Kushiel’s Dart

To my surprise, Joscelin was a gentle and patient teacher. He never laughed at Alcuin’s clumsy efforts to thrust and parry, but waited on him when he lost his grip, demonstrating strokes over and over again in slow, flowing movements. Alcuin followed his lead with a good will, never out of temper, laughing at his own mistakes-and stranger indeed, Joscelin sometimes laughed with him.

"I should have known," Delaunay murmured at my elbow; I hadn’t heard him come onto the terrace. His gaze tracked their progress. "A pity it’s too late for him to learn it in truth. Alcuin’s temperament is better suited to the Cassiline Brotherhood than the Service of Naamah."

It must have been he who gave them permission, and the wooden blades. "He is not suited to the Cassiline Brotherhood, my lord," I said sharply, rendered out of sorts by their laughter. "After all, he is in love with you."

"Alcuin?" Delaunay’s voice rose, and he blinked at me. "You cannot mean it. If anything, I have stood as a father to him, or…or at the least, an uncle."

There is no folly like the folly of the wise. I eyed him wryly. "My lord, if you believe that, I have a vial of the Magdalene’s tears I would sell you. You are Alcuin’s rescuer from sure death, as you are mine from ignominy, and you could have either one of us by crooking your smallest finger. But I have watched Alcuin, and he would happily die for you. There is no one else in the world for him."

It was something, at least, to see Delaunay dumbstruck. I sketched him a curtsy which he did not see, and took my leave with haste. Alcuin, I thought, sorrow in my heart, never say I have not done you a kindness. If my lord will not have you, at least he cannot plead ignorance as an excuse.

After that, I could not stay in the house. Let Delaunay stripe my hide if he would-which I knew he would not-but if I was forbidden the service of Naamah, I had to escape from this eternal confinement. With everyone at the rear of the house, it was easy enough to slip out through the side gate.

I had the sense to take my brown cloak, and not the sangoire, and to bring some few coins that had not gone to pay the marquist. It was a simple matter to pay coach-fare to Night’s Doorstep; for a smile, the coachman undercharged me.

Hyacinthe was not at home, but I endured his mother’s too-knowing stare, and found him quickly enough at the Cockerel, dismissing the coach.

After long days of tedium, my heart leapt at the rollicking music and blazing light spilling out onto the street. I entered into pandemonium, its apparent source a game of dice at the back of the inn. A mass of guests was clustered about a table, most dressed in courtiers' finery, while a fiddler played on the dais. Below his frantic playing, I heard the sound of dice rattling in the cups, being cast upon the table. Groans rose from some of the watchers, and shouts from others, and ringing over them all, a familiar triumphant cry.

The crowd dispersed to mill around the inn and I saw Hyacinthe with several of his friends about him, grinning as he swept his winnings into a pile. "Phèdre!" he shouted, seeing me. Shoving the coins into his purse, he vaulted over a chair to greet me. I was so happy to see him, I threw both arms around his neck. "Where have you been?" he laughed, returning my embrace then holding my shoulders to look at me. "I’ve missed you. Was Guy so wroth after the last time that Delaunay wouldn’t let you come?"

"Guy." The word caught in my throat; I had forgotten, for a moment. I shook my head. "No. I’ve a lot to tell you."

"Well, come in, sit down, I’ll clear those louts away from the table." He flashed his grin, teeth white against his dark skin. He was wearing finer clothes than before, in a wild array of color-a blue doublet with gold brocade on the front and saffron sashes in the sleeves, over scarlet hosen-and looked absolutely splendid to my eyes. "I’ll buy us a jug of wine. Naamah’s Tits, I’ll buy everyone a jug of wine!" He shouted to the innkeeper. "Wine for everyone!"

Good-natured cheers rose, and Hyacinthe laughed, sweeping a bow. No question that they loved him here, and no question why. If the Prince of Travellers won more at dice than an honest man ought, he returned nine centimes out of ten in his extravagance, and no one grudged him the tenth part. I never knew if he cheated or not; Tsingani are reputed to be lucky. Of course, they are also reputed to cheat, lie and steal with considerable skill, though I had never known Hyacinthe to do worse than filching tarts from the pastry-vendors in the market.

His friends made room for us at the table, and the noise made a shield for conversation as I told him all that had happened. Hyacinthe listened without comment, shaking his head when I was done.

"Delaunay’s mixed up in House Courcel’s business, that’s for sure," he said. "I wish I could tell you how. I found a poet who’d a friend with a copy of Delaunay’s verses, you know."

"You did?" My eyes widened. "Can you-"