Saturday, March 6, 2010 - When Erlein had finally composed himself he wiped...
When Erlein had finally composed himself he wiped his face on his sleeve, careful of his bandaged hands and looked at Alessan againHe opened his mouth, about to speak, and then closed it again
"I know," Alessan said quietly to him
"Khav?" Sandre said again, after a moment
This time Erlein accepted a mug, cradling it awkwardly in both muffled handsNot long after they broke camp and started south again
Chapter 10
FIVE DAYS LATER, ON THE EVE OF THE EMBER DAYS OF SPRING, they came to Castle Borso
All that last afternoon as they moved south Devin had been watching the mountainsAny child raised in the watery lowlands of Asoli could not help but be awed by the towering southland ranges: the Braccio here in Certando, the Parravi east towards Tregea and, though he'd never seen them, the rumor of the snow-clad Sfaroni, highest of all, over west where Tigana once had been
It was late in the dayFar to the north on that same afternoon Isolla of Ygrath lay dead and dismembered under a bloody sheet in the Audience Chamber of the palace on Chiara
The sun setting behind a thrust spur of the mountains dyed the peaks to burgundy and red and a somber purple hueOn the very gucci new bag highest summits the snow still shone and dazzled in the last of the lightDevin could just make out the line of the Braccio Pass as it came down: one of the three fabled passes that had linked, in some seasons, and never easily, the Peninsula of the Palm with Quileia to the south
In the old days, before the Matriarchy had taken deep root in Quileia there had been trade across the mountains, and the brooding piety of the springtime Ember Days had also presaged a quickening and stir of commercial life with the promise of the passes opening againThe towns and fortress-castles here in the southern highlands had been vibrant and vital thenWell-defended too, because where a trade caravan could cross, so could an armyBut no King of Quileia had ever been secure enough on his throne to lead an army north; not with the High Priestesses standing by at home to see him fail or fallHere in Certando the private armies had mostly bloodied their blades and arrows against each other, in savage southland feuds that ranged over generations and became the stuff of legend
And then the Quileian Matriarchy had come to power after all, in the time of Achis and Pasitheia, several hundred fake louis vuitton wallet years agoQuileia under the priestesses had folded inward upon itself like a flower at dusk and the caravans ended
The southland cities dwindled into villages, or, if flexible and energetic enough, they changed their character and turned their faces northward and to other things, as Avalle of the Towers had done in TiganaHere in the Certandan highlands the mighty lords who had once held glittering court in their huge warlike castles became living anachronismsTheir forays and battles with each other, once integral to the flow of events in the Palm, became more and more inconsequential, though not the less bitter or vicious for that
To Devin, touring with Menico di Ferraut, it had sometimes seemed that every second ballad they sang was of some lord or younger son pursued by enemies among these crags; or of ill-fated southland lovers divided by the hatred of their fathers; or of the bloody deeds of those fathers, untamed as hawks in their stern high castles among these foothills of the Braccio
And of those ballads, whether wild with battle and blood and villages set afire, or lamenting parted lovers drowning themselves in silent pools hidden in the misty hills, of all imitation chanel handbag those songs, half again, it seemed to Devin, were of the Borso clan and set in and around the massive, piled, grim splendor of Castle Borso hard under Braccio Pass
There hadn't been any new ballads for a long time, very few in fact since the Quileian caravans had stoppedBut of fresh stories and rumors there had been many in the past two decadesIn her own particular way, and in her own lifetime, Alienor of Castle Borso had already become a legend among the men and women of the road
And if these newer stories were about love, as so many of the older songs had been, they had little to do with anguished youth bewailing fate on windswept crags, and rather more to tell about certain changes within Castle Borso itselfAbout deep woven carpets and tapestries, about imported silk and lace and velvet, and profoundly disconcerting works of art in rooms that had once seen hard men plan midnight raids at trestle-tables, while unruly hunting dogs had fought for flung bones among the rushes of the floor
Riding beside Erlein in the second cart, Devin dragged his gaze away from the last shining of light on the peaks and looked at the castle they were nearingTucked into a fold of dolce and gabbana bags hills, with a moat around it and a small village just beyond, Borso was already in shadowEven as he watched, Devin saw lights being lit in the windowsThe last lights until the end of the Ember Days
"Alienor is a friend," was all that Alessan had volunteered
That much, at least, was evident from the greeting she gave him when her seneschal, tall and stooped, with a magnificent white beard, ushered them gravely into the firelit warmth of the Great Hall
Alessan's color was unusually high when the lady of the castle unlaced her long fingers from his hair and withdrew her lips from his ownShe hadn't hurried the encounterNeither, even more interestingly, had heAlienor stepped back, smiling a little, to survey his companions
She favored Erlein with a nod of recognition"Welcome back, troubadourTwo years, is it?"
"Even so, my ladyI am honored that you remember Erlein's bow harkened back to an earlier age, to the manner they'd seen before Alessan had bound him
"You were alone then, I rememberI am pleased to see you now in such splendid company
Erlein opened his mouth and then closed it without replyingAlienor glanced at Alessan, a fleeting inquiry in her very dark dior big bags eyes
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