Kushiel's Chosen

Page 33


"I heard tell of a rich merchant," one of the sailors offered, "who laughed at the ship's crew for whistling, and no sooner had he done, than a great wind came up and the ship heeled hard about, and he was thrown over the side and dashed on the rocks of La Dolorosa."


"No," said another. "I heard it too, only they never found his body."


"And I heard," Louis Namot said grimly, "his corpse washed ashore on the isle of Kjarko a hundred leagues south, on the Illyrian coast. And that, lads, is no Mendacant's tale. My uncle served aboard a trireme under Admiral Porcelle, and they chased down a band of Illyrian pirates who were raiding D'Angeline ships along the point. Their captain was wearing the merchant's signet. He pled clemency and told how they found the body. My uncle had to return it to the merchant's widow."


I turned back and gazed at the black isle, dwindling in our wake, the fortress towers silhouetted against the sky. "Who would live in such a place?"


"No one, by choice," the Captain said shortly. " 'Tis a prison."


"The worst prison," a sailor added, and grinned. "If I'm ever accused of aught in La Serenissima, I'm taking refuge in the temple of Asherat, I am! I'll take the veil myself, like Achilles in the house of Lycomedes, and give all her priestesses a nice surprise!"


One of his fellows hushed him quickly, with a furtive glance in my direction. I paid it no heed; I'd been three weeks at sea, and had heard worse. Sailors must make do with one another aboard ship-those who favor women are notoriously eager upon making landfall.


Still, it made me think on what I knew of La Serenissima. Women do not hold offices of power in most of the Caerdicci city-states, that much I knew. It is men who built them, and men who rule, by dint of toil and iron. Asherat-of-the-Sea holds sway, still, because she is the Gracious Lady of the Sea, and men who live by the grace of the sea are wise enough to fear her wrath, but this was not Marsilikos, where Eisheth's living blood runs in the veins of the Lady who rules there.


In La Serenissima, it would be different.


Soon the lookout cried again, and presently we saw before us the long, low line of the spit that bars the great lagoon of La Serenissima; the Spear of Bellonus, they call it, another legacy of the Tiberians. It extends nearly all the way across the vast, wide mouth of the lagoon, some seven leagues long, forming a natural barrier well guarded by the Serenissiman navy.


As we drew near to the narrow strait that breaches the spit, there were a great many more ships to be seen, of all makes and sizes, flying all manner of colors: cogs and galleys and triremes, and the low, flat-bottomed gondoli and gondolini with the curving prows and sterns that are ubiquitous in the city, propelled by skilled rowers at tremendous speed. And, too, there were craft I had never seen before, small ships with masts canted forward, bearing odd triangular sails-of Umaiyyat make, the Captain told me. It did not look as though they could carry much in the way of cargo, but they moved swiftly and agilely across the waters, tacking back and forth before the wind while larger vessels must needs go to oars.


A fleet of Serenissiman gondolini surrounded us at the mouth of the straits, their insubstantial menace backed by manned watchtowers on either side and the presence of the navy within the lagoon. Namot's papers, his writ of passage, were all in order, and in short order, they waved us through.


Thus we entered the lagoon.


Joscelin had come to stand beside me in the prow of the Darielle, and I was glad of his presence as we gazed together on our first sight of La Serenissima.


Serenissimans claim she is the most beautiful city in the world, and I cannot wholly begrudge them; 'tis indeed a splendid sight to see, a city rising up from the very waters. I had read what I could find prior to our journey, and I knew it was an ever-ongoing work of tremendous labor that had built La Serenissima, not on dry land, but on islands and marshes, dredged, drained and bridged, oft-flooded, always reclaimed.


If I sound unpatriotic in acknowledging the city's beauty, I may add that a great deal of the engineering and building that had made her splendid had come in recent decades, under the patronage of Prince Benedicte de la Courcel, who brought with him Siovalese architects and engineers when his fate was wed to the Stregazza family, exiling him from his homeland.


The sun shone brightly on the waters as we crossed the lagoon and made for the Great Canal, the sailors cursing good-naturedly as they took to the oars. Ahead of us, galleys and darting craft were everywhere on the vast waterway. Ti-Philippe, who had been once to the city during a brief apprenticeship aboard a merchanter, took it upon himself to point out the sights.


"The Arsenal," he said reverently, nodding behind us to a vast, walled shipyard hugging the lagoon. "It houses one of the finest navies in the world, and they can build a ship faster than you can cut timber." As we curved along the vast quai, he simply pointed. "The Campo Grande. There lies the Palace of the Doge. At the end, the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea."


The Great Square; it was that, indeed, a vast, marbled terrace simply opening onto the sea. In the center, where it verged the water, stood a tall column, and atop it a statue of the goddess, arms outspread, gazing benignly over the lagoon. Asherat-of-the-Sea, bearing a crown of stars, waves and leaping dolphins worked into the plinth. To her left stood the Palace of the Doge, a long, tiered building worked in white marble, with a level of striated pink, surprisingly rich in the glowing light.


It is the seat of all politics within La Serenissima, and not merely the Doge's home; within those walls was housed the Judiciary Hall, the Chamber of the Consiglio Maggiore, indeed, the Golden Book itself, in which were inscribed the names of the Hundred Worthy Families deemed fit to hold office in La Serenissima.


Beyond, at the far end of the square, sat the Temple of Asherat, with its three pointed domes; an Ephesian influence, that, for they ruled La Serenissima for a time and worshipped the goddess under another name. I could see little of the temple, as the square itself was crowded with a vast market, stalls occupying preordained spaces marked in white brick, and, in between, a throng of people. Serenissimans and other Caerdicci, most of them, but I saw unfamiliar faces-proud Akkadians and hawk-faced Umaiyyati; Menekhetans, dark-eyed and calm; Ephesians; even an entourage from Jebe-Barkal, ebony and exotic.


And here and there, fair, brawny Skaldi, which gave me a shiver.


Then we were past it, and entering the mouth of the Great Canal itself, and Ti-Philippe pointed to the left where stood the Temple of Baal-Jupiter on the island's tip. It had clean, straight lines in the Tiberian style, and before it stood a statue of the god himself, one foot striding forward, thunderbolt in hand.


He had slain Asherat's son, according to myth.


I knew what the Captain had meant; 'twas but a translation of mortal history into divine terms, the faith of the conquering Tiberians mingling with the beliefs of those inhabitants they found here. Still, I thought on the black isle of La Dolorosa, and shuddered.


Great houses rose along the canal after that, splendid and magisterial, with balconies and winding stairs leading down the quai; along its length were docked craft like the gondoli, only larger and more luxurious, canopied, painted in bright colors and rich with gilt and carving. I did not need Ti-Philippe to tell me we were among the homes of the Hundred Worthy Families.


I did not need Ti-Philippe to point out the Little Court, although he did.


I daresay it was nearly as large as the Doge's Palace, although not quite. Three tiers tall, with long, colonnaded balconies, rippling water-light reflected along the marble length of it. Fluttering pennants hung from the balconies, bearing the silver swan of House Courcel.


Deserving of its name, I thought.


And then we were beyond it, and sailed beneath the cunning, peaked bridge of Rive Alto that linked the largest islands of La Serenissima, tall enough to admit a galley to pass, and on our right stood the vast, elegant structure of the Fondaca D'Angelica, the D'Angeline warehouse. Already the Captain was shouting to men on the quai, and the rowers heaving to all on one side, as our ship wallowed in the deep green waters of the canal and sailors tossed ropes ashore, bringing us to port at last.


I had reached La Serenissima.


THIRTY-ONE


After so long at sea, 'twas strange setting foot on solid land, and I was hard put not to stagger, unnaturally convinced that the quai moved beneath me. Around us was the bustle of the Darielle's docking and laborers working to unload her cargo, and all at once I felt weary and salt-stiffened and in dire need of rest and a bath.


Thanks be to Blessed Elua, my chevaliers were solicitous and capable, quick to swing into action. Joscelin was no help; having finally gained his sea legs, he was twice as queasy as I on solid ground. But my factor's man in La Serenissima was present as arranged, and Remy and Ti-Philippe rounded him up in no time. Once he was done gloating over the quality of our shipment of lead, he greeted me unctuously.


"Well met, well met, Contessa!" he said in fluid Caerdicci, punctuated with many bows. "All your requests have been seen to, and we have arranged for most elegant lodgings during your stay in the Serene Republic, most elegant indeed!”


Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Fortun examining the papers acknowledging receipt of the shipment "Thank you, messire," I said in the same tongue, grateful that matters were well in hand. "If I might be conducted to them ... ?"


"Of course!" He hurried to the edge of the quai, beckoning to the steersman of one of the large, gilded craft returning presently. "It was the house of Enrico Praetano," he explained to me, "who has defaulted on a loan to the Banco Grendati. They were most eager to arrange for a seasonal lease."


"Ah." So long as I was not displacing an orphanage, I thought, I did not care. In short order, my chevaliers had my trunks brought up from the hold of the Darielle and placed in the craft; bissone, they are called, longer and broader than the simple gondoli. The oarsmen grumbled at the number of trunks, and then they caught sight of me as Joscelin aided me carefully aboard.


I was tired, unwashed and not at all at my best.


"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.


So it was that I came to be ensconced in an elegant house along the Great Canal, rubbing shoulders with the Hundred Worthy Families. My factor's representative in La Serenissima-whose name was Mafeo Bardoni-might be an unctuous fellow, but he was a skilled businessman, and I never had cause to fault his dealings. If I did not like him, it was no fault of his own; he reminded me overmuch of Vitale Bouvarre, who had been Alcuin's patron, his first and last. 'Twas Bouvarre who gave up the name of Dominic Stregazza as Isabel de la Courcel's killer. He is dead, now, though he tried first to kill Alcuin for his silence.


Though it was but late afternoon when I gained my lodgings, I ordered first a bath, and then went straightways to bed, and slept for some twelve hours. My sleeping-chamber was directly off the balcony, and 'twas a strange and wondrous thing to awake not knowing where I was, with the shifting light off the waters of the canal playing over the walls of my chamber.


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 thought of asking one of the house servants to deliver it, and thought better, descending to find Joscelin and my chevaliers assembled in the parlor.


"Do you think you could find your way to deliver this to Severio Stregazza?" I asked Ti-Philippe, who fair bounded out of his chair.


"Aye, my lady!" he said promptly.


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?"


It was a fair question, and a good one. It was astonishing that he'd waited so long to ask it, and a pity I had no answer. I met his eyes and shrugged. "Wait," I said. "And see."

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