It was Lukin who showed me the stable, pointing with pride to Kazan's two horses. I watched his eyes shine with delight as a battle-scarred old gelding nibbled from his palm, and was reminded with a pang of Hyacinthe. Not as I had left him, brave and lonely, but as he had been at Lukin's age, merry and daring with a knack for horses.
Beyond the stables, a group of men were gathered around a stone furnace, bare-chested and sweating in the late-morning sun. I pointed inquiringly, and Lukin led me over to see. There was a great bustle, and Kazan was supervising the operation, ordering the fire fed and the bellows worked while two men in leather aprons tended the crucible. The acrid odor I'd smelled earlier was molten metal.
"What are they doing?" I asked Lukin. He went over to fish a silver coin out of a coffer, showing it to me, and pointing to a mold where silver ingots were cooling on the ground. I stared in perplexity as he turned the coin, showing me both sides and offering a helpless explanation in Illyrian. Although the coin was worn and the workmanship crude, I could make out a man's face in profile on one side, and on the other, the device I'd seen on Kazan's shield, a bird of prey clutching a branch.
At length I shrugged, and Lukin returned the coin.
"You want to know why we melt good coin, eh?" It was Kazan Atrabiades himself, who'd come to glower at me. He'd laid his good clothes aside and was bare-chested as the others. "The Serenissimans-" he turned his head and spat reflexively, "-they make a law against Illyrian coin that shows the face of the Ban or his arms, old or new, living or dead. Only in Epidauro is it safe, and not there any more, maybe. Any man who trades in Illyrian coin, he have his money taken, and Serenissiman officials, they do not pay. They put him in prison if he makes complaint. So people are scared, eh, and poor even though they have coin. We take in trade, we, and melt it.”
I thought how simple a means it was to oppress a vassal nation. And I thought of Kazan's arms, hung with pride and care in his room, and the device they bore. "You served in his guard," I said. "The Ban of Illyria."
His scowl deepened. "It is not your concern, you, what I did," he said, and turned to Lukin, issuing an order in Illyrian. My escort nodded, and indicated to me that we should leave. By that time, I was glad enough to do so, for my ribs had begun to ache. The sun stood high overhead, and its heat coupled with the blast from the furnace made my head swim. When I looked at Kazan Atrabiades, I saw strange, twining shadows about him. Only sunstroke, I told myself; but I remembered the kríavbhog, and was uneasy.
In the house, Marjopí took one look at me and shook her head in disgust, giving Lukin a bucket and a sharp command. He grinned at her and trotted off good-naturedly, while she gave me an ungentle push toward the room I'd been given. I lay down on the bed, and a few moments later, Marjopí came in with a basin of cool water and a linen towel. She dipped the towel and wrung it, laying it on my brow, shook her head once more, and left me.
I slept clean through until supper, waking when a servant lass I'd not seen before came creeping in to awaken me in the twilight. She pointed to the door, saying only, "Kazan." It was enough. I rose and smoothed my crumpled dress, washing myself with the tepid water remaining in the basin, then went to meet him.
The terrace had been prepared for dining, and I own it was a pleasing sight. A table was set below the arbor, where bunches of grapes hung, still green, but swelling. Stands with fretted lamps were set about, casting a gentle glow, and the sea murmured gently. Kazan stood as I emerged onto the terrace, and his eyes drank in the sight of me.
"Phèdre," he said, forgetting his earlier anger. "Sit." I took a seat opposite him, and he sat too, smiling and pouring me wine from a clay pitcher. "What do you think, eh?" he asked, waving his hand around the terrace. "Does your land have such beauty?”
"Not like this." I drew a deep breath. "My lord Kazan, you said you meant to hear me out. May I speak?"
"No." His quick scowl darkened his features. "First we will eat, you and I. Such talk is for after, yes? That is how we do it in civilized countries."
"I-" I paused. "Yes, of course. Forgive my rudeness."
We dined on fish fresh-caught and poached in a wine sauce, a dish of greens and fennel, and bread dipped in oil, and I confess, my appetite was sharper than I had reckoned. When we had done, Kazan gestured for the servant lass to clear the plates. He poured more wine-a pale wine, with a faint taste of resin from the pine casks in which they store it-and regarded me.
"Now," he said, "you may speak of these matters, you."
I nodded. "Thank you, Kazan. What I said to you before, on the ship, is true. It is a matter of great urgency to my country that I am restored to it swiftly. This is my desire, and of no import to you; this I recognize. But it is also true that my friends and kinsmen will pay handsomely for my swift return, and you stand to earn the gratitude of the Queen of Terre d'Ange." I had no kin to speak of, but he need not know it.
Kazan toyed with his wine-cup and looked shrewdly at me. "Why? I find you in rags in the middle of the sea, eh, and you ask me to believe this? Glaukos says it is true, that you are who you say; I know he is right, I, because he is not wrong about such things. Who, yes, but why is another question, yes?"
I had thought about it; I knew he would ask. I would have, if I were him. "The Queen has enemies," I said simply. "I know who they are, and where. If I do not warn her of their plans, she will be in danger."
"Enemies, ah!" He rubbed his chin. "In Serenissima, eh? You tell Glaukos you have money there, you, but you do not say to go to the D'Angeline Prince there, no. When he says I will not go to Serenissima, you say Marsilikos, that is so much farther."
"If you will go to La Serenissima," I said without a tremor, "we will have done with it swiftest of all. I am my Queen's servant and Prince Benedicte does not know me to pay a ransom, but I have money on account with a factor there. I sold lead at a good profit. Name your price, and I will match it if I may."
"Ah, no." He shook his head. "Glaukos, he spoke true. I will not go there, I, nor send any man loyal to me. Maybe you set a trap, eh? Serenissima will pay a good price for the head of Kazan Atrabiades, more than any ransom."
"So." I spread my hands on the table. "Then Marsilikos is closest, where her grace Roxanne de Mereliot is my hearth-friend, and will honor my letter. I will swear to you, by any oath you wish, that no harm will come to you or your men and there is only profit in it for you."
Kazan regarded me, black eyes glinting in the lamplight. "This we say in Illyria: May the kríavbhog swallow my soul if I lie. You have seen it, you. Do you swear this?"
I thought of the thing I had seen, coiled and hissing in the mast. I thought of the shadows twining around Kazan Atrabiades, and shuddered. "Yes," I said hoarsely. "I swear it. The ransom paid, and no harm to you or your men. May the kríavbhog swallow my soul if I lie."
"Good." He drained his wine-cup and refilled it. "Why did you fall off a cliff, you?"
I'd thought we were done; I closed my eyes wearily. "It was an accident, my lord. Kazan. It happened in a riot, when some prisoners escaped."
"I think there are many ... riots ... where you are, you," he said wryly. "You say you are translator for the Queen, eh, but I think maybe there is another word, and that is spy."
I opened my eyes and returned his regard. "Will you send to Marsilikos or no?"
"I will send, I." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What are you worth, eh? Only to make the journey, for the men I will send, the time and the crossing, it is costing me a hundred silver denari. More than that, eh?"
Fury kindled in me, a slow-burning anger at Kazan, at the injuries and indignities I'd endured, at the horrible toll my fate had exacted. "Severio Stregazza, grandson of the Doge of La Serenissima, once paid twenty thousand gold ducats for a single night with me," I said in bitter precision. "Yes, my lord pirate, I am worth more than a hundred denari."
"Glaukos is right, it must be true who you say," Kazan retorted, grinning and showing the gap in his teeth. "Or you would not be so angry, eh? So, good. I will ask for thirty thousand gold, I. You are rich, to have so much! I am not so greedy, and more is to tempt the gods, yes? If they pay, then I believe everything you say."
"They will pay," I murmured. "You may believe it."
"We will see, we," he said off-handedly. "You want me to send swiftly, yes? To me it is no matter, now or in the spring. It is you who asks for speed. What is it worth to you, eh, that I send now?"
I had no illusions about his query. "Does it matter?" I asked, gazing at him in the lamplight. "All I have, you are capable of taking, whether I offer it or no. You said if he lived, you would give me to your brother. What sop does your conscience require now, my lord, that you must force my acquiescence and put a good face on rape?"
His face hardened. "Do not speak of my brother to me," he said shortly, rising and walking some distance away to stare at the dark bay. "I would give your life, yes, and your Queen's too, to have Daroslav alive again. That is what you are worth to me, you. No more." He turned around, expressionless. "I have treated you as a guest, eh. Other men, they would not ask. I ask, I; I offer fair trade."
I thought of the weeks and months I had spent in my vain pursuit, and all those who advised me against it. I thought of Fortun and Remy, who had died because of it, and Ti-Philippe, not knowing if he lived or died. I thought of Joscelin, whom I had judged so unfairly, fighting single-handed against the garrison of La Dolorosa to free me. Did he live yet? I thought so; he had well-nigh prevailed, and that Cassiline was too stubborn to die. I had seen the torch moving on the crags at the isle's base, where only he would be reckless enough to clamber.
I thought of Ysandre de la Courcel, who had once trusted me enough to stake her throne on my bare words, who had asked me not to do this thing; of Quintilius Rousse, who had begged me to accept an escort.
And I thought of Melisande's triumphant smile.
Whatever was necessary, I would do.
"Fair trade," I said evenly. "So be it. Do you send your swiftest ship on the morrow, I will come willing to your bed, my lord pirate."
Across the terrace, Kazan Atrabiades inclined his head. "Then we have a bargain, yes? I will send Glaukos in the morning, with paper and ink, so you may write this letter." He paused, then added roughly, "I do not ask now, eh? Glaukos, he says you are injured still, and must have time to rest and heal. I am not a barbarian, to ask this of a woman."
'Twas something, at least.
FIFTY-THREE
Whether I doubted his honor or no, in this, Kazan Atrabiades kept his word. He rose early, and had made arrangements for the ship's crew by the time I'd broken my fast.
The men were in high spirits over the adventure. Kazan chose a man by the name of Nikanor to oversee the mission; his longtime second-in-command. He was quick and restless, with a reputation for making good decisions in battle, and getting itchy feet on dry land. Well and so; I had no say in the matter. Nikanor had eleven men on his crew. Of these, ten would go. For the last, Kazan ordered a substitution, an elderly fellow named Gorian. He mended nets, now, but in his youth, he had travelled, and learned to speak Hellene in those lands. In a pinch, he would do as translator. Marsilikos was a major port; there was always someone to be found who spoke Hellene. I'd no doubt that the Lady of Marsilikos did.
I was glad Glaukos was not to go, though 'twas naught to do with me; Kazan had too much use for him here. He came to the house as promised, bearing several sheets of crudely pressed paper, a fresh quill and a bottle of ink.
Since there was no suitable desk, I knelt at a table, thinking over my words and writing swiftly-in Caerdicci and not D'Angeline, that Glaukos and Kazan might scan my words for any hint of subterfuge. " 'To Roxanne, Duchese de Mereliot and Lady of Marsilikos,' " I wrote, " 'greetings from Phèdre nó Delaunay, Comtesse de Montrève. Blessed Elua grant that this letter finds you in the best of health. I write to you from the keeping of Kazan Atrabiades of Illyria, to whom I owe a debt of ransom. I am well and hale, and commend him in all ways for tendering the courtesies due my station. This letter he bears at my request, and in exchange for its swift delivery, I have promised clemency for him and all his men. I pray you treat them gently, for if you do not, I shall be forsworn and my immortal soul forfeit. Your Grace, by the friendship you bear for me and our mutual service undertaken on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Ysandre de la Courcel, I beg of you the boon of rendering payment of a ransom of thirty thousand gold ducats to Kazan Atrabiades: half to be paid unto the bearer of this letter, one Captain Nikanor, and half to be paid to Kazan Atrabiades after he has guaranteed my safe-conduct to a place of exchange, to be divulged by Captain Nikanor. For surety of this loan, I pray you seek out my uncle Quintilius, whom you know, and remind him of the aid he pledged to send me in La Serenissima ere I journeyed. I am grateful, for there was no loan of assistance to be had in that city. Pray convey to him my apologies that I needs must ask him to give it to the fullest extent, and please be assured that I will render remuneration in full. My undying thanks to you, my lady, and Elua's blessing upon you and your house.'"
Once done, I signed my name and sprinkled sand to dry the ink. Kazan held the letter at arm's length and pondered it, frowning, until Glaukos took it and read it aloud. Kazan could read Caerdicci, but he was long-sighted and my D'Angeline script was hard for him to make out.
