Kushiel’s Dart

"So be it," Percy de Somerville said at length. "Cousin." He nodded at Gaspar Trevalion. "With your folk in Azzalle, we can spare you from the field the most, and you’re the only one I trust to make the choice. With the army mustered below, we need a signal we can see from the gatehouse. Use the trebuchet, and feu d’Hellas. If Selig breaks east and his army follows, fire east, and we fall on their rear. If he divides his forces, fire west, and we’ll sweep to the left and engage their weak side."

"It will be done," Gaspar Trevalion murmured. "Elua be with us all."

They took their farewells, then, the men clasping each other’s hands. Percy de Somerville bowed to Ysandre.

"Your majesty," he said soberly. "I served under your grandfather for many years. But if I die today, I die proud to have served under you."

She stood very tall and straight on the grey walls of the battlements. "And I to have been served by you, Comte de Somerville. Elua’s blessing upon you."

To my surprise, Barquiel L’Envers grinned, and kissed his niece on the brow. "Take care of yourself, Ysandre, you make a damned good Queen. We’ll do our best to see you stay one." He nodded at Joscelin and me. "Keep these two with you, will you? They seem to be damnably hard to kill."

I did not always like the Duc L’Envers, but I could not help loving him then.

When they were gone, Ysandre shivered, and wrapped her deep-blue cloak with the Courcel swan embroidered in silver at the collar tight around her.

"I must speak to Farrens de Marchet, who commands the trebuchet crew on the western wall," Gaspar Trevalion said apologetically. "Will you not go below to safety, your majesty?"

"No." Ysandre shook her fair head. "I will stay here, my lord. Terre d’Ange stands or falls with us this day, and so do I."

"We’ll stay," I said to Gaspar. It made no earthly difference, save for L’Envers' flippant comment, but it was enough. He nodded and set off quickly, a company of shields with him.

We stood there and watched the skies lighten as dawn broke full in the east, and the sun slowly began to clear the horizon. Joscelin kept a watchful eye to the arrow-slit, looking for our army. A handful of Ysandre’s House Courcel guard, as well as her ever-present Cassilines, surrounded us; still, I think there was no one else to whom she dared speak her mind.

"I have your book, still, your majesty," I said presently, casting about for something to say. "Your father’s diary. It is with my things, in our camp. I kept it with me, all this time."

"Did you read it?" She smiled sadly. "It was very beautiful, I thought."

"It was. He loved wisely, too. Delaunay lived for the memory of that love." I didn’t mention Alcuin, though I was glad, now, that Delaunay had known a second happiness.

"I know." Ysandre glanced down into the courtyard far below and to the fore of us, filled with a tight mass of men. "I’m glad he made his peace with my uncle before he died. My mother caused a great deal of pain, I think."

"Yes." I couldn’t gainsay her. "People do, for love, or for power."

"Or honor." She looked sympathetically at me. "I’m sorry you were drawn into this Phèdre. Please know that whatever happens, you have my gratitude for the role you played. And for…for what you told me of Drustan." She smiled at Joscelin. "Both of you. What became of your friend?" she asked then, remembering. "The Tsingano? Is he with Ghislain’s army?"

It hurt to think of Hyacinthe; I caught my breath, and met Joscelin’s eye, glancing round from the arrow-slit. "No, your majesty," I said. "It is a long story, our journey, and Hyacinthe’s may be the longest."

"A Mendicant’s tale," murmured Joscelin.

We told her, then, there on the battlements of besieged Troyes-le-Mont, while arrows clattered against the merlon and her guards kept watch. I began it, but Joscelin told it better, with all the skill he’d gained in his Mendicant guise. It was his tribute to Hyacinthe, and I let him have it, as he had let me have mine, the last night on that lonely isle.

Hyacinthe would have liked it, I think.

Gaspar Trevalion came back to find his Queen round-eyed with awe, uncertain whether or not to credit our tale.

"De Marchet is ready," he said brusquely, returning us to the dire reality of our situation. "He’ll fire on my command. Any sign of d’Aiglemort or the Albans?"

"No, my lord." I had been watching, while Joscelin told the story of Hyacinthe and the Master of the Straits. "Not yet."

Gaspar glanced up at the sky, turning a pale blue as the sun rose steadily. "Pray they don’t fail us," he said grimly. "They’ve near filled the moat with rubble at the barbican, and Selig’s sappers are digging under the northwest tower. Farrens said they felt the stone tremble underfoot. They’re moving one of the siege towers toward the north wall, too. We’ve let him get deadly close, if help doesn’t come."

"It will come," I said, with a confidence I didn’t feel. It was harder to believe, here.