The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars 3)

“I have never much cared for the king’s progress,” said Lavastine finally. He, too, looked toward the forest. The bleat of a hunting horn floated on the air.

“You don’t like the king?” asked Alain, daring much since they were alone, unheard except by the hounds.

Lavastine had a hard, compelling gaze; he turned it on Alain now. “The king stands beyond our likes or dislikes, Alain. I respect him, as he deserves. I hold no grievance against him as long as he leaves me and mine alone—and grants me that which I have won.” The flash of approval in his eyes did not extend to his lips. “That which we won at Gent, you and I. There are many young men and some few women who would gladly join the ranks of your entourage, Alain, if you were to show them your favor. You have learned your manners perfectly, and you carry yourself as well—or better—than most of the young nobles whom we see here at court. You have done well to remain above their games and useless intrigues. But now it is time to build your own retinue.”

Alain sighed. “My foster family brought me up to work and to be proud of that labor. Yet here, should I only gossip and hunt and drink? In truth, Father, I don’t feel at ease in their company. But if I don’t indulge in these amusements, then I fear they’ll think me unworthy.”

Lavastine smiled slightly. “You are not swayed by their levity, as you should not be. You have made a name for yourself in war. Others have noticed that you also apply yourself to the study of scientia. It’s such practical knowledge that will allow you to administer Lavas lands as well as I have done in my time. Your serious manner proves in the eyes of the worthy that you are cast of noble metal.”

The praise embarrassed Alain. He did not feel worthy. Below, the fishermen had hauled their nets out into the shallows and now shouted and whooped with the good cheer of young men who haven’t a care in the world as they tossed fish into baskets that rested on the rocky shore. A few fish slipped from their hands in twisting leaps that spun them back into the river and freedom. But the baskets were by now almost full; their contents churned and slithered, scales flashing in the light like liquid silver.

later, rolled up in her blanket on a mat laid down in the dark entry hall of the church, did it occur to her that the clothing left behind with the bones on the roadside was damp but not rotted or torn. Had it lain there for months or years, it, too, would have begun to rot away.

3

THE hunting party burst out of the forest and then scattered aimlessly into small groups, having lost the scent. The king rode among a riot of his good companions, all laughing at a comment made by Count Lavastine. Alain had fallen back to the fringe, and now he reined in his horse to watch a trio of young men fishing in the river an arrow’s shot upstream. Hip-deep in water, they flung nets wide over the glittering surface.

“Alain.” Count Lavastine halted beside him. The black hounds snuffled in the grass that edged the cliff, which fell away about a man’s height before hillside met river. A rock, dislodged by Fear, skittered down the slope, stirring up a shower of dust, and the other hounds all barked in a delighted frenzy as they scrambled back.

“Peace!” said Lavastine sternly, and at once they quieted, obedient to his wishes. He turned his gaze to Alain. “You must come ride closer to the king, Son.”

“Their task seems easier than mine.” Alain indicated the fishermen below. Stripped down to their breechclouts, the fishermen enjoyed the purl of the water around their bodies and the hot sun on their glistening backs without any thought except for the labor at hand. He heard their laughter ringing up from the distant shore.

“A drought, a late freeze, a rainy Aogoste. Any of these could ruin their crops.”

“But at least the rivers always breed fish. I’m never quite sure what the noble parties are hunting.”

“You do not like the form of this hunt. But it is one you must learn, and you must learn to judge which party will succeed and which will fail. In this way we make our alliances. The prince favors you.”

“The princess does not.”

“Only because you are favored by the prince.”

“Because I am a bastard, as he is.”

“Were,” said Lavastine with a sudden bite to his tone, like a hound’s sharp nip, more warning than attack. “You are legitimately claimed and honored now.”

“Yes, Father,” said Alain obediently. “But when she sees me and then sees Lord Geoffrey, it reminds Princess Sapientia that the king may choose another claimant over her when it comes time to anoint his heir.” The hounds sat, panting, in the sun: Rage, Sorrow, Ardent, Bliss, and Fear. Terror flopped down. Only Steadfast still sniffed along the verge of the bluff, intent on a scent that did not interest the others. A stone’s toss back from the bluff, King Henry and his companions conferred, pointing toward the dense spur of woodland that thrust here into a scattering of orchard and fields of ripening oats cut into a neat patchwork by hedgerows.

“I have never much cared for the king’s progress,” said Lavastine finally. He, too, looked toward the forest. The bleat of a hunting horn floated on the air.

“You don’t like the king?” asked Alain, daring much since they were alone, unheard except by the hounds.

Lavastine had a hard, compelling gaze; he turned it on Alain now. “The king stands beyond our likes or dislikes, Alain. I respect him, as he deserves. I hold no grievance against him as long as he leaves me and mine alone—and grants me that which I have won.” The flash of approval in his eyes did not extend to his lips. “That which we won at Gent, you and I. There are many young men and some few women who would gladly join the ranks of your entourage, Alain, if you were to show them your favor. You have learned your manners perfectly, and you carry yourself as well—or better—than most of the young nobles whom we see here at court. You have done well to remain above their games and useless intrigues. But now it is time to build your own retinue.”

Alain sighed. “My foster family brought me up to work and to be proud of that labor. Yet here, should I only gossip and hunt and drink? In truth, Father, I don’t feel at ease in their company. But if I don’t indulge in these amusements, then I fear they’ll think me unworthy.”

Lavastine smiled slightly. “You are not swayed by their levity, as you should not be. You have made a name for yourself in war. Others have noticed that you also apply yourself to the study of scientia. It’s such practical knowledge that will allow you to administer Lavas lands as well as I have done in my time. Your serious manner proves in the eyes of the worthy that you are cast of noble metal.”

The praise embarrassed Alain. He did not feel worthy. Below, the fishermen had hauled their nets out into the shallows and now shouted and whooped with the good cheer of young men who haven’t a care in the world as they tossed fish into baskets that rested on the rocky shore. A few fish slipped from their hands in twisting leaps that spun them back into the river and freedom. But the baskets were by now almost full; their contents churned and slithered, scales flashing in the light like liquid silver.

The horn rang out again, closer. A large animal erupted from cover and scrambled into the orchard. The king’s huntsmen began shouting all at once, bringing their hunting spears to bear. Lavastine’s hounds sprang up and tore away, only to stop short when Lavastine whistled piercingly. They barked furiously as a huge boar appeared in the distance beneath the shelter of a cluster of apple trees.

At that moment, two parties of about equal numbers galloped free of the woods, one from the southern edge of the spur of woodland and the other from its center. Princess Sapientia led the first party. Her banner rippled blue and white from a lance carried by a servant, and her companions thundered along beside her so colorfully outfitted that they obliterated the serenity of cultivated land. Some few even jumped hedgerows and trampled fields in their haste to reach the boar before the other party did.

That other party had come clear of the woodland closer to the hunted beast, but their leader made such a clear point of avoiding any stands of oat and bypassing one stoutly growing field of beans that they closed on the boar from the north just as Princess Sapientia and her entourage circled in from the south. For an instant the two parties faced each other, as do enemy forces in a skirmish: the princess small and fierce on a skittish gelding rather too large for her; her half brother so at his ease with a hunting spear in one hand and the other light on the reins of a magnificent gray that he seemed to shine under the glare of the sun.

The king raised a hand, and his own companions paused, holding back. Everyone watched. The boar bolted away toward the river, the only stretch of open ground left to it.