"Enough, my lady?" Fortun asked me; he looked rather ill himself. The Doge had guessed well when he guessed that the subornation of the Oracle of Asherat would perturb me. Little could he have known how much more blasphemous this spectacle would appear to D'Angeline eyes. I wondered that Prince Benedicte could have stood it as long as he did, and understood better why he secluded himself in the Little Court.

"Enough," I said firmly. Rolling his eyes, the boatman stuck his long-handled oar into the waters of the canal and turned the gondola. Like the royal scions of Elua, I fled back to the sanctuary of the familiar.

At our rented home, we found the grinning team of Ti-Philippe and Remy, who had spent the day scouting out news of the errant Phanuel Buonard, the simple Namarrese soldier on whom, it seemed, an entire conspiracy devolved. Between my visit to the Doge and the courtesans' quarter, I wanted nothing more than to soak in a long bath, but curiosity compelled me to hear out their news.

"We found him," Ti-Philippe said with satisfaction. "Took a whole day fishing on the lagoon and bribing other fishermen to talk with cheap brandy, my lady, but we landed the bastard, begging your pardon! He's wed into the Pidari, a family of glassblowers-"

"Who," Remy interrupted him, "have a cousin with no knack for the trade, that they reckoned better off casting nets than breaking bottle-necks. And when we told him we served a great lady who might be minded to commission an entire leaded-glass window for the Queen of Terre d'Ange herself if the Pidari were willing to show her their studios, why, he fell all over himself to make the introduction!"

Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I could not but laugh. "Well," I said, when I'd regained control of myself. "Her majesty is going to be very surprised to learn what she's committed to today. Can he take us tomorrow?"

Remy shook his head. "He's got to get their consent. Very tight, these glassblowers; trade secrets and all. But he'll take us first thing the day after."

It was at that moment that Joscelin, a day and a half absent, chose to make his return. He stood blinking in the slanting late-afternoon sunlight of the salon, gazing around at the four of us, the maps still spread on the dining table. "What is it?" he asked, frowning. "Have you learned something?"

"You might say that," I said.

THIRTY-NINE

It took some time to explain the last two days' events to Joscelin, though he was quick to grasp their meaning, gazing thoughtfully at Fortun's maps and the markings thereon.

When I was done, our eyes met in that old, familiar silence.

"Percy de Somerville," he said softly.

"He sent them all to La Serenissima." I twined a lock of my hair, still damp from my bath - I'd made him wait that long to hear the news, at least - about my fingers. "But why?"

"L'Envers is clever enough to set him up," Joscelin said reluctantly. "If anyone is."

"By pinning suspicion on himself?" I shook my head. "It's a long reach."

"I know." Joscelin traced the path of a corridor on the map, not meeting my eyes. "And Ghislain? We put our lives in his hands. We put Drustan's life in his hands."

"I know." I sighed. "I know, I know! And Ysandre put the life of the entire realm in Percy de Somerville's hands, and he did not fail her. And yet ... oh, Joscelin, I don't know. If I could make sense of it, it would be easier to believe. Something's missing. The pieces don't fit."

"Yes. Still." He looked soberly at me. "We need to go to Benedicte with this, Phèdre. You've done enough. He needs to know. And Ysandre. Whichever it is, whysoever they did it ... if she's planning on making the progressus, she'll be leaving the nation. And unless she's given reason not to, she'll leave Barquiel L'Envers as her regent and Percy de Somerville in command of the Royal Army. Either way ...”

"I know." I propped my chin on folded hands. "Let me talk to this Phanuel Buonard. He's the last link. If we can shed more light on this ... This is big, Joscelin. I don't dare go to Prince Benedicte unless I'm as sure as I can be. Not with this kind of supposition."

After a moment, he gave a reluctant nod. "Buonard, and then straight to the Little Court. Whatever he tells us, even if 'tis naught. Agreed?"

"Agreed." The sound of splashing and laughter in the canal outside caught my ear, and I glanced toward the window. Joscelin rose swiftly and went to the balcony, where his appearance was greeted with jeering shouts from below.

He returned, expressionless, holding back the curtains. "Callers for you, my lady."

Twisting my damp hair into a cable over one shoulder, I passed him to enter onto the balcony and gaze down. The Immortali's bissone rocked on the canal below as Severio stood unsteadily, fellow clubsmen leaning on their oars and shouting encouragement. Water rippled and their torches cast wavering reflections across it. In the prow, gilded Asherat's slender arms tilted to and fro with the rocking of the boat, as if the goddess reached to dip her hands in the Great Canal.

"Phèdre, Phèdre, Phèdre!" Severio cried drunkenly. "You made me a promise, and four days have ignored me! Now my heart is like to break! Say you will come tomorrow for the War of the Flowers, or I swear, I will throw myself in the canal this minute and end it all!"

His voice echoed across the water, bouncing off the elegant houses. Inside windows all along the canal, I saw lamps being kindled. "My lord," I called, "you will wake the whole Sestieri. If I promise to attend, will you go home quietly?"

"For a kiss, I will!" Severio made to take a step forward and the bissone pitched wildly; I daresay he would have gone headlong into the water if a few of the Immortali hadn't caught onto the dagged hem of his doublet, dragging him back and laughing uproariously. "Phèdre, a man's heart and loins could starve on the crumbs you throw me here, where you spread a feast in Terre d'Ange! Pray, one kiss, and I'll be gone till the morrow, I swear it!"

The curtains stirred behind me and I turned to see Joscelin leaning in the shadows of the balcony door. "Do you want me to get rid of them?"

"No," I murmured. Severio and his comrades had begun to sing, loudly and off-key. On another balcony, someone shouted for them to be quiet, and I heard the unmistakable splash of a chamber pot being emptied in their direction, and threats and protests from the Immortali. Even in dim light, I could see the disgust in Joscelin eyes. "He's the best cover I have, Joscelin, and a Doge's grandson. Don't make trouble. All I need is one more day." Wordless, he went inside, and I turned back to the balcony.

"Phèdre, Phèdre, come down!" Severio called, waving his arms. This time, a chorus of shouts along the canal begged him to be silent.

I leaned over the railing. "My lord, you have my word. Now go home, lest I take it back." With that, I stepped back inside, closing the balcony doors firmly and drawing the curtains closed. The shouting lasted a few minutes longer, then dwindled into silence. I looked for Joscelin, but he was gone.

There was no reason for me to break my word on the morrow and naught to be done before we could meet with the family of Phanuel Buonard on the glassblower's isle, so I took part in the War of the Flowers-and in truth, it proved one of the more charming Serenissiman customs I witnessed. 'Tis a mock battle betwixt the sons and daughters of the Hundred Worthy Families, held in a small fortified palace that perches on one of the lesser isles, across a broad waterway from the Temple of Baal-Jupiter.

It meant I was perforce confined to the fortress with the other young women, but for once an atmosphere of such gaiety prevailed that not even I could find the company dull. We were ferried across the way to find that bushels of flowers-roses, geraniums, gladioli, love-in-a-mist, orchids and violets-provisioned the fortress, as well as eggs blown hoilow and filled with scraps of bright confetti or colored flour. These, it seemed, were our armaments.

At Baal-Jupiter's temple, the young men were given the priests' blessing, and set forth in a vast armada of gondoli to storm the fortress. Like the truce-parties, all enmity was set aside; this was a courting ritual, one of the highlights of the summer. We leaned from the tower windows and watched them come, oars flashing in the sunlight, swift prows cutting the water.

When they arrived, shouting with laughter and high spirits, the gondoli swarmed the base of the tower like a shoal of dark fish and the young men in their doublets and striped hose made a riot of color within them. We leaned from the windows and pelted them with flowers, until the air was filled with a petal-storm. They returned our salvos in kind, tossing nosegays and sweets, sachets and trinkets, begging us to open the sea gate or lower a rope. Severio was there, catching my eye and pleading far more winsomely than he had last night, but it was the daughter of a member of the Consiglio Maggiore who caught a pomander and weakened first, throwing out a rope ladder such as had been provided us, tied with gay ribbons.

At that, the game shifted, and the young men in their gondoli vied for position, that they might make the daring leap to catch the rope ladder. Most fell instead, splashing into the lagoon, to be hauled out by their fellows, and any who gained the ladder became the target of the flour and confetti eggs. The Immortali had allowed Remy and Ti-Philippe to crew with them, and it was their efforts that brought Benito Dandi's gondola in reach of the ladder. Adept sailors, they grinned and held the ladder for him. Despite our best efforts-Giulia Latrigan threw an egg that burst in a profusion of blue flour and coated half his head- Benito gained the tower and claimed a kiss from the first woman he caught, which I made certain was not me.

Below, the sons of the Hundred Worthy Families--and my two chevaliers-cheered, and Benito signaled his victory from the window, before going below to open the sea gate.

Afterward, the servants and the chaperones joined us, and there was a great feast with much wine served in the courtyard of the fortress. When the dancing began, I took care to keep an eye on Remy and Ti-Philippe, who met with much admiration from the Serenissiman maidens. I did not wholly trust either of them not to find it a fine lark to win with D'Angeline charm what every unwed Serenissiman woman was supposed to retain; the Hundred Worthy Families place an absurd value on virginity. Happily, the chaperones had the same thought, and kept my chevaliers in line.

"There will be matches aplenty made today," Severio observed, standing at my side. "Phèdre, if I apologize for my behavior last night, do you think you might give an answer to my proposal?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "How can I answer, when I've not heard your apology?"

He grinned at me and went down on one knee. "My lady Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, 1 apologize for my appallingly rude behavior. Come here," he added, rising and taking my hand. "I want to show you something."

We left the courtyard by a side gate, and Severio led me through a small garden where a flowering hawthorn bloomed on a rise. Atop the hill, we could see over the fortress wall and across the water, where the Temple of Baal-Jupiter and its great statue stood. The sun was low, and its slanting rays picked out the thunderbolt in the striding god's hand, setting it ablaze with gold.

"It's beautiful," I said, although it gave me a chill, knowing what I did of the blasphemy at the heart of La Serenissima.

"Not half as beautiful as you." Severio gripped my arms, a little too hard. The lowering sun was behind him, and his face in shadow. "Phèdre, you're driving me mad, Will you marry me or no?"

I could have put him off longer, I think, if I'd not been so distracted with the events of the last few days; I'd done a poor job of it and given him this opening. "Prince Severio," I said gently, seeking out his shadowed gaze. "Almost, you convince me."

"Almost," he murmured. "Almost." His hands flexed, fingers digging into my arms. "I am a soft fool for stopping at almost, and wooing with tenderness what is won by force!" His voice grated with harsh desire, and he pulled me hard against him, his mouth seeking mine.

"My lord!" I jerked my head away, glaring at him. Kushiel's gift, Kushiel's curse; I could feel my body's willingness to submit. So could he. It had been a long time, and I was no Cassiline, made to endure celibacy. Severio had broken my drought before; why not now? But I remembered the courtesan's quarter and thought, there is no honor in this in La Serenissima. Naamah has turned her face away from this place, and Kushiel does not bid it, nor Elua compel. When I spoke again, my voice was firmer than I would have thought possible. "My lord, no."

Severio Stregazza was one-quarter D'Angeline. It took a while, but it was enough. He dropped his hands and looked coldly at me. "As my lady wills. My men will see you home."

And with that, he left me in the garden, walking swiftly back to the festivities in the courtyard, where any one of a score of women would gladly accept the proposal of the grandson of the Doge, little knowing what manner of violent pleasure awaited them in the marriage bed. I, who knew it all too well, was left alone and rueful, aching with a desire that had no place in the tight-bound strictures of Serenissiman nobility.

If, if, if. If I had managed Severio better-and I should have-matters would never have come to a head between us that night. If they hadn't, I'd never have done what I did later. I returned to the courtyard, where there was much rejoicing among the daughters of the Hundred Worthy Families to see that Severio Stregazza had parted with his D'Angeline infatuation. It made me an open target for the Hundred Worthy sons, and I saw a gleam in the eyes of the Immortali, who knew what I was and had kept the secret for Severio's sake. I drank two glasses of wine rather too fast, and did not trust myself. Finding Remy, I caught his arm. "Home," I murmured. "And don't leave my side until we get there."