Kushiel's Chosen (34 page)

"Asherat!" one of the crew muttered in awe, then grinned, standing up to execute a bow and kiss his fingers. "A star has fallen to earth!" Moving with an alacrity that set the bissone to rocking, the others scurried to arrange the cushions beneath the canopy for greater comfort.

Joscelin looked unamused; I couldn't have cared less. I settled into the cushions with a sigh of relief. My chevaliers leapt aboard, the steersman pushed off, and we were on our way, gliding over the green waters.

A pity I had to wake to it alone, I thought.

My maidservant was a shy young girl named Leonora, who trembled and spilled the tray when she brought me tea and pastries, and blushed every time I looked at her. Still, my garments were unpacked and neatly pressed, and she buttoned my gown adeptly when I dressed. On my first day in La Serenissima, I wore a gown of apricot silk, with a fine gold brocade woven with seed pearls; another of Favrielle nó Eglantine's creations, marked with the simple, elegant lines so deceptively hard to mimic.

"Please tell Signore Joscelin and the others that I am awake," I said to her in Caerdicci, when I was properly attired and had tucked my hair into a gold mesh caul, donning a pair of dangling pearl earrings. "Oh, and bring me paper and ink, if you would be so kind."

At this, Leonora's chin rose with a surprised jerk and she gazed at me wide-eyed. "Does my lady wish the services of a secretary?" she asked tentatively.

"No." I frowned. "My lady wishes to write a letter."

"Oh!" Blushing once more, Leonora hurried out. I shook my head and waited. Presently she returned, breathless, clutching a sheaf of paper and holding the inkpot gingerly, as if it would bite her. I sat down at a little table near the balcony and penned a note to Severio Stregazza, sealing it with taper wax and the impress of the Montrève insignia.

I let him go; I let all of them go, Phèdre's Boys, in the end, to take the city's measure. I knew Fortun would oversee the sale of our shipment, and all of them had become adept at scouting the sort of information I needed. It left Joscelin and me alone in the house together.

When they had gone, he gave me a long, level look. "Now that we are here," he said, "exactly what is it that you propose to do, Phèdre?"

Joscelin sighed.

In the matter of Severio Stregazza, I did not have long to wait. A reply came even before my chevaliers had made their way back to the house, scrawled in Severio's impatient hand. I smiled to read it, remembering how terse his initial proposal to me had been; by contrast, this was a jumbled missive expressing his undying affection, his enormous joy at learning of my presence and, as an afterthought, a pleading invitation that I attend a celebration that night in honor of his friend Benito Dandi's natality.

"Will you go?" Joscelin asked coolly.

"No." I shook my head, and sent once more for writing materials while Severio's manservant waited. "I asked him to present me to his grandfather the Doge and to Prince Benedicte. I'll wait on that answer before I plunge into Serenissiman society—'tis the Doge's Palace I need to access. Anyway, it does no harm to keep him anxious."

To that, he made no reply.

Ere nightfall, my chevaliers had returned, full of high spirits and useful information, which they related to me over dinner. Careful to take no chances, I had the household servants dismissed while we dined; knowing no better, they put it down to some D'Angeline oddity.

"Fine," I said. "And what does La Serenissima say about the Doge's imminent retirement?"

Remy laughed, then sobered at my quizzical look. "Par don, my lady, but it's a dogfight, or near enough. There are six Sestieri to the city, and each one's the right to put for ward a candidate, though it must be one whose family name is inscribed in the Golden Book—and that's by popular election. When the Doge is elected, 'tis the Consiglio Mag giore who does the choosing among 'em. Right now, it's all rumor and chaos, with the districts fighting among them selves and with each other over who they favor. I mean really fighting," he added. "Mobs of young gallants in striped hose, beating each other over the head."

"We saw a splendid fight," Ti-Philippe said cheerfully. "On the bridge, with staves. I wanted to join it, but Fortun threatened to throw me in the canal."

"Well, that's why I didn't, isn't it?" he asked logically. "Anyway, two of old Cesare's lads are in the mix, it seems. Marco's the elder of the Stregazza; your Severio's father, that's wed to Prince Benedicte's daughter. He's got the Sestíeri Dogal's vote, all the clubs are behind him, and they love him well, only he's fallen out with Prince Benedicte, they say, since the old boy remarried, so his people are nervous that the Consiglio's going to turn against him. And the other's Ricciardo, his younger brother, who's going for the Sestieri Scholae, where all the craft-guilds are quartered, and getting them all up in arms over some tax."

"Not yet," Fortun told me. "We heard Orso Latrigan has a lock on the Sestíeri d'Oro, and what he can't win, he'll buy. But there are three others where candidates are still vying." He shrugged and gave a quiet smile. "I like Lorenzo Pescaro for Sestieri Navis, myself. They say the ink's still wet in the Golden Book where his family name was entered, but I've heard of him; he made a reputation chasing Illyrian pirates. He's a good commander."

"I'll be sure to note that." Having heard more than I hoped I'd ever need to know about Serenissiman electoral candidates, I asked the one question that really mattered. "And Melisande?"

One by one, my chevaliers shook their heads.

As she knew mine.

I took a deep breath. "Gonzago de Escabares' friend was contacted after he paid a visit to the Doge's Palace. If the answer is here, surely it lies within those walls, and if Mel isande took shelter within them, it may well be that no one outside them knows of her existence. Think on it," I added, gazing round at them. "We know the Stregazza capable of treachery, and, even now, they fight among themselves for a throne not even vacated. At least let me gain entrance within the Palace, before we conclude that this journey has been for naught."

"Well," Ti-Philippe said optimistically. "It's not for naught if we profit by it."

With that, no one of us could disagree. Money, after all, is a valuable thing to have.

I kept him waiting while I washed and dressed, and then read his missive to learn that Severio had secured for me an audience with the Doge that afternoon, which he was most impatient that I should attend, that he might speak with me afterward.

Ah well, I thought; I tied my own hands, when I insisted on the appearance of a falling-out with the Queen. If I'd wanted entree into the Little Court, Ysandre would have been happy to provide it. But it was the Stregazza with whom I needed to deal, and no royal writ from House Courcel would obtain their trust. If I needed aught from Prince Benedicte, there were other names I could invoke—such as Quintilius Rousse, or even Anafiel Delaunay, if need be. I had made my promise to Rousse and I meant to keep it, but not until I knew somewhat worth the telling. And surely not while it posed the risk of jeopardizing my semblance.

I wrote out a reply for Severio's courier, promising to arrive on the appointed hour.

To my surprise, Severio sent his own bissone, a splendid affair with a canopy of midnight-blue, the Stregazza arms worked in relief on the sides, depicting a carrack and the tower I now recognized from the Arsenal. In the prow stood a gilded wooden statue of Asherat, extending her arms in blessing over the waters of the canal.

By their attire, I saw that the oarsmen were noble-born; parti-color hose striped in blue and saffron, affixed by points to overtunics of velvet slashed to show the white damask of their shirts. One wore a short mantle of green fastened with a gold brooch, and it was he who stood and gave a sweeping bow as I descended the stairs to the quai, calling out, "Contessa Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, the Immortali wel come you to La Serenissima!"