ggk.asongforarbonne-第15章

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ber　that。〃
　　〃Such　loyalty！〃　de　Talair　had　murmured；　gazing　straight　ahead。
　　Blaise　shook　his　head。　〃Professionalism；〃　he'd　replied；　keeping　his　temper。　〃I　am　worth　nothing　in　the　market　for　fighting　men　if　I　have　a　reputation　for　duplicity。〃
　　〃That　is　an　irrelevance。　Nothing　that　affects　a　reputation　will　emerge　from　a　dark　stairway　with　only　the　two　of　us　to　know。〃　De　Talair's　tone　was　quietly　serious。　〃Tell　me；　Northerner；　would　you　impose　your　own　values　in　matters　of　love　and　right　on　all　the　men　and　women　that　you　meet？〃
　　〃Hardly。　But　I'm　afraid　I　will　impose　them　on　myself。〃
　　The　duke　had　glanced　across　at　him　then　and　smiled。　〃Then　we　shall　probably　have　an　interesting　encounter　a　few　nights　from　now。〃　He'd　waved　again　at　Mallin　de　Baude　down　below　and　spurred　his　horse　forward　to　join　the　baron　and　his　men　for　the　rest　of　the　ride　back　down　to　the　castle。
　　And　now　here　he　was；　without　even　a　token　attempt　at　deception　or　concealment。　Blaise　stood　up　and　stepped　from　the　window　nook　onto　the　stairway。　He　checked　the　hang　of　his　sword　and　dagger　both　and　then　waited；　his　feet　balanced　and　spread　wide。　From　around　the　curve　of　the　stairs　the　glow　of　flame　gradually　became　brighter　and　then　Blaise　saw　the　candle。　Following　it；　as　if　into　the　ambit　of　light；　came　Bertran　de　Talair；　in　burgundy　and　black　with　a　white　shirt　open　at　the　throat。
　　〃I　have　e；〃　said　the　duke　softly；　smiling　behind　the　flame；　〃for　that　interesting　encounter。〃
　　〃Not　with　me；〃　said　Blaise　grimly。
　　〃Well；　no；　not　really　with　you。　I　don't　think　either　of　us　suffers　unduly　from　the　Arimondan　vice。　I　thought　it　might　be　diverting　to　see　if　I　could　fare　better　in　the　room　at　the　top　of　these　stairs　than　poor　Evrard　did　some　while　ago。〃
　　Blaise　shook　his　head。　〃I　meant　what　I　told　you　on　the　hills。　I　will　not　judge　you；　or　the　baroness　either。　I　am　a　sword　for　hire；　here　or　elsewhere　in　the　world。　At　the　moment　En　Mallin　de　Baude　is　paying　me　to　guard　this　stairway。　Will　it　please　you　to　turn　and　go　down；　my　lord；　before　matters　bee　unpleasant　here？〃
　　〃Go　down？〃　Bertran　said；　gesturing　with　the　candle；　〃and　waste　an　hour's　fussing　with　my　appearance　and　several　days　of　anticipating　what　might　happen　tonight？　I'm　too　old　to　be　excited　by　temptation　and　then　meekly　turn　away。　You're　too　young　to　understand　that；　I　suppose。　But　I　daresay　you　do　have　your　own　lessons　to　learn；　or　perhaps　to　remember。　Hear　me；　Northerner：　a　man　can　be　forestalled　in　matters　such　as　this；　even　I　can　be；　whatever　you　might　have　heard　to　the　contrary；　but　a　woman　of　spirit　will　do　what　she　wants　to　do；　even　in　Gorhaut；　and　most　especially　in　Arbonne。〃　He　lifted　the　candle　higher　as　he　spoke；　sending　an　orange　glow　spinning　out　to　illuminate　both　of　them。
　　Blaise　registered　the　fact　of　that　quite　effective　light　an　instant　before　he　heard　a　rustle　of　clothing　close　behind　him。　He　was　turning　belatedly；　and　opening　his　mouth　to　cry　out；　when　the　blow　cracked　him　on　the　side　of　the　temple；　hard　enough　to　make　him　stagger　back　against　the　window　seat；　momentarily　dazed。　And　a　moment；　of　course；　was　more　than　enough　for　Bertran　de　Talair　to　spring　up　the　three　steps　between　them；　a　dagger　reversed　in　one　hand；　the　candle　uplifted　in　the　other。
　　〃It　is　difficult；〃　said　the　duke　close　to　Blaise's　ear；　〃extremely　difficult；　to　protect　those　who　prefer　not　to　be　protected。　A　lesson；　Northerner。〃　He　was　wearing　a　perfume　of　some　kind；　and　his　breath　was　scented　with　mint。　Through　unfocused　eyes　and　a　wave　of　dizziness；　Blaise　caught　a　glimpse　beyond　him　of　a　woman　on　the　stairs。　Her　long　yellow　hair　was　unbound；　tumbling　down　her　back。　Her　night　robe　was　of　silk；　and　by　the　light　of　the　candle　and　of　the　moon　in　the　archers'　window　Blaise　saw　that　it　was　white　as　a　bride's；　an　icon　of　innocence。　That　was　all　he　managed　to　register；　he　had　no　chance　for　more；　to　move　or　cry　out　again；　before　Bertran　de　Talair's　dagger　haft　rapped；　in　a　neat；　hard；　precisely　judged　blow；　against　the　back　of　his　skull　and　Blaise　lost　all　consciousness　of　moonlight　or　icons　or　pain。
　　When　he　awoke；　he　was　lying　on　the　stone　floor　of　the　window　niche；　slumped　back　against　one　of　the　benches。　With　a　groan　he　turned　to　look　out。　Pale　Vidonne；　waning　from　full；　was　high　in　the　window　now；　lending　her　silver　light　to　the　night　sky。　The　clouds　had　passed；　he　could　see　faint　stars　around　the　moon。
　　He　brought　up　a　hand　and　gingerly　touched　his　head。　He　would　have　a　corfe　egg　of　his　own　on　the　back　of　his　skull　for　some　days　to　e；　and　a　nasty　bruise　above　the　hairline　over　his　right　ear　as　well。　He　moaned　again；　and　in　the　same　instant　realized　that　he　was　not　alone。
　　〃The　seguignac　is　on　the　seat　just　above　you；〃　said　Bertran　de　Talair　quietly。　〃Be　careful；　I've　left　the　flask　open。〃
　　The　duke　was　sitting　on　the　other　side　of　the　stairwell；　leaning　back　against　the　inner　wall　at　the　same　level　as　Blaise。　The　moonlight　pouring　in　through　the　window　fell　upon　his　disheveled　garments　and　the　tousled　disarray　of　his　hair。　The　blue　eyes　were　as　clear　as　ever；　but　Bertran　looked　older　now。　There　were　lines　Blaise　couldn't　remember　seeing　before　at　the　corners　of　his　eyes；　and　dark　circles　beneath　them。
　　He　couldn't　think　of　anything　to　say　or　do　so　he　reached　upwards…carefully；　as　advised…and　found　the　flask。　The　seguignac　slipped　down　his　throat　like　distilled；　reviving　fire；　Blaise　imagined　he　could　feel　it　reaching　out　to　his　extremities；　restoring　life　to　arms　and　legs；　fingers　and　toes。　His　head　ached　ferociously；　though。　Stretching　cautiously…it　hurt　to　move…he　reached　across　the　stairway　and　handed　the　flask　to　the　duke。　Bertran　took　it　without　speaking　and　drank。
　　It　was　silent　then　on　the　stairs。　Blaise；　fighting　off　the　miasma　of　two　blows　to　the　head；　tried　to　make　himself　think　clearly。　He　could；　of　course；　shout　now　and　raise　an　alarm。　Mallin　himself；　from　his　own　room　down　the　hall　from　Soresina's；　would　likely　be　the　first　man　to　reach　them　here。
　　With　what　consequences？
　　Blaise　sighed　and　accepted　the　return　passing　of　the　seguignac　from　the　duke。　The　flask　gleamed　palely　in　the　moonlight；　there　were　intricate　designs　upon　it；　most　likely　the　work　of　Gotzland　master　smiths。　It　had　probably　cost　more　than　Blaise's　monthly　wages　here　in　Baude。
　　There　really　was　no　point　in　crying　out　now；　and　he　knew　it。　Soresina　de　Baude　had　chosen　to　do…as　Bertran　had　said…exactly　as　she　wished。　It　was　over　now；　and　unless　he；　Blaise；　stirred　up　an　alarm　and　roused　the　castle　it　would　probably　be　over　with　little　consequence　for　anyone。
　　It　was　just　the　dishonesty　of　it　all　that　bothered　him；　the　image…yet　another…of　a　woman's　duplicity　and　a　man's　idle；　avid　pursuit　of　pleasure　at　another's　expense。　He　had　somehow　hoped　for　more　of　Duke　Bertran　de　Talair　than　this　picture　of　a　jaded　seducer　putting　all　his　energy　into　achieving　a　single　night　with　a　yellow…haired　woman　married　to　someone　else。
　　But　he　wouldn't　raise　the　alarm。　Bertran　and　Soresina　had　counted　on　that；　he　knew。　It　angered　him；　the　easy　assumption　that　his　behaviour　could　be　anticipated；　but　he　wasn't　enough　provoked　to　change　his　mind　simply　to　spite　them。　People　died　when　spite　like　that　was　indulged。
　　His　head　was　hurting　at　back　and　side　both；　two　sets　of　hammers　vying　with　each　other　to　see　which　could　cause　him　more　distress。　The　seguignac　helped　though；　seguignac；　he　decided　sagely；　wiping　at　his　mouth；　might　actually　help　with　a　great　many　matters　of　grief　or　loss。
　　He　turned　to　the　duke　to　say　as　much；　but　stopped；　wordless；　at　what　he　saw　in　the　other's　unguarded　face。　The　scarred；　ironic；　worldly　face　of　the　troubadour　lord　of　Talair。
　　〃Twenty…three　years；〃　Bertran　de　Talair　said　a　moment　later；　half　to　himself；　his　eyes　on　the　moon　in　the　window。　〃So　much　longer　than　I　thought　I　would　live；　actually。　And　the　god　knows；　and　sweet　Rian　knows　I've　tried；　but　in　twenty…three　years　I've　never　yet　found　a　woman　to　equal　her；　or　take　away　the　memory；　even　for　a　night。〃
　　Feeling　hopelessly　out　of　his　element　in　the　face　of　this；　Blaise　felt　an　unexpected　moment　of　pity　for　Soresina　de　Baude；　with　her　unbound　hair　and　her　white　silk　night　robe　in　the　room　above　them。　Unable　to　summon　any　words　at　all；　suspecting　that　none　that　he　could　ever　think　of　would　be　remotely　adequate　to　what　he　had　just　heard；　he　simply　reached　back　across　the　stairway　and　offered　the　seguignac。
　　After　a　moment　En　Bertran's　ringed　hand　reached　out　for　it　in　the　moonlight。　De　Talair　drank　deeply；　then　he　drew　the　stopper　from　some　recess　of　his　clothing　and　capped　the　flask。　He　rose　slowly；　almost　steady　on　his　feet　and；　not　bothering　with　another　candle；　started　down　the　winding　stairway　without　another　word　or　a　glance　back。　He　was　already　lost　to　sight　in　the　darkness　before　the　first　curve　took　him　away。　Blaise　heard　his　quiet　footsteps　going　down；　and　then　those；　too；　were　gone　and　there　was　only　silence　and　the　moon　slowly　passing　from　the　narrow　window；　leaving　behind　the　stars。
　　
　　CHAPTER　3
　　Ademar；　king　of　Gorhaut；　slowly　turns　away　from　the　diverting　if　extremely　messy　struggle　taking　place　in　front　of　the　throne　between　the　carefully　maimed　hound　and　the　three　cats　that　have　been　set　upon　it。　Not　even　acknowledging　the　half…clothed　woman　kneeling　on　the　stone　floor　in　front　of　him　with　his　sex　in　her　mouth；　he　looks　narrowly　over　at　the　man　who　has　just　spoken；　interrupting　this　double　amusement。
　　〃We　are　not　certain　we　heard　you　correctly；〃　the　king　says　in　his　unexpectedly　high　voice。　The　tone　however　is　one　his　court　has　e　to　know　well　in　little　over　a　year。　Not　a　few　of　the　fifty　or　so　men　assembled　in　the　audience　chamber　in　the　king's　palace　at　Cortil　offer　silent　thanks　to　Corannos　that　they　are　not　the　recipients　of　that　gaze　or　that　tone。　The　handful　of　women　present　might　have　different　thoughts；　but　the　women　do　not　matter　in　Gorhaut。
　　With　an　elaborate　casualness　that　fools　no　one；　Duke　Ranald　de　Garsenc　reaches　for　his　ale　and　drinks　deeply　before　answering。　To　his　credit；　the　more　attentive　eyes　among　the　court　note；　de　Garsenc's　hand　is　steady　as　he　sets　the　heavy　flagon　down　again。　Looking　across　the　wooden　trestle　table　at　the　king；　he　lifts　his　voice。　〃I　understand　you　were　talking　about　Arbonne　this　morning。　I　simply　said；　why　don't　you　marry　the　bitch？　She's　a　widow；　she's　heirless；　what　could　be　simpler？〃
　　The　king's　extremely　large；　ringless　hands　descend　absently　to　first　loop　themselves　in　the　long　black　hair　and　then　to　briefly　encircle　the　ceaselessly　working　throat　of　the　girl　on　her　knees　in　front　of　him。　He　never　actually　looks　down　at　her　though。　Beyond　her；　the　old　hound　has　now　fallen；　it　is　lying　on　one　side　panting　raggedly；　blood　streaming　from　a　great　many　wounds。　The　cats；　starved　for　five　days；　are　avidly　beginning　to　feed。　Ademar　smiles　thinly　for　a　moment；　watching；　and　then　makes　a　sudden　moue　of　distaste　as　the　dog's　entrails　begin　to　spill　onto　the　floor。　He　gestures；　and　the　handlers　spring　forward　to　seize　the　four　animals　and　bear　them　from　the　room。　The　cats；　ravenous　and　deranged；　make　high…pitched　shrieking　sounds　that　can　be　heard　even　after　the　doors　at　the　far　end　have　closed　behind　them。　The　smell　of