ggk.asongforarbonne-第34部分

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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