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Kushiel's Pupil	By : Seraphis Category: G through L > Kushiel's Trilogy Views: 5698 -:- 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
- 12
- 13
- 14
THIRTEEN

I do not recall being very excited concerning the return of the Cruarch to Terre d'Ange, but I felt all round me a frisson of joy from the inhabitants of the palace; my mother and father, Imriel and Sidonie, and certainly most of all, from Queen Ysandre. Though I was permitted, in the main, to keep to myself, running in company with Yseulte and Laurient, and the two sons of Lord Thierry Roualt, who inhabited the palace, I could not help coming into contact with the queen several times in a day, and she seemed to me to be somehow younger and lighter, more carefree and wont to smile.

I found myself, for the present, free of tutors, for which I was not very sorry, but I knew that Sidonie and my mother would not allow my mind to lie fallow for long. My father had some little acquaintance with the Marquis du Toulard, who was an assiduous engineer and thinker in his own right, and often my father took me to see new designs for water-mills, or the newest way to germinate seeds early in the year, or the most effective pulley system, or the launching of a new trebuchet.

The secret military study drew me, too, and there I often lost myself, for though I dearly loved my new friends already, I felt rather that I should enjoy the quietude rather less if it were imposed upon. Also, I was a little afraid to be ridiculed, for Yseulte and Béringuieur both were rather more interested in the aesthetics, and Pléiades, singularly enough, was interested only in animals, often horrifying his lady mother by presenting her with a box filled with carefully sorted beetles and snails. Laurient, I know, was interested in soldiering, but from the way he spoke, I rather thought he believed it was all sword waving and shining breastplates, and I knew instinctively that he would soon become bored with histories and dry strategic treatises.

For my part, I valued my solicitude as much as I loved my friends and their company, each in equal measure. It is peculiar, but there was one among my new set who always seemed the brightest and wittiest in company, and whom I felt could never encroach upon my privacy, so that he was immensely satisfying as a companion, whatever my moods. Possibly, it is because he was a little older than most of us, but I believe that Taurus Shahrizai only knew how best to accommodate himself to my moods and the requirements thereof. When we grew older, and others grew jealous of the hours I spent with him, he was accused of playing false, and only adapting himself so as to seek out my favour, but I cannot believe such calumny. I think I suited him in the same inexplicable manner, and have continued to do so as our lives have progressed.

Taurus and his father had entered from Kusheth with Lord Mavros' father, Lord Sacriphant, though most of the Shahrizai had elected to remain in Kusheth through that summer, despite the Cruarch's arrival. It appeared as though Duc Faragon, the ancient patriarch of House Shahrizai, was in failing health. There was some little question as to the succession of House Shahrizai, and the duchy was an envied position of power for the mysterious family.

Whatever reason Lord Sacriphant and his heirs had for leaving Kusheth during so critical a time, they did not appear in the least concerned for their station, and though Imriel offered them the use of the quarters he had kept open for Mavros' use, they remained in the large town house which Lord Sacriphant maintained not four steps from the palace.
I recall that I was rather playing truant one day. Our falconer in Montrève, Aedwar, was a Cruithne who had taken service with my mother the year I was born, and had not since returned to Alba. This year, for reasons of his own, he had begged leave to accompany us to the City of Elua to observe the triumphal entry of the Cruarch, and my mother, soft-hearted as she was, particularly for those members of our household who particularly doted on me, acceded graciously. Therefore, I was that afternoon in the mews of the palace with him, and we were discussing quietly the merits of various training methods, upon which depended whether the hawk in question would remain reserved to only one or two handlers, or would be likely to be handled by several sportsmen in the course of its life. In Montrève, the former was more likely, but in the palace, where half a hundred inhabitants would make the walls seem empty, a hawk would be trained for many handlers, and would by necessity have an easier temperament.

It was upon this serene tableau that another person quietly interposed himself, with an arm slipped through mine.

'Taurus!' I turned to embrace him, and he placed the kiss of greeting with a smiling mouth upon my forehead.

'Montrève,' he replied, and bowed to Aedwar. 'I heard I might find you here.' and then, in Cruithne, as politely as you please, 'Sir Falconer, I fear I must steal your student away under Prince Imriel's orders.'

Aedwar bowed, and Taurus, marginally tightening his grip on my arm, steered me away into the palace halls. 'Did Imriel really ask for me?' I inquired. I had not seen him since the fête the evening of my return to the City, and I had not, that night, spoken to him.

'He said I should see where you'd gone off to. I'm afraid that I stole you away from your friend for purely selfish reasons.' he paused in the hall, and held me at arm's length, studying me coolly with his solemn eyes and mad-cap smile. At my enquiring gaze, he shook his head, myriad braids swaying. 'Nothing, Montrève, nothing. I've missed the sight of you, that's all. You're a devilish poor correspondent; not nearly as interesting as when you're really here.'

I shrugged. I knew my letters had been erratic at best, but to my credit, I had written only when I was certain my letters would not be delayed by weather. 'You will stay in the palace?' I asked.

'Not certain yet. Betimes, I shall at least be nearer to you than I would have been in Kusheth. Father wants to have privacy, and there are all sorts of spies in the palace. Nothing serious!' he laughed, noting my expression. 'But peers all pry into one another's affairs, and servants are not above observing more than they ought for a noble's favour and a judicious piece of gold.'

'And are you plotting? You and your father?' I teased, half-terrified to receive some arcane confidence.

'What do we want with plotting?' he laughed. 'If we wanted aught, we should have remained in Kusheth, where our house weaves its insular nets and strangles the unwitting. No, compared with Kusheth, Montrève, the City of Elua is a child's puzzle-box.' he grinned, and took my hand. 'So, are you pleased to see me?'

I laughed. 'I don't wish to inflate your head.'

'Why not? If it is true, say so. I'm insufferably curious. I couldn't bear it if I longed to see you all spring and you didn't care a tupenny piece for my skin.' I saw very well that the comment was designed to cater to my own ego, and I laughed at it. He shook his head again. 'Ah, me. Truth rings prettily, sometimes, or so said some poet.'

'And sometimes it rings like a Shahrizai fishing for compliments.' I returned. He had the grace to blush a little, and I stopped him, taking his hands in mine. 'But no. I did miss you. I'm pleased you're here.' then I paused, troubled. 'Why do you say there is plotting in Kusheth?'

He did turn really solemn then, looking about us, though the hall was deserted, and pulling me into an abandoned study. He closed the door and stood, still as a statue, listening hard. Then he turned me toward a settee and set beside me, both my hands in his, his beautiful young features composed with such fearful maturity that I suddenly felt very young, and thought he might be about to reprimand me for enquiring too deeply into his affairs. But instead, he leaned forward and spoke in a low, confidential voice.

'I should not tell anyone this, and indeed, even in my family we do not speak of it, though we all know it, and act accordingly. As it does not for a moment affect you, I shall relate it to you in confidence. I wish to have the most perfect honesty between us, Montrève, and a wholly sincere friendship, without artifice and without fear. You must understand me in order to trust what I do, and you see that I do not ask you to make overtures. I shall confide everything to you, unless it is not my own secret, and the power of revelation lies with another, and if you will honour me with a similar confidence, I will be very pleased, and you will have no reason to regret it. But you must promise that what I tell you now will never pass your lips unless it be to me, or if the withholding of the secret endangers your life.'

If he were anyone else, I might have hesitated before giving any sort of promise, under oath of honour or no, but I had come to have a confidence in Taurus Shahrizai which transcended the rationality of fear. I put my trust in him because I knew I could, and that is all, and knew that only time would tell if my trust was well or ill-founded. 'I promise.' I said. 'But are you certain that you wish to make me party to this knowledge?'

He nodded. 'Oh, yes. I may not tell you everything, for some of it is unknown, or not my secret to tell, and some I do not myself yet understand. But my father and grandfather have taken me out of Kusheth for a purpose. The head of House Shahrizai, Duc Faragon, is an ancient man, rising a full century of living, and he is growing frail. Some believe he will outlive my generation, while others say he is every moment at the gate of Terre d'Ange beyond. Whenever the occasion of his mortality is due, it is still a fact that the succession of House Shahrizai has never been assured.'

'Do you mean that he has no heirs?'

'I mean, rather, that he has several.' Taurus chuckled, and suddenly, it all seemed like a very good joke.

'What has that to do with you?' I asked.

'Oh, the House is squabbling, playing games of dominance, and while we are all quite peaceful, insofar, grandpère fears things may grow unsettled. Therefore, my father brought me here, while he consolidates his favour with House Courcel, and the squabbling within Kusheth may turn either dangerous or childish.'

'Why has not Duc Faragon himself named a successor?' I enquired. 'Would that not settle everything?'

He shrugged. 'Well yes, but where would be the fun in that?' again, the mad-cap grin, and he threw his books up on an antimacassar. 'At least here I am safe. Do you know that Uncle Baptiste is attempting to ally with the Duc de Morbhan? Narcisse is all in fits because she's afraid he'll be married off to Estienne before she has a chance to début in the game of courtship.' he seemed very pleased at the vexation of his cousin, and a thought struck me.

'Taurus, who are the strongest contenders for the duchy?' I tried to make the question sound casual, but I was no fledgeling spy, and he is Kushiel's child.

'Ah, ah! If you are wondering whether I am in the running, you are very much mistaken. You forget that my line is uninsured, only my paternity is known. A mother's name is in every way as important as a father's, particularly in a house as insular as ours.'

'Then you do not know your mother?' I asked, astonished. He shook his head.

'Oh, do not be deceived. I know her very well, but for her to state her maternity of my person would be, you understand, very dangerous to her.'

'Then it will be one of the secrets between us,' I said. He nodded, becoming grave again. But this was not the seriousness of any real import, but rather the natural tender silence which was so usually a part of his nature.

'Does it matter to you?' he asked suddenly, balancing the heel of one boot upon the toe of the other. 'That I haven't a mother?'

'No. Should it?'

'Well,' he reflected, 'she could be anyone. She could be low born, or high, so high that it would frighten everyone.' his smile became again mischievous. 'She might be the dauphine.'

'Is it?'

He shook his head. 'No. Lady Sidonie has always been kind to me, but I am glad she is not my mother.' he gave a little shudder. 'So. Have you managed not to strangle any lovely peers so far? I hear you keep company betimes with that pedantic trifler, Trevalion.'

I coloured, and became very uncomfortable. 'You don't like Laurient?'

'Oh, it's Laurient, is it?' he teased, nudging my shoulder. 'I don't dislike him. As I say, he is a trifler, and of no import. But if you like him, I shall try to like him too, for your sake. Is it enough?'

'I suppose.' and it would have to be. Who could ask more?

~

I thought that I should needs be brought before Favrielle before the arrival of the Cruarch, but I endured no such dreadful ordeal. Truth be told, I did not dread the process so much as my father did. In all the years I remember, he has ever been impatient with such things, despite that my mother made many of the decisions concerning cut and style. He cared very little for fashion, as might be expected, and I think that was not of a piece with his ascetic Cassiline training. I think if he had come to manhood in Verreuil, he would have preferred the same utilitarian clothing, the same dove-greys and earth colours that, in truth, made his beauty the more resplendent for their subtlety.
This is not to say that I was not measured for a new suit of clothes, but I did not leave the palace for it. Favrielle came to us, and took my new measurements herself, which made everyone at court gasp at the favour she showed me.

'Blessed Naamah, girl,' she said, when she had done with her line, and I was pulling my clothes back on, 'you have sprouted like a weed. I thought you could not get any skinnier. Can your mother not afford to feed you?'

'She doesn't take meat,' my mother sighed. It was, of late, a piece of contention between us, one of the myriad petty things that make up the relationship between a parent and their child. I had not been, of late, hungered for meat, and ate voraciously of fruits and vegetables, uncooked, for preference, and an abundance of fish and fowl. My mother had worried enough to enquire after such behaviour with a physician, though, it is true, she did not force me to submit to an examination, and I think she must have been given such answer as satisfied her, for she ceased to ply me with game and beef, and only chided me occasionally.

'She has very good skin, for all that,' Favrielle took my chin and lifted it. 'You eat nuts, do you? And a good deal of berries, I expect.' I nodded. 'Has she lately eaten much fish?'

'Salmon,' my mother sighed. 'A great deal.'

'It is good for the skin. The girl is fair glowing, Phèdre.'

My mother smiled gently. She had a love for hearing praise of me, though I admit, I was not a particularly pretty child. 'And when did you become so miraculous at knowing which foods support a healthy skin, Favrielle?'

'Oh, as to that,' Favrielle tossed her fiery curls, which strands of silver rendered only the more striking, 'there come, sometimes, noblewomen who wish to wear such a colour as does not suit them, and I must recommend to them such things to eat as will render their skin ruddier or paler. And in the Night Court we are taught such things as will keep us as beautiful as we may be.'

'I was never taught such things,' my mother reflected.

'Ah, yes, but you left the Night Court when you were fostered at ten. You had cooks and a grand lord as a patron to determine such things for you.' Favrielle's smirk was ungracious, but I think my mother took it as a mark of familiar affection.

'So, what will you do for her?' enquired my mother, petting my hair.

'Will she be riding to meet the Cruarch in the queen's party?'

'That she will.'

Favrielle was silent for a moment, her eyes dropping to her measuring line as she wound it carefully, lending far more attention than she was wont to the task. 'Some two years ago,' she began, in a tone I had never heard before, but which recalled to my mind something of the rhythm of Master Giles Lamiz, 'a man came to my atelier.' I would later come to recognise the pattern of her speech as one which is taught to players and poets, a beautiful cadence which drew the listener, a trick of lowering to voice so that the urgency and tension of the words was highlighted masterfully. 'He was Alban, tall and fair, good-looking in their way. He called himself Caradhoc of the Fhalair Bàn, and he brought me a robe from a Priestess of Elua. He said he had made it, and that he had been sent to me by his—' her eyes narrowed in thought, as though she were trying to see something very far away, '—his diadh anam.' she blushed a little, and cast down her eyes.

'And this young Alban,' my mother said, 'you would recommend him to design a piece for Anafiel?'

'He is very young, Phèdre, not sixteen years of age. But he is as good as I was at his age. And he has a grasp of their patterns of knot design that I despair of mastering myself. It would do honour to the Cruarch, I think, and it would be a great favour to him.'

'Have you taken him on as an apprentice?' my mother asked.

'Yes. Without the apprentice-fee, I add. Well,' she shook her head a little, 'not entirely. I will secure the proceeds from his work until the apprentice-fee has been paid. And it is far less an amount than a marque ever was.'

'That is only canny business.' my mother acceded. 'You will bring me the sketches first, and I will give him a patron-fee sufficient to the workmanship.'

Favrielle nodded. It was a fair offer—more than fair, for an unknown and foreign couturier, and his work would be seen by the City of Elua and its peers, the Cruarch and his honour guard. 'Thank you, Phèdre.' there was a brief moment between them, somewhat that harked back to their youth, I think, and then it was gone. Favrielle touched my forehead with her thumb, a brush between my brows, and, with a curtsey, was gone.

~
- 12
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- 14
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Kushiel's Pupil