Kushiel’s Dart

For all that had befallen us, I’d never felt so helpless, crouching in the dark behind bolts of fabric while Taavi answered the riders' questions-two of them, by the sound of it-with disarming frankness. No, they were not bound for the City, but for L’Arene, where they had kin. Yes, they had found the pony on Eisheth’s Way, wandering alone and packless. No, they’d not seen anyone else. Yes, the Camaelines were welcome to look in the wagon. The curtains were yanked aside, and three Yeshuite faces gazed at the Bois-le-Garde riders, silent and apprehensive.

From my hiding place, I caught a glimpse of one of the scout’s faces, weary and uninterested. The curtains clashed closed; we were free to go onward.

The girls gave muted squeals of excitement as the mules trotted stolidly forward. Danele shushed them, her arms around them both. I sighed, quietly, and felt Joscelin do the same beside me.

We were three days with the Yeshuites.

There are those who do not hold that there is any innate goodness to mankind. To them I say, had you lived my life, you would not believe it. I have known the depths to which mortals are capable of descending, and I have seen the heights. I have seen how kindness and compassion may grow in the unlikeliest of places, as the mountain flower forces its way through the stern rock.

I had kindness from Taavi’s family.

They asked us no questions, only shared with us wholeheartedly what they had to give. I learned a little bit of their story; I wish I knew more. They came from one of the inner villages of Camlach, where their families had settled a generation ago, filling a need for village weavers and dyers. But fever came to the village, and the Yeshuites were blamed, for all that a courier had clearly brought it from the City of Elua. So it was that they fled, southward, the whole of their livelihood packed in that wagon.

It was a strange thing to me, to see a family entire. I’d never thought, before then-save at Perrinwolde-how such a thing formed no part of my life. I remembered my parents, vaguely; the road and the caravanserai, and after that, the Dowayne of Cereus House. For Joscelin, it was different. Until the age of ten, he’d been a part of a family, a loving household. He’d had brothers, and sisters. He knew how to play with children, to tease and tickle them.

And they adored him for it.

Taavi and Danele smiled, well content that they’d chosen aright in aiding us. Me, they regarded with a gentle pity, and spoke to with soft words.

Such kindness; such misunderstanding.

I grieved at what I was.

Some miles shy of the City of Elua, we parted ways. We had discussed it, the four adults, over the past night’s fires. They had no wish to enter the City, where it was rumoured that fever still raged; we had no choice.

"We would take you to the gates," Taavi said, worried. "It is not so far out of our way, I think, and you will be safe with us. Is it not so? No one will trouble with a poor weaver and his family."

"You’ve done enough, father," I said fondly; I understood, by then, that the title was of respect to an elder, for all that Taavi and Danele had but a handful of years on us. "We don’t know what welcome awaits us. Go to L’Arene, and prosper. You’ve done more than enough."

The girls-Maia and Rena, their names were, six and eight years of age-played in the background. Maia had Joscelin’s white wolf-pelt on her head and chased her younger sister, shrieking with laughter, while Rena ducked behind the placid pony and giggled. Danele watched them complacently. Such sounds of fearless innocence, rising up to the dusky sky. If Waldemar Selig had his way, the laughter of children, D’Angeline or Yeshuite, would no longer ring freely under these same emerging stars.

"Still, I would-"

"No." Joscelin said it gently, smiling, but with a firmness that said he would not be swayed. "We will ride with you to the crossroads, father, and the last miles we will walk. Not for love of Cassiel himself would I put your family in any further danger."

Taavi opened his mouth for a final protest, and Danele laid her hand on his arm. "Let be," she reprimanded him kindly. "It is their will, and for the best." He nodded, then, reluctantly. On an impulse, I withdrew Melisande’s diamond from around my neck and held it out to him. The diamond glittered in the firelight.

"Here," I said. "For all you have done. It will go a long way to enabling you to establish yourselves in L’Arene."

They looked at each other, then shook their heads, while the diamond hung glittering from my hand. "It is too much," Taavi said. "And we did not help you for gain." Danele, her fingers still laced around his arm, nodded agreement.

"But-" I protested.

"No." Taavi was firm. "Thank you, Phèdre, but no. It is too much."

"You’re stuck with that thing," Joscelin said wryly, looking past me to where Maia and Rena hugged our Skaldi pony, their chase forgotten. "But mayhap there is some small thing we may give you, father," he added, grinning.