Kushiels Chosen Page 7

Page 7

 

  The Rebbe's quarters were larger, though poorly illumed. He kept us waiting a moment in the hallway, before our guide ushered us into his study.

  Joscelin had spoken truly; Nahum ben Isaac cut a formidable figure indeed. Despite the withering effects of age, one could see he had been doughty in his youth, and his broad shoulders still strained at the black cloth of his jacket. He must have been nearly eighty; his hair was almost wholly white, shot with a few strands of black. He'd not lost a whit of it, either-his sidelocks almost hid the dangling ends of his prayer shawl and his square-cornered beard fell midway to his waist. Fierce eyes glowered at me from a face like crumpled parchment.

  "Come in. " His voice was as strongly accented as the young teacher's, but harsh with it. Joscelin bowed, murmuring the blessing again, and took a seat on a low stool at his feet; to my surprise, the Rebbe patted his cheek. "You're a good lad, for an apostate. " The pitiless gaze came back to me. "So you're the one. "

  "Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, father. " I inclined my head. I did not curtsy, though it cost me a good deal of effort. Comtesse or no, I am trained to be subservient to authority, and the Rebbe had it in abundance.

  "A Servant of Naamah. " The words fair curdled on his tongue. "Call it what you will, I know what you are, girl, fancy titles and all. Why would one such as you want to study Habiru and the teachings of the Mashiach?"

  We call them Yeshuites; so they call themselves, now. Before, they were the Children of Yisra-el. But before that, even, they were a tribal folk on the outskirts of Khebbel-im-Akkad, and Yeshuite scholars still call their ancient language by that name. If the Rebbe thought I would blink in confusion, he was mistaken. I am still one of the few D'Angelinas who understands the divisions of the Cruithne, whom Caerdicci scholars name the Picti. Delaunay made me learn such things, and I have not lost the trick of it. I took a seat on a second stool, spreading my skirts carefully about me.

  "I have some knowledge of the teachings of Yeshua ben Yosef, father," I said, drawing a deep breath. "All the descendants of Blessed Elua and his Companions know the tale of the Mashiach, for it is, too, a part of our history. But it is the older teachings that interest me; the Tanakh, and most especially such midrashim as have been recorded in writing or passed from ear to ear. And for that, I must study Habiru. "

  The Rebbe did blink; I daresay he never expected to hear such words from the mouth of a Servant of Naamah. Nonetheless, he repeated his question relentlessly; although there was a crafty gleam in his fierce old eyes now. "Why?"

  I answered with a question. "What do you know of the Lost Book of Raziel, father?"

  "Bah!" Nahum ben Isaac made a dismissive gesture. "You speak of the book of all knowledge, that Adonai gave to Edom the First Man? Tales to entertain children, no more. "

  "No. " I shook my head, surety giving me strength. "What of the Master of the Straits, father? Is he a tale to frighten children?"

  He chewed thoughtfully on a corner of his beard. "Sailors say he is not. Sailors lie. But a schism eight hundred years long across a piece of water I could shout across does not lie. " Yes, it was definitely a crafty light. "You say it has somewhat to do with the Sefer Raziel?"

  "Yes. " I leaned forward. "And the angel Rahab, who begot a child on a mortal woman. For this, the One God punished him; but Rahab brought up pages-scattered pages, from the Lost Book of Raziel-from the deep, and gave them to his son, and bound him to endure the length of his punishment as the Master of the Straits, unless someone could penetrate his mystery and take his place. ”

  The Rebbe chewed fiercely; I don't think he was aware of what he was doing. Not with his beard, at least. "You tell a good story," he said grudgingly. "But it is only that. "

  "No. " Joscelin intervened quietly. "Not a story, father; I was there too. I have seen the Face of the Waters, and been carried on the crest of a wave that never breaks. And I know the Tsingano who penetrated the mystery. He was . . . " He hesitated, then finished the thought firmly. "He was a friend of mine. "

  I was grateful to hear him say it. Joscelin caught my eye and smiled ruefully; for a moment, it was as if nothing had changed between us.

  "He was a prince of his kind," I said sharply, "and gifted with the dromonde, that looks backward as well as afore. He was my friend, and I beg you do not mock him to my ears, father. "

  "Pay it no mind. " The Rebbe waved his hand dismissively again. "So. " He fixed me with his gimlet stare. "Do I understand, Naamah's Servant? You wish to study Habiru and learn a secret to unlock the chain that binds this Tsingano friend of yours. You seek a means to force the messengers of Adonai Himself to obey. "

  "Yes. " I said it simply.

  To my great surprise, the Rebbe began to chuckle. "Well. " Shaking his head, he picked strands of his beard from the corner of his mouth. "Well, well. " Perhaps he did know, after all, that he chewed his beard. "I am compelled by the word of Yeshua to give succor where I may," he said mildly, "and it seems you make a case for it after all, Naamah's Servant. You claim to have studied with Seth ben Yavin of L'Arène, and he writes to me that you are not a bad pupil, despite the fact that you would make the Magdelene unrepentant blush. But he is a young man, and I do not trust the word of young men any more than I do sailors. Tell me, what does this mean?" From within the depths of his beard, he brought forth a pendant, worn close to the heart on a chain about his neck.

  I had only to glance at it once; the symbol, wrought in silver, was known to me. A broad, flat brush-stroke atop two legs, it looked like, with a tail squiggled on the left. "It is the word Khai, father, combined of the Habiru letters Khet and Yod. "

  "And what does it mean?" He looked cunningly at me.

  "It means 'living. ' " I made my voice firm. "It is the symbol of the resurrection of Yeshua, a pledge that the Mashiach rose from death and lives, and will return as the King-to-Come and establish his reign on earth. "

  "So. " Nahum ben Isaac tucked away the pendant beneath his beard. "Seth did teach you something, it seems. And yet you do not believe. "

  I offered the only answer I had. "Father, I do not believe or disbelieve. I am D'Angeline. "

  "Even a D'Angeline may be redeemed. " The Rebbe adjusted his prayer shawl. "There is no sin, of the blood nor of the flesh, so great but that the Mashiach's death may not redeem it. " He glanced at Joscelin as he said it, and Joscelin did not meet my eyes. "So be it, then. I will teach you, Naamah's Servant, insofar as I am able. " I opened my mouth to thank him and he raised a finger, gesturing me to silence. "This I ask. For so long as you choose to live a life of indecency, you will come only when I summon you. You will heed our ways, and speak to no one. Our children shall not lay eyes upon you. Do you agree to these terms?"

  I made to retort, stung, and thought better of it. Hyacinthe's face rose in my memory; alight with merriment, black eyes shining, his teeth flashing in a white grin. Eight hundred years, condemned to a lonely isle. "Yes, father. " It bears saying that I can sound very meek when I choose to do so. "I will abide as you say. "

  "Good. " The Rebbe clapped his hands. "Then for the next week, you will study the Be'resheith, the first book of the Tanakh. We will begin, as it is written, 'In the beginning. ' And when I summon you, you may be sure, I will question you. " His glare returned. "In Habiru! Do not speak to me of this language you call Yeshuite, is that clear?"

  "Yes," I murmured. "Thank you, father. "

  "Barukh hatah Yeshua a'Mashiach, lo ha'lam," the Rebbe intoned, and waved his hand. "Now go away. And wear something decent, when you return. "

  Outside, Joscelin looked sidelong at me and fidgeted with the carriage-team's harness. It was quiet in the courtyard, no children in sight, Elua be thanked. I did not want to give offense on the heels of our agreement. "He is a very great man, Phèdre," Joscelin said with restraint. "He does not mean to insult you. "

  "And I am a living insult to all that he holds holy," I replied calmly. "I unders
tand, Joscelin. I will do my best not to tax him with it. If he can help us find a way to free Hyacinthe, that is all that matters. Unless you fear I will intervene in your redemption. "

  It was hurtful, my last words, and I knew it. He shuddered as if they pained him. "I am not seeking redemption," he said, his voice low and savage. "It is only that the Rebbe is the first one to tell me that I need neither share Cassiel's damnation nor discard my vows as facilely as if they were naught but some outmoded convention!"

  "Joscelin!" I took a step back, startled. "I never said that!"

  "No. I know. But you have thought it. " He shuddered again, turning away to needlessly check the harness buckles. "Get in the carriage," he said, his voice muffled. "I'll drive you home. "

  It was a long ride home, and quiet and lonely in my carriage.

  EIGHT

  It was on the following day that Thelesis de Mornay called upon me, and I greeted her visit with unfeigned delight. The Queen's Poet was an unprepossessing woman with features that might almost have been homely, were it not for her luminous dark eyes and musical voice. When she spoke, one heard only beauty.

  "Phèdre. " Thelesis embraced me with a smile, eyes aglow. "I'm sorry I've not had a chance to see you sooner. Forgive me for coming unannounced. "

  "Forgive you? I can't think of anyone I'd rather see," I said, squeezing her hand. It was true. Once, when I thought I was suffering the gravest sorrow of my life, Thelesis had drawn me out of it; it had been nothing more than childish jealousy, I know now, but I have always treasured her kindness and tact.

  And Delaunay treated her as an equal, and trusted her. When Joscelin and I escaped from Skaldia and made our return to the City, only to find ourselves condemned in absentia of Delaunay's murder, it was Thelesis who aided us in secrecy and won us an audience with Ysandre. I trusted her with my life, then, and I would again.

  "Here. " She turned to her footman, dressed in the livery of House Courcel, and nodded. He held out a large wooden box. "I brought a gift. "

  "You didn't have to do that," I protested. Thelesis smiled.

  "I did, though," she said. "Wait and see. "

  We adjourned to the sitting room, and Gemma brought glasses of cordial. Thelesis sipped hers and coughed once, delicately.

  "Your health still troubles you?" I asked sympathetically. She had caught the fever, that Bitterest Winter, that killed so many.

  "It will pass. " She pressed her hand briefly to her chest. "Go on and open it. "

  The box sat on the low table before us. I pried the lid loose and peered inside, pulling out wads of cotton batting to find it concealed a small marble bust. Lifting it out, my hands trembled. I held the bust aloft and gazed at it.

  It was Anafiel Delaunay.

  The sculptor had caught him in the prime of his thirties, in all his austere beauty; the proud features, a faint wryness to his beautiful mouth, irony and tenderness mingled in his eyes and the thick cable of his braid coiling forward over one shoulder. Not the same, of course, in its marble starkness; Delaunay's eyes had been hazel, shot with topaz, his hair a rich auburn. But the face, ah, Elua! It was him.

  "Thank you," I murmured, my voice shaking; grief, unexpected, hit me like a blow to the stomach. "Thank you, oh, Thelesis, Blessed Elua, I miss him, I miss him so much!" She looked at me with concern, and I tried to shake my head, waving it off. "Don't worry, it's not. . . I love this, truly, it's beautiful, and you are the kindest friend, it's only that I miss him, and I thought I was done with grieving, but seeing this . . . and Alcuin, and Hyacinthe, and now Joscelin . . . " I tried to laugh. It caught in my throat, thick with tears. "Now Joscelin wants to leave me to follow his own path, and thinks even of becoming a Yeshuite, oh, Elua, I just. . . "

  "Phèdre. " Thelesis took the bust gently, setting it on the table and waited quietly throughout the sudden onslaught of sobs that wracked me. "It's all right. It's all right to mourn. I miss him too, and he was only my friend, not my lord and mentor. " It didn't matter what she said; she might have said anything in that soothing voice of hers.

  "I'm so sorry. " I had buried my face in my hands. I lifted it, blinking at her through tears. "Truly, this is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever given me, and I repay you like this. " I said it politely, though I couldn't help sniffling.

  "I'm glad you like it. I commissioned it from a sculptor who knew him well, once. " She touched the bust, stroking it with a rueful touch. "He had an effect on people, Anafiel Delaunay did. "

  I nodded, scrubbing at my tear-stained face. "He did that. "

  "Yes. " Thelesis regarded me with her quiet gaze. "Phèdre. " One word, naming me. It is a poet's gift, to go to the heart of things in a word. "Why?"

  With anyone else, I might have dissembled; I had done it already with Cecilie, and indeed, with Ysandre de la Courcel herself. But Thelesis was a poet, and those dark eyes saw through to the bone. If not for illness, she would have gone to Alba in my stead. I owed her truth, at least.

  "Wait," I said, and went to fetch my sangoire cloak. Returning, I gave it to her, a bundle of velvet folds the color of blood at midnight. "Do you remember this?"

  "Your cloak. " Her head bowed over it. "I remember. "