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Cassiel's Daggers	By : bewaretheshort1 Category: G through L > Kushiel's Trilogy Views: 1881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever, own Kushiel's Legacy, or its affiliates written by Jacqueline Carey. Any characters and/or ideas are the exclusive property of Jacqueline Carey. Furthermore, I do not make any money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 3
- 4
- 5
Of the journey, I will say little. In truth, there is not much to tell. We rode for two weeks across the breadth of Terre D’Ange, to the county of Siovale where the Sanctuary was situated. I paid no mind to the weather, preoccupied as I was with missing my family. Brother Gautier, for his part, was a silent companion. He spoke little, and when he did, it was to teach me the Eluine Cycle as it is told in the Sanctuary.
As every D’Angeline knows, Blessed Elua was begotten by the Earth, from the blood of Yeshua ben Yosef and the tears of the Magdelene. He traveled hither and yon, until he was imprisoned in Persis. It was there that the servants of the One God chose to lend their aid to him. Naamah was the first, who offered her virtue in exchange for his freedom.
That much, every D’Angeline knows, and much of this tale is known outside the boundaries of our nation. What I learned, then, from Brother Gautier were the tales and stories centered around Cassiel himself.
Like Naamah, Cassiel heard of the tale of Blessed Elua and chose to leave the paradise of Heaven to pick up the duty the One God had, in his grief, abandoned. With daggers, and betimes his holy sword, Cassiel defend the life of Blessed Elua from those who would seek to end it. This, he did without causing harm to any. When he did draw his sword, its holy light gleamed so that those who would mean harm were moved to lay down their arms.
Thus did Blessed Elua travel the world unharmed, until he came to Terre D’Ange. There, Blessed Elua and the Companions fell in love with all there was to see. They walked the land, laying with man and woman alike, spreading their seed and begetting half-divine offspring.
All, save for Cassiel, who remained true to the One God’s command. He could not bring himself to further damn his soul by breaking that faith. He was always at Blessed Elua’s side, even when the One God’s commander-in-chief came to call. He met his once-brother with weapons sheathed, yet it was writ on his countenance that he would cross blades with him should he force it. Yet, Blessed Elua in his grace and love, put such things aside. When the arch-herald came, it was to Cassiel Blessed Elua turned for the pen to write his answer in blood. Thus did Cassiel damn himself by remaining at Elua’s side forevermore.
These stories, and more, I learned the two weeks it took us to cross the nation of my birth. That Cassiel believed himself to be damned, I learned with shock. That we were all damned, as another shock that came to me. Damned, and yet still blessed by the blood of gods that runs through our veins, and the land that awaits us after our deaths. For, I was told, the Terre D’Ange Beyond would never match the paradise of Heaven.
I marveled to hear it, and when I was not thinking of my family, I thought of how it contradicted with what I had been taught from my earliest childhood. This was to be my earliest introduction of what it would mean to be Cassiline.
For any that are curious, the Sanctuary of the Cassilne Brotherhood rests in a valley between two mountains in the Siovales Mountains. Surrounding the Sanctuary are goatherds who travel in groups, and I was told that they were orphaned boys yet too young to be trained for service. They watched us pass with solemn eyes, and I wondered what they thought of the Camaeline lordling coming to their home.
The Sanctuary had originally been a Tiberium fortress, set partially into one of the mountains. I have seen the Palace in all its grandeur, and all I can say is that while D’Angeline architects and artisans are skilled in making beautiful things, Tiberiums did not hold the world in its sway for naught. Its courtyard was used for training purposes, and big enough to fit an entire garrison, including mounts, servants, and attached families. If it lacked the graceful beauty ingrained in everything D’Angeline, it more than made up for it in its size and prowess. I had never seen a bigger structure. Even though Brother Gautier and I arrived late in the day, with the sun slowly sinking behind the mountains, there was still some part of it that was touched by warm sunlight.
If I expected to see such an impressive building to be crawling with Cassilines-in-training, I was sorely mistaken. There was a regimented structure, evident even at a distance. Each class was separated by approximate ages, and taught all at once. There was no part of the day that was not taken up with some sort of activity, whether it be forms training, strength conditioning, or learning the dogma that ruled those in Cassiel’s service. It would be a harsh service, one that I was just beginning to see for what it was.
We rode to the stables to deliver our horses to the initiates that served as stable hands for the day. They were a few years older than me, and already looked the part of Cassiline Brothers with their clubbed hair and stern miens. Brother Gautier gave our horses to them and as we grabbed what meager possessions I was allowed to bring and led me into the Sanctuary proper, I thought he was taking me for a bath and rest. I was quickly disabused of that notion, and taken straight to the Prefect.
Brother Gautier bowed, arms crossed, and I struggled to mimic him.
I had expected man not unlike Brother Gautier, and here I was not mistaken. He was some decades older, his hair gone snowy with age, but he still held himself like a man of only twenty, with hawk eyes that saw through me at a glance. He wore the attire of a Cassiline Brother and the club with all the ease his decades of service gave him. Unlike Brother Gautier, his eyes were as a deep forest at twilight, at once dangerous and calm. Lines gave his face a gravity that his expression alone could not, and I am not ashamed to admit that I was more than a little afraid of him.
His name was Olivier Bouscevre.
What he thought of my Camaeline appearance, singular in the Sanctuary to be sure, I could not hope to guess. He simply looked over my travel-stained clothing and exhausted body with no expression, and I could not help but endeavor to stand as straight as I may under such scrutiny. I tried meeting his dark, twilight forest eyes and failed. Instead, I stared at my scoffed boots.
“Keep your eyes in front of you, boy,” he told me at length, his voice rough with age and soft in its order. He might as well barked it with the tone he used, and I obeyed with alacrity. “How do you expect to see danger coming when you’re looking at the floor?”
I did not answer, and he glanced at Brother Gautier.
“I suppose he’ll do,” he said. “Put him with the others of his age. In a few weeks, we’ll start their training.”
Brother Gautier bowed again, and took me away. I was led through the labyrinthine corridors to a room with three other boys. They were all my age, if not a little older, and curious to see a newcomer enter their rooms. They bowed in the Cassiline manner, and I could see that they were as awkward at it as I was.
“This is Edouard,” he told them plainly. “Help him settle in.”
With that, he left, making my new roommates bow again. As they rose, they stared at me with undisguised wonder, and I could hardly blame them. Having had my brother as my mirror all my life, I knew well how I looked.
My hair was so pale that unless the sun shone on it, it gleamed silver in most lights. This contrasted with my eyes, which were dark and glittering, like ice over black gems. Because I had spent more time indoors than my brother, my skin had not developed as much color as it might, little though it was. To put it shortly, I was the image of d’Aiglemort lineage and the stamp of Camael was clear in my features. Most of the initiates I had seen were, with few exceptions, Siovalese, Eisandrine, or L’Agnacite. Neither Camlach nor Kusheth were represented and I was singularly out of place.
“Come on,” one of the older of the three boys – a Siovalese – said, gesturing me to come inside. “We’ll help you with your things.”
As I stepped further into the room, a boy my age hopped over to me to make himself useful. He had a shy smile, and reminded me of Etienne.
“I’m Astin,” he said by way of greeting. He gestured to our roommates almost too quick for me to see. “This is Patrice and Renault.”
I nodded and said somewhat, I cannot remember.
“I arrived just last week,” he continued blithely. “My parents sent me here from Eisandre, hoping that I’d amount to more than just a sailor.”
He laughed at this and I gave a wan smile, feeling for the first time in my life unsure of what I was supposed to do. Though garrulous, Astin was eager to help. If my first impression of Patrice and Renault was that they fit with the dour personality of the Cassilines, then it is entirely Astin’s fault for being so friendly.
“Where did you come from?” he asked once I had settled – a task that amounted to arranging my possessions in a trunk at the foot of my bed. “You’ve the look of a Camaeline about you, so you must be from Camlach, right? We had Camaeline soldiers winter with us once, and they were great fun, though I thought they were rude at times. I hope you won’t be rude; I like you.”
I could not bring myself to find insult in his earnest demeanor, especially after a glance at his companions assured me that this was simply how he acted. Indeed, Astin smiled at me so eagerly that any annoyance I felt towards him evaporated.
“What of you two?” I asked of his companions, not wanting to seem rude. “Where are you from?”
“We’re both Siovalese,” the older boy, Patrice, told me. “Cousins. Even though I’m a year older, our families sent us at the same time so we wouldn’t be alone. They have holdings north of here. It’s not much, but its home.”
I could detect a note of pride in his voice, and both Patrice and Renault looked at me expectantly. They wanted to know if I could boast as much. I was galled by their attitude, and at the end of the day, I was still a Duc’s son and raised to be proud of my heritage.
“My father is Duc d’Aiglemort,” I said coolly. I felt more than a little vindicated seeing their eyes widen. Beside me, I could feel Astin grow restless. “I was only two minutes shy of being firstborn, but my brother beat me to it.”
“Well, here there are no titles,” Patrice replied sourly, and I could tell that he was put out that he was no longer the highest ranking boy in the room. “We’re all Cassiline initiates, and titles and lineage doesn’t matter here.”
I didn’t have to look at Astin to tell that this was the first time Patrice had said as much, and I decided then and there that I didn’t like him overmuch. As Renault was content to let his cousin speak, and do little more than watch him and take his lead, I didn’t have to be taught by Etaine to know how Astin must have been treated. Well and so, I was determined that it would end.
“What are we to do while we wait for our training to begin?” I asked at length, directing my question to Astin. He smiled gratefully.
“Well, one of the Brothers comes to take us to the library,” he replied, nearly tripping over his words so quickly was he speaking. “There, he teaches us about Cassiel and the other Forsworn, and we learn to bow and what to say when addressed. I don’t think he’s ever had a companion before, since he’s so young, but I don’t care. He’s nice.”
“Brother Guy took his oaths just this past spring,” Patrice informed me. “He’s teaching us until Lord Bouscevre can find an appointment for him.”
“I hope that he’ll stay here,” Astin said. “Not forever, but just long enough that we don’t have to learn from some of the other Brothers. Like Brother Gautier. He scares me, you know. I don’t think he likes me, overmuch, either.”
I could see Patrice and Renault roll their eyes behind him, and was annoyed. I may have been raised as proud and arrogant as was my birthright, but I could not understand their attitude toward Astin.
“Brother Gautier is just quiet,” I told him, trying to soothe him. “He’s been in Cassiel’s service for a long time. It must be a habit he learned.”
Astin stared at me with wide, surprised eyes, and laughed. “I never thought of it like that! Oh, thank you, Edouard! I’m so relieved!”
“When do they take us to the library?” I asked, pushing through Astin’s profusions of gratitude.
“We’ve already been today,” my erstwhile guide told me. “And Brother Guy told us to return to our rooms to think on the lessons we learned. But we’ll be back tomorrow morning. Brother Guy will wake us, and he says that it’s okay to be up so late because we aren’t initiates yet.”
“It’s because Brother Guy has to perform his morning workout with the other Brothers, and doesn’t have time for us so early,” Patrice said with some annoyance. “It’s getting late, and I want to get to sleep before you start snoring again. You kept me awake all night last night.”
Abashed, Astin lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Patrice, I really am. I don’t mean to snore. I really don’t.”
“Well and so,” he sniffed, flopping on his bed. “I want to sleep, so any questions Edouard has can wait until morning. Good night.”
“Good night, Patrice,” Astin said softly. “Good night, Renault.”
“’Night,” he replied, mumbling. Astin turned to me and smile, his earlier contrition forgotten.
“We should get some sleep, too,” he told me. “We have to be up earlier than you’re used to, I’m sure, though the Camaeline soldiers that wintered with us back home got up at dawn, so maybe it’ll be like sleeping in. Still, you’re probably tired from your journey. I know I was, after mine.”
I smiled at Astin. “I’d like to bathe before going to bed. I don’t want to make my bed dirty before I’ve had a chance to sleep in it.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed, and laughed. “Of course! I’ll take you to the bathing chambers!” He grabbed my wrist and hauled me out of the room. “One of the initiates will get the water for you. I hope you don’t mind that it’s cold, but it’ll take too long to heat up, and they get annoyed if you ask for a hot bath.”
“I don’t much care either way,” I replied with some amusement. “I just want to be clean.”
Astin led me through the halls of the Sanctuary, talking all the while. As he didn’t require much more than a nod or noncommittal noise, I let my mind wander and took stock of my surroundings and situation.
My roommates would be a trial on my patience. Astin, as earnest and eager as he was, spoke entirely too much and I was not entirely sure that he was not touched in the head. The other two, Patrice and Renault, had already annoyed me with their attitude. Renault, I was sure, could be tolerated on his own, but for his older cousin. Patrice did not like me, nor I him.
As to the rest, I would have to wait until the morrow to pass any judgment. Waking to spend the day in the library did not sound so bad to me, as that had been my wont since I was just six years of age. I was still young enough then to believe it would be that simple.
The bathing chambers were down below the first floor of the Sanctuary, and to my surprise warm enough that nude flesh could stand it. I had heard how ascetic the Brotherhood was, and so thought that Cassilines bathed in mountain streams. This was downright luxurious compared to my expectations. The water, I am afraid to say, was everything I had expected it to be, and more.
The initiate who fetched water for both my and Astin’s bath was scarcely older than I, perhaps a year or two, and went to his task without complaint. As Astin had warned, the water was icy cold and I shivered to wash the dirt of the road from my body. Astin went to the task willingly, not the least bothered by the chill water, and I strove to affect indifference. As he was for the moment my only friend, I did not want him to think less of me for feeling the cold. I should not have even bothered, for though he talked overmuch and was too blunt, there was somewhat in him that saw to the heart of the matter.
“I froze, too, the first few times I bathed,” he told me merrily as we dried. He laughed, and grinned at me. “It was midwinter, and they had to crack the ice on the well to get the water. I’m surprised I’m still not shivering from my first bath!” He laughed again and set to dressing. “I annoyed the initiates so much that winter when I kept asking for the water to be heated.”
“Didn’t they refuse?” I asked as I pulled my shirt over my head.
“They can’t,” he replied. “Initiates take turns with the chores, including getting water every day and for baths. If we ask for the water to be heated, they have to do it.” He smiled at me. “Of course, when it’s your turn to get the water, they’re going to get their revenge, if you ask for it to be heated like I did.”
Suddenly, it dawned on me. It was late in the summer, nearly autumn, and Astin had spoke of arriving midwinter. I turned to look at him and see past his general appearance. I had taken him to be of an age with me, yet as I looked closer, I could see that he was, in fact, older than me. What I had mistaken for youth was his simple, good nature.
“Astin,” I began, then hesitated. He looked at me with an eager expression, ready to answer whatever question was on my mind. I struggled to find a way to word it that would not hurt his feelings, but my ten year old, Camaeline mind was unequal to the task. “Why aren’t you an initiate yet? You’re old enough to be one.”
“When I arrived, they had already sent all the boys to their classes,” he replied easily enough that I was relieved. “They separate us by age, mostly, but I was held back because the Brothers thought I wouldn’t be able to catch up, and they were right! Some of the boys had been here six months, studying Cassiline lore in the library!” He grinned at me. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll be smart enough to catch up with Patrice and Renault. Who knows, you may even catch up with me!”
He laughed at that, gleeful and hopeful at the prospect rather than jealous. It is true that I had not met many boys my age, but neither then nor later would I ever meet someone as genuinely happy and generous as Astin, and if he was a bit simple with it, then it only added to his charm.
Dressed, he took me back through the winding halls and stairs to our bedroom. Patrice and Renault were already sound asleep, and I was annoyed at Patrice all the more. He had complained of Astin snoring, yet he was louder than even Father’s chief man-at-arms. Astin bade me a whispered good-night, which I returned, and slipped into bed only to be asleep within minutes.
I lay awake for what seemed to be hours, listening to my roommates slumber. It wasn’t the snores or occasional sleep-grunts that kept me awake. I had spent ten years sharing a bed with my twin brother; I was not bothered by such things. In truth, I was not sure why I could not sleep. My body willed it, sure enough, but my mind had trouble relinquishing consciousness.
I missed Emil acutely. I missed Father and Etaine as well, and little Etienne. I even missed the servants and men-at-arms that made the chateau home. But none more than Emil. He had been a constant in my life, there always since the day of our birth. The journey to the Sanctuary had not prepared me for how much I would miss him, or how much trouble I would have trying to sleep without his constant presence by my side.
Eventually, I dozed and fell asleep, clutching my pillow close to me and wishing with all my might it was Emil.
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Cassiel's Daggers