Not between us and not this nightThe Triad guard and shelter you tomorrow, and after, and guard and shelter all that you have loved,"
Saevar swallowed"You know you are a part of that, my lordA part of what I have loved
Valentin did not replyOnly, after a moment, he leaned forward and kissed Saevar upon the browThen he held up a hand and the sculptor, his eyes blurring, raised his own hand and touched his Prince's palm to palm in farewellValentin rose and was gone, a shadow in moonlight, back towards the fires of his army
The singing seemed to have stopped, on both sides of the riverSaevar knew he should be making his own way back and settling down for a few snatched hours of sleepIt was hard to leave though, to rise and surrender the perfect beauty of this last nightThe river, the moons, the arch of stars, the fireflies and all the fires
In the end he decided to stay there by the waterHe sat alone in the summer darkness on the banks of the River Deisa, with his strong hands loosely clasped about his kneesHe watched the two moons set and all the fires slowly die and he thought of his wife and children and the life's work of his hands that would live after him, and the trialla sang for him all night long


PART ONE - A BLADE IN THE SOUL

Chapter 1

IN THE AUTUMN SEASON OF THE WINE, WORD WENT FORTH from among the cypresses and olives and the laden vines of his country estate that Sandre, Duke of Astibar, once ruler of that city and its province, had drawn the last bitter breath of his exile and age and died
No servants of the Triad were http://www.ooluxury.com/category_1_Balenciaga_1.html" target="_blank by his side to speak their rituals at his endNot the white-robed priests of Eanna, nor those of dark Morian of Portals, nor the priestesses of Adaon, the god
There was no particular surprise in Astibar town when these tidings came with the word of the Duke's passingExiled Sandre's rage at the Triad and its clergy through the last eighteen years of his life was far from being a secretAnd impiety had never been a thing from which Sandre d'Astibar, even in the days of his power, had shied away
The city was overflowing with people from the outlying distrada and far beyond on the eve of the Festival of VinesIn the crowded taverns and khav rooms truths and lies about the Duke were traded back and forth like wool and spice by folk who had never seen his face and who would have once paled with justifiable terror at a summons to the Ducal court in Astibar
All his days Duke Sandre had occasioned talk and speculation through the whole of the peninsula men called the Palm, and there was nothing to alter that fact at the time of his dying, for all that Alberico of Barbadior had come with an army from that Empire overseas and exiled Sandre into the distrada eighteen years beforeWhen power is gone the memory of power lingers
Perhaps because of this, and certainly because he tended to be cautious and circumspect in all his ways, Alberico, who held four of the nine provinces in an iron grip and was vying with Brandin of Ygrath for the ninth, acted with a precise regard for protocol
By noon of the day the Duke died, a messenger from Alberico was seen to have http://www.naluxury.com/category_27_Chanel-Watches_1.html" target="_blank ridden out by the eastern gate of the cityA messenger bearing the blue-silver banner of mourning and carrying, no one doubted, carefully chosen words of condolence to Sandre's children and grandchildren now gathered at their broad estate seven miles beyond the walls
In The Paelion, the khav room where the wittier sort were gathering that season, it was cynically observed that the Tyrant would have been more likely to send a company of his own Barbadian mercenaries, not just a single message-bearer, were the living Sandreni not such a feckless lotBefore the appreciative, eye-to-who-might-be-lis-tening, ripple of amusement at that had quite died away, one itinerant musician, there were scores of them in Astibar that week, had offered to wager all he might earn in the three days to come, that from the Island of Chiara would arrive condolences in verse before the Festival was over
"Too rich an opportunity," the rash newcomer explained, cradling a steaming mug of khav laced with one of the dozen or so liqueurs that lined the shelves behind the bar of The Paelion"Brandin will be incapable of letting slip a chance like this to remind Alberico, and the rest of us, that though the two of them have divided our peninsula the share of art and learning is quite tilted west towards ChiaraMark my words, and wager who will, we'll have a knottily rhymed verse from stout Doarde or some silly acrostic thing of Camena's to puzzle out, with Sandre spelled six ways and backwards, before the music stops in Astibar three days from now
There was laughter, though again it http://www.culuxury.com/scategory_2_Chanel.html" target="_blank was guarded, even on the eve of the Festival, when a long tradition that Alberico of Barbadior had circumspectly indulged allowed more license than elsewhere in the yearA few men with heads for figures did some rapid calculations of sailing-time and the chances of the autumn seas north of Senzio province and down through the Archipelago, and the musician found his wager quickly covered and recorded on the slate on the wall of The Paelion that existed for just such a purpose in a city prone to gambling
But shortly after that all wagers and mocking chatter were forgottenSomeone in a steep cap with a curled feather flung open the doors of the khav room, shouted for attention, and when he had it reported that the Tyrant's messenger had just been seen returning through the same eastern gate from which he had so lately sallied forthThat the messenger was riding at an appreciably greater speed than hitherto, and that, not three miles to his rear was the funerary procession of Duke Sandre d'Astibar being brought by his last request to lie a night and a day in state in the city he once had ruled
In The Paelion the reaction was immediate and predictable: men began shouting fiercely to be heard over the din they themselves were causingNoise and politics and the anticipated pleasures of the Festival made for a thirsty afternoonSo brisk was his trade that the excitable proprietor of The Paelion began inadvertently serving full measures of liqueur in the laced khavs being ordered in profusionHis wife, of more phlegmatic disposition, continued to http://www.culuxury.com/category_3_Chloe_1.html" target="_blank short-measure all her patrons with benevolent lack of favoritism
"They'll be turned back!" young Adreano the poet cried, decisively banging down his mug and sloshing hot khav over the dark oak table of The Paelion's largest booth"Alberico will never allow it!" There were growls of assent from his friends and the hangers-on who always clustered about this particular table
Adreano stole a glance at the traveling musician who'd made the brash wager on Brandin of Ygrath and his court poets on ChiaraThe fellow, looking highly amused, his eyebrows quizzically arched, leaned back comfortably in the chair he had brazenly pulled up to the booth some time agoAdreano felt seriously offended by the man, and didn't know whether his umbrage had been more aroused by the musician's so-casual assertion of Chiara's preeminence in culture, or by his flippant dismissal of the great Camena di Chiara whom Adreano had been assiduously imitating for the past half-year: both in the fashion of his verses and the wearing of a three-layered cloak by day and night
Adreano was intelligent enough to be aware that there might be a contradiction inherent in these twinned sources of ire, but he was also young enough and had drunk a more than sufficient quantity of khav laced with Senzian brandy, for that awareness to remain well below the level of his conscious thoughts
Which remained focused on this presumptuous rusticThe man had evidently journeyed into the city to saw or pluck for three days at some country instrument or other in exchange for a handful of astins to squander at the http://www.snluxury.com/categorys_82_Speedmaster_1.html" target="_blank Festiv