Kushiel’s Dart

"By the ten thousand devils of Khebbel-im-Akkad!" he thundered, causing his men to grin and the nearest to cover their ears. "Delaunay’s whelp!" And with that, he grabbed me in a bone-cracking embrace that drove the wind from my lungs, leaving me unable to gasp with pain as his mighty arms enfolded my fresh-welted back. "What in seven hells are you doing here, girl?" he asked when he released me. "I thought those justice-mad idiots in the City convicted you of murder."

"They did," I said, wheezing. "That’s…that’s one of the reasons I’m here and not there."

Quintilius Rousse looked calculatingly at me, then at the Tsingani wagon stuck on the cliff road. "Go help them down," he said to a handful of his men, who set out grumbling. "What’s the other?" he asked me.

I had regained my breath. "I speak Cruithne."

"Aahhhh." One long syllable, and a gleam of understanding in his shrewd eyes. "Come along, then. We’ve a great deal to discuss." He looked at Hyacinthe and Joscelin. "You too, I suppose?"

Both of them bowed.

"Let’s to it, then." He glanced up the cliff road once more, rubbing his chin. "Glad you brought them. I could use a few horse, you know."

"We were counting on it," Hyacinthe said.

The Queen’s Admiral received us in his tent, which was large, mainly to hold the vast number of chests filled with maps and books that he had accumulated; that, and treasure, which he had in abundance. "No time to stow it or even buy a respectable mistress," he grumbled, sweeping aside a King’s ransom of jewelry from atop one of the chests. "Sit. And tell me why you’re here. Starting at the beginning. Who killed Anafiel Delaunay?"

We told him, Joscelin and I, starting at the beginning, in the marquist’s shop.

"My lad Aelric Leithe made it back with his skin whole," Rousse interrupted us. "I knew as much. S’why I knew it wasn’t you, child, or the Cassiline either. That, and the fact you always doted on him like a babe on a sugar-tit. Delaunay was already being watched. So who was it?"

"Isidore d’Aiglemort," I said, then took a deep breath, and told him the rest. This time, he listened without interruption, his face growing dark with outrage. When we were done, he sat gathering fury like a thunderstorm.

Until it broke, and he roared about his tent, raging, breaking and throwing things. One of his men poked in his head, then hastily withdrew it as a piece of crockery came flying his way. When it was over, Quintilius Rousse sighed. "Too much to ask that you’re lying, I suppose?" he asked hopefully.

I shook my head and reached for Ysandre’s ring, showed it to him lying on my palm. "She gave me this. To show you, and to give to the Prince of the Cruithne."

"Rolande’s ring." The Admiral gave it a cursory examination, and heaved another sigh. "Oh, I know it, all right. No, there’s no hope for it. But I don’t mind telling you, I’d rather bring my fleet upcoast and sail up the Rhenus, set us in place to crack Skaldi skulls-and Camaeline, come to it-than go chasing off on a fool’s errand to Alba."

"What if it’s not a fool’s errand?" I argued. Quintilius Rousse fixed me with his shrewd gaze.

"We tried it before, you know, sailing the long way 'round from lower Siovale, going leagues out of our way to avoid the Straits, to the far shores of Alba. Know what we met? A thousand lime-haired Dalriada, shrieking curses and casting spears. We never even made landfall."

"How many ships?" Hyacinthe asked abruptly.

"Fifteen," Rousse replied curiously.

"You need one. Only one." Hyacinthe swallowed, as if the words pained him. "That’s what I saw, when Ysandre asked me to speak the dromonde. One ship."

Another mighty sigh. "A Night-Blooming Flower, a Tsingano witch-boy, and a…a Cassiline whatever. This is what Ysandre sends me. I must be mad." Quintilius Rousse rumpled his hair, a tangled, half-braided mane of reddish brown. "What do you say, Cassiline?"

Joscelin bowed. "My lord Admiral, I say that whatever you choose, you must do it quickly. Because by tomorrow afternoon, the Duc de Morhban will be here asking questions."

"Morhban." It was uttered in tones of disgust. "He’s got me penned in like a fox with chickens. How’d you get past him, anyway? Aelric scarce made it through, and de Morhban’s gotten more suspicious since the King died."

Hyacinthe looked at me. Joscelin looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Naamah’s way."

"Aahhh." Rousse grinned. "Delaunay’s pupil to the end! Well, then, I must decide, and quickly. Too much to ask, I suppose, that the Queen has a plan for passing Elder Brother?"

Dismayed, I shook my head. "I thought you would have passage, my lord. You treated with him, you won an answer. When the Black Boar rules in Alba!"

"And nigh foundered to gain it." Quintilius Rousse scratched his chin. "I’ve no right of passage, child. That answer was all I gained; that, and the right to cling to my wretched life. Why do you think Delaunay was working so hard to unravel the mystery of him? And the white-haired lad, Alcuin."