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Sidonie and I donned our cloaks and hoods. We were ushered to another room, a small
chamber adjacent to a larger room, one that might have served as a musical salon in happier times.
 Wait here, he said to us; and to Alais,  Do you know what to say?
She looked ashen but resolute.  I think so.
It wasn t the best of plans. The door to our chamber was thick and heavy, and L Envers had
closed it all the better to make a theatrical gesture. I supposed it ran in the family. Still, it meant that
whatever Alais said, we couldn t hear it, only her muffled voice. But in the end, it didn t really matter.
When Alais finished, L Envers wrenched open the door.
 Go, he said tersely.
We walked out together. I d emerged bareheaded; it was close and airless in the storage
chamber. Sidonie didn t push her hood back until we emerged. I heard fourteen voices gasp.
There was only one face I recognized: Frederic Guillard, a young Azzallese baron who d spent a
summer at Court some years ago. I d played piquet with him in the Hall of Games. I didn t know the
others. They were peers of the Lesser Houses, man and woman, old and young. It didn t matter. They
were there to represent their folk. They stared at us with wonder and uncertainty.
 My lords and ladies, Sidonie addressed them in a somber tone.  I wish to thank each of you
for your courage in defending Terre d Ange in a time of sorrow. And I wish to apologize for my own role
in it. She took a deep breath.  You have heard rumors that there is dire magic behind the madness that
grips all who were in the City of Elua on that fateful night. We are here to tell you it is true. And we are
here to tell you that it can and will be defeated.
I saw the first glimmers of hope in their faces.
 The tale is long and time is short, Sidonie continued.  I will leave the full telling of it to my royal
kin. But know this: For months on end, I was in the grip of the same madness. I believed lies. Neither my
wits nor my will were wholly my own. And yes, in the grip of this madness, I wed Astegal of Carthage.
She glanced at me, her eyes bright.  But love, true love, is a persistent and abiding force. Imriel de la
Courcel found a way to break the spell and save me. There was a second collective gasp. Sidonie held
out one hand.  It is a method that will work only if the victim has been removed from D Angeline soil,
she said gently.  It will not work on those poor afflicted souls in the City. But there is another method that
may succeed and yet avert the shadow of war that hangs over us.
They listened hungrily.
 I will make no false promises, Sidonie said.  The challenge is a difficult one. Imriel and I will
depart immediately for the City. We will do everything in our power to succeed. If we fail, the burden will
fall to you to you and to all the folk of Terre d Ange. Her voice was strong and steady.  And if we do
fail, I call upon you to rise up and prevent the slaughter of innocents. To do whatever is necessary. I call
for war.
There were nods and murmurs, looks of grim determination. As awful a choice as it was, there
was a certain relief in hearing it stated aloud.
 I call upon you to do so knowing that those who can be captured can be saved. Sidonie
gestured, showing her bindings.  There is magic in Alba that can shield against the effects of this foul
spell. One way or another, it will be broken. And know this. She took another deep breath.  We go
forth in every hope of success. Over the past weeks, I have witnessed great and terrible things. And I
bear glad tidings out of them. Carthage s army has suffered a great defeat.
That caught them by surprise; I d forgotten that they didn t know. But we were the first bearers
of the news, and we d bade Marc Faucon and his men to stay silent.
Sidonie smiled grimly.  Astegal of Carthage is dead. Even now . . . She had to raise her voice to
be heard above the rising excitement.  Even now, his head adorns a pike in the Plaza del Rey in Amílcar!
And even as I speak, the bulk of the D Angeline fleet hurries to Aragonia to honor our alliance and
make war on those who sought to divide our fair country against itself!
It stirred their blood like strong spirits and brought them to their feet, cheering. And Elua, yes, it
gave them hope. A fierce, proud, violent hope, but hope nonetheless. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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