Untitled - So Devin sang the rending of the god at the hands...

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So Devin sang the rending of the god at the hands...

So Devin sang the rending of the god at the hands of the women, and he gave that dying on the Tregean mountain slope all he had to give it, making his voice an arrow arching outwards to seek the heart of everyone who heard He let Adaon fall from the high cliff, he heard the sound of the pipes recede and fall and he let his grieving voice spiral downward with the god into Casadel as the song came to its end And so too, that morning, did a part of Devin's lifeFor when a portal of Morian's has been crossed there is, as everyone knows, never a turning back Chapter 4 ESCORTING HIS FATHER'S BIER OUT THE EASTERN GATE IN THE hour before sunset, Tomasso bar Sandre settled his horse to an easy walk and allowed his mind to drift for the first time in forty-eight intensely stressful hoursNormally it would have been clogged at this hour with people returning to the distrada before curfew locked the city gatesNormally sundown cleared the streets of Astibar of all save the patrolling Barbadian mercenaries and those reckless enough to defy them in search of women or wine or other diversions of the dark This was not a normal time, howeverTonight and for the next two nights there would be no curfew in AstibarWith the grapes gathered and the distrada's harvest a triumphant louis cartier one, the Festival of Vines would see singing and dancing and things wilder than those in the streets for all three nightsFor these three nights in the year Astibar tried to pretend it was sensuous, decadent SenzioNo Duke in the old days, and not even dour Alberico now, had been foolish enough to rouse the people unnecessarily by denying them this ancient release from the sober round of the year Tomasso glanced back at his cityThe setting sun was red among thin clouds behind the temple-domes and the towers, bathing Astibar in an eerily beautiful glowA breeze had come up and there was a bite to itTomasso thought about putting on his gloves and decided against it: he would have had to remove some of his rings and he quite liked the look of his gems in this elusive, transitory lightAutumn was very definitely upon them, with the Ember Days approaching fastIt would not be long, a matter of days, before the first frost touched those last few precious grapes that had been left on chosen vines to become, if all fell rightly, the icy clear blue wine that was the pride of Astibar Behind him the eight servants plodded stolidly along the road, bearing the bier and the simple coffin, bare wood save for the Ducal crest above, of Tomasso's fatherOn either side of them the two black prada leather handbag vigil-keepers rode in grim silenceWhich was not surprising, given the nature of their errand and the complex, many-generationed hatreds that twisted between those two men Those three men, Tomasso corrected himselfIt was three, if one chose to count the dead man who had so carefully planned all of this, down to the detail of who should ride on which side of his bier, who before and who behindNot to mention the rather more surprising detail of exactly which two lords of the province of Astibar should be asked to be his escorts to the hunting lodge for the night-long vigil and from there to the Sandreni Crypt at dawnOr, to put the matter rather more to the point, the real point: which two lords could and should be entrusted with what they were to learn during the vigil in the forest that night At that thought Tomasso felt a nudge of apprehension within his rib cageHe quelled it, as he had taught himself to do over the years, unbelievable how many years, of discussing such matters with his father But now Sandre was dead and he was acting alone, and the night they had labored towards was almost upon them with this crimson waning of lightTomasso, two years past his fortieth naming day knew that were he not careful he could easily feel like a child again The replica chanel jewelry twelve-year-old child he had been, for example, when Sandre, Duke of Astibar, had found him naked in the straw of the stables with the sixteen-year-old son of the chief groom His lover had been executed of course, though discreetly, to keep the matter quietTomasso had been whipped by his father for three days running, the lash meticulously rediscovering the closing wounds each morningHis mother had been forbidden to come to himNo one had come to him One of his father's very few mistakes, Tomasso reflected, thinking back thirty years in autumn twilightFrom those three days he knew he could date his own particular taste for the whip in love-makingIt was one of what he liked to call his felicities Though Sandre had never punished him that way againNor in any other direct mannerWhen it became clear, past the point of nursing any hope of discretion that Tomasso's preferences were, to put it mildly, not going to be changed or subdued, the Duke simply ceased to acknowledge the existence of his middle son For more than ten years they went on that way, Sandre patiently trying to train Gianno to succeed him, and spending scarcely less time with young Taeri, making it clear to everyone that his youngest son was next in line to his eldestFor over a decade Tomasso simply did not exist chanel bags and wallets within the walls of the Sandreni Palace Though he most certainly did elsewhere in Astibar and in a number of the other provinces as wellFor reasons that were achingly clear to him now, Tomasso had set out through the course of those years to eclipse the memories of all the dissolute nobility that Astibar still told shocked tales about, even though some of them had been dead four hundred years He supposed that he had, to a certain degree, succeeded Certainly the "raid" on the temple of Morian that Ember Night in spring so long ago was likely to linger a while yet as the nadir or the paradigm (all came down, or up, to perspective, as he'd been fond of saying then) of sacrilegious debauchery The raid hadn't had any impact on his relationship with the DukeThere was no relationship to impact upon ever since that morning in the straw when Sandre had returned from his ride a destined hour too soonHe and his father simply contrived not to speak to or even acknowledge each other, whether at family dinners or formal state functionsIf Tomasso learned something he thought Sandre should know, which was often enough, given the circles in which he moved and the chronic danger of their times, he told his mother at one of their weekly breakfasts together and she made sure his father prada fairy bag colored h

Posted: 6:14 AM, Saturday, January 30, 2010

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