d her ask one last question。 〃Did the king understand what ibn Khairan meant in his poem tonight？ About the water at the drinking place？〃
She was clever too； this lady from Cartada； sharp as a cutting edge。 He would do well to remember that。 He was getting old； must not allow it to render him vulnerable。 He had seen that happen to other men。
〃He understands it now；〃 he murmured； eyes closed。
He heard her laugh then； softly。 Her laughter seemed to ease him wonderfully； a caressing sound。 One of her hands slid across his chest。 She turned herself a little； to fit more closely to him。
She said； 〃I was watching Ammar tonight。 I have known him for many years。 I believe he is troubled by something beyond 。。。 divided loyalty。 I don't think he understands it himself yet。 If I am right； it would be amusing； in truth。〃
He opened his eyes and looked at her； waiting。 And then she told him something he would never have even contemplated。 Women； Mazur ben Avren had long thought； had an entirely different way of seeing the world。 It was one of the reasons he enjoyed their pany so much。
Soon after that she fell asleep。 The chancellor of Ragosa lay awake for a long time； however； considering what she had said； turning it over and over in his mind； as a stone in the hand； or the different possible endings for a verse。
For the bright lord of Ragosa；
Long…tenured on his dais；
Much…loved； and deservedly；
May there always be in times to e
Cool water from the moonlit pool
And wine in the drinking glass。
He could perhaps have said； alone by the pool； Ammar ibn Khairan reflected； but that would have had a flavor of sycophancy； however subtle； and he wasn't ready…so soon after the elegy for Almalik…to give so much to Badir of Ragosa in a verse。 Almost； but not quite。 That was the problem。
It was lions； of course； who were alone when they came down to the water to drink。
He wondered if the king had been offended by his brevity； which would be a pity。 The banquet tables had barely settled themselves to silence when ibn Khairan； given pride of place； first recital； had already finished speaking his brief verse。 The lines were as simple as he could make them； more a well…wishing than an homage。 Save for the hint 。。。 the moonlit waters。 If Badir understood。 He wondered。
I am too old； Ammar ibn Khairan said to himself； justifying； to abuse my craft。
Any of your crafts？
The inner voice always had the hard questions。 He was a soldier and a diplomat as well as a poet。 Those were the real crafts of his living here in Ragosa； as they had been in Cartada。 The poetry？ Was for when the winds of the world died down。
What ought a man honorably to do？ To aspire towards？ Was it the stillness of that pool…dreamed of； and written about…where only the one beast dared stalk from the dark trees to drink in the moonlight and under the stars？
That stillness； that single image； was the touchstone of verse for him。 A place out of the wind； for once； where the noise of the world and all the brilliant color…the noise and color he still loved！…might recede and a deceptively simple art be conjured forth。
Standing； as he had stood one night before…the night he'd first e here…by the waters of Lake Serrana； ibn Khairan understood that he was still a long way from that dark pool。 Water and water。 The dream of the Asharites。 The water that nourished the body and the waters the soul craved。 If I am not careful； he told himself； I'll end up being good for nothing but mumbled； cryptic teachings under some arch in Soriyya。 I'll let my beard and hair grow； walk barefoot in a torn robe； let my students bring me bread and water for sustenance。
Water the body needed； waters the soul desired。
There were lanterns in the rigging of all the fishing boats； he saw by the blue moonlight。 They were not yet alight。 That would e tomorrow。 Carnival。 Masks。 Music and wine。 Pleasures of torchlight。 A brilliance until dawn。
Sometimes the darkness needed to be pushed back。
Beloved Al…Rassan； the thought came to him in that moment； sharp and unexpected as a blade from beneath a friend's cloak； shall I live to shape your elegy as well？
In that innermost； jewel…like garden of the Al…Fontina those long years ago the last blind khalif of Silvenes had greeted him as a wele visitor； before the blade…from beneath a friend's cloak…had ended him。
Ammar ibn Khairan drew a breath and shook his head。 It might have been useful to have a friend here tonight； but that had never been the way he'd ordered his life； and it would be a weakness to dwell upon it now。 Almalik was dead； which was a part； a large part； of the present difficulties。
It had been decided two nights ago…though not yet made generally known…that in two weeks' time； when the white moon was full； the mercenary army of Ragosa would set out for Cartada； to wrest that city from a parricide。 They would march and ride in the name of a small boy； Zabira's elder son； who had besought the shelter and support of King Badir and the intercession of the holy stars。
Ibn Khairan stood motionless for another moment； then turned away from the water and the boats to walk back。 The last time he had been here by the lake late at night Jehane bet Ishak had been waiting by the warehouses and they had met Rodrigo Belmonte at the infirmary and he and Belmonte had left her there； laughing； and gone off to get unexpectedly drunk together。 The night of the day he had arrived； the day they had fought side by side。
Something too close there； deeply unsettling。
Jehane had looked remarkably beautiful in the banquet room tonight； he thought； inconsequentially。 His steps echoed on the planks of the wharf。 He came to the first warehouses and continued on。 The streets were empty。 He was quite alone。
She'd been gowned in crimson silk； extravagantly； with only lapis jewelry and a white shawl as gestures towards the Kindath clothing laws。 It would have been Husari who provided that dress for her； Ammar thought； and ben Avren； probably； the jewels。
Her hair adorned with gems； and the lapis at ears and throat adding brilliance to her eyes； the doctor had caused a palpable stir when she entered the banquet room； though she'd been a fixture here； pragmatic and unpretentious； from the day she arrived。 Sometimes； he thought； people reached a point where they wanted to say something different about themselves。
He had teased her this evening； about trying to catch the king's glance。 Alleged she was harboring aspirations to be the first Kindath queen in Al…Rassan。 If they start wagering on me again； she'd answered dryly…quick as ever…do let me know： I wouldn't mind making a little money this time。
He'd looked for her later； after the meal； after the music and all the verses； including his own； but she had already gone。 So had Rodrigo Belmonte； it now occurred to him。 An idle thought； wispy as a blown cloud across the moon； drifted into his mind。
The two of them； he realized； walking towards the center of the city； were the only people in Ragosa with whom he might have wanted to speak just now。 Such an odd conjunction。 Jaddite soldier； Kindath woman and physician。
Then he corrected himself。 There was a third； actually。 One more。 He doubted the chancellor of Ragosa was alone； however； and greatly doubted he would be disposed to discuss nuances of poetry just then； so late at night； with Zabira in his bed； acplished and alluring。
He was both right and wrong； as it happened。 He went home alone； in any event； to the house and garden he had leased at the edge of the palace quarter with a small part of the great wealth he had earned in the service of the last king of Cartada。
In the horse…breeding lands of Valledo the next day…the morning of the Carnival of Ragosa； in fact…they came for Diego Belmonte at the ranch of his family where he had lived all his short life。
His mother was away at the time； riding the eastern perimeter of Rancho Belmonte； supervising the spring roundup of new foals。 This absence on the part of the lady of the estate had not been planned by those who arrived at the ranch house； but they regarded it； nonethel