desire a meeting with him."

"My lord." I raised my eyebrows. "Why d’Essoms? We have laid the groundwork with Rogier Clavel."

"Because Barquiel will listen to him." Delaunay shook his head. "Clavel is a minor functionary; Barquiel would dismiss him out of hand. He has served his use. Barquiel L’Envers has grown large with this new alliance, and I cannot afford to have him dismiss my request. D’Essoms got him the appointment in the first place; Barquiel will heed his words. And I need you to convince Childric d’Essoms."

"Then he will know," I said simply.

"Yes." Delaunay rested his chin on a fist. "That’s why I waited for the Prefect’s answer. Do you think he will act against you?"

I glanced sidelong at Joscelin Verreuil, finding a sudden comfort in the quiet menace of his ashen Cassiline attire, the daggers that hung at his waist. He looked straight ahead, refusing to meet my gaze. "Perhaps…not. D’Essoms has known from the beginning that I was part of your game. It is which part that he has not known." And that had comprised the greatest part of his pleasure, the endeavor to extract that knowledge. I felt a pang of sorrow at the idea of losing him as a patron. He had been my first.

"Then you will go to him," Delaunay said. "Ganelon de la Courcel ails, and time grows short. Let it be done."

"There is no assignation?"

He shook his head. "I would sooner surprise him with it. Do you think he will see you uninvited?"

I thought of Childric d’Essoms, the gifts he had sent after the time he had burned me. "Oh yes, my lord, he will see me. And what bait is it I am to dangle?"

The lines of Delaunay’s face grew stern, sterner than Joscelin Verreuil’s in all his disapproval. "Bid him to tell Duc Barquiel L’Envers that I know who killed his sister."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Delaunay wasted no time, dispatching me on the errand that very day. D’Essoms had quarters in the Palace in addition to his house in the City, and I had met him there before-it pleased him, at times, to flaunt me under the noses of his peers-but I had never sought him out. I had never sought out any of my patrons, and it was strange to be doing so.