ggk.asongforarbonne-第34节

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e；　too；　saw；　by　torchlight　and　the　elusive　gleam　of　the　blue　moon　now　riding　free　of　the　clouds；　the　white　feathers　Lisseut　had　seen。　There　was　a　difference；　though。　The　difference　was　that　he　knew　what　those　feathers　meant；　and　the　nagging　thought　from　the　tavern　earlier　in　the　evening　grew　fully　formed　and　terrifying　in　his　mind。　By　then　he　was　running。　A　mistake；　because　the　Carnival　crowd　was　densely　packed　along　the　water's　edge；　and　the　rope　from　which　Valery　had　fallen　was　a　long　way　down　the　river。　Pushing　and　swearing；　using　elbows　and　fists；　Blaise　forced　his　way　through　the　shouting；　roiling　mass　of　people。　Halfway　down　he　glanced　over　at　the　river　and　saw　Bertran　de　Talair　paddling　furiously　in　one　of　the　small　boats…which；　of　course；　is　what　he　ought　to　have　done　himself。　Blaise's　curses　turned　inward　and　he　redoubled　his　efforts。　One　man；　drunken；　masked；　snarled　an　oath　and　pushed　back　hard　as　Blaise　elbowed　his　way　past。　Without　even　looking；　unbalanced　by　fear；　Blaise　sent　the　man　reeling　with　a　forearm　to　the　side　of　his　head。　He　couldn't　even　be　sorry；　though　he　did　wonder…a　reflex　again…about　the　possibility　of　a　knife　in　the　back。　Such　things　happened　in　frightened　crowds。
　　By　the　time　he　reached　the　pier　by　the　rope　the　boatmen　had　taken　Valery　of　Talair　from　the　river。　He　was　lying　on　the　dock。　Bertran　was　there　already；　kneeling　beside　his　cousin　with　a　priestess　and　a　man　who　looked　to　be　a　physician。　The　arrow　was　embedded　in　Valery's　shoulder；　not；　in　fact；　a　killing　wound。
　　Except　that　the　feathers　and　the　upper　shaft　of　the　arrow　were　white　and　the　lower　shaft；　Blaise　now　saw；　ing　up　to　the　pier；　was　of　night…black　ash；　and　he　had　seen　black…and…white　leggings　above　him　on　the　second…floor　landing　of　The　Liensenne　when　the　singer　had　finished　her　music　and　they　were　all　preparing　to　leave。　A　sickness　passed　through　him　like　a　churning　wave。
　　Valery's　eyes　were　open。　Bertran　had　his　cousin's　head　cradled　in　his　lap　now；　he　was　murmuring　steady；　reassuring　words。　The　physician；　a　thin；　beak…nosed　man　with　greying　hair　tied　back　with　a　ribbon；　was　conferring　tersely　with　the　priestess；　eyeing　the　black…and…white　shaft　with　resolution。　He　was　flexing　his　fingers。
　　〃Don't　pull　it；〃　Blaise　said　quietly；　ing　to　stand　above　the　four　of　them。
　　The　doctor　looked　up　quickly；　anger　in　his　eyes。　〃I　know　what　I'm　doing；〃　he　snapped。　〃This　is　a　flesh　wound。　The　sooner　we　have　the　arrow　out　the　sooner　we　can　treat　and　bind　it。〃
　　Blaise　felt　tired　suddenly。　Valery　had　turned　his　head　slightly　and　was　looking　up　at　him。　His　expression　was　calm；　a　little　quizzical。　Forcing　himself　to　meet　the　coran's　level　gaze；　Blaise　said；　still　softly；　〃If　you　pull　the　shaft　you'll　tear　more　flesh　and　the　poison　will　spread　the　faster。　You　may　also　kill　yourself。　Smell　the　arrow　if　you　like。　There　will　be　syvaren　on　the　head；　and　very　likely　on　the　lower　shaft。〃　He　looked　at　the　physician。
　　An　animal…like　fear　showed　in　the　man's　face。　He　recoiled　involuntarily。　In　the　same　moment；　with　a　small；　fierce　sound　of　denial；　Bertran　glanced　up　at　Blaise。　His　face　had　gone　white　and　there　was　horror　in　his　eyes。　With　sorrow　and　a　slow；　hard　rage　gathering　together　within　him　like　clouds　around　the　heart　Blaise　turned　back　to　Valery。　The　wounded　coran's　expression　had　not　changed　at　all；　he　had　probably　had　an　intuition；　Blaise　thought。　Syvaren　acted　quickly。
　　〃That　was　meant　for　me；〃　Bertran　said。　His　voice　was　like　a　scrape　in　the　throat。
　　〃Of　course　it　was；〃　Blaise　said。　Knowledge　was　in　him；　a　cold　certainty；　the　taste　of　it　like　ashes　on　his　tongue。
　　〃It　was　none　of　our　doing；　I　will　swear　it　by　the　goddess　in　her　temple。〃　Urté　de　Miraval's　deep　voice　rang　out。　Blaise　hadn't　heard　him　approaching。
　　Bertran　did　not　even　look　up。　〃Leave　us；〃　he　said。　〃You　will　be　dealt　with　later。　You　are　a　desecration　wherever　you　walk。〃
　　〃I　do　not　use　poison；〃　de　Miraval　said。
　　〃Arimondans　do；〃　said　Bertran。
　　〃He　was　on　the　launching　pier　with　us　the　whole　time。〃
　　Blaise；　sick　with　knowing；　opened　his　mouth　to　speak；　but　the　priestess　was　before　him。
　　〃Leave　off　wrangling　now；〃　she　said。　〃We　must　take　him　to　a　temple。　Will　someone　find　a　way　to　carry　him？〃
　　Of　course；　Blaise　thought。　This　was　Arbonne。　Valery　of　Talair；　even　though　he　was　a　coran；　would　not　find　his　end　in　the　sanctity　of　the　god's　house。　He　would　pass　to　Corannos　amid　the　dark　rites　of　Rian。　With　a　distaste　that　was　akin　to　a　fresh　grief；　Blaise　turned　away　from　the　priestess；　she　had　covered　her　head　with　a　wide　hood　now。　He　saw　that　Valery's　eyes　were　upon　him　again；　and　Blaise　thought　he　understood　the　expression　this　time。
　　Ignoring　the　others；　even　Bertran；　he　knelt　on　the　wet　dock　beside　the　dying　man。　〃Be　sheltered　ever　in　the　god；〃　he　said　huskily；　surprised　by　the　difficulty　he　had　in　speaking。　〃I　think　I　know　who　did　this。　I　will　deal　with　him　for　you。〃
　　Valery　of　Talair　was　pale　as　parchment　beneath　the　moons　and　the　torches。　He　nodded　his　head　once；　and　then　he　closed　his　eyes。
　　Blaise　rose。　Without　looking　at　anyone　or　staying　for　further　words　he　strode　from　the　dock。　Someone　made　way　for　him；　he　realized　only　later　that　it　had　been　Quzman；　the　Arimondan。　Others　also　fell　back　before　him　but　he　was　scarcely　aware　of　any　of　them。　There　were　those　ashes　in　his　throat　and　a　queer　blurring　to　his　sight。　Syvaren　on　the　arrow。　White　feathers；　white…and…black　shaft。　Blaise　reached　inward　for　the　rage　he　needed；　and　it　was　there；　but　he　could　not　ride　it。　There　was　too　much　grief；　cold　and　clammy；　coiled　in　tendrils　as　a　mist　in　winter：　half　for　Valery　behind　him　and　half　for　what　he　walked　towards　now；　tall　and　grim　as　an　image　of　the　Ancients　on　a　frieze；　amid　the　flurrying　torches　and　the　smoke　and　noise　and　masks　and；　yes；　in　the　distance；　still　the　laughter　of　Carnival。
　　I　will　deal　with　him　for　you。　Last　words　to　a　dying　man；　fellow　coran　of　the　god's　long；　hallowed　brotherhood；　a　friend　very　nearly；　here　amid　the　goddess…shaped　strangeness　of　Arbonne。　And　they　were　likely　to　have　been　a　lie；　those　last　words；　the　worst　sort　of　lie。
　　
　　CHAPTER　6
　　Lisseut；　if　asked　in　the　midst　of　that　swirling；　suddenly　horrific　night；　or　even　after；　with　time　and　a　quiet　place　to　think　things　through；　would　not　have　been　able　to　say　why　she　slipped　free　of　Bertran　de　Talair's　telltale　blue　cloak；　ignored　Alain's　urgent　cry　behind　her　and　followed　the　man　named　Blaise　away　from　the　torchlit　pier　and　into　the　warren　of　dark；　twisting　lanes　that　led　away　from　the　river。
　　It　might　have　been　something　about　the　way　he　had　left　the　dock；　the　headlong　ferocity；　brushing　past　the　Arimondan　as　if　the　man　did　not　exist。　Or　something　perhaps　in　the　stricken　expression　she　saw　in　his　face　as　he　went　blindly　past　them　all　and　plunged　into　the　crowd。　She　had　heard　the　word　poison　ripple　back　like　a　snake　from　where　Valery　lay。　They　were　taking　him　to　the　largest　temple　of　Rian。　Men　were　hastily　readying　a　sail　canvas；　slinging　it　between　poles。　They　would　move　him　on　that。　The　crowd　would　make　way　in　silence　until　they　passed；　bearing　death；　then　it　would　be　loud　again；　wilder　than　before；　with　flamboyant　murder　suddenly　added　to　the　intoxicating　mixture　of　Carnival…something　else　by　which　to　remember　the　night。
　　The　troubadours　and　joglars　would　go　to　the　temple；　she　knew；　to　wait　and　watch　in　a　vigil　outside　the　walls；　many　for　Bertran's　sake　and　some　for　Valery's。　Lisseut　had　been　part　of　death…watches　before。　She　didn't　want　to　join　one　tonight。
　　She　followed　the　coran　from　Gorhaut。
　　She　had　to　force　her　way　against　the　press　of　the　crowd。　People　were　hurrying　towards　the　river；　drawn　by　rumours　of　some　excitement　or　disaster；　the　coinage　of　festival　time。　Twisting　past　bodies；　Lisseut　smelled　wine　and　cooked　meats；　roasted　nuts；　sweet　perfumes；　human　sweat。　She　knew　a　brief；　flurrying　panic　when　she　was　trapped　for　a　moment　in　a　cluster　of　drunken　merchant　seamen　from　Gotzland；　but　she　twisted　free　of　the　nearest　of　them　and　hurried　on；　looking　for　the　man　she　was　following。
　　His　height　made　it　easier。　Even　in　the　thronged　laneways　she　could　make　him　out　ahead　of　her；　moving　against　the　crowd；　his　hair　a　bright　red　when　he　passed　under　the　torches　set　in　the　walls　of　the　dilapidated　old　warehouses。　This　was　not　the　choicest　part　of　Tavernel。　Blaise　of　Gorhaut　plunged　onwards；　taking　turnings　seemingly　at　random；　moving　more　quickly　as　the　crowds　thinned　out　away　from　the　water。　Lisseut　found　she　was　almost　running　in　order　to　keep　him　in　sight。
　　Incongruous　in　one　dim；　crooked　laneway；　she　saw　a　woman；　gowned　magnificently　in　green　silk；　furred　and　bejewelled；　with　an　elaborate　fox　mask；　reach　out　for　Blaise；　he　didn't　even　break　stride　to　acknowledge　her　presence。　Lisseut；　hurrying　along　behind　him；　was　made　suddenly　aware　of　her　own　damp；　straggling　hair　and　ruined　shirt。　Trivialities；　she　told　herself　sternly；　a　white…feathered　arrow　had　been　launched　tonight　with　poison　on　its　head；　and　it　had　been　meant…it　took　no　brilliance　of　insight　to　know…for　the　duke　of　Talair　and　not　the　cousin　who　had　quietly　taken　his　place　in　that　small　boat　on　the　river。
　　Blaise　of　Gorhaut　stopped　abrup