"I have been on one of your sea voyages," Quintilius Rousse rumbled, "and scarce lived to tell the tale, child. I know better. Whatever else Delaunay taught you, he made you an apt compass for trouble. I'm minded to send an escort with you. Three ships, no more."
Joscelin, Remy, Ti-Philippe, Fortun-all looked at me, while I shook my head slowly. "No, my lord Admiral. I thank you; but no. If I'm to harbor any illusion in La Serenissima that I'm not Ysandre's creature, I can scarce arrive with an escort culled from the Royal Fleet."
"La Serenissima," Rousse said mildly, "fields a navy which is second to none, child; even to my own. They hold the entire length of the Caerdicci coast, aye, and Illyria too, with fingers stretching into Hellene waters, and eyes that gaze beyond, toward Ephesium and Khebbel-im-Akkad. Peaceful now, aye, but La Serenissima hungers for power, and we have Prince Benedicte de la Courcel alone to thank that her eyes do not turn west. Those who do not fear her are land-locked fools."
I flushed at that. "My lord, it may be so. If it is, will you defend me with three galleys?"
"Nay," he growled. "But I can remind them that they do not control the waters yet, and any Serenissiman fool enough to harbor Melisande Shahrizai will answer to Terre d'Ange, with blood if need be!"
"Admiral." It was Fortun's voice, quiet and even. "Do, and you'll warn every enemy of the nation before we've even set foot on dry land. My lady Phèdre is right. If there is aught to learn, and we stand any chance of learning it, we must rely on the arts of covertcy."
"You've been at the lad," Quintìlius Rousse sighed, leveling his blue gaze at me. "Child, Anafiel Delaunay was my friend, and I never had better. For his sake, let me afford you such measure of protection as is in my ability to grant. For surely, if he knew the road on which he'd set you, he'd ask no less."
Roxanne de Mereliot did not speak, but her dark eyes pleaded with me, those of a sovereign and a mother alike. I should have guessed she had a stake in it.
"My lord." I spread my hands helplessly. "It is too much, and not enough. Fortun is right, your aid would but tie our hands. And if my lord Delaunay were alive to say it, he would surely agree." I summoned my resolve and held his fierce gaze unblinking. "Time passes, my lord Admiral, and I am no child to be ordered. Her majesty has agreed to my plan. Let it stand."
"Bah!" It was Rousse who looked away first, beseeching Joscelin and my chevaliers for assistance. "Will none of you talk sense to the girl?" he demanded. In truth, I was not sure. But all of them, even little Ti-Philippe, shook their heads, one by one. At last, Quintilius Rousse heaved another sigh, more massive than the last. "So be it," he said heavily. "But if you've need of aid, Phèdre nó Delaunay, know this. Do you but send word to the Lady of Marsilikos or myself, I will come. I will come with ships, and I will come in force. I have seen the Face of the Waters, and I do not fear anything at sea born of mortal flesh. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord," I murmured, flinching away from the ferocity of his stare. "I understand." It brought somewhat else to mind, and I bit my lip. "My lord... my lord Admiral. Do you have any word of the Master of the Straits?"
Joscelin stirred, alert at that. He knew what I meant: Hyacinthe.
"Nay," Rousse said softly, his expression turning compassionate. "Tamed they are, child, and all manner of craft cross at will. But I swear to you, every three-month, storm or calm, I have sent a ship to dare the Three Sisters. None has drawn within a league; the seas themselves rise against us. I am sorry," he added with unwonted gentleness. "I liked that Tsingano lad, I did. But whatever fate he's bought himself, the Master of the Straits holds him to it."
I nodded. "Thank you."
It was meant to be my fate, Hyacinthe's. The Master of the Straits had posed us a riddle. I had guessed the riddle first, and I had guessed it right. He drew his power from the Lost Book of Raziel. But Hyacinthe had challenged my answer. He had used the dromonde, the Tsingani gift of sight, and seen further into the past, answering the riddle to its fullest and naming the terms of Rahab's curse. His was the answer the Master of the Straits had accepted. If not for that, it would have been me, chained for eternity to that lonely isle. It should have been me.
"I will keep trying," Quintilius Rousse said roughly, and reaching across the table, took my face in both massive hands, planting a kiss on my brow. "Elua keep you, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and heed my promise, if you'll not heed my advice. We went to the ends of the earth together, you and I."
"Yes, my lord," I whispered, grasping his hands and kissing them. Alone among all the others, all I suspected, I trusted Quintilius Rousse. 'Twas true, we had gone to the ends of the earth together, he and I; gone and returned.
Roxanne de Mereliot shook her head fretfully. "I was hoping you would see reason, Phèdre. But you will do what you will, I suppose. I will pray to Eisheth for your safe return," she said, and added her voice to Rousse's. "And if you've need of aid, send word, and I will send it."
"I will," I promised.
THIRTY
1 he next day, we said our farewells to the Lady of Marsilikos, and made our way to the quai to board the Darielle. She was a three-masted galley, one of the newest and finest merchanters D'Angeline traders had afloat, and not even my chevaliers had a word to say against her.
The last thing we did, before boarding, was conclude the sale of our mounts and packhorses to one of the many horse traders who provide for and profit from travellers in Marsilikos. We had not arranged for their portage, and I was minded to start anew in La Serenissima, unencumbered upon my arrival. Still, it was a frightening thing, to commit ourselves to the bowels of the ship, knowing we would arrive without home or transport. I prayed that my factor's arrangements held good, and the sale of the shipment of lead would go through without difficulty.
Quintilius Rousse had accompanied us to the quai, and whatever it was he said to the captain, hauling him aside and muttering ungently in his ear, I daresay it went a long way toward explaining the careful, courteous treatment I received throughout our journey.
When he had done with the Captain, he turned to me, and his blue eyes were canny in that unhandsome face. "Phèdre nó Delaunay," he mused. "Off to chase a will-o'-the-wisp. Well, you have my pledge, and I have your promise. Now hear me, for I've one last piece of advice for you to heed." He laid his calloused hands on my shoulders and gripped them hard, staring down at my upturned face. "Your lord Delaunay might not have died had he toyed less lightly with Melisande Shahrizai. If you're right, lass, and you find her in La Serenissima, don't play at her game. Go straightaway to Prince Benedicte, and tell him. Royal-born he may be, but Benedicte's a soldier from olden days. He rode with Rolande de la Courcel and Percy de Somerville, and aye, Delaunay too, before you were born. He'll know what to do."
"Yes, my lord," I promised him. "I will."
"Good." One last squeeze of my shoulders and a rough embrace, his coarse red hair tickling my ears, and then Quintilius Rousse released me, turning to Joscelin. "You, lad!" he said gruffly, shaking him. "You're travelling with the most beautiful courtesan in three generations of Naamah's Servants! Try to look a little less as if it were a death sentence, will you? And keep her safe, for if that prune-mouthed Cassiel doesn't have your guts for bowstrings, I surely will, if she comes to harm."
To his credit, Joscelin grinned. "I will remember, my lord!" he said, giving a sweeping Cassiline bow, his steel vambraces flashing in the sunlight.
Rousse merely grunted, and turned away. He brooked no foolishness, the Lord Admiral, and he knew whereof he spoke; one does not command the seas and face down the Master of the Straits without learning to take the measure of a man. He gave a seaman's salute to Fortun, Remy and Ti-Philippe, crisply returned by all three, then strode away, his rolling gait carrying him swiftly the length of the quai.
A fair breeze sprang up past the noon hour, and all was in readiness. Sailors on board the Darielle shouted to and fro with those on the docks; knots were undone, ropes tossed on deck. My chevaliers were restless, eager-eyed, clinging to the railings. This had been their lives, once. The rowers set to, and the galley moved ponderously away from the dock, into the narrow harbor, where the breeze briskened. At a shout from the Captain, the mainsail dropped. The stiffened canvas filled slowly, bellying in the wind, and the ship glided toward the mouth of the harbor, prow nosing toward the open seas.
We were on our way.
In truth, a lengthy and uneventful sea voyage makes for a poor tale; and, by Elua's grace, that is what we were granted. Laden with cargo, our ship rode low in the water, but for all of that, the winds blew fair, and we made good time.
For the first two days of the voyage, Joscelin Verreuil, my Perfect Companion, spent a great deal more time than was seemly hanging over the railings and disgorging the contents of his stomach. No born sailor, he.
My chevaliers, for their part, were at home in an instant, and it did not take long for the crew of the Darielle to ascertain that they had expert sailors aboard ship. They took turns at manning the rigging, or the oars, when we rounded the Caerdicci point and the winds turned against us. I daresay I could have bartered their aid against the price of our passage, if I'd been minded to, but it kept them out of trouble and the Captain's nature sweet, so I held my tongue.
As for me, I had a cabin in the aft castle; a narrow berth, to be sure, but my own. The hempen strands of my hammock cradled me securely, and I slept soundly therein.
The winds held steady and we surged ahead of them, a froth of white water where our prow cut the seas, keeping in sight of the coastline for the most part. The Captain, whose name was Louis Namot, was quick to summon me, pointing out such sights as might be seen from shipboard. I have learned, since, that there are sailors who think a woman's presence aboard ship to be a sign of ill luck. Elua be thanked, D'Angelines are spared such idiotic superstitions.
There is a certain peace to it, committing one's fate to the seas, even as there is in surrendering to a patron's will. I thought often of Hyacinthe on that long journey, wondering if he had come to gain mastery over the scudding waves, and how such a thing might be accomplished. I wondered, too, how far his dreadful inheritance extended. Rahab's realm lay everywhere pn the deep, if Yeshuite teaching was to be believed; but the Master of the Straits was born of a D'Angeline woman, who loved a mortal Alban, and I never heard of his dominion extending beyond the waters that bordered our two lands.
With such things were my thoughts occupied during our journey, and I daresay it passed quickly enough. White-winged gulls circled our three masts as we travelled, always within a half-day's sail of land. I thought them pretty; 'twas Remy who told me that they followed the wake of offal left by our galley, descending to pluck the waters clean of fish entrails and other such discarded matter.
Day by day, we made our way northward up the length of the Caerdicci coast.
We passed tiny islands; barren rocks thrusting into the ocean, fit only for gulls and the poorest of fishermen. 'Twas another matter, according to Louis Namot, on the far side of the sea, the Illyrian coast, which was fair riddled with islands, rich and fertile and a veritable breeding ground for pirates. Indeed, his men kept a keen watch once we'd rounded the point, sharpening their swords and manning the trebuchet mounted atop the forecastle, but we passed unmolested. Illyrian pirates are notorious, but their country is caught between the hammer of La Serenissima and the anvil of Ephesium; they have no quarrel with Terre d'Ange.
On our twenty-third day at sea, the watcher in the crow's top the midmast gave a shout, and we passed the isle that marks the outermost boundary waters of La Serenissima. Unlike the others, this was no barren grey hummock-a sheer cliff faced the sea, black basalt crags towering angrily above the waves, which broke hard on the rocks below. I didn't know why, as we passed, the sailors all whistled tunelessly, and had to ask the Captain.
"La Dolorosa," he said, as though it explained everything-even he averted his eyes from the black isle. "It is a Seremssiman superstition, my lady. They say that when Baal-Jupiter slew Asherat's son Eshmun, the Gracious Lady of the Sea wept and raged and stamped her foot, and the floor of the sea rose up in answer, spewing forth La Dolorosa to mark her grief."
I am always interested in such things, and leaned upon the guardrail as we sailed by, giving the black isle a wide berth. There was a fortress nestled amid the crags, and I could make out the faint, spidery lines of a hempen bridge suspended high in the air, swaying and sagging betwixt the isle and the mainland. "But why do they whistle?" I asked intrigued.
"To mimic the grieving winds, and turn aside the wrath of Asherat-of-the-Sea, who is wroth still at the death of her son." Louis Namot shuddered and took my arm, drawing me further in deck. "My lady, if you ask me on dry land, I will say it is an old quarrel between the descendants of the Phoenicians and the conquering Tiberians cast in terms to explain a volcanic phenomenon, but we are at sea, and I do not want the Gracious Lady to think we mock her grief with staring. I pray you, turn away!"
"Of course, my lord Captain," I said politely. His manner eased the moment I obeyed, and he wiped his brow. "Forgive me, my lady," he said, apologizing. "But the currents around La Dolorosa are strong and uncertain, and no one is wise who mocks the superstitions of a place! most especially not a sailor."
"No." I remembered Quintilius Rousse tossing a gold coin to the Lord of the Deep upon reaching safe harbor in Alba. "I should say not."
