The Burning Stone

Page 128

“She won’t tell me,” she said, so caught up in her own anger that for an instant it appeared she hadn’t heard him, until he realized she had just answered his question. “I asked her why she wears the gold torque, but she wouldn’t answer me. She doesn’t want me to know my own kin!”
“Or she has reasons of her own for keeping you ignorant. What does she want you to know, Liath?”
“The art of the mathematici.”
“‘The iron does not know what it will become—’” he murmured, then faltered, smelling smoke. He heard the clip-clop of Anne’s mule, and a moment later she appeared around the bend.
That afternoon clouds blew in, and gusts of wind shook the trees and threw branches every which way. It began to rain so heavily that they were forced to take refuge at the first village they came to, and there they had to stay for two more days while storm raged and howled around them.
2
AS they climbed the last long slope, Lavas tower gleamed in the distance, all freshly whitewashed and with a new thatch roof. They topped the rise to see Lavas Holding spread out before them. From here, Alain could see the river curling away through lush fields, the little church, the neat houses in the village, the enclosure, and the tower and great hall, all looking prosperous and busy. By the gates, a large crowd had gathered, and at the sight of Lavastine’s banner a great cheer rose up. At once, the people waiting by the gates lurched forward into an ungainly procession, coming out along the road to greet their lord.
“Chatelaine Dhuoda has made ready for our coming,” said Lavastine.
“Your fields look well tended,” said Tallia. “And your people clothed and fed.”
“That they are,” he replied, not in a smug way, merely stating a fact.
“The church is small,” she added.
“But richly furnished, as is fitting.” He glanced at Alain, then back at Tallia. “There is also a chapel in the tower where we pray each day.”
They rode down to an enthusiastic greeting. Many of the gathered servants and villagers reached out to touch either Lavastine or Alain on the foot as they rode past. Alain noted a number of unfamiliar faces on the fringe of the crowd, people dressed in ragged clothes and with expressions drawn taut with hunger, watching, hopeful.
“Your people love you,” said Tallia. People called out her name and prayed for God’s blessing on her womb. “When we rode through Arconia, the folk would gather to watch us go by. But they feared my parents, they did not love them.”
Lavastine held court in the great hall, an assembly that took all afternoon. He distributed certain items he had obtained on the king’s progress to his chatelaine, his stewards and servants, and the village folk: inks and parchment, iron tools, a bull to be used in common by the villagers to breed their cows, a dozen stout ewes, cuttings from quince, fig, and mulberry trees, and vine cuttings from one of the royal vineyards. There were harness and leashes for Master Rodlin, cooking pots for Cook, and javelins, spears, and knives for the men-at-arms.
“We have an unusually great number of laborers this season,” reported Chatelaine Dhuoda. “We hear rumor of a drought in Salia. Many have come in hope of harvest work.”
Tallia did not even wait to see the tower and grounds but walked out at once with her attendants to give comfort as she could among the poor. Dhuoda led Lavastine and Alain upstairs to show that she had followed the orders sent ahead by the count. A new bed had been built and placed in the chamber the count used as his study.
“This will be my sleeping room,” he told Alain, gesturing to the study. They took the curving stairs up to the sleeping chamber that by custom belonged to the count of Lavas and which he and Alain had shared before. Now the bedspread marked with the combined symbols of Lavas hounds and Varren roes brightened the room, and Tallia’s chests had been moved into place. “This will be yours. In that bed all the heirs of Lavas have been conceived.”
“Even me?”
Lavastine sighed, frowned, and absently patted Terror’s head. By his expression, he looked a long way away—in time, if not distance. “Even you, Son. But God are merciful, and They forgive us our sins as long as we do our duty on this earth.”
Alain walked to the bed, set a hand on the bedspread, and looked back at Lavastine. Walking had been agony twelve days ago when every step meant that his clothing rubbed against his blistered and raw skin, but he had healed, and the nettle blisters had even gained him some sympathy from Tallia. More importantly, they had allowed him to get through the rest of the journey without any further rash incidents that might turn her against him.