Kushiel's Chosen Read Online Free PDF Page B

protect and serve, and not to battle. It is not the same thing, not at all."
    He looked smug enough with it that I laughed, then sobered. "Truly, Fortun, this is a dangerous business. If any one suspected what you were about, you would be in grave danger."
    "My lady, if you think any of us sought security in your service, you are mistaken." His brows knitted in a dark scowl. "We are sailors, after all, and bound to adventure. If we have deemed you a star worth setting a course by, do not belittle our decision."
    "Why did you do it?" I asked him. "Why me?"
    "I saw you on the battlefield of Bryn Gorrydum, carrying water to the wounded and dying. And after, when you made us chevaliers. I know the Admiral asked it of you. His sword was nearly as long as you're tall." One corner of his mouth crooked at the memory. "Queen's emissary. You looked like someone had hit you over the head. How could I choose otherwise?"
    I sighed and rumpled my hair. "All right, then. Learn what you may. But never..." I poked his chest for emphasis, "... never let them suspect you are aught but simple chevaliers, eager to relive your moments of glory and pore over the mysteries of nobility."
    "Don't worry. I have a good-luck name, my lady." Fortun smiled. "My mother swore it on my name-day."
    FIVE
    I oscelin did return, late that evening; I did not question him, and he did not offer an explanation. We greeted each other in the morning, courteous as two strangers. He performed his exercises in the secluded rear garden, flowing gracefully through the Cassiline forms, steel blades weaving, breath frosting in the crisp air. I watched him, and felt my heart ache within my breast.
    How strange, how compelling a pain; to cause injury to a loved one.
    One thing else I did, when driven to it: I ran away.
    Properly speaking, I rebelled. I used to do it at Cereus House, and I did it at Delaunay's. Although I will say, if I may, that there was more in it than simple rebellion. It was a game, with my lord Delaunay; if I succeeded at it, there would be no repercussions.
    I was no child, now, to run to Night's Doorstep and the comfort of Hyacinthe's antics. Still, it was a comfort to slip unnoticed from under the eyes of my well-meaning guards, go to the stable and convince the simple lad, Benoit, to saddle a horse for me. I led the gelding cautiously into the street, where Benoit considerately latched the gate behind me.
    Once astride, I was free.
    I rode away from the Palace, exhilaration singing in my veins, hard put to remember the last time I was well and truly on my own. It is an oddity, how having retainers binds one. Without their concerns to think of, I had only my own. I made my way to the river, and followed it to the market square, where criers hawked their wares.
    It was the doves that put it in my head, dozens upon dozens of them, caged offerings huddled against the cold. Choosing the smallest out of pity, I paid for a gilt cage.
    "My lady has an eye," the vendor said obsequiously, transferring the bird. "This one, he is small, but he has a will to survive."
    "Elua hear you, and grant it is so." I smiled, leaning down from my mount to take the cage in hand. The gelding snorted and tossed his head. "This one is for Naamah."
    The vendor performed an elaborate bow, smiling at me sidelong. My dove rattled his wings against the gilded bars and the gelding shied, shod hooves ringing on the cobble stones; people cheered as I kept my seat. I was a dreadful rider, once. That was before I fled Waldemar Selig's steading on pony-back, through the direst winter. I have spent a good bit of time astride, since then. Strange, to look back and see how skill was acquired; at the time, I only thought to stay alive.
    With my head up despite the snapping cold, I rode through the streets to the Temple of Naamah. If people called out and saluted me along the way, it was not because I was the Comtesse de Montrève or Phèdre no Delaunay— they could not see, from the street,