"Hyacinthe's plight comes first." I made my voice firm, trying not to think on the promise I had made Melisande. "We will see those arrangements made. Then . . . mayhap we will see what there is to be learned in Iskandria that lies beyond the Hellene stratum of Menekhetan society."

Joscelin smiled. "I thought you would say as much."

THIRTY-ONE.

IN THE morning, we reconvened over breakfast, which consisted of pungent bean-cakes, fried in oil and served with a sweet condiment of jellied figs, a strange but pleasing combination of flavors. Amaury Trente had already sent word to Ambassador de Penfars to arrange for an appointment. He was more optimistic than he had been last night; if nothing else, at least my suggestions had given him purpose.

Joscelin and I would explore Iskandria . . . and no matter what promises I had made to Melisande, I did intend to settle the matter of a guide to Jebe-Barkal first and foremost. Once the arrangements were made, I could dedicate my energies to aiding Amaury in the search for Imriel's mysterious purchaser with a clear mind.

True to his word, the boy Nesmut appeared while we were still eating, bright-eyed and cheerful. "You have work for me, yes?" he asked with a winning smile. "Gracious lord and lady need a guide to see the city? I show the best places!"

I took the scrap of vellum Melisande had given me from the purse at my girdle and showed it to him. "I am looking for a man named Radi Arumi, who resides at this address on the Street of Crocodiles. Do you know this place?"

Nesmut peered at it. "Gracious lady, I cannot read, but I know the Street of Crocodiles. If you tell me the number, I will take you there, yes."

After a brief negotiation, we were agreed.

The heat of the day struck us like a blast from a forge as we left Metriche's inn. It was hard to believe, I thought, that in Terre d'Ange, the fields lay in stubble and the chill autumn rains fell upon the land. In Menekhet, the sun blazed unceasing and the sky was a hard blue, copper-tinged with heat. Although the broad streets were swept clean, there was taste of dust in my mouth. For all that, the city bustled. It would, Nesmut informed us, grow hotter yet; at midday, everyone retired to the shade until the worst of the heat had passed. It was well that we had risen early. He kept up a running commentary as he led us through the city, pausing to greet a half-dozen people on every block-servants, carriage-drivers, housewives, water-sellers. Everyone, it seemed, had a good-natured word for the lad.

And all, I noticed, in Menekhetan.

"There is the Street of Moneylenders," Nesmut announced, pointing, "if you like, I take you to a man to change your Serenissiman coin for Menekhetan, yes? Harder then for merchants to cheat you. I know a man who is fair."

I glanced at Joscelin, who raised his eyebrows. "You wouldn't cheat, us, would you, Nesmut?" he asked the boy in Hellene. "Because if you did ..." In a movement too quick for the eye to follow, his daggers leapt from their sheaths and into his hands, crossed tips hovering under the lad's chin. "I would be very angry."

Nesmut's dark eyes widened. "Gracious lord!" he breathed. "Never!"

"Good." Joscelin put up his daggers and gave a cross-vambraced bow. A faint smile hovered at one corner of his mouth where only I could see it. "Then we will heed your advice. Thank you, Nesmut."

"Gracious lord," he said warily, pointing again. "It is this way."

It was well done of Joscelin, for the rate of exchange proved more than fair, and I daresay a good deal of it was due to the impression Nesmut conveyed of our seriousness. In short order, the transaction was done, and we left having exchanged our Serenissiman solidi for a considerable amount of Menekhetan coin. Nesmut led us to the Street of Crocodiles with a renewed air of importance.

The address Melisande had given me was in the jewelers' quarter and proved, indeed, to be that of a jeweler's shop. Tiny bronze bells rang as we opened the door, passing from bright sun into the relative coolness of shadow within the thick sandstone walls. To my sun-dazzled eyes, it was murky as night within the shop. I made out the angular figure of a man hunched over a worktable positioned in a patch of morning sun that slanted through a window. The figure's head lifted, and I heard a gasp; his hands moved in a flurry, overturning a number of cabochon gems on the worktable and laying them facedown before he arose to greet us.

"My lady." He addressed me in Hellene, placing both hands together and bowing deeply. His face, when he straightened, was filled with awe. "I am Karem. How may I serve you?"

"Karem," I said, blinking. My eyes were adjusting to the darkness. He was young, his beard still patchy on his chin, and clearly Menekhetan. "I am Phedre no Delaunay, Comtesse de Montreve in Terre d'Ange. I am looking for a man named Radi Arumi. Do you know him?"

"The Jebean." Karem's face showed his disappointment. "Yes, I know him, my lady; he rents a room in my father's lodgings in the back when he is in Iskandria. Wait here, please, and I will tell him you have come."

With another bow, he vanished out a rear doorway. Nesmut wandered over to a sitting-area to the right of the shop, low-slung leathern chairs arranged about a low table. He clambered into one of the chairsand sat cross-legged, quite at his ease. Karem was gone a long time. I looked at his worktable.

Semiprecious gems lay scattered; carnelian, amethyst, chalcedony. I wondered why he'd overturned them. His jeweler's tools were works of art in and of themselves, tiny blades and picks and chisels, immaculately wrought, reminding me, with an uncomfortable shock, of Melisande's flechettes, those exquisite little blades capable of causing such exquisite pain.

When all is said and done, I am an anguissette. This is what it is to be Kushiel's Chosen. No purpose, no quest, can change the nature of what I am; for good or for ill.

After a while, Joscelin and I both took seats, waiting. And in time, Karem returned, with a second man in tow, of indeterminate years, black-skinned and leathered with exposure to the sun, an embroidered cap perched atop his wooly hair.

"Radi Arumi," I greeted him, standing and inclining my head. "In'demin aderq."

A grin split his creased face at my words, showing strong white teeth. "Ha! It is a dream-spirit that speaks to me in Jeb'ez," Radi Arumi said in pidgin Hellene. "Do I dream? My friend Karem dreams, and covers his groin with embarrassment."

I colored, although I daresay I grew no redder than poor Karem. "Messire Arumi," I said directly, ignoring it, "I am looking for the descendants of Melek al'Hakim, the Queen of Saba's son. And I am told you know where to find them."

"Ah." Radi Arumi sat down, eyeing me and my companions. He wore loose-fitting, brightly colored robes, frayed at the edges. "There was a man, a Hellene man, asking about such things, a year or more gone by. He served a mistress in La Serenissima, he told me. He wanted to know if the stories were true.

I guide the caravans to Meroe. He wanted to know if I could guide him to the scions of Saba. I told him yes."

"You told him yes." It was Joscelin who spoke, shifting subtly in his chair to show the hilts of his daggers, his sword. "Can you?" he inquired.

Nesmut drew up his knees and looked from one to the other, bright-eyed with interest. "Yes, kyrios,"

Radi Arumi answered, giving Joscelin a seated half-bow. "Though it is far, far to the south, I can show you. But..." He held up one hand, pale palm outward, raising a finger. "It is a long journey, and difficult.

Do you wish to make it?"

"We do," I said firmly, forestalling any other answer Joscelin might give. "We have some business to attend to in Iskandria, messire guide, but be assured, we are very interested in the descendants of Saba.

Can you arrange to guide us there? We will pay."

Nesmut made a sound of protest. Karem, looking sullen, wandered to his worktable and pried at the edge of a cabochon gem, peering at its hidden face. Radi Arumi watched me through half-lidded eyes.

"There is," he said presently, "a caravan leaving for Meroe in a fortnight's time. I have contracted to serve as their guide. Do you wish to go with them, I will accompany you, and from Meroe, we will set forth for Saba, where Melek al'Hakim's descendants endure. Does it please you, my lady? If it does, we will speak of money."

I glanced at Joscelin, who shrugged. "Yes, messire guide. It pleases me. Let us speak of money."

And so we did, in a polyglot of languages, for it would not do but that Nesmut, our self-appointedliaison, had his say, and Karem contributed, while Joscelin and I conferred in D'Angeline. It was an art, I realized in time, and part and parcel of making the deal. At some point, a tray of strong mint tea was served, sweetened with honey. We sipped it from small cups and made polite argument with one another.

When it was done, Joscelin and I had signed on to accompany a Menekhetan trade caravan to the Jebean capital city of Meroe, and thence to pay Radi Arumi a certain sum to lead us south to the descendents of Saba.

"May Amon-Re smile upon our endeavors," Radi said formally, rising and bowing. "I will await you at the Southern Gate a fortnight hence. We will leave ere daybreak."

So it was done, and it left us a full two weeks to search Iskandria for Imriel's trail. Although I kept my face solemn, I was pleased with the outcome. It was time enough, I thought. If it was not, no amount of time would suffice. I thought that, then.

"Gracious lady," Nesmut said tactfully. "The noon hour is nigh. Will you not take repose? There is a house nearby that serves a very fine beer, yes."

"Yes." I stood, stiff with long sitting, and wandered to Karem's worktable, attempting to see his handiwork, "Karem, these are very fine! What is this, a cameo? It's worthy of D'Angeline workmanship."

He moved awkwardly, interposing his body between me and the worktable, preventing me from seeing.

"No, no, my lady is too kind," he murmured. "They are poor trifles; poor trifles, nothing more."

"Gracious lady." Nesmut, appearing at my side, tugged at my hand, looking at me with earnest eyes.

"Let us go."

In the street, when the door to the jeweler's shop had closed behind us, he relaxed. I exchanged a perplexed look with Joscelin, who shrugged. The sun stood high overhead and the heat had intensified.

"Come," Nesmut said. "We will take repose."

The establishment to which he led us was thoroughly Menekhetan in nature; cool and dim, with thick walls to keep out the heat and high ceilings to diffuse it, and the same low arrangement of table and chairs, nearer to the cool tiles of the floor. We paused in the arched doorway. Several men seated within were playing a game with an inlaid board. They looked up, neither hostile nor welcoming. Nesmut spoke to the proprietor at length in Menekhetan. Eventually he nodded and waved us to a table, bringing a brown earthenware jug of beer and three cups.

The proprietor poured and the men resumed their board game, stealing occasional glances our way.

"Nesmut," I said. "Are you sure we are welcome here?"

Draining half his beer at a draught, he nodded vigorously, swallowing and setting down his cup. "Yes, gracious lady. It is not a place for women, Menekhetan women, but I explained to Hapuseneb that you are a foreigner, and different. It is proper. Do not fear. I know much of the ways of foreigners," he added, boasting.

"And Menekhetans and Hellenes as well?" Joscelin inquired.

Nesmut refilled his cup. "Everything, gracious lord, that passes in the city. But you are going to Jebe-Barkal, yes?" "Yes," I said. "In a fortnight." I sipped my beer and found it cool and refreshing, sweetened with honey and a trace of mint. "Nesmut, it is true, we do have need of a guide to the city, one who knows it inside and out. But our business here, it is a very delicate matter, and this guide ... it must be someone whom we can trust, someone who can keep a secret."

His eyes had grown very round. "I can keep a secret!" he said excitedly, tapping his breast. "I can, yes!"

I shook my head. "No. Even a promise is not enough. It is too grave."

"I will swear it by Serapis, god of the dead." Nesmut shivered and knelt on his low chair, tucking his bare feet under him. "I will swear the most dire oath I know, gracious lady!"

I thought about it, and at length nodded, keeping my expression terribly serious. "All right, then. Swear it." He did, raising one hand and reciting a long oath in Menekhetan with all the gravity of his youth.

"Good," I said when he had finished. "Nesmut, we are looking for a boy, a D'Angeline boy who was sold into slavery somewhere in Iskandria."

"Oh." Looking disappointed, he slumped back into his chair. "Yes, gracious lady. The one who put a knife in merchant Chouma?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You know about it?"

Nesmut sniffed. "Everyone knows. Rekhmire the clerk marched through the city to Chouma's house with enough men for an army. Everyone knows. Not," he added scornfully, "the lords and ladies, no.

They are too busy aping Hellenes, courting favor. They do not care what Pharaoh's men do to a Menekhetan slave-merchant. They do not care that Chouma's third concubine will have scars."

"So much for discretion," Joscelin said to me.

"True," I said. "Nesmut, what else do people say about it? Do they know where the boy may be found?"

"No." He shook his head, concentrating on refilling his cup. The jug was empty; our young guide had a considerable thirst for beer. He glanced at Joscelin for permission before gesturing to the proprietor for more. "No, gracious lady, no one knows. But it is said ..." He glanced sidelong at us and fell silent. The proprietor came with a fresh jug. Nesmut watched his receding back.

"Nesmut," I said gently. He met my eyes with reluctance. "Whatever it is you fear to say, I swear, I will never divulge that I learned it from you. I swear it in the name of Blessed Elua, and that is an oath no D'Angeline may break."

The boy stared into his cup, lowering his head until his hair obscured his face. "It is said," he murmured, "that the D'Angelines who came, the others, are looking for the boy. Why else would Rekhmire go to Chouma's house only then? So it is true. What is the name it is death to tell Pharaoh's men?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Pharaoh."

It made sense, although I wished it did not. I should have thought of it myself. Terre d'Ange does not permit traffic in D'Angeline flesh. Of a surety, if Pharaoh had a fancy for a D'Angeline slave-boy, it would be a whim best concealed.

Fadil Chouma had a buyer in mind; one, only one, mind. . . If Pharaoh had bought Imriel, it was done in secrecy, no doubt with Chouma's assurances that the lad was no one, a shepherd boy who would never be missed. I thought of the others, the children we found in Amilcar. It would have been true, had it been either of them. But no, it was Imriel, and now there was a delegation on Pharaoh's doorstep offering lucrative trade-rights, asking for the child's return.

"Elua!" Joscelin breathed. He looked ill. "If it's true, he could never admit it."

"No," I said. "He would give every evidence of cooperating. And I daresay it would be worth one's life to suggest a word otherwise. No," I sighed, "it's too late for diplomacy. We need to find out if it's true, first."

"And if it is?" Joscelin raised his brows.

"We'll have to steal him," I said. Nesmut let out a startled squeak. I glanced mildly at him. "I told you it was grave enough to warrant your oath."

From the look on his face, I daresay he agreed.

THIRTY-TWO.

THE FIRST order of business was to determine whether or not Imriel de la Courcel was indeed housed within the Palace of Pharaohs.

After his initial shock, Nesmut proved a valuable ally; I'd not done ill in trusting him. The oath he'd sworn was a binding one, and Nesmut, balanced on the cusp of adulthood, regarded it with a boy's solemnity and a man's sense of duty.

Once he put his mind to the matter, he bethought himself of a considerable number of contacts within the Palace: a laundress, a cook's apprentice, a gardener, a beer-taster. The list went on and on. It was as I had seen that morning-likeable and quick-witted, the lad knew nearly half the city. And when he was not escorting foreigners about Iskandria, he ran errands and carried messages and gossip for coin.

So had Hyacinthe done.

As he became caught up in the spirit of conspiracy, Nesmut's eyes shone with eagerness and I had to remind him to lower his voice, to speak in coded reference to our plan. Whether or not any of the other patrons spoke Hellene, I did not know, but I was taking no chances. Elua, but he was young! It made me uneasy.

"No one," I instructed him, "is to take the slightest risk to gain this information, do you hear me? No one, and most especially not you." My lord Delaunay's voice echoed in my head. He'd said much the same to me, on numerous occasions. I'd usually ignored him.

"I hear you, gracious lady." Nesmut nodded vigorously. "No risk. Only to observe."

And that, too, rang familiar, with all the brash assurance of my youth. The irony of it was not lost upon me. Melisande Shahrizai taught my lord Delaunay to use people to his own ends; as he had used me, as he had used Alcuin, ruthless and guilt-ridden, honoring a vow the rest of the world had forgotten. He'dhad little choice, for the doors of the society whose secrets he sought to penetrate had been closed to him.

As the doors to Pharaoh's secrets were barred to me.

And now I must needs use Nesmut to gain access to the lower echelons of Menekhetan society, to ferret out those secrets through the only avenue possible, in order to fulfill my vow to Melisande Shahrizai.

No, the irony was not lost upon me.

"Nesmut." It was Joscelin who changed the topic, a deliberate note of inquiry in his voice. I looked at him with gratitude, knowing full well he sensed my thoughts. "Why did the jeweler Karem turn over his work when we entered his shop?"

"Oh, that." The lad grinned. "Gracious lord, Karem makes . . . how did you say? Cameos? Portraits, yes, carved of Pharaoh's Queen for her admirers. For one of such beauty as my lady to gaze upon them .

. ." He clicked his tongue and snapped the fingers of one hand. "The stone would crack with envy."

"Ah." Joscelin shot me an amused glance. "I see."