ggk.asongforarbonne-第35部分

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ght　the　Arimondan；　without　seeking　a　by…your…leave　from　anyone；　including　this　black…haired　woman　who　styled　herself　a　queen；　if　only　of　the　troubadours'　Court　of　Love。
　　He　drew　a　slow　breath；　met　Valery's　gaze　for　a　moment　and　held　his　peace。　He　looked　around　the　room。　No　one　else　seemed　to　have　dared　to　move。　With　mild　surprise　he　saw　that　the　girl　with　the　harp；　still　wearing　Bertran's　blue　cloak；　was　staring　at　him　from　across　the　room。　He　couldn't　read　her　gaze　from　a　distance；　but　he　could　guess。　She　had　thrust　herself　forward　to　defend　the　honour　of　the　troubadour　he'd　wounded。　She　would　probably　be　quite　content　if　he　died　by　a　curved；　bejewelled　Arimondan　sword。
　　His　gaze　swept　past　her　and　upwards。　On　the　upper　storey　of　the　inn；　men　and　women　had　crowded　to　the　railings；　first　for　the　music　and　now　for　what　had　followed。　Most　of　their　faces　were　hidden　by　the　cross…beams；　a　procession　of　legs　lined　the　hallway　above　his　head；　cut　off　at　the　trunk。　It　was　odd；　in　a　way；　an　audience　of　feet　and　calves　and　thighs　in　variously　coloured　hose。
　　〃You　came　here　bearing　a　message；　I　think；〃　Ariane　de　Carenzu　continued；　in　the　silence　that　had　followed　her　last　speech。　She　was　looking　at　the　Arimondan；　Quzman。　〃Is　it　about　the　boats　on　the　river？〃
　　The　man　glanced　over　at　her。　He　had　remained　kneeling　before　Urté　de　Miraval。　They　were　both　large；　exceptionally　handsome　men；　it　was　a　pose　that　might　have　been　carved　in　relief　on　the　stone　wall　of　a　chapel　of　Corannos　in　Gorhaut。
　　〃Yes；〃　the　dark…skinned　man　said　finally。　〃It　was　about　the　boats。〃
　　〃They　are　beginning　now？〃
　　〃They　are。〃　He　offered　no　title　or　any　courtesy　at　all　to　the　woman。
　　〃Then　you　will　duel　each　other　so　for　our　amusement　at　Carnival；〃　said　the　lady　of　Carenzu　with　a　swift；　flashing　smile　that　was　radiant　and　yet　infused　with　capricious　malice。
　　〃A　game？〃　the　Arimondan　said；　with　derision。　A　ripple　of　anticipation　and　relief　was　sweeping　across　the　room。　Blaise　saw　Bertran　turn　quickly　away　to　hide　a　smile。
　　〃It　is　almost　all　a　game；〃　Ariane　said　softly；　in　a　rather　different　voice。　〃We　play　it；　all　of　us；　through　our　nights　and　days；　until　the　goddess　takes　us　home。　But　hear　me　again；〃　she　added　calmly；　〃if　any　man　of　either　of　your　parties　dies　tonight　I　will　hold　it　as　murder　and　tell　the　countess　as　much。〃
　　〃I　haven't　been　on　the　river　in　years；〃　said　Bertran；　an　apparently　inconsequential　remark。　He　seemed　to　be　struggling；　with　only　partial　success；　to　keep　a　thread　of　laughter　out　of　his　voice。
　　Urté　de　Miraval　heard　it。　〃And　I　in　decades；〃　he　said；　rising　to　the　bait。　〃But　I　will　give　you　that；　and　twenty　years'　advantage　of　age　and　still　best　you；　my　lord　of　Talair；　in　any　action　that　a　man　may　honourably　do　among　men。〃
　　At　that；　Bertran　did　laugh　aloud。　With　a　whiplike　malice　of　his　own　that　Blaise　did　not　fully　understand；　he　said；　〃Only　among　men？　A　prudent　concession　my　lord；　under　the　circumstances。〃
　　Urté　de　Miraval's　head　snapped　back；　as　if　from　an　actual　lashing。　It　was　the　first　time　he'd　lost　his　posure；　Blaise　realized；　and　wondered　why。　Something　he'd　overheard　weeks　ago　tugged　vaguely　at　his　memory：　there　was　a　woman　somewhere　at　the　root　of　what　lay　between　these　two。
　　〃Bertran；〃　began　Ariane　de　Carenzu　sharply；　〃I　do　not　think　that…〃
　　〃Ariane；　have　done！　You　have　imposed　your　will　here；　and　we　are　mindful　of　you。　Do　not　overreach；　it　is　a　failing。　I　told　you　when　you　walked　in　and　I　have　told　you　as　much　before。〃　Bertran's　blue　eyes　as　he　wheeled　to　face　her　were　hard　and　carried　their　own　measure　of　authority　now。　〃We　will　play　games　tonight　on　the　river　for　your　amusement。　No　one　will　be　killed；　by　your　mand。　Be　content　with　what　you　may　control。　The　past　is　not　in　your　province。〃
　　〃Indeed　it　is　not；〃　said　Urté　de　Miraval　very　softly；　his　self…control　regained。　Blaise　had　to　lean　forward　to　hear　him。　〃None　of　the　dead　are。　Men　or　women。　Even　children。　Even　children；　if　it　es　to　that。〃
　　Which；　for　some　reason；　drew　a　response　from　Bertran　de　Talair。　He　turned　from　the　dark…haired　woman　to　look　full　into　the　face　of　the　other　duke　standing　not　far　away。　There　was　a　suddenly　dangerous　stillness　in　the　room　again；　a　sense　of　genuine　menace　radiating　outward　from　where　the　two　men　stood。
　　〃It　es　to　that；〃　said　Bertran　finally；　his　own　voice　little　more　than　a　whisper　now。　〃Oh；　believe　me；　my　lord；　it　does。〃　As　the　two　of　them　locked　gazes　to　the　manifest　exclusion　of　everyone　else　in　the　tavern；　in　the　world；　Blaise　of　Gorhaut　realized；　rather　late；　that　the　hatred　here；　the　palpable　weight　of　whatever　lay　in　the　past　between　them；　was　of　a　depth　and　texture　infinitely　greater　than　he　had　understood。
　　Beside　him　Valery　muttered　something　under　his　breath　that　Blaise　could　not　quite　hear。
　　〃e；〃　Bertran　added；　breaking　free　of　the　frozen　stare；　his　tone　a　sudden；　exaggerated　parody　of　ritual；　〃let　us　go。　Let　us　all　go　forth　by　the　light　of　the　mingled　summer　moons　to　make　sport　on　the　river　for　the　queen　of　the　Court　of　Love。〃
　　He　moved　towards　the　door　without　looking　back。　Valery　followed　quickly。　Blaise　glanced　around　the　tavern　one　more　time。　Ariane　de　Carenzu's　expression　was　odd　now；　vulnerable　for　the　first　time。　People　were　beginning　to　stir；　shaking　their　heads；　blinking　vaguely；　as　if　freed　of　an　enchanter's　cast　spell。　On　the　upper　landing　the　legs　were　moving；　black　and　white　hose；　white　and　blue；　wheat…coloured　and　russet；　crimson　and　gold；　pale　and　forest　green…the　brilliant　colours　of　festival　time。
　　He　watched　for　another　moment；　thinking　about　the　words　just　spoken；　nagged　by　the　thread　of　a　thought；　and　then　moved　with　the　crowd　out　the　doorway　and　into　the　noisy　street。　On　the　way　he　passed　very　close　to　Quzman　the　Arimondan；　closer　than　he　needed　to；　in　fact。　He　made　a　point　of　smiling　as　he　did。
　　Valery　was　waiting　just　outside　the　door。　A　man　and　a　woman　masked　as　a　crow　and　a　fox　bumped　into　Blaise　as　they　stumbled　past；　laughing　uproariously。　The　man　carried　an　open　flask　of　wine；　the　woman's　tunic　was　mostly　unbuttoned。　In　the　light　of　the　lanterns　above　the　doorway　of　The　Liensenne；　her　breasts　showed　clearly　for　a　moment。　There　was　laughter　ahead　of　them　and　behind　and　a　constant；　cacophonous　sound　of　noisemakers　being　whirled　and　banged　and　thumped。
　　〃You　don't　have　any　of　this　in　Gorhaut；　I　suppose；〃　said　Valery　panionably；　as　if　nothing　of　note　had　happened　in　the　tavern。　Blaise　realized　that　he　liked　Bertran's　cousin　for　this　relaxed；　unruffled　quality；　as　much　as　for　anything　else。　Just　ahead　of　them　the　duke　was　walking　amid　a　cluster　of　musicians；　including　the　woman　who　had　sung　for　them；　she　was　still　wearing　Bertran's　blue　cloak。
　　〃Hardly；〃　he　said　shortly；　by　way　of　reply；　but　he　tried　to　keep　the　criticism　out　of　his　voice。　What　should　he　say　to　Valery：　that　he　found　this　whole　night's　goddess…inspired　exercise　in　lechery　demeaning　and　vulgar；　unworthy　of　any　man　who　aspired　to　serve　his　country　and　his　god？
　　〃I　meant　to　tell　you　that　there　were　two　Arimondans；〃　Valery　said　after　a　pause。　There　was　riotous　sound　all　around　them；　a　young　boy　raced　past；　violently　whirling　a　noise…maker　shaped　like　the　head　of　a　bull。　Two　laughing　women　leaned　precariously　far　out　of　a　window　overhead；　trading　ribald　jests　with　those　passing　in　the　crowded　street。
　　〃I'm　sure；〃　Blaise　said　drily。　〃Why　didn't　you？〃
　　Valery　glanced　briefly　at　him。　〃You　didn't　seem　interested。〃　He　said　it　mildly；　but　Blaise　heard　the　nuance　in　the　words。　〃You　haven't　seemed　much　interested　in　anything。　I　wonder　why　you　travel；　sometimes。　Most　men　leave　home　to　learn　about　the　wider　world。　You　don't　seem　to　want　to　know。〃
　　A　different　sort　of　elbow　in　the　ribs。　Blaise　thought　of　stating　as　much；　but　after　a　moment　said　only；　〃Some　men　leave　home　to　leave　home。〃
　　After　a　moment　Valery　nodded。　He　didn't　pursue　the　matter。　Turning　right；　he　followed　Bertran　and　the　troubadours　up　a　darker　laneway　leading　away　from　the　sea。
　　〃How　good　are　you　with　small　boats　on　water？〃　he　asked　after　a　moment。
　　〃Passable；〃　said　Blaise　cautiously。　〃What；　exactly；　are　we　about　to　do？〃
　　〃A　question！〃　said　Valery　of　Talair；　grinnin