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of a country was personally responsible for the truce…breaking of their lords。 It had been Blaise who had requested； insisted actually； that the merchants be let go； and had given cause why this should be so。
〃I have nothing at all to offer in Gorhaut just yet；〃 he'd said； speaking earnestly in this very room before they had all gone down to deal with those assembled。 〃They must go home knowing I've saved their lives…lives put in hazard by Ademar's truce…breaking。 They must go home and talk about that。 Will you give me that much？〃 He'd paused。 〃Or are we no better than what we are trying to fight？〃
She'd been genuinely angry with him then； a Gorhautian speaking so to her on the morning after so many of her people had been slain。 But she was a countess of a land in peril； and she had always been able to master her emotions when it was time to advise Guibor on his decisions； or to make them herself。 Blaise was speaking truth； she finally decided； and she gave him what he asked。
In the room below when she came before the merchants one of them had protested loudly at the announced seizure of their goods； astonishingly oblivious to how close all of them had been to being executed that same morning： no more innocent than the villagers and priestesses of Aubry。 The man plained furiously a second time； and then a third； speaking with choler and no respect； interjecting while she was still addressing them。 In an odd； unsettling way； she had actually been glad of it。 She had nodded at Urté； who had been looking at her expectantly； only waiting for a signal。 The duke of Miraval had calmly declared the merchant's life to be forfeit。 The man had begun shouting then； and the palace corans had moved in quickly to take him from the room。
Blaise had looked as if he wanted to object even to that； but had held himself in check as the struggling merchant was dragged away by the guards。 There was another message that had to be sent here； and Signe knew it； she had been governing a nation for some time； after all； with Guibor and now alone。 Images of power mattered： in Gorhaut they could not be allowed to think they were so weak and soft here in woman…ruled Arbonne。 They already had that impression； Signe knew。 They could not be allowed to indulge in it。 She had looked at Blaise； her expression forbidding； and had waited for him to nod his head。
〃I cannot save a fool；〃 he'd said to the merchants and corans of Gorhaut。 The right thing to say； it would be remembered by the others。 He was learning quickly。 Later that morning they executed the man； though cleanly； without branding or breaking him； he was a symbol； not a truce…breaker himself。 Here in Arbonne they were not the same as those they were now to fight。 She would defend that assertion to the last of her days。
That had all been back in the autumn； with the grape harvest in and the leaves turning。 Now； in the cold； clear glitter of a winter's night； she listened to the sirnal rattle the windows like a spirit of the dead and sipped at her mulled； spiced wine； holding the goblet in both hands； its warmth forting her as much as the scent and taste of the wine。 The two girls were sitting on their benches near the door； their hands cupped around hollow silver balls with burning coals inside them。 Bertran had brought that idea back； years ago she remembered； from a journey into the wild places east of Gotzland。 He had done a great deal of such dangerous travelling in the years after Aelis died。 〃He is blaming himself；〃 Guibor had said patiently。 〃There is nothing we can do about it。〃
Looking more closely at the two girls； Signe saw that Perrette； the younger one； was shivering。 Impatiently； she shook her head。 〃In Rian's name； e nearer the fire； both of you；〃 she said； sounding more irritated than she meant to。 〃You'll be no use to me at all if you catch a chill and die。〃
This was wrong； of course； she shouldn't be taking out anxieties on those around her。 But what was there for her to do； otherwise？ She was an old woman in a cold castle in winter。 She could only sit or stand by a fireside now and wait to see if the goddess and the god would allow them to throw successfully at dice with so many lives and two nations' destinies。
Nervously； the girls hastened to obey her。 Rosala glanced up from her work and smiled。
〃How are you so calm？〃 Signe demanded abruptly。 〃How can you sit there so easily？〃
The smile faded。 Mutely Rosala held up her work； and the countess saw； for the first time； the raddled； spoiled stitching and the visibly trembling hands that were lifting it for her to see。
The fog made things horrendously difficult。 Thaune still couldn't see a thing down below； though he kept straining his eyes into the thick； grey gloom。 There was to have been a single torch lit briefly at the edge of the woods and then doused。 He couldn't have seen a torch from these ramparts tonight if it was directly below where he stood。
Even sounds were muffled； but not so much that…just there！…he could not make out； finally； the jingle of a horse's harness and then the same sound a second time； not far away。 They had e。 It was time。 With an awareness of all that might turn on this in the next moments； and with the fear that came…that had to e…hand…in…glove with that； Thaune went quickly along the rampart walk to the stairwell and started down to the guardhouse； one hand on the wall for balance in the murk。
When he appeared in the doorway all four guards jumped up from the table。 He nodded his head briefly。
〃It is time；〃 he said。
〃Time for what？〃 said Erthon； just before Girart brought the hilt of his knife smartly down on the back of his fellow guard's head。 Erthon； whom Thaune hadn't been able to decide whether or not to trust； slumped forward； and Thaune had to be quick to catch him before he knocked over the table and sent the dice rattling。
〃My luck；〃 said Girart。 〃I was about to win for the first time all night。〃 Thaune was able to smile； the other two guards； younger； visibly nervous； were not。
〃We're in a bigger game now；〃 Thaune said。 〃Say your prayers and open the gate and the bridge。〃 He went out to stand behind the iron portcullis as it began rolling up。 There was a noise； of course； as the chains turned； but for once the fog was useful and Thaune doubted anyone would hear the muffled sound from across the courtyard inside the castle。
When the bars were high enough he stepped forward； ducking to pass under the lowest spikes； and waited again； staring out into the cold mist of the night。 No torches yet； nothing at all to be seen； only the sound of horses again； faintly； through the low； drifting fog。 Then another noise behind him as the portcullis slotted with a clang into its niche at the top of the gate and the guards began quickly winding down the drawbridge over the dry moat。
When the bridge was down； Garsenc Castle lay open to those waiting in the fog； and the first part of what Thaune had e home to do was acplished。 The easy part。
He stepped out onto the wooden bridge and felt more than he heard the simultaneous tread of someone approaching from the other end。 He still could not see。 The mist redoubled