The Burning Stone

Page 53

Tallia wept over the holy relic and kissed the petals of the jeweled rose. She gave the reliquary into the keeping of Hathumod, the young woman who had come with her from Quedlinhame. Lavastine gave Alain an approving nod, but her reaction troubled Alain. He had meant the jeweled rose to represent the Rose of Healing—the healing grace granted every soul by God’s mercy—but now he feared she saw it only as the symbol of her heretical belief, the rose that bloomed out of the blood of the blessed Daisan.
But when she thanked him so earnestly and with her eyes so untroubled by any memory of their awkward night together, hope surged again in his heart—and not least an uncomfortable tingling elsewhere. He need only be patient.
The crowd began to disperse. The king’s steward announced that Henry would hold audience in the great open yard after the service of Terce. Lavastine ducked inside his chamber, and quickly Alain followed him with Tallia drawn along behind as if she wanted only to stay beside him—or did not know where else to go.
Ardent still lay on the bed, whimpering softly. Alain went over to soothe her. Under his hands, she quieted. Lavastine had drawn Tallia over to the window and was laboriously attempting to converse with her. Alain caught the eye of a steward.
“Christof, an Eagle arrived at the palace last night, one called Liathano. Send for her to attend me.”
The steward concealed his astonishment poorly. He was a jovial fellow, and too late Alain recalled that he was also a terrible gossip. “I know the one you speak of, my lord,” he replied obediently, but not without a glance at Count Lavastine. He went out.
When he returned, he brought Liath with him. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the hounds began to whimper and growl, scrambling back to cluster around Lavastine like terrified pups. Ardent tried to shove her head under Alain’s thigh.
“Peace!” said Lavastine sternly. They hunkered down nervously at his feet. “Alain?”
“Your Highness,” said Liath, seeing Tallia. Although she was obviously surprised, she did not stumble over the formalities. “My lord count. Lord Alain, I have come as you requested.”
“Alain?” repeated Lavastine. He stood with one hand on Terror’s head, but his intent gaze never left Liath. “What means this?”
Alain could not rise because of Ardent, and in any case he was lord and she a mere Eagle, not a person he could meet publicly on an equal standing whatever private confidences they had once shared. For an instant he didn’t know how to answer because he saw Tallia’s expression: Was Tallia jealous? Or did he only hope she would be?
“I am reminded of this Eagle’s service to us at Gent,” he said finally, and firmly, because everyone was watching him expectantly, “and I am minded to gift her with some token as a reward for her efforts there.”
Lavastine took a step forward and stopped short as Terror nipped at him, took his master’s hand in that great jaw, and growled softly while trying to tug Lavastine back. The count shook his hand free impatiently. “Resolve,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that maybe only Alain heard him, and he continued to stare at Liath as a man stares at that woman with whom he discovers some deep kinship of blood, or spirit.
“Resuelto,” he repeated, looking now at his servants.
“The gray gelding?” they repeated, dumbfounded that a lord would blithely give away his second best warhorse to a common Eagle.
“And the saddle and bridle from Asselda,” he added. “Rope. And saddlebags. And the good leather belt crafted by Master Hosel, the one inscribed with salamanders so that as the Holy Verses say, ‘if you walk through fire, the flame shall not consume you.’”
“I would give her a token as well,” said Alain hastily to divert attention from the count, who seemed inclined to arm her as he would a relative. “A quiver of arrows and—” What he wanted to say to her, to ask, he could not communicate in front of such an audience. His gaze lit on one of his rings, a gold band set with a brilliantly blue stone. He pulled it off. “Let this ring of lapis lazuli protect you from evil,” he said, giving it to her. “Know that you can find refuge here if you need it.”
“I thank you, my lord count. Lord Alain.” But her gaze was more eloquent. He read gratitude in her expression, and yet he saw that she was still frightened, apprehensive of some event she feared would come to pass. Was Lord Hugh still stalking her? He had no way of asking, and even as he paused, a steward came in from outside.
“I beg your pardon, my lord count,” the man said to Lavastine. “An Eagle stands outside with an urgent summons for her comrade—from the king.”