In a Time of Treason
Page 45
Durand stared over the mounded earth, and finally the skald ducked his eyes and trudged away. Durand had meant to find words, but none came.
At last, only he and the duke’s few men remained. Abravanal let his hand settle on Durand’s arm. He seemed very small, and very old. Almora had been bundled over Kieren’s shoulder and the Fox wavered between concern for his duke and his onetime shield-bearer. “His Grace wants a word,” he said.
And Durand looked.
The duke took his hand from Durand’s arm. “Durand Col. I know what you tried to do for my son. I know how many times his life was owed you. You were his guardian, though he would not be guarded.” But Durand was thinking that the man might not have died at all if Durand had not lingered with his wife. “I know what you suffered for him.” Durand blinked. “No other man living could have stolen Severin’s boy from Radomor’s citadel. I saw you standing here—brooding over these graves. You have the look of a man bidding good-bye. But I would not have you depart.”
The old man saw in him the grief of a loyal servant. Durand felt like a liar. He could not have said what he felt. Shame, perhaps. Perhaps other things.
But Abravanal looked into the clouds of Durand’s eyes, and hope seemed to glow through the wreck of the old man’s life like the Eye of Heaven through the empty windows of the high sanctuary. Durand wondered what the old man thought he saw.
“I have a daughter still,” he said. “She is the last of my blood. All that survives of my wife. My fathers. As you served my son, Durand, I plead with you: serve my daughter. She will have his wife to stand by her. I think that must be. But the Powers will not have another child of mine. Not while I live.” The old man cast his eyes down, confessing, “I could not endure it.”
But Durand could not answer. He imagined years in Gunderic’s Tower with Deorwen always near. No escaping, but never touching. And, after a space of heartbeats, the duke nodded and walked from the graves with his daughter—leaving Durand entirely alone.
Or so he thought.
A shadow slipped over him. And he saw a figure against the Eye of Heaven. A blade glinted in the man’s fist.
“Who are you?” Durand challenged, wincing into the glare.
Durand could see the man’s shoulders rising with deep breaths, his blood pounding. And the slender blade winked, turning in the stranger’s hand. And Durand guessed whom he faced.
“Coen.”
For the space of two slow heartbeats, the figure was still. Then he stepped from the light. And, without a further word, stalked for the gates with a blue mantle swirling in his wake.
And Durand realized that everything must stay as it was—that his decision had always been made. He was no stronger than Berchard or Heremund. He could no more turn on Coensar than any of the others. And so, he would return to the court of Abravanal and stand guard over the duke’s last child. He would watch beside Coensar and it would all go on as it was that day, but he would, at least, make good on his promises.
And he would have the prophecy of the Traveler.
Eyes around that city of ruins and green wood were raised at the sound of Durand’s laughter.
Table of Contents
IN A TIME OFTREASON
Acknowledgments
1. A Necklace of Millstones
2. The Eagle Summons
3. Signs Before Sailing
4. The Bittern and the Bier
5. The Glen of Idols
6. The Night Leap
7. The Winding Road
8. To Race the Moon
9. In the Hall of Eagles
10. The Dust of Princes Lost
11. Tide, Time, and Laughter
12. The Leopard Bares His Claws
13. Discretion’s Cost
14. Death and Dreaming
15. A Mortal Game
16. Numbering the Dead
17. The Shadow of Black Wings
18. The Red Hour
19. The Night’s Messengers
20. Sunset Falling
21. A Shell of Stone
22. The Banished and the Lost
23. The Relief of Acconel
24. A Broken Victory
25. Path of Ashes
26. A Leopard by the Tail
27. The Empty Storm
28. The Tiers of Ferangore
29. Homecoming