Naamah's Blessing - By Jacqueline Carey Page 0,207

Turning to Thierry, he proffered a deep bow. “Your highness, I cannot tell you how much it gladdens my heart to see you alive and well. And I speak for all of us when I say it would be my very greatest honor to escort you home and see the rightful heir to Terre d’Ange restored to the throne.”

Prince Thierry smiled quietly, laying a hand on the fellow’s shoulder. “And I do believe I speak for all of us when I say I would like nothing better.”

Someone raised a cheer, and it was taken up by scores of voices, ragged and heartfelt. Men pressed close to clasp Thierry’s hand or clap his back. He accepted their acknowledgments with dignity.

Thierry de la Courcel had also grown and changed.

Amidst the joyous cacophony, there were a few discordant notes. There was Porfirio Reyes, the mayor of Orgullo del Sol, presiding unhappily over our reception in the port.

“So you succeeded after all, Lady Moirin,” he murmured to me after the initial exchange of greetings. “Your missing Dauphin’s unfortunate tale has a glad ending. I confess, I did not believe it possible.”

“I know,” I said. “You made it quite clear, my lord mayor.”

Porfirio Reyes gave me a shrewd glance beneath his drooping eyelids. “Yes, and I was wrong. But as I recall, you also made it clear that it was not your intention to upset the balance of power in Terra Nova. And yet it has happened.”

I spread my hands. “The world changes, and we must change with it. You were also wrong in saying I would find little to love in the Nahuatl. There is more to them than stone hearts and stone faces.”

His voice hardened. “I have not found it to be so.”

“I have,” I said. “Mayhap you are not trying hard enough.”

To that, the mayor of Orgullo del Sol had no answer.

There was also the matter of Alain Guillard and his fellow mutineers, who had rebelled and abandoned our company after the battle with the Cloud People.

“Your highness.” The Azzallese lordling addressed Thierry in clipped tones, his proud face hot with shame. His co-conspirators wore hang-dog looks. “I freely confess myself guilty of desertion and welcome whatever punishment you see fit to administer.” The other two nodded in abashed agreement.

Thierry studied them a moment. “I do not by any means condone your disloyalty,” he said presently. “But as this was a voluntary expedition, I do not think you can be considered formally guilty of desertion. I believe Lady Moirin charged you with escorting two men too grievously injured to continue to safety here, did she not?”

“She did,” Alain Guillard said stiffly.

“Did you succeed?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will consider your service fulfilled.” Thierry paused. “As far as punishment goes, I suspect that the knowledge you will have to live with an act of cowardice and disloyalty on your consciences will suffice.”

Alain Guillard’s face reddened further, but he made no protest, nor did either of his comrades.

And lastly there was the matter of Edouard Durel, the sailor who had attempted to steal Captain Rousse’s logbook and sabotage our voyage.

Thierry had heard the tale, of course. We’d had long months to share the details of our journeys with one another. He ordered the fellow brought to him. There in the square of Orgullo del Sol, Edouard Durel dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” he said in a broken whisper. “I was so sure you were dead, and this venture nothing but a vengeful woman’s folly. I’d have never done it otherwise, I swear.”

Prince Thierry drummed his fingers on his sword-belt. “Under ordinary circumstances, what would his punishment be, my lord captain?” he asked Septimus Rousse.

“Death,” the latter said promptly. “The Naamah’s Dove was sailing under a royal charter. It would be considered an act of treason, one that could well have resulted in the loss of the ship and all hands aboard. And at sea, the captain’s word is law.”

“And yet you chose to spare him.”

Septimus Rousse nudged the fellow with the toe of one boot. “He’s the only one who can testify that Claudine de Barthelme and her despicable sprat of a lad put him up to this. Under those circumstances, I didn’t think you’d want him dead, your highness.”

“No.” Thierry bent his gaze toward Edouard Durel. “You are willing to testify, I trust?”

Durel nodded, still weeping.

“I promised him aboard the ship that his wife and daughter will be cared for no matter what his sentence afterward,” Balthasar murmured