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Before the two tall candles above the frieze he had offered the ancient prayers for sunrise and sunset and for the strength of the god's life…giving golden light。 The frieze itself had been masterfully done； a rendering of Corannos bestowing fire upon the first men； that the nights might hold less terror than before。
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised by the serene grace of the god's houses here。 They worshipped Corannos in Arbonne。 He had always known that； there were corans here； after all； with the same rituals of initiation and invocation that he had passed through in Gorhaut； the same ones used in all six countries。 It had been difficult； though； when he first arrived； in those early days at Castle Baude in the highlands； to overe a lifetime of prejudice and vicious innuendo； much of it ing； of course； from his father。 It was odd how often he was thinking about his father of late。 Or perhaps not so odd after all； given what he was about to do。 They said the mind reached backwards when one's life was in extreme peril。
Galbert de Garsenc had stipulated that his younger son follow him into the clergy of Corannos。 It was not a matter for discussion； what the High Elder wanted； he was accustomed to receive。 Blaise's repeated flights as a boy from the chapel school near Cortil； his silent endurance of the whippings he was given； both at home by Galbert's heavy hand and again when he returned to the Elders； and then his obdurate； absolute refusal to speak the vows of consecration when he turned sixteen had represented a colossal thwarting of the High Elder's carefully laid plans。
They had tried to starve him into submitting to the vows…on his father's orders。 Blaise had never forgotten those weeks。 He woke sometimes in the night remembering them。 Even today pangs of hunger made him panic irrationally； and he could not lash a man。
Would your mother have made a difference？ Signe de Barbentain had asked the first night he met her。 He didn't know。 He would never know。 No man； with only the one life to live； could answer such a question。 He remembered learning； when still a small boy； not to cry because there was no one in the world who would e with fort if he did。 The brethren in the chapel school were terrified of his father； none dared offer succour to the unworthy； ingrate son。 Not ever。 Once； in Garsenc； Ranald had slipped into Blaise's room at night with a salve for his brother's lacerated back。 In the morning； when Galbert saw the healing ointment he had whipped Ranald and then Blaise a second time。 Ranald never tried to intervene in his punishments after that。 Blaise could have stopped running away。 He could have taken the vows they demanded of him。 Neither possibility ever occurred to him； not even as options to be considered。 When it became clear that Blaise would die of starvation before he broke in this； Galbert calmly proposed to have him publicly executed for his disobedience。 It was King Duergar himself； being aware of this savage family drama playing itself out； who had forbidden that execution； who had insisted on food and drink being brought for the starving boy； and it was Duergar who accepted the sworn fealty of a gaunt； silent； hollow…eyed sixteen…year…old one month later； and named him a coran of Gorhaut。
Duke Ereibert de Garsenc； doughty and hoar； had died childless when his two nephews were twenty…one and nineteen； his stern mastery in war allowing him to outface lifelong rumours about his lack of heirs。 Ranald inherited。 He withdrew； of necessity； from his position as King's Champion and became duke of Garsenc instead； lord of the richest； most powerful estates in Gorhaut。 Blaise should by then have been； by his father's careful designs； firmly placed in the hierarchy of the god's brotherhood； ready for a smooth ascent all the way to the ultimate station Galbert held； as High Elder of Corannos； with kings and princes subject to his fiat。 The Garsenc family should have been poised for generations of power in Gorhaut…the country held as if between the paws of the rampant bear that was on their escutcheon…whomever might nominally have been sitting on the throne。
Ranald would have sons to succeed him at Garsenc and to follow Blaise into the clergy； there would be daughters to bind other families with the hoops of marriage vows。 And eventually； perhaps not so far in the future； there might be even more than all of this…there might be the throne itself。 A Garsenc ruling in Cortil； and the borders of Gorhaut itself stretching all the time； though first…first of all things； of course…reaching across the mountain passes to the south； to Arbonne； where they were godless and heretical； ruled by women and womanish men steeped in their blood…soaked rites。
Blaise had known almost all of this from very early in his life。 He had been the one Galbert talked to when the boys were young。 There had been a brief time when he hadn't understood why that was so； and then a longer period when he'd felt sorry for Ranald。 It had all been long ago。
〃Boots；〃 said Rudel。
Blaise lifted first his left leg and then his right。
〃All right；〃 said Valery。 Blaise stood up； and Rudel reached around his waist and buckled on the long； Aulensburg…forged sword in its plain soldier's scabbard。 From the table he hefted the light helmet。 Blaise took it from him and set it on his head。 Valery was waiting with the round； unornamented shield。 Blaise took that too。
〃Where do you want your knives？〃 Valery asked。
〃One for the belt。 I have the other。〃 Valery asked no further questions； neither did Rudel。 They； too； had both been through this before。 Rudel； his face and manner sober； lifted a sleek black knife from the trunk beside the tent flap and handed it to Blaise。
Blaise smiled briefly at him。 〃Do you remember？ You gave me this one？〃
Rudel made a quick； warding sign。 〃I did no such thing。 I found it for you。 You paid me a copper piece for it。 We don't give knives as gifts； you ignorant northerner。〃
Blaise laughed。 〃Forgive me。 I forgot that you are a superstitious Portezzan farmer at heart。 However did you get permission to leave your hoe in the vineyards to travel among men of rank？〃
A frivolous gibe； not worthy of a response and receiving none； for the trumpets sounded then。
Valery and Rudel moved to stand on either side of the tent flaps。 The tradition was for the squires to say nothing at this time； farewells of any sort were thought to be invitations to fate。 Blaise knew this。 He looked at each of them and smiled。 He was still calm； but there was a slight telltale acceleration to his pulsebeat now； as silence settled like a bird to a branch outside。
He nodded； and Valery and Rudel each drew back a flap of the tent。 He stepped past the two of them； ducking his head； and he came out into sunshine and the green grass of the battleground。
Quzman of Arimonda was the first person he saw； standing at the entrance to his own tent on the far side of the field。 A banner was flying behind him： three black bulls on a crimson field。 Blaise registered the curved sword worn across the Arimondan's back in the western fashion； and he saw the polished golde