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too tired to entertain you properly； I'm almost too tired to sleep； and there is a great deal to be done tomorrow。 I don't know if this is an imposition； something one doesn't ask of a professional； but will you sing for me； to help me rest？〃 A faint smile in the flickering light。 〃To show me again that all of you aren't like Evrard？〃
〃I didn't think you liked music。〃 She was sorry the moment she'd said that。 Why was she always challenging him？
He didn't take offense； or else he was being very patient with her。 〃If I said that I regret it。 I grew up with music in Gorhaut； however different it might have been。 One day I will want to try to explain to you that my country is not only 。。。 what it has been made to be tonight。〃 He hesitated； choosing his words。 〃I think there are 。。。 parts of the troubadour world here； courtly love； that I find unsettling。 Perhaps I needed time to understand it better。 I thought once it made your men weak； your women presumptuous。〃 He paused again。 〃There is no weakness I have found in the men of Arbonne。〃
〃And the women？〃
He had been waiting for that； she realized。 〃The women are intolerably presumptuous。〃 She knew that tone though； by now； and he was grinning at her again； tired as he was。 She found that she could smile back。
〃I will be happy to sing for you；〃 she said quietly。 〃It is no imposition。 Not when asked of a friend。〃 There； she had said it。
He looked surprised again； but not unfortably so。 He opened his mouth and closed it。 She silently willed him to voice whatever thought he was struggling with； but all he said after a moment was； 〃Thank you。〃 He rose； with a difficulty he didn't bother to hide； and limped over to stretch out on the bed。 He pulled off his boots but didn't bother with the covers or his clothing。
Nothing of any great import had been done； nothing said； but Lisseut stood up as well； feeling a warmth inside and an unexpected calm。 Moving quietly about the room she began blowing out the candles。 She left two burning； one on the sideboard and one on the small table by the window； and then； in the near darkness； she began to sing。 Not of love or war or the goddess or the god； or anything at all of the adult world。 On the night he had named himself king of Gorhaut； the night Aubry had burned； Lisseut sang for Blaise of Gorhaut lullabies of childhood； the ones her mother had sung to her so many years ago。
Only when she was certain； from the steady rise and fall of his breathing； that he was asleep did she allow herself a last song for her own heart's easing。 It was another very old melody this one； so ancient no one was certain who had written it； or even what dim； half…remembered legend or tale it recounted。 It had always seemed to Lisseut to be almost unbearably sad。 She had never thought she would feel it applying to her own life。 But in Blaise de Garsenc's room that night； while he slept； she sang it softly for herself； and when she came to the verses at the end； she realized that she was very nearly offering them as a prayer：
Thy table set with rarest wine；
Choice meats； sweet ripened fruit
And candlelight when we dine
In Fionvarre。
On we two the high stars will shine
And the holy moon lend her light。
If not here you will be mine
In Fionvarre。
Her uncle had taught her that song in Vezét； long before he had taken her from her father's house and offered her the life of the singers on the road。 And the roads had been good to her； had given her friends and panions； a generous measure of success； fame almost； and they had led her here tonight； following； as ever； the quick impulses of her spirit； and now the unbidden need of her heart。
Strangely at peace now； Lisseut realized that she had e looking for an answer in this room and she had found it after all。 This was not a man whose life she had a right to share。 He was a friend； she knew that now； knew that he would make some place for her in the pattern of his days； however long or short they were to be。 But for more than that； more than that small place； she had no right and he no proper space in what his life had now bee。 The banner in the wind this morning had made this so。
And it would be all right； Lisseut thought； as she ended the song。 She was no longer a child。 Life did not always or even normally grant one the wishes of the heart。 Sometimes it came near； sometimes not very near at all。 She would accept； with gratitude； what seemed to have been allowed her tonight…with a hope； a prayer to Rian； that there might be more such moments graciously allowed； before the goddess called either or both of them back to her。
She left him sleeping； with the last two candles burning down and the moons long set and the river murmuring its own infinitely older； endless song far below the window。
PART IV…Winter
Until the Sun Falls and the Moons Die 。。。
CHAPTER 15
On the night appointed there was fog at Garsenc Castle。 Rolling in from the east with the darkness at day's end it swallowed up the donjon and the outer watch…towers of the castle like some mist…dragon out of the old tales of the days before Corannos moved the sun。
Alone on the ramparts above the drawbridge Thaune of Garsenc shivered； despite the woolen overshirt and the fur vest he wore in winter。 He was thinking about an oath he had sworn three months ago； a vow of fealty that had turned him from a coran of humble birth and modest future into a conspirator with a substantial prospect of dying before this night was over。
He watched his breath make puffs of smoke in the grey cold； adding to the fog； he couldn't see any further than that。 The moons were invisible； of course； and the stars。 They had chosen a time when both moons should have been bright and high； lending light for the crossing of the pass； but men could not control what the god sent in the way of weather； and more than one campaign of the past…including the not…so…distant past…had been undone by the elements。 He remembered the savage cold at Iersen Bridge。 He would always remember that。 He placed both hands on the stone and peered out into the swirling grey darkness。 Nothing。 There could have been a hundred men below him outside the walls； and if they were quiet enough not he nor anyone else in Garsenc would have known they were there。
From the small guardhouse beside the portcullis he heard the murmur of voices。 There were four men posted at night。 They would be playing at dice by firelight。 He couldn't even see the light down there through the fog。 It didn't matter。 He could hear the voices； muffled in the grey ness； and three of them were with him。 The fourth would be dealt with； as necessary。
Not killed though。 His instructions had been clear。 Blaise de Garsenc wanted a minimum of killing in these first days。 He seemed to have known exactly what he wanted； even back in the autumn； in the days after his first declaration。 He had sent Thaune north among the other corans of Gorhaut to carry word freely of what had been done and said before that challenge at the fair。 All the Gorhautians attending the fair had been assembled in an enormous room in Barbentain； Thaune remembered； and after the countess of Arbonne had ordered them out of the country and confiscated their goods Blaise had spoken to them with a cool precision that had been genuinely impressive。 Because of the Treaty of Iersen Bridge； he'd said…a treaty that was a betrayal in itself…King Ademar was about to embroil Gorhaut in another war here in Arbonne。 It was a war they did not need； brought on by a treaty that should never have been signed。 He invited those assembled to think about his words； and he promised they would be allowed passage north through the mountains unharmed。
They had even contrived a pretended assassination attempt； an arrow landing carefully short of Blaise as he walked out from the castle the next morning。 The tournament melee had been cancelled； in the wake of the events at Aubry and in the watch…tower south of the pass： they had found the three maimed guards by then。 The court of Signe de Barbentain had collectively attended mourning services in the Temple of Rian； and in their mid