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Kushiel's Pupil	By : Seraphis Category: G through L > Kushiel's Trilogy Views: 5699 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel s Trilogy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Kushiel's Pupil
- 2-TWO
- 3-THREE
- 4-FOUR
- 5-FIVE
- 6-SIX
- 7-SEVEN
- 8-EIGHT
- 9-NINE
- 10-TEN
- 11-ELEVEN
- 12-TWELVE
- 13-THIRTEEN
- 14-FOURTEEN
- 15-FIFTEEN
- 16-SIXTEEN
- 11
- 12
- 13
TWELVE

Spring advanced triumphantly upon Montrève, leaving, like Blessed Elua, flowers blossoming in its wake. Across the valleys appeared lush carpets of vivid grass and multicoloured flowers, and our sheep dropped lambs in great abundance. Bees sang in the lavender, and I found myself yearning to stay, and fearing to. The City of Elua, though foreign, had woken an impulse within me for new faces and new company, of hearing loud carriages clattering in the streets and vendors crying their wares. And I missed the friends I had made. True, I received letters, no fewer than half a dozen every month, but it was not the same. I wanted to see Imriel, and Sidonie, Taurus and Laurient, and Yseulte, who had been very sweet to me. I even missed Eldora, for all her haughty ways, and little Maphiste, who held onto my shirt-tails and caused me to be reprimanded for going about with my points untucked and untidy.

Still, I enjoyed the spring of Siovale as well as I ever had, mayhap more, for the knowledge that it would be the last I would spend there for perhaps as long as two years, should my fosterage with the Alban Courcels come to fruition. I did not, for all that, mislike the idea of travelling across the Straits to live among the comparatively barbaric Picti.

Word came, in one of the final weeks of spring, that the Cruarch would set sail within the week, and if aught else could rouse our household half so well, I do not know what it might be. We packed off for the City of Elua in due course, this time far more hampered than last time by the load of chests and the wardrobe my mother had commissioned from Favrielle over the winter, and nothing would do but that it was brought with us.

It was a merry enough journey, even if my mother was a little more solemn than she was wont. I knew she feared nothing for my safety in the palace, but I was her only child, the heir of her flesh, as Imriel had been the heir of her heart, and she would miss me. Come to it, I would miss her, and I suffered to ride with her in the carriage in order to spend more time with her. To pass the time, we played memory games, the sort she made up herself, and one which her own foster-brother, Alcuin nó Delaunay, had invented. Rather than a game of withholding truths, its object was to reveal them, attempting to convey in limited words that which was upturned on a set of word-cards. We were not permitted to use proper names or colours, and various other oddments, and the other players would seek to guess what the object was. Once, papa came into the carriage, and he was very good at it, only maman said he cheated because he talks so little already.

My natality came early in the spring, the month before my mother, and Imriel's. Father said that was what made us all too strongheaded, and when I protested, he said that only proved it. My birthday was spent on the road, and the even in an inn. It was not the worst of natalities, for, though it slowed us, Hugues took me aside from the path and helped me shoot a cord of fowl and hares. That even, we delivered them to our host at the inn. I ate near a whole fowl with mushrooms and a vibrant green sauce of basil and garlic. There was an Eisandine mendacant lodging at our inn, by some stroke of luck, and my mother charmed him into plying his trade before us. I dare say she sweetened her smile with a fair deal of coin, but he very likely would have played for naught, for Phèdre nó Delaunay. He told dramatic tales of old heroes and new, and, of course, chanted a portion of the Ysandrine Cycle in praise of my mother.

'And someday, mayhap, there shall be poems writ of you, my little lady.' the mendacant grinned, chucking me under the chin. I blushed and demurred, but I wanted to tell him that I shouldn't at all hope for such things. It was true enough, then, and if I have since had my share of both praise and censure, it is still true now.

Our journey, for all that, was all too swiftly over, and we found ourselves finally at the end of Eisheth's Way, in sight of the great white walls of the City of Elua. Unexpectedly, my heart gave a great leap, and I realised that I had missed the City greatly, the beautiful conflagration of people, of friends.

Our arrival in the City was heralded by a fanfare of cheering guards and young Tsingani and didikani throwing handfuls of wildflower nosegays. My mother gave me a handful of pennies to scatter amongst the beggars, and to her horror, I clambered up on the roof of the carriage to toss them to the hooting boys and girls. When I heard them calling my name, I was surprised that they knew it, but then I realised that news of my fosterage had been circulating for a full season, and it would be been stranger yet if they had not known.

We stopped very briefly at the town house, long enough to change and refresh ourselves, and then we went directly to the palace. We were expected. Imriel met us in the courtyard, beaming fit to split his face. He caught me up in his strong arms, and kissed me soundly. 'So little sister, will you now consent to being my foster-daughter?' I grinned and nodded, and when I saw Sidonie in the hall, I ran to her and embraced her. She laughed and cupped my face in her hands.

'They must have watered you well in Montrève, my little weed. You have grown inches since winter, Ana!' she kissed me, and pressed my hands. Of a surety, I still only came to her chest, but the Courcel women are tall. 'So! You have finally come back. We are preparing to receive my father the Cruarch, you know? Will you ride in the parade to welcome him at my side, love?'

'It would be an honour.' I replied, just as my hackles rose, and I turned to see Barquiel L'Envers leading Yseulte out from a corridor. 'Seulte!' I cried.

'Ana!' she was in my arms and laughing before I could blink, chattering away in Akkadian.
'Oh, they've just put out some very fine things for supper. And I've been learning flower arrangement and painting, and how to mix pigments, and Master Lamiz says I may be better than he is someday at composing verses. Do you think I could be the Royal Poet?'

'You already are a royal poet, Seulte.' I laughed. 'You write verse, and you are a princess.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Oh, tisn't clever to tease.' I raised my eyes to the Duc L'Envers, and gave the curtsey protocol dictated.

'My lord duc,' I said, meeting his hard-eyed stare.

'Vicomtesse de Montrève. Why, I had not the faintest knowledge that you were so fluent in Akkadian. I should have guessed, of course, with your mother being who she is.' he gave an insouciant bow, and Yseulte looked adoringly at him.

'Oh, grandpère, Ana is just the cleverist of linguists. And accents! Oh, at the Midwinter Masque she pretended to be Kusheline, and Taurus Shahrizai nearly laughed his brain out his nose.'

'More's the pity he did not succeed.' L'Envers murmured, and I would have snickered at the dry irony if I hadn't wanted so much to stick my tongue out at his ridiculous manners. It struck me that for a noble to be so petty as to insult a child was an ungallantry that needed no reply to make it ugly. I had half expected Sidonie to reprimand him for it, but she only lifted a brow, and shook her head.

'Your japes grow tasteless with your increasing hunger, uncle. Mayhap you should visit the kitchens for a sampling to sweeten your mood?'

'Supper will keep, your highness,' he said, and took Yseulte's shoulder. 'Come, dear. You've letters to write to your mother and brothers.' she kissed me once, and went, looking for all the world as though he were not an evil old bastard, but rather somewhat beautiful, like a hero out of a tale or a song.

'Do not mind him, Anafielle,' Sidonie touched my hair. 'He growls and blusters, but he is loyal.'

'Loyal,' I thought, 'She would not say he is good.' But I smiled and nodded as my parents came abreast of us with Imriel.

'Would you like to see your new quarters, Ana?' Imriel asked.

'I would. I confess myself tired from my journey.' I looked to mother, and she nodded.

'Go, then. Take my daughter, Imriel.' she joked, shaking her head.

'I shall care well for her, Phèdre.' he replied, and a moment of solemnity passed between them. 'Come along Ana. I've ordered your things brought up, but it may take some little time.' he held out a hand to me, and I took it. As we walked, he told me of the things we should do once I was well setted. There would be plays, during the summer, and the great fête for the Cruarch's arrival, and there was an Eisandine harpist of some renown in the City, who was invited to play tonight at our supper. 'And there is a great surprise, too, love, which I shall have to wait for Sidonie to tell you.' he pushed a door open, and led me inside. 'Welcome home, Anafielle.' I looked inside, and wanted to laugh. It was his little joke, I think, and he must have conspired for some time to create such a place.

It was the very image of my room in Montrève, down to the hunting horn pegged upon my wall. He had a wondrous fine memory, did Imriel, fr it must have been over two years since he had last seen my rooms in Siovale. They had not changed overmuch, I fear, and he had somehow found, or ordered, a coverlet embroidered in the colours of Montrève, but the hangings were in Courcel blue, deep and starry, and bearing the golden lily and stars of Terre d'Ange. There was rack on the wall for my daggers, and a desk bearing pen and ink, and parchment aplenty. I thought suddenly of the letters I would have to write to my mother and father, and my heart gave an unexpected pang. I shook it off. There would be time later, to miss them, but now I was happy.

'Lord Hyacinthe will make the journey across the Straits this year, did you know?' Imriel said, making idle conversation as I examined my room, at once new and familiar. 'He wishes to see his goddaughter fostered.'

'He wrote to maman. She was very happy. And papa cursed, but I don't think he really meant it. He was happy too, I think. Anyhow, I don't so much remember him.' I bounced on the bed.

'You'll like him. And Alais, too.' a sweet smile came to his face. 'She's bringing her son to meet his grandmother the queen.'

'Oh?'

'Aye. He's some few years younger than you, eight or so. I could be mistaken. I'm eager to meet him myself.'

'What's his name?' I asked.

'Ciárhan de la Courcel. Or that is how he will be called here. In Alba, he is Ciárhan mab Alais. A neat harper, or so I've been told. Takes after his father.'

'Oh, aye?' I found myself interested. I myself was a dreadful musician, though my mother had often attempted to make me apply myself to the lute. Still, I delighted to hear music, and when Hugues sang, I could have listened for hours. Imriel sat down beside me on the bed.

'Ana, I want you to be happy here.' he faced me, eyes open and studying me, so that I knew he was looking, really looking, and seeing me in his right as Kushiel's scion.

'I think I shall be.' I replied. 'Already, I love the City, and I am anxious to learn what I can, and become a lady that maman can be right proud of.'

'She is proud already.' he said. 'But we shall together make her heart fit to burst with happiness. What say you?'

'Well, I do not mean her any injury.' I joked, and he returned my smile. 'I do not think I shall be capable of dolefulness. Not here, not with you.'

'I'm pleased.' he nodded toward the wardrobe. 'There is a new gown in there, for you to wear to supper. There will be a few peers in attendance, and the queen will be there, or I would abide you to wear your travelling clothes. I shall send an attendant to dress you, and see to your hair.' he kissed me again, and left, humming to himself.

I recalling hearing that in his youth, Imriel had been a brooding boy, with dark moods and foul tempers betimes. It is not that he had little reason. Indeed, having been sold into slavery and cruel usage at the age of ten would turn anyone bitter, and by all accounts his moods had been few, but I could never reconcile that with the man I now called brother. The husband of the dauphine was as happy a man as I have ever met, always with a smile and excess of Elua's own love. There are those say that he is the mirror image of his mother, and indeed, the resemblance is unmistakeable, but I have looked at the paintings ranged in the Hall of Portraits, and there is an expression about him, somewhat in the brow and jaw, and certainly the smile, that puts me in mind of young Prince Rolande, who was by rights his cousin, Ysandre's father, who died in the Battle of the Three Princes, and for whose love my own namesake devoted his life to serving the crown. I wondered if anyone else saw the resemblance, or if it was only the fancy of a child.

By and by, supper came, and I was dressed and coiffed, and delivered to the charge of my mother.

The few peers of whom Imriel had spoken turned out to be a score of nobles, including the Duc de Trevalion, with his wife, a long-faced woman with dark hair and bronze eyes, and Laurient, whom my heart leapt to see, Estienne and Gaël de Morbhan with their mother, Raul L'Envers and his wife, Colette, but not Eldora, and, wonderfully, Lord Mavros Shahrizai, with Taurus at his elbow, twin cat's paw smiles glittering in the torchlight.
At the end of the board, Queen Ysandre rose to greet us, beckoning my mother to her side.

'Near cousin,' she gave my mother the kiss of greeting, and pressed her lips to my cheeks, first one, then the other, in turn. 'Where is your Cassiline? Will the Queen's Champion not grace us with his presence?'

'Joscelin is running somewhat late, your majesty. He will join us shortly.'
The queen gave my mother a strange look, as though to enquire what her purposes were, but she seated us on her left side, where I found myself shoulder-to-shoulder with disagreeable old Barquiel L'Envers. He glanced sidelong at me, but said nothing. I could see Yseulte on his other side and longed to sit with her, but the dreadful old bear did not offer to change seats with me.

Fortunately, my father arrived some minutes later and divided us, though I should very much have liked to sit with a friend. It did not help that Taurus did not appear to have noticed me, and was flirting outrageously with a girl who must have been sixteen years old. Laurient was too far down the board for me to catch his eye, and I was reduced to assiduously minding my table manners. Fortunately, the fare was magnificent—hares and sorrel, tender veal, sweet and white and wrapped round morsels of cheese, a terrine of salty minnows, and a soup of lavender and cream, so delicate that I nearly wept. There were all manner of pastries, sweet and savoury, tarts and pies and creams to follow, new spring pears and carrots shredded with sharp, biting horseradish and soaked in sherry vinegar, and so many good things I nearly lost memory of where I was.

I was jolted rudely back to reality when Lord Barquiel turned to my father and said, 'Where's that Eglantine adept of yours?' I saw a muscle in papa's jaw twitch, and wondered whether Barquiel L'Envers could dodge if he brought his dining knife up suddenly.

'She has returned to her Sâlon du Danse, I believe. Her students have missed her greatly.'

'And now she can boast to them that she served a Cassiline, eh? Not a things many out of
the Night Court can say, eh?' I knew he was being crude a-purpose. My father was raised a Cassiline, and even if he had lived three decades with the most famous Servant of Naamah in living memory, he still did not speak so, or like it when others did.

'Indeed.' I could tell, from the way his tones clipped, the way he bit off his words, that he was of a mind to do somewhat, and I did not care to see what, particularly in this company. If I am not terribly good at reading most people, I still know my own father.

'My lord duc,' I said, turning my most ingenuous expression upon him, 'is it true that you were Royal Commander?' I knew very well that he had been, and that his enforced retirement had been long a point of contention between himself and the queen, though it had been through his own folly and plotting that he had been cost the position.

'And what would you know of the army, girl?' his expression was not, as I had expected, one of annoyance and scorn, but rather, his eyes had begun to glitter, and he smiled with feline pleasure at the opportunity to make my father, through my enquiry, appear a fool.

'I admit that I know very little, but I have been at my history all winter, my lord duc, so that I could not fail to notice your position. Is it true that all throughout your command of the army we never once came against an enemy in battle?'

'It is true,' he said, his face changing to something less like condescension and more like that of a lecturing master, 'we were blessed during the years of my service with peace in Terre d'Ange, though doubtless had we been beset, the army would have been sufficient to the task.'

'And did you not hold the Caste Bretel against the evil spell of Bodeshmun when the City of Elua was ensorcelled?' I had read a treatise on the siege in the secret study which I had discovered during the winter, apparently written by one who had been within. It was a fascinating history, as well as enlightening to many tactics that might be utilised by a besieged fortress in time of peril. These latter I did not so well understand, but I thought that I might easily come to do so, for I had both interest and energy to study. The Duc L'Envers eyes had ceased now to glitter with the hard, defensive light I had many times been witness to, and had become canny and attentive.

'This is true. How come you to find interest in such things, when you should be learning music and thinking about building your dowry of graces?'

I did not wish to reveal my place of refuge, lest I be reprimanded for visiting what might be a private study, and I began to demur, but my father rescued me from embarrassment. 'My daughter has singular interests, L'Envers. Phèdre had to engage an engineer out of the Bordeaux to teach her the new steam systems and concerning pulleys.'

'Engineering?' L'Envers laughed anew, and it seemed to me that for a moment he exchanged a look with Imriel. I did not know whether I liked this, and turned back to my food. At least he had forgotten his dissolution so much that he had ceased to make light of my father's chastity. It was not unheard of that a wedded pair in Terre d'Ange would forswear all other lovers, but it was not, for that, terribly common. Many marriages were conducted in open strings of intrigue, betimes with deception, and betimes lacking any pretence that they were faithful to one another. I would come to learn, as I grew older, that many husbands and wives were the more faithful to their lovers than to their spouses. Even amongst the most faithful of marriages, allowance was usually made for visits to the Night Court.

That evening, my family retired into quarters that had been made ready for them in the palace. It appeared as though I should be immediately inducted into the palace, and Imriel had provided that I should not be uneasy regarding the move from my mother's household. I spent the evening with Imri and my mother, they making conversation and confounding one another at a game of borders and banquets, at which they were both far better than any of the Shahrizai children I had set myself against that evening in the hunting lodge, and I basked in their simple presence, feeling satisfied and in the company of those I loved the most in all the world.
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Kushiel's Pupil