ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第63章

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　settled　themselves　to　silence　when　ibn　Khairan；　given　pride　of　place；　first　recital；　had　already　finished　speaking　his　brief　verse。　The　lines　were　as　simple　as　he　could　make　them；　more　a　well…wishing　than　an　homage。　Save　for　the　hint　。。。　the　moonlit　waters。　If　Badir　understood。　He　wondered。
　　I　am　too　old；　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　said　to　himself；　justifying；　to　abuse　my　craft。
　　Any　of　your　crafts？
　　The　inner　voice　always　had　the　hard　questions。　He　was　a　soldier　and　a　diplomat　as　well　as　a　poet。　Those　were　the　real　crafts　of　his　living　here　in　Ragosa；　as　they　had　been　in　Cartada。　The　poetry？　Was　for　when　the　winds　of　the　world　died　down。
　　What　ought　a　man　honorably　to　do？　To　aspire　towards？　Was　it　the　stillness　of　that　pool…dreamed　of；　and　written　about…where　only　the　one　beast　dared　stalk　from　the　dark　trees　to　drink　in　the　moonlight　and　under　the　stars？
　　That　stillness；　that　single　image；　was　the　touchstone　of　verse　for　him。　A　place　out　of　the　wind；　for　once；　where　the　noise　of　the　world　and　all　the　brilliant　color…the　noise　and　color　he　still　loved！…might　recede　and　a　deceptively　simple　art　be　conjured　forth。
　　Standing；　as　he　had　stood　one　night　before…the　night　he'd　first　e　here…by　the　waters　of　Lake　Serrana；　ibn　Khairan　understood　that　he　was　still　a　long　way　from　that　dark　pool。　Water　and　water。　The　dream　of　the　Asharites。　The　water　that　nourished　the　body　and　the　waters　the　soul　craved。　If　I　am　not　careful；　he　told　himself；　I'll　end　up　being　good　for　nothing　but　mumbled；　cryptic　teachings　under　some　arch　in　Soriyya。　I'll　let　my　beard　and　hair　grow；　walk　barefoot　in　a　torn　robe；　let　my　students　bring　me　bread　and　water　for　sustenance。
　　Water　the　body　needed；　waters　the　soul　desired。
　　There　were　lanterns　in　the　rigging　of　all　the　fishing　boats；　he　saw　by　the　blue　moonlight。　They　were　not　yet　alight。　That　would　e　tomorrow。　Carnival。　Masks。　Music　and　wine。　Pleasures　of　torchlight。　A　brilliance　until　dawn。
　　Sometimes　the　darkness　needed　to　be　pushed　back。
　　Beloved　Al…Rassan；　the　thought　came　to　him　in　that　moment；　sharp　and　unexpected　as　a　blade　from　beneath　a　friend's　cloak；　shall　I　live　to　shape　your　elegy　as　well？
　　In　that　innermost；　jewel…like　garden　of　the　Al…Fontina　those　long　years　ago　the　last　blind　khalif　of　Silvenes　had　greeted　him　as　a　wele　visitor；　before　the　blade…from　beneath　a　friend's　cloak…had　ended　him。
　　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　drew　a　breath　and　shook　his　head。　It　might　have　been　useful　to　have　a　friend　here　tonight；　but　that　had　never　been　the　way　he'd　ordered　his　life；　and　it　would　be　a　weakness　to　dwell　upon　it　now。　Almalik　was　dead；　which　was　a　part；　a　large　part；　of　the　present　difficulties。
　　It　had　been　decided　two　nights　ago…though　not　yet　made　generally　known…that　in　two　weeks'　time；　when　the　white　moon　was　full；　the　mercenary　army　of　Ragosa　would　set　out　for　Cartada；　to　wrest　that　city　from　a　parricide。　They　would　march　and　ride　in　the　name　of　a　small　boy；　Zabira's　elder　son；　who　had　besought　the　shelter　and　support　of　King　Badir　and　the　intercession　of　the　holy　stars。
　　Ibn　Khairan　stood　motionless　for　another　moment；　then　turned　away　from　the　water　and　the　boats　to　walk　back。　The　last　time　he　had　been　here　by　the　lake　late　at　night　Jehane　bet　Ishak　had　been　waiting　by　the　warehouses　and　they　had　met　Rodrigo　Belmonte　at　the　infirmary　and　he　and　Belmonte　had　left　her　there；　laughing；　and　gone　off　to　get　unexpectedly　drunk　together。　The　night　of　the　day　he　had　arrived；　the　day　they　had　fought　side　by　side。
　　Something　too　close　there；　deeply　unsettling。
　　Jehane　had　looked　remarkably　beautiful　in　the　banquet　room　tonight；　he　thought；　inconsequentially。　His　steps　echoed　on　the　planks　of　the　wharf。　He　came　to　the　first　warehouses　and　continued　on。　The　streets　were　empty。　He　was　quite　alone。
　　She'd　been　gowned　in　crimson　silk；　extravagantly；　with　only　lapis　jewelry　and　a　white　shawl　as　gestures　towards　the　Kindath　clothing　laws。　It　would　have　been　Husari　who　provided　that　dress　for　her；　Ammar　thought；　and　ben　Avren；　probably；　the　jewels。
　　Her　hair　adorned　with　gems；　and　the　lapis　at　ears　and　throat　adding　brilliance　to　her　eyes；　the　doctor　had　caused　a　palpable　stir　when　she　entered　the　banquet　room；　though　she'd　been　a　fixture　here；　pragmatic　and　unpretentious；　from　the　day　she　arrived。　Sometimes；　he　thought；　people　reached　a　point　where　they　wanted　to　say　something　different　about　themselves。
　　He　had　teased　her　this　evening；　about　trying　to　catch　the　king's　glance。　Alleged　she　was　harboring　aspirations　to　be　the　first　Kindath　queen　in　Al…Rassan。　If　they　start　wagering　on　me　again；　she'd　answered　dryly…quick　as　ever…do　let　me　know：　I　wouldn't　mind　making　a　little　money　this　time。
　　He'd　looked　for　her　later；　after　the　meal；　after　the　music　and　all　the　verses；　including　his　own；　but　she　had　already　gone。　So　had　Rodrigo　Belmonte；　it　now　occurred　to　him。　An　idle　thought；　wispy　as　a　blown　cloud　across　the　moon；　drifted　into　his　mind。
　　The　two　of　them；　he　realized；　walking　towards　the　center　of　the　city；　were　the　only　people　in　Ragosa　with　whom　he　might　have　wanted　to　speak　just　now。　Such　an　odd　conjunction。　Jaddite　soldier；　Kindath　woman　and　physician。
　　Then　he　corrected　himself。　There　was　a　third；　actually。　One　more。　He　doubted　the　chancellor　of　Ragosa　was　alone；　however；　and　greatly　doubted　he　would　be　disposed　to　discuss　nuances　of　poetry　just　then；　so　late　at　night；　with　Zabira　in　his　bed；　acplished　and　alluring。
　　He　was　both　right　and　wrong；　as　it　happened。　He　went　home　alone；　in　any　event；　to　the　house　and　garden　he　had　leased　at　the　edge　of　the　palace　quarter　with　a　small　part　of　the　great　wealth　he　had　earned　in　the　service　of　the　last　king　of　Cartada。
　　
　　In　the　horse…breeding　lands　of　Valledo　the　next　day…the　morning　of　the　Carnival　of　Ragosa；　in　fact…they　came　for　Diego　Belmonte　at　the　ranch　of　his　family　where　he　had　lived　all　his　short　life。
　　His　mother　was　away　at　the　time；　riding　the　eastern　perimeter　of　Rancho　Belmonte；　supervising　the　spring　roundup　of　new　foals。　This　absence　on　the　part　of　the　lady　of　the　estate　had　not　been　planned　by　those　who　arrived　at　the　ranch　house；　but　they　regarded　it；　nonetheless；　as　a　highly　fortuitous　circumstance。　The　lady　was　known　to　be　headstrong　and　even　violent。　She　had　killed　a　man　here　not　long　ago。　Put　an　arrow　through　him；　in　fact。　Nor　was　it　assumed　by　those　who　arrived　that　day　charged　with　a　particular　and　delicate　mission　that　Miranda　Belmonte　d'Alveda　would　regard　them　and　their　task　with　favor。
　　Mothers　were　chancy；　at　best。
　　There　had　not；　in　fact；　been　any　great　press　of　volunteers　in　Carcasia　for　this　task；　when　word　came　from　the　castle　that　one　of　the　sons　of　Ser　Rodrigo　Belmonte　was　to　be　brought　west　to　join　the　army　as　it　assembled　just　north　of　the　tagra　lands。
　　This　absence　of　enthusiasm　was　accentuated　when　it　became　clear　that　the　request　for　the　presence　of　the　young　fellow　came　not　from　the　king　directly；　but　from　the　Ferrieres　cleric　Geraud　de　Chervalles。　It　was　de　Chervalles　who　wanted　the　boy；　for　some　reason。　A　messy　business；　the　soldiers　agreed；　getting　tangled　in　the　affairs　of　foreign　clerics。　Still；　the　king　had　endorsed　the　request　and　orders　were　orders。　A　pany　of　ten　men　had　been　mustered　to　ride　east　along　the　muddy　roads　to　Rancho　Belmonte　and　bring　back　the　lad。
　　Many　of　them；　it　emerged　in　campfire　discussions　along　the　way；　had　had　their　own　first　taste　of　warfare…against　the　Asharites　or　the　pigs　from　Jalona　or　Ruenda…at　fourteen　or　fifteen　years　of　age。　The　boy　was　said　to　be　almost　fourteen　now；　and　as　Rodrigo　Belmonte's　son　。。。　well；　Jad　knew；　he　ought　to　be　able　to　fight。　No　one　knew　why　the　army　of　Valledo　needed　a　boy；　but　no　one　put　that　question　openly。
　　They　came　to　Rancho　Belmonte；　riding　beneath　the　banner　of　the　kings　of　Valledo；　and　were　met　in　a　cleared　space　before　the　wooden　pound　walls　by　several　household　officials；　a　small；　nervous　cleric　and　two　boys；　one　of　whom　they　were　there　to　claim。
　　The　lady　of　the　household…who　would；　in　fact；　have　cheerfully　killed　the　lot　of　them　had　she　been　present　to　learn　of　their　mission…was　elsewhere　on　the　estate；　the　cleric　informed　them。　The　leader　of　the　troop　showed　him　the　king's　seal　and　his　mand。　The　cleric…Ibero　was　his　name…tore　open　the　seal；　read　the　letter　then　surprised　them　by　handing　it　over　to　the　two　boys；　who　read　it　together。
　　They　were　utterly　identical；　Ser　Rodrigo's　two　sons。　A　few　of　the　horsemen　had　already　made　the　sign　of　Jad；　discreetly。　Magic　and　witchcraft　were　said　to　attend　upon　such　mirrored　twins。
　　〃But　of　course；〃　said　one　of　the　boys；　looking　up　as　he　finished　reading。　It　was　evident　that　they　could　read。　〃If　the　king　believes　my　。。。　gift　may　be　of　use；　if　he　wishes　me　to　e；　I　am　honored　to　do　so。〃
　　The　captain　of　the　pany　didn't　know　anything　about　a　gift。　He　didn't　much　care；　he　was　simply　relieved　to　find　things　going　smoothly。
　　〃And　I；〃　said　the　other　brother　quickly。　〃Where　Diego　goes；　I　also　go。〃
　　This　was　not　expected；　but　it　didn't　seem　to　pose　a　great　problem；　and　the　captain　agreed。　If　the　king　didn't　want　this　other　brother　in　Carcasia；　for　whatever　reason；　he　could　send　him　back。　With　someone　else。　The　two　boys　glanced　at　each　other　and　flashed　identical　smiles　before　dashing　off　to　get　ready。　Some　of　the　soldiers　glanced　at　each　other　with　ironic　expressions。　Youngsters；　everywhere；　looked　forward　to　war。
　　They　were　very　young；　and　not　especially　prepossessing　either。　Slightly　built；　if　anything。　Still；　it　was　not　a　soldier's　place　to　dwell　upon　orders；　and　these　were　the　sons　of　Rodrigo　Belmonte。　The　riders　were　offered　refreshments；　which　they　accepted；　and　a　night's　lodging；　which　they　courteously　declined。　It　would　be　imprudent；　their　captain　decided；　to　push　the　luck　that　had　caused　the　lady　of　Rancho　Belmonte　to　be　absent　this　day。　They　took　a　cold　lunch；　fed　and　watered　the　horses；　and　provisioned　themselves。
　　Ten　men；　escorting　two　boys　and　a　squire　of　little　more　than　the　boys'　age；　rode　west　from　the　ranch　house　towards　mid…afternoon　of　that　same　day；　passing　to　the　south　of　a　copse　of　trees；　and　crossing　the　stream　at　a　place　Rodrigo's　sons　suggested。　The　ranch　dogs　followed　them　that　far　and　then　went　loping　back。
　　
　　Ibero　di　Vaquez　had　lived　an　uneventful；　even　a　sedate　life；　given　the　turbulent　times　into　which　he　had　been　born。　He　was　fifty…two　years　old。　Raised　in　what　was　now　Jalona；　he　had　e　west　to　Esteren　to　study　with　the　clerics　there　when　quite　young。　Thirteen　years　old；　in　fact。
　　He　was　a　good　acolyte；　attentive　and　disciplined。　In　his　early　twenties；　he　had　been　sent　as　part　of　a　holy　mission　bearing　relics　of　Queen　Vasca　to　the　High　Clerics　in　Ferrieres　and　had　lingered　there；　with　permission；　for　two　years；　spending　most　of　his　time　in　the　magnificent　libraries　of　the　great　sanctuaries　there。
　　Upon　his　return　to　Esperana　he　had　been　assigned…and　had　cheerfully　accepted…the　short…term　position　of　cleric　to　the　Belmontes；　a　moderately　important　ranching　family　in　the　breeding　lands　of　the　southeast。　The　possibilities　for　advancement　were　certainly　greater　in　Esteren　or　one　of　the　larger　sanctuaries；　but　Ibero　was　not　an　ambitious　man　and　he　had　never　had　m