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〃Quzman？ He is good；〃 Bertran de Talair murmured。 He was pouring an early glass of wine from a flask on a tray。 He seemed more amused now than anything else； though his first reaction； when they told him what had happened； had been one of grimly silent reflection。 He hadn't shared those thoughts。
〃So is Blaise；〃 said Rudel faintly from the depths of the chair into which he had carefully lowered himself。 They could see only the top of his head。 〃Consider the dead brother and five corans of Miraval。〃
〃Those were arrows；〃 Valery said quietly。 Of all of them； he seemed the most unhappy this morning。 〃This will be with swords。〃
〃It need not be；〃 Ariane said。 〃I could easily…〃
Blaise shook his head quickly。 〃No point。 He uses what he wants； so do I。 I would be shamed by an attempt to control the weapons。〃
〃You may be killed by a failure to do so；〃 Ariane said tartly。
It was gradually being clear to Blaise； a knowledge acpanied by a growing bemusement； that the reactions of those around him to what was about to happen tomorrow were not entirely shaped by the pragmatic appraisal of risks and gains。 They were concerned for him。 The countess； Bertran and Valery； Rudel certainly； and now it was equally obvious…even to Blaise； who had never been good with understandings of this sort…that Ariane was speaking with more than an abstract interest in the rules of this challenge。
They had encountered her husband when they first entered the house； then Duke Thierry had gracefully excused himself when Bertran made it clear they were calling upon his wife in her formal capacity。 The duke of Carenzu was a slender； well…built man； whose sexual tastes and appetites were in no way visible in his manner。 He was also； Valery had said earlier； an exceptionally petent leader。
His wife； Blaise was thinking； was even more than that。 He felt oddly unsettled now； meeting her lucid gaze； remembering； with unexpected clarity on this bright autumn morning； the summer night they had spent together； her words and manner as much as the act of love。 It came to him that if they had been alone she might have been saying different things just now。 For that matter； he might have been doing the same。 This was a woman he trusted； Blaise suddenly realized； and he felt a momentary surprise。
They had told her about the meeting with King Daufridi。 Bertran had discussed it with the countess and Roban as well； he had been in the palace early； before they came here this morning。 Events were beginning to move with speed。 With Rosala de Garsenc and a male child in Barbentain it was clear…it had to be clear to everyone； Blaise thought…that any number of dangerous things were likely to happen quickly。 His head ached dully。 He was beginning to regret the last part of the night almost as much as the first。
Looking at Ariane； drinking in her cool beauty like a reviving draught； he said； 〃This whole exercise is about how we are seen in the eyes of the world。 I lose too much if I am thought to be afraid of him； or to be arranging the affair to my obvious advantage。 I am grateful for your concern； but there is no point to this challenge if we manipulate it。〃
〃And there is a point to this？ We are entitled to assume that？〃 The same question the countess had asked。
He ignored the sharp tone and gave her the same answer。 〃I hope so。 I hope there is。〃
In truth； he wasn't certain。 He was certain of nothing just now。 He felt like one of those legendary dancers from Arimonda's distant past who were said to have leaped over the horns of bulls for the pleasure of their kings。 He was in the middle of such a leap right now； grimly conscious of the gleaming； killing horns。 It had seemed to Blaise； late last night…a thought shaped half of piety and half of simple fear…that Corannos had actually guided him here to Arbonne。 That his journey south had not been fortuitous； not simply an escape from burdens and sorrows at home or in Portezza。 It had been a movement towards destiny； the one chance the world might offer him to make good the vow he'd sworn when he left Garsenc Castle。 He hadn't known he would say what he had said to Daufridi of Valensa。 He hadn't prepared his challenge to Quzman in advance。 He was a dancer with the bulls； moving with their movements； in flight now over the horns of his fate。
Drawing a breath to gather and hold his thoughts； he told Ariane then how he wanted certain things to be done on the morrow。 Her features grew still and focused as she listened。
Bertran came closer； resting a hand on the back of her divan。 He added a suggestion when Blaise was done。 Valery said nothing at all。 He looked grimly unhappy。 Blaise couldn't tell how Rudel looked； his friend was still slumped in his deep chair； only the fair； tousled hair visible from behind。 He thought Rudel might even have fallen asleep； but discovered； when he was finished； that this was not so。
〃My father was right；〃 said the heir to the Correze fortune in a musing tone。 〃I will very probably go forth to repent this allegiance of mine more than all the other errors of my life。 I ought surely to have known better than to leave the banking business and take up with madmen from Gorhaut。〃
There were a number of replies that could be made to that； from the cutting； to the witty； to the soberly judicious。 No one said anything； though。
〃He will want to cut downwards on the angle and then back across low for your knees；〃 Valery said。 Rudel was tightening the drawstrings on the leather armour to be worn by the two men fighting。
〃I know；〃 said Blaise。 〃It's the usual attack with a curved sword。〃 He wasn't really concentrating though； either on the words of advice or the increasing level of sound he could hear from the pavilions。 When he and Quzman were ready to emerge from their tents the sounds would rise to a crescendo and then fall for the ceremony of introduction before beginning again； on a different note； when the killing began。 It was the same all over the world。 Blaise had seen a number of challenges to the death。 He had fought in a foolish one； years before； when a Valensan coran had insulted the king of Gorhaut in the presence of one of that king's newest； youngest corans。 Blaise had been lucky to survive and he knew it； the Valensan had taken his youthful opponent too casually and paid the price。 Blaise had worn the dead man's armour for years。
〃He'll have a knife in his belt and one behind his left calf；〃 Rudel murmured。 〃And he won't hesitate to throw。 He's known for that； and accurate with both hands。 Keep your shield up。〃
Blaise nodded again。 They meant him a world of good； he knew； it was their anxieties that were producing this outpouring of instruction。 He remembered being exactly the same way when serving as squire to friends in their challenges； including Rudel； three times if he remembered rightly。
He really wasn't paying close attention though。 This had happened to him before： his mind wandered before battle； drifting along unexpected pathways。 It kept him calm； until the moment the fighting began； when the sensation was akin to a muffling curtain pulled swiftly aside； and Blaise would feel all his senses converge like arrows upon the battleground。
Just now he was remembering Rudel's last ment in Ariane's chambers that morning。 He thought about Vitalle Correze； who wanted his much…loved son to be a banker not a coran； and then about his relationship with his own father。 He wasn't sure why his thoughts were turning that way。 Perhaps as he grew older； saw more of the world and its interactions； he was corning to understand the degree to which the Garsenc men had poisoned each other。 He suddenly wondered； for the first time； how Ranald would be feeling about Rosala's flight。 He realized that he had no idea； absolutely none； he didn't know his brother very well。
Valery tapped him briskly on the shoulder and Blaise obediently sat down on the stool and straightened his legs in front of him。 His friends knelt and began lacing and tying the supple Portezzan leather about his thighs and calves。 Through a gap in the tent flap behind their bent heads Blaise could glimpse the dazzling colours of the pavi