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Authors: Jacqueline Carey
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Shalomon’s Ring lies forgotten at the bottom of my jewelry-box,” I said, “but I don’t think so.” Rising, I repented of my ill grace and stooped to kiss his cheek. “Keep searching, Eleazar. Your God is fortunate to be served with such devotion.”
He nodded, tearing off another piece of bread and placing it in his mouth. I left him there, chewing meditatively, the remembrance of glory illuminating his narrow features. Adara showed me to the door, where I pressed a small purse of coin into her hands. “A token,” I said, “in gratitude for your hospitality.” So I said at every visit. Eleazar would never have taken it-or if he had, he would have given it away within the hour-but Adara knew the cost of bread and what was needful to allow her beloved husband to continue his contemplations untroubled.
“You are always welcome in our house, my lady.” There was such gentle sweetness to her smile. “It tears at his heart to think how your friend suffers for Rahab’s cruelty.”
Such is the carelessness of gods, I thought as I made my way home. And we are powerless against it. Even here, in the blessed realm, where Elua and his Companions gave us surpassing gifts of grace and beauty and knowledge, begetting musicians and chirurgeons, architects and shipwrights, painters, poets and dancers, farmers and vintners, warriors and courtiers, there is no power to be found to thwart a forgotten curse by the One God’s mighty servant. All the love in my heart was but a weak and foolish noise before the enduring force of Rahab’s hatred. And why? Because the Lord of the Deep had loved a woman, and she had loved another than him.
Blessed Elua, I prayed, such things should not be. If there is a way, let me find it, for I do not think I can bear to live out my days with this knowledge. I do not think I can bear to laugh and make merry, living and loving while Hyacinthe raises wind and wave, gazes into a mirror and waits for time to make a monstrosity of him. Wherever the path lies, I will tread it. Whatever the price, I will pay it.
In a mood thus dark and foreboding, I arrived at my home to find Joscelin and Ti-Philippe awaiting me in the salon, their faces grave. Young Hugues was nowhere in sight, nor any of the house-servants. I paused, wondering at the way they stood shoulder-to-shoulder before the low table.
“What is it?”
Joscelin stepped to one side, indicating a sealed missive that lay upon the table. Hardly an unusual thing, for I received correspondence almost daily-letters, offers of assignation, invitation, love poems. “This came by courier from La Serenissima.”
Allegra Stregazza, I wondered; or mayhap Severio? Both of them wrote to me from time to time, and Joscelin was not overfond of my friendship with Severio, having never quite forgotten that I had once, briefly, entertained his offer of marriage. For all that he had forsworn jealousy, even Joscelin was human. But that would not account for Ti-Philippe’s countenance.
The pale vellum glowed against the dark, polished wood of the table, fine-grained and smooth, sealed with a generous blot of gilt wax. Kneeling, I picked up the letter to examine the insignia stamped into the seal.
My hands began to shake and I set it down, staring.
A crown of stars; Asherat’s Crown, that adorns the Dogal Seal and the doors of the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea. And beneath it, etched in miniature, a device of three keys intertwined-the arms of House Shahrizai.
The letter had been sent by Melisande Shahrizai.
Seven
TAKING A deep breath, I cracked the seal and opened the letter.
The room was deadly silent as I read. Joscelin and Ti-Philippe stared at each other over my head, neither daring to ask. It was short, only a few lines, penned in Melisande’s elegant hand. I would have known her writing anywhere. I had seen it since I was a child in Delaunay’s household, when the correspondence was lively between them, friends and rivals as they were. And I had
He nodded, tearing off another piece of bread and placing it in his mouth. I left him there, chewing meditatively, the remembrance of glory illuminating his narrow features. Adara showed me to the door, where I pressed a small purse of coin into her hands. “A token,” I said, “in gratitude for your hospitality.” So I said at every visit. Eleazar would never have taken it-or if he had, he would have given it away within the hour-but Adara knew the cost of bread and what was needful to allow her beloved husband to continue his contemplations untroubled.
“You are always welcome in our house, my lady.” There was such gentle sweetness to her smile. “It tears at his heart to think how your friend suffers for Rahab’s cruelty.”
Such is the carelessness of gods, I thought as I made my way home. And we are powerless against it. Even here, in the blessed realm, where Elua and his Companions gave us surpassing gifts of grace and beauty and knowledge, begetting musicians and chirurgeons, architects and shipwrights, painters, poets and dancers, farmers and vintners, warriors and courtiers, there is no power to be found to thwart a forgotten curse by the One God’s mighty servant. All the love in my heart was but a weak and foolish noise before the enduring force of Rahab’s hatred. And why? Because the Lord of the Deep had loved a woman, and she had loved another than him.
Blessed Elua, I prayed, such things should not be. If there is a way, let me find it, for I do not think I can bear to live out my days with this knowledge. I do not think I can bear to laugh and make merry, living and loving while Hyacinthe raises wind and wave, gazes into a mirror and waits for time to make a monstrosity of him. Wherever the path lies, I will tread it. Whatever the price, I will pay it.
In a mood thus dark and foreboding, I arrived at my home to find Joscelin and Ti-Philippe awaiting me in the salon, their faces grave. Young Hugues was nowhere in sight, nor any of the house-servants. I paused, wondering at the way they stood shoulder-to-shoulder before the low table.
“What is it?”
Joscelin stepped to one side, indicating a sealed missive that lay upon the table. Hardly an unusual thing, for I received correspondence almost daily-letters, offers of assignation, invitation, love poems. “This came by courier from La Serenissima.”
Allegra Stregazza, I wondered; or mayhap Severio? Both of them wrote to me from time to time, and Joscelin was not overfond of my friendship with Severio, having never quite forgotten that I had once, briefly, entertained his offer of marriage. For all that he had forsworn jealousy, even Joscelin was human. But that would not account for Ti-Philippe’s countenance.
The pale vellum glowed against the dark, polished wood of the table, fine-grained and smooth, sealed with a generous blot of gilt wax. Kneeling, I picked up the letter to examine the insignia stamped into the seal.
My hands began to shake and I set it down, staring.
A crown of stars; Asherat’s Crown, that adorns the Dogal Seal and the doors of the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea. And beneath it, etched in miniature, a device of three keys intertwined-the arms of House Shahrizai.
The letter had been sent by Melisande Shahrizai.
Seven
TAKING A deep breath, I cracked the seal and opened the letter.
The room was deadly silent as I read. Joscelin and Ti-Philippe stared at each other over my head, neither daring to ask. It was short, only a few lines, penned in Melisande’s elegant hand. I would have known her writing anywhere. I had seen it since I was a child in Delaunay’s household, when the correspondence was lively between them, friends and rivals as they were. And I had
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