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the loss of the power she offered him than anything else。 Aelis had no softness in her though； she was all pride and recklessness； even on her deathbed。 She pushed herself up in the bed and she told Urté the child was Bertran de Talair's。〃
〃How do you know this？〃
〃I was there；〃 Ariane had said。 〃As I say； that moment altered my own life； shaped what I think I have bee。 Those words she spoke to Urté changed our world； you know。 We would live in a differently ordered country had Aelis not taken her vengeance。〃
〃Vengeance for what？〃 Blaise had asked； though he was beginning； slowly； to understand。
〃For not being loved；〃 Ariane had said simply。 〃For being valued at too much less than she was。 For being exiled to the dank； grim fastness of Miraval from the lights and laughter of her father's court。〃
He had thought it might be that。 Once he would have scorned such a thing as beneath contempt； another woman's vanity marring the unfolding of the world。 It had surprised him a little that he didn't still see it that way； at least that night in Tavernel； with Ariane de Carenzu in his arms he didn't。 It had occurred to him then； with a shock he had tried to mask； that this new pattern of thought might be his own deepest rebellion against his father。
〃I can guess what you are thinking；〃 Ariane had said。
〃No； I don't think you can；〃 he had replied without elaborating。 〃What did Urté do？〃 he'd asked； pushing his own family affairs towards the back of his mind。 There had been a sadness in Blaise that night； hearing the old tale。 The question was a formality。 He was sure he knew what En Urté de Miraval had done。
Ariane's answer had surprised him； though。 〃No one knows for certain。 And that is the heart of Bertran's tragedy； Blaise。 There was a son born before Aelis died。 I watched the priestess bring him into the world。 I heard him cry。 Then Urté； who had been waiting； took him away； and not Aelis nor the priestess； and certainly not I at thirteen years of age； had the power to stop him within his own walls。 I remember how his face changed when she told him who the father was； that I will never forget。 And I remember him bending down over her； as she lay there； torn and dying； and whispering something into her ear that I could not hear。 Then he left the room with Bertran's child crying in his arms。〃
〃And killed it。〃
She shook her head。 〃As I say； no one knows。 It is likely； probable； knowing Urté； knowing how such a child would have been heir to so much 。。。 to Barbentain； and so to Arbonne itself； as Aelis's child。 It is likely； but we do not know。 Bertran doesn't know。 Not with certainty。 If the child lived； if it lives now； only Urté de Miraval knows where it is。〃
Blaise had seen it clearly then； the harsh； ugly shape of Bertran's pain。 〃And so Urté could not be killed all these years…cannot be killed now…because any possibility of finding the truth or the child will die with him。〃
Ariane had looked up at him in the muted grey light of the room and nodded her head in silence。 Blaise had tried to imagine what it would have been like to be thirteen years old and to have lived through such a night； to have it lying； like a weight of stones； in your own past。
〃I would have killed him regardless；〃 he had said after a long time。 And she had answered only； 〃You and Bertran de Talair are very different men。〃
Riding north beside the river with Duke Bertran and the corans of Talair to the Autumn Fair in Lussan； Blaise thought again about that remark。 It was very nearly the last thing she'd said to him that night before they'd dressed and she'd gone from his room alone； cloaked and hooded； with only a mild； chaste kiss of farewell in first grey light of day。
What made men so different from each other？ Accidents of birth； of upbringing； of good fortune or tragedy？ What sort of man would Blaise himself have bee had he been the older son； the heir to Garsenc； and not the younger one for whom an unwanted destiny among the clergy of the god had been ordained by his father？ What if his mother had lived； the question Signe de Barbentain had asked？ Would she have made any difference？ What if Galbert de Garsenc had somehow been a different； gentler； less power…obsessed man？
Though that last speculation was impossible； really； it was simply not possible to imagine his father as anything other than what he was。 Galbert seemed absolute to Blaise； like a force of nature or some gigantic monument of the Ancients； one that spoke to nothing but power and had been in the world almost forever。
Bertran de Talair； too； was a younger son。 Only the early death of his brother had brought him to the dukedom and set two great houses so harshly against each other。 Before that he had followed the usual course： a sword for hire in battle and tournament； seeking fortune and a place in the world。 The same path Blaise de Garsenc was to take； starting from Gorhaut； years after。 The same path； that is； if one left out the music。
But the music could not be left out。 It defined Bertran； just as it defined Arbonne； Blaise found himself thinking。 He shook his head； almost amused at himself。 Half a year now he had been here； and already his mind seemed to have this tendency to slide down channels it had never known before。 Resolutely he pulled his wandering thoughts back to the present； to the high road of Arbonne built by the Ancients between the river and the grainfields to the east。
Looking ahead； squinting through the dust； Blaise was drawn from reverie。 He was riding near the rear of the column； behind the long baggage…train of goods they were escorting to the fair…mostly barrels of Talair wine。 He saw Bertran and Valery riding back towards him。 Their pace was measured； but just quick enough to make him aware that something was happening at the front of the long column。 Beyond the two of them he could make out banners in the distance。 They seemed to be about to overtake someone。 There was nothing in that； all the roads were crowded on the way to a fair； and the high road most of all。 He raised his eyebrows as the two men came up and neatly turned their horses to fall into stride on either side of Blaise。
〃Diversions； diversions；〃 said Bertran airily。 He had a smile on his face that Blaise recognized by now； it made him uneasy。 〃Unexpected pleasures of so many kinds await us。 What；〃 the duke went on； 〃can you tell me about someone named Rudel Correze？〃
After a number of months with Bertran； Blaise was getting used to this sort of thing。 It sometimes seemed to him that the Arbonnais preferred to be known as clever and witty more than anything else。
〃He shoots fairly well；〃 he said drily； trying to match Bertran's tone。 〃Ask Valery。〃
The big coran； now fully recovered； grunted wryly。
〃We have been；〃 said Bertran crisply； his tone changing without warning； 〃collectively avoiding a decision all summer。 I think it is time to make it。〃
〃Correze banners up ahead？〃 Blaise asked。
〃Indeed there are。 Among others。 I think I recognized Andoria and Delonghi as well。〃
It was odd how the ambushes of life came upon one so utterly unawares。 Or perhaps it wasn't all that odd； Blaise corrected himself： they wouldn't be ambushes otherwise； would they？ It stood to reason； didn't it？ He felt suddenly cold； though。 He wondered if the other two men could read a response in him； and then he wondered why it had never even occurred to him that Lucianna might be ing to the Lussan Fair。
There was more than enough of importance happening in the world； as autumn came； to make an appearance by the Delonghi an obvious thing to have expected at this annual gathering。 They would e to trade； to watch and wager or fight in the tournament； to celebrate the harvests and share news of the six countries before winter's snow and rain made the roads impassable。 And where the men of the Delonghi were likely to be present； the celebrated； notorious jewel of the family would almost certainly be found。 Lucianna was not prone to be left behind； anywhere。
The immediate question had been about Rudel； though； and Bertran had raised another issue as well。
Blaise addressed the questi