按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
place where Alain of Rousset had surprised even himself by reaching for something more than the usual closing platitudes of love triumphant and enduring and had found instead the rather more painful integrity of art。
Lisseut allowed herself the briefest pause； no more； for more would be to point the change； the new thing； too greatly and mar the effect； then she pitched her voice upwards towards sorrow and sang the last verse of the song。
When you e to say goodbye；
When you e to say that you will wed；
Do one thing for me
In memory of love；
Bring balm for the breaking of my heart。
She looked at Bertran de Talair for a moment as she began； then at the bearded coran behind him； but she ended gazing out over the heads of her listeners at the doorway beside the bar through which Remy and Aurelian had gone。 A reprise of the opening notes； as an echo of what had passed； a chord for the watchman； a chord for the garden nights that were gone； and she was done。
In Bertran's blue cloak the brown…haired girl looked delicate and fragile； not exalted； Blaise thought。 She was more clever…looking than formally beautiful； but there was no missing…even for him…the purity of her voice； and the unexpected sadness at the very end of the song caught him for a moment。 He didn't know the new thing that note of sorrow represented； but he could hear the sound of it； and the meaning of the words took his mind down unusual channels。 Not for long of course： he wasn't inclined to that sort of thing； by background or experience…but for just a moment Blaise of Gorhaut； looking at the slender woman sitting on the low stool with Bertran de Talair's cloak around her； held； in his mind's eye； a clear image of a woman in a garden； weeping for the loss of love。
〃Oh； wonderful；〃 Ariane de Carenzu said in an oddly wistful voice； far removed from her imperious tones of before。 The words carried clearly in the stillness that followed the last notes of the harp； and with them came the release of a tautness like the tension of a drawn bow in the room。 Blaise drew a long breath and noted； with some surprise； that most of the people around him were doing the same。
There would have been other cries of approval doubtless； a swelling of applause to honour the singer and the troubadour who'd written the song； but just then the door to The Liensenne banged loudly open； letting in raucous noises from the darkening street outside。 Blaise turned quickly to look and saw who was standing there； and the shape and nature of the evening changed entirely in that moment。
He was looking at the man he had killed on the black horse by Lake Dierne。
CHAPTER 5
It wasn't； of course。 It wasn't the same man； the dead remained dead； even here in Arbonne； even on Midsummer Eve。 But the dark…skinned； arrogant look was the same； the heft and build； the muscled； dangerous quality of the Arimondan was exactly as Blaise remembered it from that afternoon by the lake with the Arch of the Ancients just beyond。
And the man was gazing at him with a look pounded equally of hatred and fierce joy。
Beside Blaise； Valery said quickly out of the side of his mouth； 〃I did mean to tell you before。 I should have。 His brother； same birth。 Be very careful。〃
Blaise registered this without taking his eyes off the Arimondan by the door。 The man was clad in the green livery of Miraval and he； too； wore a sword； the curved blade of his own country。
Urté de Miraval rose； without haste； so too； on the other side of Ariane de Carenzu； did Bertran。 The lady remained sitting； though she had turned in her chair to glance over her shoulder at the door。
〃Quzman；〃 said the duke of Miraval； 〃I wondered where you were； and so long。 See； as I promised you； there is a Gorhautian coran here you have expressed a desire to meet。〃
〃I do see that；〃 said the Arimondan。 His voice was deep； almost musical。 He smiled。 〃I am most pleased。 In my country we have a saying： murderers must be dealt with swiftly lest the green grass wither beneath their tread。 Will you e outside with me； or do you only fight from a distance？〃
〃It was not murder；〃 said Valery sharply before Blaise could reply。 〃The priests and priestesses of Rian's Isle were witnesses and have told their tale。〃
The man called Quzman seemed not to have heard。 There was something uncanny about his smile； the way his entire being seemed focused upon Blaise。 Once； in a Gotzland castle； Blaise had seen a man look at another in that way； and death had followed before the night was done。 Now； in response to the nakedness of this challenge； Blaise felt his own anger rekindling； a memory of the encounter by the lake； the luxuriously articulated； ugly words of the Arimondan on the black horse。
〃You do seem distressed；〃 he said to the man by the door； keeping his own voice relaxed； almost lazy； in the way his friend Rudel or even Bertran de Talair would say this thing。 〃Tell me； did I kill your brother or your lover there？ Or were they one and the same？〃
〃Careful！〃 Valery whispered urgently again。 But Blaise had the pleasure of seeing the Arimondan's smile stiffen into something harsh and artificial； a rictus； as of death。
〃You have a foul murderer's tongue； Northerner。〃 It was Urté de Miraval。 〃I do not see why we should suffer it to wag freely among us； and then carry back a spy's tale to Ademar of Gorhaut。〃
So that was brought into it too； now。 Predictably。
〃That last is the thought of a fool；〃 said Bertran calmly。 〃And as for murder： this man was set upon by while riding in peace on the countess's high road。 His pony was slain and his horse； and six cowards in your service sought to kill him。 I would not speak so glibly of murder； my lord of Miraval。 I might； instead； give a passing thought to the petence of my corans were it my own six killers who were slain by one man alone。〃
〃These are words；〃 said Quzman of Arimonda contemptuously。 〃Words and posturings； the sad vices of Arbonne。 This man and I can end this alone outside； no one else need be part of it。 Unless he is truly afraid。 As for the new law you mention 。。。 〃
He took two strides into the room； graceful as a hunting cat； and knelt before Urté。 〃My lord； matters touching upon the honour of my family pel me to ask leave to withdraw from your service for a time； that my actions need have no bearing on your own affairs。 Will you grant me leave？〃
〃He will not；〃 said a clear； cold voice。 The only voice in the room that could have tried to wield authority in that moment。
They all turned to her。 Ariane de Carenzu had not troubled to rise or even fully turn to face the men。 She was still looking over her shoulder； casually； her black hair tumbling down the back of her chair。 There was nothing casual about her words though。 〃In the name of the countess of Arbonne I forbid this duel。 There is a land price placed on deaths between Talair and Miraval。 It has been proclaimed and posted and cannot be evaded…understand me； my lords…by sham devices of this sort。 I will not let the countess be mocked。 Nor will I allow this night of the goddess to be marred in such a way。 I hold you both strictly accountable； my lords； for the conduct of your men。〃
〃Surely so； but if he leaves my service…〃 Urté de Miraval began。
〃He requires your consent and you will not give it。〃
The woman's voice was precise and authoritative； the flat tone of someone absolutely versed in mand。 Even after months in Arbonne； Blaise found it disconcerting to see the two dukes so accepting of a woman's unveiled note of power。
He opened his mouth to speak； his own anger strong within him； and received a hard elbow in the ribs。 〃Don't do it！〃 Valery muttered； as if reading his mind。
He probably had； Blaise thought…the path of his thinking would have been clear enough。 Blaise was； by his own insistence； not bound to Bertran de Talair by any oaths of fealty。 He was a hired mercenary and could end his contract at any time； forfeiting only whatever pay was due to him and as yet untendered and freeing himself to fight the Arimondan； without seeking a by…your…leave from anyone； including this black…haired woman wh