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Garsenc is ever going to be。
She doesn't know what she will tell her husband if he asks for her thoughts that evening。 She suspects he will。 And she is almost certain she does know what his father's designs are and； even more； that the king is going to move with them。 Ademar is being guided； as a capricious stallion by a master horsebreaker； towards a destination Galbert has likely wanted to reach for more years than anyone knows。 King Duergar of Gorhaut had not been a man susceptible to the persuasion of anyone in his court； including his clergy…perhaps especially his clergy…and so the High Elder's access to real power dates back only to the precise moment when a Valensan arrow； arching through a wintry twilight； found Duergar's eye in that grim； cold battle by Iersen Bridge a year and a half ago。
And now Duergar is dead and burned on his pyre； and his handsome son rules in Cortil； and there is a peace signed in the north disinheriting a quarter of the people of Gorhaut； whether of high estate or low。 Which means…surely anyone could see it if they only stopped to look…one thing that will have to follow。 Instinctively； a motion of withdrawal as much a reflex as a forest creature's retreat from a tongue of flame； Rosala turns back to the window。 It is springtime in Gorhaut； but the grey rains show no signs of ending and the damp chill can ache in one's very bones。
It will be warmer； she knows； warmer and softer and with a far more benevolent light in the sky； in Arbonne。 In woman…ruled Arbonne； with its Court of Love； its wide； rich； sun…blessed lands； its sheltered； weling harbours on the southern sea and its heresy of Rian the goddess ruling alongside the god； not crouched in maidenly subservience beneath his iron hand。
〃We will have much to speak of yet；〃 Galbert de Garsenc is saying； 〃before summer draws fully upon us； and to you my liege will rightly fall all decisions that must be made and the great burden of them。〃 He raises his voice； Rosala does not turn back from the window。 She knows what he is about to say； where he is taking the king； taking all of them。 〃But as High Elder of Corannos in this most ancient； holy land where the god was born； I will say this to you； my liege； and to all those gathered here。 Thanks to your great wisdom； Gorhaut is at peace in the north for the first time in the lifetime of most of those here。 We need not draw axe and sword to guard our borders and our fields from Valensa。 The pride and the might of this country under King Ademar is as great as it has ever been in our long history； and ours is still and ever the holy stewardship through the six countries of the power of the god。 In these halls walk the descendants of the first corans…the earliest brothers of the god…who ever bestrode the hills and valleys of the known world。 And it may be…if you； my liege； should decide to make it so…that to us will fall a scourging task worthy of our great fathers。 Worthy of the greatest bards ever to lift voice in celebration of the mighty of their day。〃
Oh； clever； Rosala thinks。 Oh； very neatly done； my lord。 Her eyes are fixed on what lies beyond the window； on the mist rolling in over the moors。 She wants to be out there alone on a horse； even in rain； even with the child quickening in her womb； far from this smoky hall； these voices and rancours and sour desires； far from the honey…smooth manipulations of the High Elder behind her。
〃Beyond the mountains south of us they mock Corannos；〃 Galbert says； passion now infusing his voice。 〃They live under the god's own bright sun； which is his most gracious gift to man； and they mock his sovereignty。 They demean him with temples to a woman； a foul goddess of midnight and magics and the blood…stained rites of women。 They cripple and wound our beloved Corannos with this heresy。 They unman him； or they think they do。〃 His voice sinks again； towards intimacy； the nuanced notes of a different kind of power。 The whole room is with him now as in the foils of a spell； Rosala can sense it； even the women beside her are leaning forward slightly； lips parted； waiting。
〃They think they do；〃 Galbert de Garsenc repeats softly。 〃In time； in our time if we are worthy； they shall learn their folly； their endless； eternal folly； and holy Corannos shall not be mocked in the lanes of the Arbonne River ever again。〃
He does not end on a rousing note； it is not yet time。 This is a first proclamation only； a beginning； a muted instrument sounded amid smoking fires and a late； cold spring； with slanting rains outside and mist on the moors。
〃We will withdraw；〃 the king of Gorhaut says at length in his high voice； breaking the stillness。 〃We will take private counsel with our Elder of the god。〃 He rises from the throne； a tall； handsome； physically manding man； and his court sinks low in genuflection like stalks of corn before the wind。
It is so clear； Rosala is thinking as she rises to her feet again； so clear what is to e。
〃Do tell me； my dear；〃 Adelh de Sauvan murmurs； materializing at her elbow； 〃have you any late tidings of your much…travelled brother…in…law？〃
Rosala stiffens。 A mistake； and she knows it immediately。 She forces herself to smile blandly； but Adelh is a master at catching one unawares。
〃Nothing recent； I fear；〃 she answers calmly。 〃He was still in Portezza； the last we heard； but that was some months ago。 He doesn't municate very much。 If he does； I shall be most certain to convey your anxious interest。〃
A weak shaft； that one； and Adelh only smiles； her dark eyes lustrous。 〃Please do；〃 she replies。 〃I would think any woman would be interested in that one。 Such an acplished man； Blaise； an equal； a rival even to his great father I sometimes think。〃 She pauses； precisely long enough。 〃Though hardly to your dear husband； of course。〃 She says it with the sweetest expression imaginable on her face。
Two other women e up just then； blessedly freeing Rosala from the need to frame a reply。 She waits long enough for courtesy to be served and then moves away from the window。 She is cold suddenly； and wants very much to leave。 She cannot do so without Ranald； though； and she sees； with a brief inward yielding to despair； that he has refilled his flagon； and his dice and purse are on the table in front of him now。
She moves towards the nearest of the fires and stands with her back to the blaze。 In her mind she goes back over that short； unsettling exchange with Adelh。 She cannot stop herself from wondering what； if anything； the woman could possibly know。 It is only malice； she finally decides； only the unthinking； effortless malice that defined Adelh de Sauvan even before her husband died with King Duergar by Iersen Bridge。 An instinct for blood； something predatory。
Rosala has a sudden recollection； involuntary and frightening； of the starving cats and the torn； dying hound。 She shivers。 Unconsciously her hands e up to rest upon her belly； as if to cradle and shelter from the waiting world the life taking shape within her。
The light was the extraordinary thing； the way in which the sun in a deep blue sky seemed to particularize everything； to render each tree； bird on the wing； darting fox； blade of grass； something vividly bright and immediate。 Everything seemed to somehow be more of whatever it was here； sharper； more brilliantly defined。 The late…afternoon breeze from the west took the edge off the heat of the day； even the sound of it in the leaves was refreshing。 Though that； on reflection； was ridiculous： the sound of the wind in the trees was exactly the same in Gorhaut or Gotzland as it was here in Arbonne； there just seemed to be something about this country that steered the mind towards such imaginings。
A troubadour； Blaise thought； riding through afternoon sunshine； would probably be singing by now； or posing； or shaping some quite unintelligible thought based on the symbolic language of flowers。 There were certainly enough flowers。 A troubadour would know the names of all of them； of course。 Blaise didn't； partly because there were varieties of extravagantly coloured wildflowers here in Arbonne that he'd never seen before； even among the celebrated； rolling countrysi