Kushiel's Dart

we were at last ensconced, I began to write letters, and Phedre's Boys leapt at the chance to play courier, crossing the realm with correspondence. I wrote to Ysandre, with gratitude, to Cecilie Laveau-Perrin and Thelesis de Mor-nay, with small tales of our doings, to Quintilius Rousse and Caspar Trev-alion, with greetings; and always, with a plea for news. I wrote even to
    Maestro Gonzago de Escabares, in care of the University of Tiberium, and Remy was gone months on that adventure.
    And I bought books, and in L'Arene, Ti-Philippe found Taavi and Danele, owners of a prosperous tailor's shop in the Yeshuite quarter.
    That spring Joscelin and I rode to visit them, and held a happy reunion. Impossible to believe that scarcely a year ago we had met on the road, where they had saved our lives. The girls had grown taller, and our Skaldi pony, still with them, had grown fatter. If they would still accept no reward, I repaid them as best I was able, with a sizeable commission for livery. The insignia of Montreve was a four-quartered shield, with a crescent moon upper right and a mountain crag lower left. That was ever the standard we flew at the manor, but for Phedre's Boys, I added my own devices: Delaunay's sheaf of grain, and the sign of Kushiel's Dart.
    We returned from L'Arene the richer in renewed friendships, and with one addition: Seth ben Yavin, a young Yeshuite scholar who stammered and turned red in my presence, but was nonetheless doggedly persistent in his teaching.
    All that spring and well into summer I studied with him, and the days slid by like water. Sometimes Joscelin joined us, but not always; the lure of the mountains was stronger, and he would rather, he declared, learn it from me. As I gained some small proficiency, Seth began to forget I was an anguissette and sometime Servant of Naamah, and grew more at ease in my company, arguing and debating happily.
    It was good to have my mind challenged and occupied, for it kept me from restlessness. We had not spoken of that, of what would happen when Kushiel's Dart began to prick. I was an anguissette; it would. But for now, even I had had a sufficiency of pain.
    When deep summer began to give way to early fall, Seth begged leave to depart, having family duties to resume. He left with Fortun to accompany him, a generous purse of his own, and another to accompany a list of books and codices he felt I might need, and for which he promised to search. I had a long way to go in my studies, but I knew enough to begin my quest.
    The leaves were beginning to turn gold when Gonzago de Escabares arrived.
    He came unannounced, with a lone apprentice tending him, two horses and a well-laden mule between them; a little greyer and stouter, but otherwise unchanged. I threw myself on him with a cry of joy, and he laughed.
    "Ah, little one! You'll give an old man the fits. Come, I'm near starved to the bone. Didn't my Antinous teach you aught about hospitality?"
    I led him into the manor, talking all the while, I am sure, while Joscelin looked on with polite bewilderment and ordered their horses stabled, and the mule unpacked.
    Seth ben Yavin had been a paid tutor; Maestro Gonzago de Escabares was my first genuine guest. In an unexpected state of nervousness, I nearly drove the household staff mad with half-brained requests, until Richeline calmly and firmly ordered me to attend to my guest and leave the arrangements to her.
    Over wine, which the Maestro quaffed heartily, and an array of cheeses and sweetmeats, which also met a quick end, I learned that he had been travelling in the northern city-states of Caerdicca Unitas, learning of the upheaval along the Skaldic border. An old colleague of his in Tiberium had received my letter, and he decided to pay a visit, bringing an apprentice who wished to learn of de Escabares' method of studying the world.
    It had been his plan to return home to Aragonia and begin drafting his memoirs, but upon receiving my letter, he had determined to come first to Montreve, which lay nearly on his way.
    "I would have sent word, my dear, but I would have outpaced it," he said, eyes twinkling. "We travelled like the wind, did we not, Camilo?"
    His apprentice coughed and hid a smile, murmuring something about a rather slow breeze.
    I laughed and patted Gonzago's hand. "I'm just glad you're here,
    Maestro."
    After they had retired and rested for a time, we dined, a meal of sufficient rustic splendor that even the Maestro was content. For my part, I