Kushiel's Justice by Jacqueline Carey Page B

murmurs of agreement from the Sabaeans. It was strange to see Phèdre’s household filled with so many somber scholars all at once, when she was wont to entertain more colorful gatherings. It pleased her, though. In deference to their ways, she wore an unadorned gown of brown velvet with a modest neckline, her hair caught in a plain black caul. She still shone, though. I do not believe Phèdre could look drab if she tried.
    “I did not say I believe it.” Seated cross-legged on the floor, Eleazar ben Enokh spread his hands. His thin face was lively with interest. “There are passages in the Brit Khadasha that suggest it, and there are passages that suggest otherwise.”
    “Bar Kochba,” another of the Yeshuites murmured. “ ‘And he shall carve out the way before you, and his blades shall shine like a star in his hands.’ ”
    Phèdre and Joscelin exchanged a glance. He touched the hilts of his twin daggers. There was a story there about young Yeshuites he’d taught to fight in the Cassiline manner. Ti-Philippe told me once. He knew, he’d been there.
    “But why
north
?” Morit asked in frustration.
    “Yeshua spoke of making a place in cold lands to await his return,” Eleazar said to her. “For my part, I believe he spoke in parable, and the place of which he spoke is the wastelands of the human heart. It is there that we must await him.”
    “You believe he was the
mashiach
?” one of the Sabaean men challenged him.
    Eleazar was quiet a moment. He was a mystic, and Phèdre had befriended him many years ago in her long quest to break the curse that bound the Master of the Straits. He had heard the Name of God when she spoke it. “I do,” he said slowly. “For I have found beauty and goodness in his words, and the promise of salvation. And yet I believe there is much that is hidden to us. What is it, this thing we call
salvation
? Who are we to discern the will of Adonai?”
    “So.” Morit smiled. “We are not so different, perhaps.”
    “No.” He smiled back at her. “Not so different.”
    It was true, what I’d said to Alais.
    True, and not true.
    They debated this and many things. I liked listening to them. It was much like the conversations we had in Tiberium under Master Piero’s guidance, seeking to define the nature of salvation, of goodness, of justice. Only they spoke in Habiru, not Caerdicci, and I stayed quiet and listened as best I could.
    “What of this
Elua
?” one of the Sabaeans inquired. “You are silent, Lady Phèdre, and yet you alone among us have come closest to touching the mind of Adonai. Do you believe Elua, then, was the
mashiach
? Why do you not speak?”
    “It is too big for words,” Phèdre said simply. “Ask your own untongued priests, for I can speak of it no more than they can.”
    Some of them were put out by her refusal, but Eleazar nodded. “You were given a gift,” he said. “Gifts do not always come with understanding; or not one to which we may give voice. Is it not so?”
    “My thanks,” she said. “Yes.”
    “I’ll say it, then.” Unexpectedly Joscelin lifted his head. His fair hair gleamed in the lamplight. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I believe it. I do not claim it is true for all folk, but for me, at least, Blessed Elua is the
mashiach
.”
    It surprised me a little, and yet it did not. Alone among Elua’s Companions, Cassiel followed Blessed Elua out of a belief that the One God had been wrong to turn his back on his misbegotten son. The Yeshuites called Cassiel the Apostate. They believe he will relent one day and return to the One God’s throne, and Elua and his Companions will follow. The Cassiline Brothers believe it, too. But Joscelin had passed through damnation and beyond, and he believed otherwise.
    I did, too.
    We spoke of it after our guests had left, after a fashion. There was somewhat I’d heard that I’d never asked him about, and I was curious.
    “Is it true you nearly converted to Yeshuism?” I asked him.
    “Where did