In the end, I resolved to tell the truth. If there was one thing I learned in the cavern of the Temenos, it was that my efforts to be clever had led only to a bad end. So it was that when I was sent for at last and received by Demetrios Asterius in his throne room, I laid out my tale earnestly, speaking in Caerdicci for the benefit of Kazan, who stood glowering beside me.
The Archon listened thoughtfully, interrupting me only to ask for a point of clarification here or there, and his questions were sensible. In white robes of state trimmed with purple-and-gold borders, he seemed more the ruler. A finely wrought gold diadem adorned his head, though I could see his black, curling hair was still damp from bathing. Timanthes stood beside his throne, and by his fresh attire, I guessed he was of noble birth, too.
When I had done, the Archon nodded soberly. "Your dilemma is clear, my lady Phèdre, and what you say, I believe. The Kore would not have commended you to me if you did not speak the truth. What is the nature of your request?"
I drew a deep breath. "My lord Archon, my needs are twofold. I fear it is too late for me to intercept the Queen on her progressus. My only hope of preventing her assassination is to go to La Serenissima itself, and pray that I reach it before her. In this matter, I ask only that you lend me passage and an escort, that I might gain the city safely."
"And in the other?"
"A swift ship and a courier, my lord Archon, to bear a letter to the Lady of Marsilikos." I met his eyes. "Betrayal lies at home and abroad in this, my lord. If I fail in preventing the death of my Queen, still I may prevent the seizure of the throne."
Demetrios Asterius touched his fingertips together, glancing at Kazan. "And what is it you say, pirate? You will do what I will not?"
"I have said it," Kazan said shortly.
"So you have, and in a very succinct manner." Ignoring Kazan's muttered growl, the Archon returned his attention to me, raising his brows. "Forgive me the crassness of this question, my dear, but it is one I must needs ask. Many of the Kindred of Minos are gifted with insight, able to discern the will of the gods; I am not one such, and must rely on what small skills I have in the way of ruling. So I ask: What merit in this boon is there for Kriti?"
I was ready for the question. "If I succeed even in part, my lord, you will earn the gratitude of Terre d'Ange, and may name your own reward. Money, do you wish it, trade rights with Terre d'Ange and Alba, or the skills of D'Angeline engineers; mayhap even alliance through marriage, although that is not mine to promise."
"And if you fail entirely?" he asked, not unkindly.
I paused, and shook my head. "I can make no guarantee, my lord. Still, there is much to be gained, and little to venture."
"Fairly stated, my dear, though there is more to weigh than you may reckon." The Archon steepled his fingers once more, touching them to his lips and staring into the distance. "Please believe me when I say I understand the urgency of this situation," he said abruptly, coming to some conclusion. "But it is not a request I can grant or deny on a moment's whim. Allow me one day to consider it, and on the morrow I will have an answer for you. Is that acceptable to you?"
I glanced at Kazan, who gave a shrug. We would need a day at least to properly outfit the ship for travel, for although it had been rendered seaworthy in the Temenos, we had not been able to replace necessary items such as water casks and other stores.
"Yes, my lord Archon," I said, curtsying to him. "It is acceptable, and I am grateful for your kindness."
"Good." He smiled, his mood lightening. "Then will you do me the honor of attending a dinner party this evening as my guest? The Lady Althaia has made it known that she will be most put out if our exotic visitors are not invited." The Archon gave an amused sidelong glance at Timanthes, who shook his head silently, then added to Kazan, "You too, of course, my dear pirate. The ladies are intrigued by your ferocious scowl. It will make for an interesting evening."
Kazan's face was unreadable, his bow precise. "Thank you, Lord Archon," he said, taking care with his words, "but I have business with my ship. With your permission, I will return on the morrow."
"As you wish." Demetrios Asterius waved one hand, then cocked his head at me. "But you, I hope, will not disappoint me. We see few enough D'Angelines; it would be a pity to miss your company."
"My lord," I said, "It will be my honor."
SIXTY-THREE
After the audience, I was shown back to my guest-quarters and thence to the bathhouse, where I was drawn a sumptuous bath that would not have been out of place in the Night Court. They have servants in the Palace of Phaistos whose sole purpose is to attend the bathhouses, seeing to the temperature of the water, laying out fresh linens and such. While I luxuriated, a plain-faced young woman entered bearing a tray with a jar of sweet oil and knelt beside the tub, murmuring that the Lady Althaia had sent her personal attendant to minister to me, as she was skilled in the arts of massage.
Although I have certainly lived without it, I have never turned away luxury. So it was that I rose dripping from my bath to lie upon one of the alabaster benches, spread with a clean linen sheet. The girl kept her eyes averted as I did, but when she went to spread the oil upon my back, I heard her indrawn gasp. I had forgotten Naamah's marque, vivid black and red against my fair skin.
"Do not be alarmed," I said to her in Hellene. "It is only the marque of Naamah, whose servant I am. You would name her a goddess, I suppose."
She shook her head, whispering something in a dialect I did not recognize, and smoothed on the oil. Whether or not her concerns had been allayed, she set about her work without further delay, and in short order, a feeling of well-being suffused my limbs. I closed my eyes, head pillowed on my arms, and let her skilled hands work the deep knots of tension from my muscles.
In this drowsing and pleasant state, I paid scant heed to the comings and goings in the bathhouse until I heard an unfamiliar voice say, "I am pleased, Lady Phaedra, that you seem to be enjoying the services of my slave Chloris."
I opened my eyes to see a Kritian noblewoman standing before me, a faint, measuring smile curving her lips. By her elaborately-coifed bronze hair and grey eyes-and her familiarity-I guessed her to be Timanthes' sister. It gave me a start, to hear her refer to my masseuse as her slave; nonetheless, I answered politely. "You are the Lady Althaia, I think. I am in your debt, my lady."
"Yes, indeed." She prowled around the bench, eyeing me. "I should have gone to the wrestling, it seems, and not the marketplace; I have missed being first informed. Timanthes didn't tell me you bore the mark of a hetaera."
"Timanthes," I said, "did not know. I am here as a servant of her majesty Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d'Ange, and not Naamah, my lady. It is a D'Angeline matter."
"Is it?" Pausing in front of me, Lady Althaia looked down her nose and raised her gracefully arched brows. "Demetrios Asterius is steadfast in his regard for my brother, but he is known to have a fickle eye for women. We have an understanding, yes, but I am not yet pledged to the son of Minos. What better way to bait a trap for the Archon of Phaistos than with a D'Angeline noblewoman who practices the hetaerae trade?" Her mouth turned down sourly. "I know something of your people, Lady Phaedra. You are known for the art of spell-casting in the bedchamber."
I propped my chin on one fist. "It is not my intention, my lady, to seduce the Archon."
"No?" She looked uncertain.
"No," I said firmly. "It is a matter of state. No more, and no less."
"And if he were to offer?" Althaia challenged me. "Kriti's aid, for the pleasure of your company in the bedchamber. Would you refuse?"
I considered it. The slave, Chloris, realized she was eavesdropping, lowered her head and continued to rub oil into my skin, smoothing away the myriad aches of my long ordeal. "You know the Archon, my lady Althaia," I said. "Would he?"
She looked away and murmured, "No." Her mouth quirked with a trace of the self-effacing humor I had seen in her brother. "Well, he might. But I wouldn't trust it, if he does. He's a shrewd trader, Demetrios is. He'd not offer any advantage he wouldn't give willingly otherwise. But he might try to make you think he did."
Her voice held the reluctant ring of truth, and there were none of the telltales of a lie in her demeanor. I smiled. "Then you have done me twice a kindness here, my lady. In turn I swear to you, my purpose here is naught but what I have said."
"Well, then." Althaia's manner relaxed. "Why won't you bring your pirate to my dinner party, Lady Phaedra?" she said playfully. "I hear he cuts a most manly figure, and even dared rude words to the Archon himself. It would irritate Demetrios in a most useful manner if you brought him!"
I could feel the tension in Chloris' hands. "Kazan Atrabiades is not mine to command, my lady," I said quietly. "He is a pirate, yes, but he has committed no crime against Hellas, and he is a free citizen of Illyria."
"Oh, pah!" She made a dismissive gesture. "You could have convinced him, I am sure. You're so serious, for a hetaera! I hope you won't be so dull at my dinner party. Everyone is hoping for rare entertainment."
"I shall do my best to amuse, my lady," I said wryly. I do not think I had ever been accused of being dull company before, but I took a warning from it. Kritian society is ancient in sophistication, even among Hellenes. If I wanted the Archon to consider my request a valid one, I had best appear in truth a D'Angeline noblewoman, and not a ragtag refugee in desperate straits. The fact that I felt myself far more the latter than the former was of no account.
"I shall count upon it," Althaia said carelessly, adding in a rather different tone, "Chloris! Leave off your mooning and be about your work. I'm sure the Lady Phaedra is accustomed to far better service in Terre d'Ange; do not disgrace me!"
The slave bowed her head and murmured an apology, hands kneading my shoulder blades. I waited until Althaia had made her exit to speak to her. "It is not true in the slightest," I said in a gentle tone, leaning on my elbows and turning my head to look at her. "You're very skilled, Chloris; you could find employ in any D'Angeline household."
She flushed unbecomingly, ducking her chin toward her breastbone and replying almost inaudibly. "I am not free to seek employment."
"Freeborn or captive?" I asked sympathetically.
Her chin came up and she met my eyes. "Freeborn."
There was a world of sorrow and loss in that single word, and although I never learned more of her story, I grieved for her. I have known servitude, and I have known slavery, too, and there is a difference betwixt the two. It is one thing to observe the courtesies of rank, Anafiel Delaunay said to me, the day he bought my marque and took me into his household, and quite another to treat humans as chattel. I was sold into servitude as a child; I never fully appreciated the difference until I was a slave in Gunter Arnlaugson's steading. "I am sorry," I said to Chloris, knowing the words to be inadequate.
She lowered her head again, and her mouth twisted with bitter satisfaction. "You make her nervous, lypiphera," she muttered. "Looking like a roe deer amid cattle as you do. It's good to see." After that, fearing she had said too much, my efforts to draw her out met in failure ,.. but her words came back to me when I returned to my quarters and found that the Archon had sent an array of attire for that evening's entertainment, as well as attendants to see to my robing. Well and so, I thought; if it is D'Angeline beauty he wished, I shall oblige. I chose with care among the garments presented, selecting a gown that seemed amid the height of Kritian fashion as I had observed it; sheer folds of white, draping low fore and aft My marque showed clearly through it, and I rouged my nipples in the Kritian manner, but my hair I dressed in D'Angeline style, caught at the nape of my neck with a few tendrils allowed to escape. A kneeling servant presented a tray with a dozen tiny jars of cosmetics and unguents, but I partook lightly of those, only a touch of carmine for my lips and a smudge of kohl to darken my lashes. Gazing in the mirror, I saw my face clearly for the first time since La Serenissima. It seemed odd that I had not changed more to myself; thus the cant of my cheekbones, and lips shaped for pleading or kissing, thus the sweep of lashes, thus the familiar arch of brow and dark wide-set eyes with the crimson fleck vivid against the left iris. And yet there was a difference, some difference, a shadow of gravity that had not been there before.
What you have seen, you carry with you.
Well, I thought; I am D'Angeline, I will learn to carry it with grace. And shortly the Archon's servants came bowing to escort me to his side, and thence to the dinner party of the Lady Althaia.
Demetrios Asterius looked long and hard at me when I was ushered into his presence, breaking off at last with a shake of his head. "The Kritian style suits you, my dear Phèdre," he said mildly. "Would you had come here under more auspicious circumstances. Come, then, and let us enjoy ourselves while we may."
We were the last to arrive at Althaia's elegant quarters, where a dozen guests, lords and ladies both, reclined on couches in the spacious salon. They rose and bowed or curtsied when the Archon entered, and then Demetrios moved among them exchanging informal greetings, punctuated with kisses and exclamations. I was introduced to each and soon heard my name fluttering about the room, pronounced by some in D'Angeline fashion, some in Hellene. They were familiar with each other, dropping honorifics to use given names. Althaia greeted me as an old friend, kissing me on both cheeks, and then clapped her hands to order the wine poured.
