| Watery porridge in the morningBurnt, tasteless khavHe stood still for a moment, still smiling faintly, breathing the crisp, cool airMercifully, the wind had died down a little, his bones felt fineLifting his face to the night breeze he could almost taste the spring to come
He closed the door carefully behind him and began tapping his way with the stick along the path towards the barnHe had carved this stick when he still had his sightMany times he had carried it in the palace, an affectation at a dissolute courtHe had never expected to need it in this wayIts head was the head of an eagle with the eyes lovingly detailed, wide and fiercely defiant
Perhaps because he had killed for the second time in his life that night, Devin was remembering that other much larger barn from the winter just past, in Astibar
This one was far more modestOnly two milk cows and a pair of plow prada gauffre bag horses stabledIt was well-made though, and warm, with the smell of the animals and clean strawThe walls had no chinks to admit the knife of wind, the straw was freshly piled, the floor swept clean, the tools along the walls neatly laid and stacked
In fact, if he wasn't careful, the smell and the feel of this barn would take him much further back than last winter: back to their own farm in Asoli, which he tried never to think aboutHe was tired though, bone tired, after two sleepless nights, and so he supposed he was vulnerable to such memoriesHis right knee ached fiercely, where he had twisted it on the mountainIt was swollen to twice its normal size and sharply sensitive to touchHe'd had to walk slowly, making a real effort not to limpNo one had spoken since they had reached the outskirts of this village of some twenty homesThe only sound for the last few moments after they sale gucci handbags tethered the horses and began to walk had been Alessan's pipes softly playingPlaying, and Devin wondered if he alone knew this, or if Naddo recognized it too, a certain nursery melody from Avalle
Here in the barn Alessan was still playing, as gently as beforeThe tune was one more thing that seemed to be trying to carry Devin back to his familyHe resisted: if he went that way in the condition he was in right now he would probably end up crying
Devin tried to imagine how the haunting, elusive melody would sound to anyone huddled inside the walls of their lightless homes on this Ember NightA company of ghosts passing by, that was what they would seem to beThe dead abroad, following a small, forgotten tuneHe remembered Catriana singing in the Sandreni Woods:
But wherever I wander, by night or by day, Where water runs swiftly or high trees sway, My heart will carry me back and away hermes bags To a dream of the towers of Avalle
He wondered where she was tonightHe wondered if he would ever see any of them againEarlier this evening, pursued into the pass, he had thought he was about to dieAnd now, two hours later, they had killed twenty-five Barbadians with those same outlaws who had pursued them, and three of the outlaws were here with them in this unknown barn listening to Alessan play a cradle song
He didn't think he would understand the strangeness of life if he lived to be a hundred years old
There was a sound outside and the door swung openDevin stiffened involuntarilySo did Ducas di Tregea, a hand reaching for his swordAlessan looked at the door, but his fingers never faltered on the pipes and the music continued
An old man, slightly stooped, but with a leonine combed-back mane of white hair, stood for a moment, backlit by the sudden moonlight, before he louis vuitton metallic bags stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him with a stick he carriedAfter that it was dark again in the barn and hard to see for a few momentsAlessan did not even look up againTenderly, with feeling, he finished the tuneDevin looked at him as he played and wondered if he was the only man here who understood what music meant to the PrinceHe thought about what Alessan had been through in this past day alone, about what it was he was riding towards, and something complicated and awkward stirred in his heart as he listened to the wistful ending of the songHe saw the Prince set his pipes aside with a motion of regretLaying down his release, taking up the burdens againAll the burdens that seemed to be his legacy, the price of his blood
"Thank you for coming, old friend," he said now, quietly, to the man in the doorway
"You owe me, Alessan," the old man said in a clear strong shop for chanel bags vo |
| 