Rumors chased each other with frantic speed from camp to camp all during the Lastday of the Rialla. Roelstra had murdered all his daughters. They had murdered him. Lady Andrade had started the fire on board the barge and killed them all. Roelstra had been deposed by persons unknown, possibly the Merida. Prince Rohan had died in the fire. He had died in Roelstra’s tent. He had called for his armies to march on Castle Crag. He would marry Princess Pandsala—no, Princess lanthe—no, both, and take the other girls as concubines. Lady Andrade was on her way back to Goddess Keep with Princess lanthe—Princess Pandsala—
The only thing anybody knew for certain was that the High Prince’s barge wallowed on the Faolain, gutted, smoldering, its dispirited crewmen at a tavern in Waes getting drunk. One more interesting item of known fact: Lord Chaynal had hiked up the price of his horses, which would be in great demand now that whatever was left of the Castle Crag party had to find another means of going home.
Prince Clutha of Meadowlord and Lord Jervis of Waes did themselves the courtesy of ignoring the rumors. They ordered the ceremonies to progress as usual, and by midmorning a hilltop overlooking the camps had been made ready. The highborns gathered, whispering the latest, and waited for the procession of brides. When Lady Andrade arrived, there was a collective sigh of pure relief.
Frankly curious stares greeted Roelstra’s daughters. They were lacking their father and one sibling, and were dressed as richly as brides themselves. Pandsala’s absence fueled speculation that she was the Chosen of Prince Rohan; lanthe’s sullen face seemed to confirm this. But when the wedding procession came up the flower-strewn hillside, the missing princess was not among the brides.
One of the first to step forth and be married was young Lord Eltanin of Tiglath, who still looked stunned at his success in winning Jervis’ middle daughter. She was a small, delicate girl with golden-brown hair and the musical name Antalya, meaning “spring cup” in the old language, and with wildflowers plaited in her hair and in bracelets around her arms, she was the embodiment of youthful beauty. As she was presented by her father to her new husband, she looked up at Eltanin with radiant eyes. Rohan, as the young man’s overlord, presented him to his bride with an elegant flourish. Andrade called Goddess blessing down on the pair, and Tobin was sure her brother would start dancing with delight. An alliance between his vassal and the powerful athri of Waes would strengthen his ties with Meadowlord; Clutha’s lands were a buffer between the Desert and Princemarch, and Jervis was Clutha’s man. Yet Tobin also detected a more personal joy in her brother’s smile. It was only natural that a young man who had won his own lady would wish all those around him equal happiness. Tobin had heard from Camigwen that Sioned had not returned to their tent the previous night, and wondered whimsically what kept Rohan from calling out his delight to the whole world.
Younger sons had found brides, heiresses had found husbands, and the parade of fathers and overlords leading young men and women to receive Andrade’s blessing went on and on. A sweet breeze from the east had blown away the lingering smoke from the dawn fire on the river, and the day shone with-the last of late-summer brilliance. The hilltop was the perfect setting in which to begin a new life. Tobin smiled to herself and glanced up at her lord, remembering their own marriage on the cliffs near Radzyn Keep.
Andrade had ordered Camigwen and Ostvel to come last. “Who desires to marry a Sunrunner, a faradhi who rides on moonlight?” she called out, and Ostvel, with
Urival as his sponsor, walked forward across the carpe’ of flowers.
“I do, my Lady,” the young man said proudly. “I am her Chosen and she is mine.”
“Let her come to you, then.” Andrade replied, smiling.
Camigwen stepped forward shyly, dark and exotic. But the dress she wore was very different from her everyday clothes; Tobin had seen to that. Her gown was the color of very old bronze, embroidered with gold flowers down the panels of the skirt. The small pouch at her waist bulged with Ostvel’s wedding necklet. Sioned walked beside her, wearing a plain russet dress, her emerald ring sparkling where she had laced her fingers with her friend’s. Tobin knew the murmurs through the crowd were not only for the rare public marriage of a faradhi, but for the rumor now current that Sioned was Rohan’s Chosen wife. Stealing a glance at him where he stood with Eltanin and Antalya, Tobin was surprised to find a thin furrow of worry on his forehead. Searching Sioned’s face, she understood why. Where Camigwen glowed, Sioned looked almost fragile, her flaming hair seeming to have drawn all the color from her cheeks and lips. Urival had not said much, but he had mentioned something about drugged wine. Tobin cursed the absent High Prince.
Andrade handfasted the two young people, and Sioned and Urival stepped back. The words that joined a Sunrunner and her Chosen were more elaborate than those for anyone but royalty, for there were vows other than those of marriage to consider. Tobin heard the echo of words Andrade would soon speak over Rohan and Sioned, and saw the girl’s green eyes come to life even though the rest of her seemed frozen.
Ostvel drew the carnelian necklet from a pocket of his tunic and as he fumbled to fasten it around Cami’s slender throat the stones gave off a sultry dark red fire. Not even Eltanin’s sapphires, at which Antalya had gasped, had been as magnificent as this. Cami then stood on tiptoe and clasped a thin gold chain around Ostvel’s neck. It was set with a single large piece of black coral carved in a sunburst pattern—the stone from Gilad,
Ostvel’s home, and the symbol of the sun to represent her status as a faradhi.
“As the sun and the moons circle the world of waters,” Andrade chanted, “as the waters circle the lands; as the lands circle the body of the world; so surround and sustain each other. Be as light to each other’s eyes and life-giving water to each other’s souls. Give of the richness of the earth, one to the other. Catch the wind within to sweep away all doubt, all pain, all fear. Be all things within your love.”
She turned to Ostvel, holding up her left hand, palm out, rings sparkling in the morning sun. “In your keeping is a Sunrunner, one who calls Fire and weaves the light. Help her to keep her paths true and unshadowed, free of all hurtful things. You will be the sire of faradh’im. I judge you worthy, Ostvel of Gilad.”
He bent his head and responded, “You honor me with your trust, Lady, as the faradhi does with her love.”
Andrade smiled slightly, and nodded. To Camigwen she said, “You are a Sunrunner and know your work and your vows. To serve, to speak truly, to weave the light across the world in company with your brothers and sisters. To rightly use your knowledge, and never to kill. All these things are impressed on your heart. To you I give this man, to cherish with the Fire of your calling and guard with the strength of our ways. Repose in his heart, and listen to his soul.” She took their clasped hands between hers. “Goddess blessing, all your lives.”
They faced each other, smiling as first gazes met and then lips. Tobin sighed and sniffled a little, and felt Chay shake with silent laughter at her side. “Stop that,” she whispered. “It was lovely.”
“For a princess with a political head on her shoulders, you’re a terrible sentimentalist.”
“Oh, really? And who is it who always remembers to wear his own wedding necklet to these ceremonies?”
“Well. . . .” Caught out, he shrugged, his cheeks suddenly red beneath his tan. Tobin reached up and fingered the elegant silver chain she had given him years ago, each flat link set with a small diamond so it seemed that his strong throat was circled by stars.
“Sentimentalist,” she accused fondly.
Andrade had decided that enough was enough. “Ostvel, let the girl breathe!”
The crowd dissolved into laughter. Musicians began to play as friends and families hurried forward to congratulate the newly wedded couples. Tobin and Chay found Eltanin and his bride, who seemed to be competing with each other in a blushing contest, then looked around for Rohan.
“They’re all wondering why he wasn’t first today with a bride of his own,” Chay observed, grinning. “How did lanthe ever get the nerve to show up?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Where is that miserable brother of mine? And for that matter, what happened to Sioned?”
“Andrade, too,” Chay said, scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes, no longer smiling. “She has some explaining to do.”
“Don’t they all?”
They made their way to the outskirts of the crowd and Tobin caught sight of a blond head and a red-gold one. Sioned was moving like an old woman, Rohan supporting every faltering step. He glanced around when Tobin called his name. Fear had taken all the joy from his eyes. “It’s that damned drug he gave her,” he said. “I should have killed him.”
Chaynal put an arm around Sioned’s bent shoulders. “Rough night last night, hmm?” he asked lightly.
“You could say that. Goddess, what a headache! It comes and goes with as much warning as the fogs at Goddess Keep.”
“What did he give you?” Tobin asked as they continued down the hill.
“I don’t know. I felt all right, and then I felt terrible—“ She managed a smile for Rohan. “And then I felt wonderful.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Chay replied to keep the bracing banter going.
“Oh, shut up,” Rohan muttered, crimson to his ear-lobes. But there was a smug gleam in his eyes that brought a muffled giggle to Tobin’s lips.
“I can hardly wait to hear the whole story,” Chay went on.
“Tobin, you didn’t tell him?” Rohan asked.
“There wasn’t time.” She fell silent as they reached the camp, and went ahead to pull aside the flaps of Rohan’s tent. The two men half-carried Sioned inside, and Walvis was there at once with pillows to put behind her head as she wilted onto Rohan’s bed.
“I’ll go find Lady Andrade,” the squire said without being told, and vanished.
Rohan sat beside Sioned, smoothing the hair back from her forehead, holding her hand. A deadly anger competed with the aching tenderness in his eyes. Tobin exchanged a glance with Chay, and they both pulled up low stools and sat down.
“You and Roelstra aren’t just on opposite sides anymore,” Tobin said. “You’re enemies.”
“I should’ve killed him,” Rohan said again.
“Come on, out with it,” Chay said impatiently. “I want to hear it all.”
Rohan was spare in the telling. Sioned said nothing, merely gazed up at him, until he reached the part about the two of them walking along the river. She smiled, saying, “I think he’ll forgive you the details of what happened after that.” Rohan blushed again, and Tobin grinned at her husband.
“This morning,” Rohan went on, glowering at his brother-by-marriage as if daring him to tease, “we woke up and found Roelstra’s barge on fire. That’s the part I want to hear from Andrade. If anybody knows what happened, she will.”
“Nobody told you?” Chay asked, all humor gone.
“I don’t listen to rumors.”
“Neither do I,” Andrade said from behind them. She took a swift assessing look at Sioned, frowning. “The dranathl”
“If that’s the name of the drug, then yes,” the Sunrunner replied.
Andrade gestured peremptorily, and Chaynal brought her a chair. She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and announced, “The royal mistress gave birth last night.
For reasons unconnected to the fact that it was another daughter, Roelstra burned Palila in her bed.”
“Goddess!” Sioned breathed. “Rohan, I wish you had killed him!”
Andrade nodded. “So do I. What are the symptoms of this drug?”
“A grandsire dragon of a headache. It comes and goes.”
“Was there any odd taste to the wine?”
“It was Giladan, but I don’t know enough about the variety to say if there was anything wrong with the taste.”
“Damn,” Andrade muttered. “Will you be able to appear tonight?”
“Of course I will!” Sioned tried to sit up.
Rohan pushed her gently back down. “You’re not well enough. Don’t even think about—“
“I’ll be there,” she said stubbornly. “Try and stop me!”
“Sioned,” he began warningly.
“Don’t be a fool, Rohan!” Andrade exclaimed. “She must be there!”
Tobin judged it was time to change the subject before frayed tempers snapped. “Aunt, why wouldn’t anybody let me in your tent this morning?”
The Lady looked grimly amused. “I have a guest who doesn’t appreciate my hospitality. The Princess Pandsala.”
Andrade showed none of her usual enjoyment for the shocked silence that followed such an incredible pronouncement. She made brief work of the story, residual horror and disgust in her eyes no matter how strictly she controlled her voice. When she had finished, she considered each of them in turn, focusing at last on her nephew. “We’ve badly underestimated lanthe, it seems. I don’t know what Roelstra believes, but I know Pandsala is telling the truth. The whole scheme was lanthe’s, and the implications sicken me. She sat there cool as a cloud, without a trace of guilt—and I’m sure she feels none, for she’ll get at least part of what she wants.”
“Not Rohan,” Sioned stated flatly.
“She’ll have other means to power, you can be sure.
We’ll have to watch her carefully over these next years. It’s said he’s given her Feruche.”
“No!” Rohan cried furiously. “Feruche is going to be mine! And I won’t have that bitch within a hundred measures of my lands!”
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Andrade told him roughly. “Put someone you trust completely in command of your garrison below the castle. That’s your only move for the moment.”
“I’ll thank you not to decide the disposition of my troops for me,” he snapped.
Sioned placed a gentle hand on his arm. “What about the others, my Lady? The crew and servants—and those other women and their children. Did they escape?”
“The crew, yes. The servants, mostly. As for the women and babies—I don’t know. I’ve tried all morning to find trace of them, but. ...” She shrugged, a casual gesture at odds with the cold fury in her eyes. “It’ll be a long, hard trip back to Castle Crag for the High Prince and what remains of his suite. You’ll make a tidy profit, Chay. I’ve heard you’ve upped your prices.”
“That was before I’d heard all this!” Chay shot back. “He can damned well walk! What kind of man could murder a woman who’d borne his children?”
“Daughters,” Tobin corrected softly. “That’s the difference, Chay.”
“No,” Andrade told them. “Palila died because she was guilty of treason.”
“So is lanthe,” Rohan pointed out. “Roelstra’s arrogant, but he’s not stupid. He has to know she was behind it. Pandsala’s clever enough to think up the variation, but only lanthe could conceive the original plan. The fact that Roelstra’s rewarding her with Feruche confirms it, as far as I’m concerned.” He held Sioned’s fingers more tightly, looking down at her. “He’ll want lanthe’s talents directed at us now. Especially you.”
“That makes it even more important for me to appear tonight with you as we planned,” she insisted. “It’ll be a slap in her face and I’ve been looking forward to it.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m not afraid of her, Rohan. You aren’t, either.”
“Exactly,” Tobin approved, winning a furious glance from her brother. “And aside from all that, she has to show up healthy and smiling tonight. There will be rumors all over the camps by now about—what did you call it, Aunt?”
“Dranath. Shut up, Rohan, they’re both right.”
Chay sat forward and interposed, “How can we help?”
Andrade scrutinized Sioned once more. “You look a fright. Tobin, you and Cami will have to do something about that.”
“Then the first thing is for her to get some rest,” Tobin decided. “Chay, Rohan—out.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Rohan said.
“Listen to me, beloved,” Sioned murmured. “I can’t rest when you’re sitting here looking like an avenging dragon.”
Chay took a handful of Rohan’s collar and drew him to his feet. “Come on. We have to get you prettied up, too, you know. Walvis can bring your clothes and so forth to my tent. Let the girl sleep. Goddess knows you didn’t let her get any rest last night!”
After a moment’s sulky rebellion, Rohan allowed himself to be led away. Sioned met Tobin’s gaze, whispering, “He was so happy. And now this.”
“You’ll be free soon enough,” Andrade told her.
“And with all the time in the world to be happy,” Tobin finished. “Close your eyes, Sioned. Camigwen and I will take care of everything.”
At sundown Sioned was looking into the mirror at the face of a stranger. Her eyes had been outlined in dark green pencil, and a dusting of gold powder on her lids lent a hint of the usual sparkle to her eyes. Salves had been applied to her cheeks and lips to simulate healthy color. It had taken all Tobin’s and Camigwen’s combined skills to create the semblance of her normal face to which the makeup had then been applied. They had done her hair in a mass of thin braids that twisted around her head and looped down her neck like plaited fire. She supposed she was beautiful.
“Where did Walvis get to with the jewels?” Camigwen fretted as Tobin lowered the gown’s skirt over Sioned’s hair and pulled it into place around her waist.
“You’d think my idiot brother would be dressed to his own satisfaction by now, and have the decency to remember Sioned’s emeralds.”
Sioned finished tying the skirt’s laces and stared bemused at her image. The dress was everything she had hoped when she’d first seen the heavy silk in the merchant’s booth. Was this what a princess looked like?
“Perfect,” Cami announced, standing back from her.
“I think so, too,” Rohan said softly.
Sioned turned. Resplendent himself in a solid black outfit like the one he’d worn at Stronghold, he had added a sleeveless black silk tunic slit in front from the waist to the knee-length hem, belted in silver. He and Sioned stared at each other until Tobin broke the spell with laughter.
“Put your eyes back in your heads!”
“Is that my Sioned under all that?” Rohan teased.
“Want proof?” She held up the hand wearing his emerald.
“Oh, something a little more substantial than that,” Cami suggested, laughing.
Sioned cast her a sidelong glance, then went to Rohan and kissed his lips. The Fire blazed up between them. She didn’t dare put her arms around him, knowing he held back for the same reason. They knew each other’s bodies now, understood the reality of ecstasy. When she stepped away from him, they were both trembling.
“Oh, it’s you, all right,” he murmured, eyes dazed. Then he shook himself and reached into a pocket. “Tobin, you put these on her. I’d drop them.”
Within moments Sioned saw herself alight with green fire. She could see nothing but the emeralds that pulsed with a life of their own. A black shadow crowned with golden hair moved to stand behind her, and as he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders their eyes met in the mirror.
“Only one thing missing,” Tobin said, coming forward with two thin circlets of silver that twisted open at the back. She gave them both to Rohan, who blinked in surprise before he smiled and kissed her cheek.
“Two things,” he corrected. “But one, in the end,” he added cryptically. Sioned smiled.
“Now, don’t either of you leave here until Chay and I can join you,” Tobin warned. “And where is he, anyway?”
“Dressed and waiting for you,” Rohan said absently, fingering the circlets. “Sioned, are you well? Truly?”
“Truly,” she answered. “But let’s make it an early night, shall we?” She winked at him in the mirror, and he grinned.
“Now I’m positive it’s you!”
Careful of the elaborate braids, he placed one of the circlets across her brow. Then, with a shy smile, he handed her the second one. Sioned bit her lip; this was her vision come to life at last. She gave him the mark of royalty, pulling strands of golden hair into place so the circlet gleamed visible only across his forehead. Princess in every fact but the actual ceremony, she looked into her prince’s eyes for a long, silent time without doubts or strivings, at peace.
Andrade left Urival to deal with Pandsala and the infant, secure in the knowledge that the former could not escape and the latter now had a wet nurse. Urival’s dismay had been almost funny; Andrade pitied him the impossible evening, left alone with a frantic princess, a newborn, and a girl chosen not for her brains but her breasts. But there was no one else she could trust to keep Pandsala in line. The girl had twice tried to run, getting as far as the outer row of Rohan’s tents before the faradh’im had caught up with her, the regular guards being wary of placing rough hands on a daughter of the High Prince. Urival had no such scruples. Andrade hoped he would spend the evening making a few realities clear to her. The girl was not inherently vicious, she thought— unlike lanthe, who was so twisted it was a wonder her own guts didn’t strangle her.
The lesser nobility would have their own feast, as would all the servants but Lord Jervis’ own. As Andrade left her tent she sniffed appreciatively of the roasts and breads being readied for the two other banquets down near the river. But Jervis had chosen the marriage hilltop as the site of the princes’ Lastday banquet, and by the time Andrade had climbed the slope she was in need of refreshment. She chose a cup of fruit juice—unfermented, for she was still fighting off the effects of a sojourn on water, and of Crigo’s death. She remembered him: proud, ambitious, thrilled to be assigned an important post, a capable Sunrunner who had been perverted by Roelstra and his dranath.
“Greetings, my Lady,” Prince Lleyn said at her shoulder, and she turned. “Will you do me the honor of sitting with me tonight, Andrade?” he went on less formally. “I’ve been hearing things I’d like to know the truth of, if you’d be so kind. We are, in a sense, joined in guardianship of the continent now.”
“I don’t envy you the task of sorting out border claims.”
He gave a grimace of a smile, the lines on his face softened by mellow evening light. “I give thanks that my island is an island—and all mine.”
“Kierst-Isel will be a problem,” she agreed. “If you wish, I’ll have my people go through the records at Goddess Keep and transmit anything of interest to your Sunrunner.”
“My thanks. But I give Eolie enough to,do, poor child, finding the best fishing waters and shell-beds for me, warning of storms, and the like.”
“And keeping track of what everyone else is up to,” Andrade finished wryly. “I assume you’re hinting for another faradhi. How about Meath? He’s the big youngster in my party who looks as if he could throttle a plow-elk barehanded.”
“I would be most grateful. Of course, he won’t much like crossing water—but I’ll provide him with a private cabin and his own bucket.” Lleyn grinned wickedly.
“Too kind!” Andrade glanced around at the growing darkness. Torches, lit by Clutha’s court Sunrunner, were a double row of Fire leading up to the gigantic tent at the crest of the hill. “By the looks of things, you princes are about to be trumpeted in to dinner. I’ll save a chair for you.”
Clutha and Jervis got more ambitious every year in the marvels that accompanied the Lastday banqueting. Andrade, as Lady of Goddess Keep, took precedence over everyone else and went inside the tent first to choose the best seat at the best table. The others would, in effect, be announced into her presence—an amusement she anticipated with more than the usual relish tonight.
A state banquet for fifty was never a simple event to arrange, especially as all of those present were accustomed to magnificence. At the Rialla they expected even greater splendor, which challenged the combined households of Meadowlord’s prince and Waes’ lord. From a simple outdoor meal to celebrate the successful conclusion of the Rialla, the Lastday feast had over the years become a showcase for culinary artisans and was now the full-time occupation of a suite of masters who commanded the resources of a princedom. Andrade, who had long since grown used to the display of riches, considered herself fairly inured to spectacles. But as she was bowed into the green tent, an exclamation of pure delight escaped her lips.
A dozen round tables were artfully placed around a deep green carpet so thick it felt like spring grass underfoot. At each corner of the tent waterfalls splashed down rock cairns designed not only with an eye to beauty but to cooling the diners once the torches had been lit. The perimeter was a grotto of ferns, flowers, and trees in great silver pots; greenery was strewn from the ceiling latticework and decorated with more blossoms. The whole place seemed alive.
But the real marvels were the enormous sculptures set around the tent. Each was a faithful reproduction in miniature of each prince’s major seat: Rohan’s Stronghold, Roelstra’s Castle Crag, Vissarion’s Summer River, Lleyn’s Graypearl, and all the rest. Andrade was surprised and flattered to find a rendering of Goddess Keep as well. The images had been worked in spun sugar and colored with the essences of a rainbow of herbs and flowers; masters of the confectioner’s art had reproduced the blue-gray waves below Andrade’s keep, the fine golden sand around Stronghold, the extensive formal gardens of
334 Melanie Rawn
Volog’s New Raetia in all their brilliant colors. Clutha’s faradhi must have assisted in the making of these master-works, for none but a Sunrunner could make such detailed observations of land and keepto be recreated thus.
Andrade chose a seat with the best view. The wives, sons, and daughters of the princes—those who had chosen to make the sometimes dangerous journey from their lands to Waes—filed in and exclaimed in wonder before remembering to bow to her. Tobin and Chay came in last, seated at this feast rather than the one for the athr’im by virtue of her relationship to Rohan and his importance in his own right. Andrade smiled as they bowed to her. Any other man would have used his unique position to establish his own princedom, but not Chay. Rohan was luckier than he knew.
Soon places were left only for the princes themselves, and after a pause three trumpets began a silvery fanfare. Each prince was announced by a short blasting chord and a bellow from Clutha’s high chamberlain that the Most Noble Prince So-and-so of Wherever graced the humble soil of Meadowlord, all hail His Highness’ Grace. A ceremony Andrade always found pompous at best suddenly moved her, for soon she would see Rohan make his entrance. A pity Sioned had evidently not been well enough to come tonight; she would have enjoyed it, too.
Whatever wind your soul rides now, Zehava, look on your son and be proud. He’s well worth the trouble he’s caused us all. And here’s the dragon’s son himself—oh, Goddess! He’s got Sioned with him!
The breach of protocol might have been due to many things. Rohan might be pretending to be so young and inexperienced that he didn’t know a prince was supposed to enter alone; he might be so genuinely careless in his joy that he’d simply forgotten; or he might want only to show off his faradhi prize. But Andrade knew that he was putting everyone on notice that his wife would share his princely station and his power as well as his bed.
The high chamberlain was horrified. The trumpet chords had faded into the stunned silence before he drew a breath that nearly popped the laces of his tunic. “The
Most Noble Prince Rohan of the Desert, and—and hr Chosen Wife, the Lady Sioned!”
Rohan’s eyes snapped with glee at the shock he’d engineered. He was all in black and silver, the perfect foil for Sioned’s white and emeralds. They came forward to make their bows, and Andrade held back a gasp; each wore circlets of royalty. Rohan escorted his lady to the table where his sister and her lord sat, and at last the applause began for them as for the other princes. But there was wariness in some faces, and shock in others. Andrade’s gaze traveled around the tables, quelling all outward signs of rebellion. There would be no trouble, no protest at this marriage of prince and Sunrunner.
Roelstra’s own entrance immediately after was a complete anticlimax. The High Prince’s stony expression indicated his displeasure at being upstaged as well as out-maneuvered by the princeling. Lleyn, who had come in just before Rohan and Sioned, chuckled at Andrade’s side.
“Oh, he’s a crafty one, your Rohan. No shame to the boy at all. He’s rained Roelstra’s digestion and the meal hasn’t even started yet.”
“If Zehava could see him now, he’d be laughing himself silly—or bursting with pride.” Not even Tobin and Chay—in vivid red and white with rubies and diamonds that made them a matched set in dress as in all else— were so regal and elegant a couple as Rohan and Sioned. It took all her self-control not to laugh in Roelstra’s face as he passed her table.
The first course was exhibited for due tribute by the amazed company before being passed around the tables. Lleyn sat back in his chair and gestured idly to the feast.
“Clutha told me this was to be a ‘light repast,’ “ he commented.
“I shudder to think what he considers a good, honest meal,” Andrade replied. “Did you bring those monstrous lobsters with you from Dorval?”
“My lobsters are much nobler creatures than these puny things from Snowcoves,” he retorted indignantly, while gesturing for the servant to heap more of the succulent golden shellfish onto his place. Andrade laughed.
During the first interval musicians assembled in the center of the tent to assist digestion with soothing melodies. Andrade was pleased and surprised to find Mardeem, one of her own faradh’im, singing to the accompaniment of strings and flutes. He honored each prince with a folk song from his lands. Andrade had heard him many times before and would listen to the wonder of his voice again, so she took the time to judge how Sioned was faring.
The girl looked magnificent, of course. But strain showed around her heavily made-up eyes, and beneath the artful pink salves her cheeks and lips were pale. Andrade prayed she would last the evening, and guessed that Rohan was thinking the same. His own looks were serene, but whenever he glanced at Sioned there was worry in his eyes and a tightness to his smile.
“An exquisite couple,” Lleyn observed. “The girl outshines the stars.”
Andrade sipped at a goblet of iced water and eyed him over its rim. “You’re about to start your interrogation, aren’t you?”
“ ‘Questioning’ is so much more polite a word,” he replied, unruffled. “They say many odd things about the fire on Roelstra’s ship.”
“Indeed.”
“A pity he lost his fabulous mistress—and her child.”
“The mistress,” Andrade answered curtly, “is cinders. But the child lives.”
“Ah.” He did not inquire further, and she knew it was a deliberate ploy to irritate her. Tonight, however, he could not succeed. She smiled at him and took another swallow of water.
But Lleyn was older than she, just as autocratic, and interested in the politics of the continent only for its entertainment value. He waited her out. Andrade knew he was waiting her out, and finally relented, but with another smile.
“Very well. I’ve taken the baby—and Pandsala, too. You don’t seem surprised.”
“At my age, very little surprises me. Roelstra has given it out privately that his daughter wishes to become afaradhi, so I already knew about Pandsala, you see. I’m curious, though. Can she learn your ways?”
“I haven’t tested her yet.” Singing and applause covered their conversation nicely, not that anyone around them was interested in the dull chat of two old folks. “Sickness on water is only the most obvious sign. Not every faradhi experiences it.”
“I thought only those who blanched at the very thought could become Sunrunners.”
“I have a theory about that,” she mused. “It might be a weakness that shows up so often because of inbreeding. We do tend to marry our own kind, you know.”
“Has it always been that way? The sickness on water, I mean.”
“For some, yes. But it seems to be getting more and more common since we left your island.” Andrade chuckled as the old man’s eyes widened. “Aha! I’ve caught you! That’s something you didn’t know, isn’t it? Meddling old gossip,” she accused teasingly.
“You fascinate me, my Lady,” he murmured. “Please continue.”
“You know the ruins on the other side of Dorval from Gray pearl. A keep once stood there, even more imposing than the one I now rule. Its walls stood for a thousand years before the faradh’im themselves tore the castle down.”
Lleyn nodded slowly. “My father and I did some poking around there when I was a lad. Wonderful old place. I still have a few coins and bits of tile I collected back then. Why did they leave?”
“They chose to go out into the world—or perhaps return to it from exile, I’m not all that sure. The records are incomplete. They’d wrapped themselves in ritual and mysticism, and then for some reason rejected that way of life.”
“What about the circle of trees on the bluff near the ruins? Was that theirs as well?”
“Doubtless, although / didn’t know about that.”
Lleyn grinned. “I ought to follow up my advantage and gloat a bit that I knew something you didn’t. You needn’t ask—I’ll have Meath and Eolie investigate. But right now I’d like to hear about your ancient faradh’im.”
“Isolated on your island of silk and pearls and gold— who can say why they left? But there’s no mention in the records of their being ill during the crossing, which leads me to believe it’s a fairly recent trait. I’ve never discovered exactly how the gift is passed on, though. Urival and I have been trying to puzzle it out in the genealogies for years. It’s not linked to either male or female. Whole generations can go by without its showing up. Sioned’s family, for instance. You’ll know about the connection with Syr through the father’s line, but through the mother she’s related to Volog of Kierst.”
Lleyn sat up a little straighter. “The Sunrunner who was stolen away by Prince—what was his name?”
“Sinar. Yes—her grandmother. I’ve been waiting for Volog to make the connection. He’ll consider it useful when dealing with Rohan.”
“I don’t wonder. But your Sioned—or perhaps I should say Rohan’s Sioned—she’s the first one to show the signs?”
She nodded. “But sometimes it appears in families with no history of it at all.”
“You like things in a neat pattern,” Lleyn observed. “Life does not often oblige.”
“Life can be nudged here and there.”
“As with Rohan and Sioned?”
The singing had stopped, and they were now being presented with a towering pastry, a fabulous concoction of crust and fruit and sauce shaped like a fanciful hilltop castle. Lleyn and Andrade nodded their approval and it was taken to the next table.
“What do you plan for them, Andrade?” the old prince went on. “A line of faradhi princes? The others aren’t going to like that.”
“I do as the Goddess bids me,” she replied coldly.
“I have never believed in revealed truth,” he commented slyly. “It takes work and experimentation and confirmation to produce knowledge. Are Rohan and Sioned your experiment, Andrade?”
“You presume too much, Lleyn.”
“So do you.” He poured himself more wine. “I’m too old”to be concerned for my own position. My son Chadnc will come after me, and his sons after him—because \ou faradh’im left Dorval behind and will never return.”
“Now you’re the one looking for a pattern. Why do you think we won’t return to the places of our past?”
“For the simple reason that it is the past—and because, quite frankly, I would never allow it.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “That’s why I like young Rohan. He wants to change things for the better, and he refuses to look back to the past. But his plans may not coincide with yours, Andrade.”
“My plans aren’t something I care to make common knowledge,” she muttered.
“Ah, but it’s the knowledge that counts, isn’t it? You Sunrunners rejected the isolation of selfish knowledge and chose to live on the continent, to disperse yourselves in service to the princedoms. Knowledge is useless unless it’s shared. And that should be the basis for desiring faradhi children of this marriage. The ancient Sunrunners seemed to know that one cannot stand apart from life, and became the living link between the lands. Now you would link them to royal blood. You want things dangerous to the other princes, Andrade.”
She knew from long experience that she could not stare him down the way she did nearly everyone else. That made him valuable. “Has age made you a philosopher then, my lord?” she asked sharply.
“One of its few advantages.” He paused. “There’s another rumor I’d like clarified, if you would. It’s said that Roelstra made use of one of your own. I won’t ask how. But I can see that it frightens you. It means you Sunrunners are vulnerable.”
“And you know all about vulnerability, sitting there on your impregnable island!”
“Peace, Andrade. I’m vulnerable, too, you know. I seek change. Old as I am, I’m yet young enough to relish upheaval when it leads to betterment. That’s a dangerous thing in any person, but in a prince it’s unforgivable.” He smiled. “I’ll support Rohan, never fear. Aside from the fact that I’m fond of him, I happen to-agree with him.”
“Then why are we discussing this?”
“Because of that vulnerability I spoke of before. It’s an important thing, for it prevents tyranny. You and I know that you Sunrunners have your weak places. The other princes do not. Both of those things are your strength. Because you know yourselves to be vulnerable, you don’t overreach—which might possibly expose your weaknesses, and shatter the power you have with the princedoms. Consider Roelstra in the present case. He did not know his plans for Rohan were vulnerable to one fire-haired girl. Thus he’s attempted tyranny, and failed—and is now very dangerous. Consider also yourself. You didn’t know your people were vulnerable to whatever Roelstra did to yom faradhi—and that’s failure, too.”
“Are you calling me a tyrant?”
“You have the potential,” he replied equably. “Let me annoy you a moment longer, and then we will do nothing but gossip about our neighbors. I describe to you a circle, Andrade. At the bottom, you Sunrunners were isolated and impotent. You are climbing the arc now until you approach the highest point of the circle. But there is another half to it—the fall from power.”
“I don’t want power,” she protested.
“Not for yourself, perhaps. But for your kind. I’m glad you faradh’im are in the world, giving of your skills and knowledge. But do not attempt to become the world, Andrade,”
“The rest of you have made a proper mess of it.”
“Do you think you will do any better?”
Andrade pondered this as a section of the pastry tower was set before her, a spire with a spun-sugar flag flying from a candy pole. “I don’t know,” she said to Lleyn in all honesty. “But I intend to try.”
Roelstra endured the feasting sustained by his hate, and spent the dinner counting up those he intended to destroy. It was an interesting list, worthy of a High Prince. Andrade was at the top, followed by that Sunrunner witch in her white-and-silver dress and emeralds who sat next to Rohan looking like a living flame. The princeling was next, and for good measure his sister and her insufferable lord as well. He would obliterate the entire family— leaf, branch, and root. lanthe would help him do it. for she had learned life’s most important lesson: how to hate. He would teach her its real power; how it could be fostered in others; how to create suspicion and division through skillful use of half-truths and insinuations, the manner in which he had presided over the princedoms for years. She would be an apt pupil, for of all his daughters she was the most like him. But because of this, he would never fully trust her.
As soon as he could decently do so, he left Clutha’s absurd silken grotto. No one would expect him to stay. There had been lifted brows at his appearance here tonight, for all knew of the “tragedy” on board his ship. On the walk back to his tent he consoled himself with the memory of Palila’s screams as he set fire first to the hangings of the bed and then to her lovely hair. It had burned like fine dry grass across a prairie. Roelstra found it a great pity smoke had so quickly filled the room, forcing him to leave; he would have enjoyed watching her flesh crisp.
After dismissing his servants, he gave orders that the single male visitor who would come to his tent that night be admitted without challenge. Then he reclined in a silken chair, his head resting against a cushion. When he closed his eyes he could see Sioned. Last night she had been within his grasp. No woman had ever refused him before, and she would live to regret it—live a very long time in the most exquisite torments he could devise, after he had possessed her in all the ways imagination could suggest.
Roelstra could wait for his vengeance, however. This was the essential aspect of hate that lanthe had yet to learn. Rohan would be expecting a move against his lands, and with every season that passed, every year without a blow struck back, the princeling’s nerves would tighten another notch. Clever as he was, not even Rohan would be able to guess the direction from which Roelstra’s vengeance would come.
The candles had burned low behind their colored crystal screens by the time he heard quiet footsteps outside. He lifted his head and assumed the pose of a prince granting favors, determined that the man he had summoned would not consider himself in a position to bargain. But the expected visitor did not enter his tent. Rohan did.
They stared at each other for some time in silence, taking measure not as princes but as sworn enemies. Roelstra noted that the youth had taken off his fine clothes and jewels, and was clad in a simple dark outfit and scuffed black boots. He did not want to remember the strength of Rohan’s grip, the lithe muscular body. Bred to the harsh Desert, this man took wealth for granted but would never be softened by luxury. The High Prince realized that he no longer thought of Rohan as a boy. A man had been created during the days of the Rialla— mature, confident, and powerful.
“Tell me about the dranath” Rohan said at last.
“Still feeling it, is she?” Roelstra shrugged. “She’ll survive.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s grown only in the Veresch. There’s nothing to counteract it, if that’s what you’re after. She’ll suffer until it’s cleaned out of her blood.” Roelstra smiled. “There’s more over in the desk—second drawer at the back. I didn’t give her quite enough to addict on a first dose, but she may relish another taste.”
“What does it do?”
“Haven’t you been listening? It addicts, worse than wine to a man or woman with that weakness. Because once it has strong hold, stopping the dose kills.”
“You used it on the other faradhi to control him.”
“Of course.”
Never relinquishing Roelstra’s gaze, Rohan moved to the desk, opened it, and felt around for the small packet. He slipped it into his tunic pocket. “I’ll take this.”
“There’s more where it came from, but only I know where to get it and how to refine it. It was Palila’s gift to me, the knowledge of dranath—poor darling.”
The blue eyes regarded him coldly. “Butcher.”
“She deserved to die. So do you, but much more slowly than she. Now that you have what you came for, get out.”
“I wanted this, yes,” Rohan said slowly. “But I also wanted to look at you one last time.”
“And which of us will die before the next Rialla, do you think?” Roelstra chuckled.
“I don’t have to kill you. Much as you need killing, Roelstra, all I have to do is break you.” The finely shaped lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “And I will break you.”
“Try,” Roelstra invited.
“My word on it.” Rohan gave him a mocking little bow and disappeared.
Roelstra folded his arms and leaned back to wait. After a time he heard more footsteps that announced the arrival of his originally intended guest. He called to the guard, who entered and stood at attention.
“Bring my daughter lanthe here at once.”
“Yes, your grace.”
The man who stood just inside the tent flaps was thin, intense, with a ritual scar on his chin like all his noble Merida relations. He frowned at Roelstra. “A woman? Here? What help could she be to us?”
The High Prince smiled. “Beliaev, my dear scion of a dead dynasty—you have yet to meet my daughter.”
INTERLUDE
The journey back to Castle Crag was as long and difficult as any of his enemies could have wished on High Prince Roelstra. Denied Radzyn’s strong, fleet horses, he had to make do with lesser animals. Without baggage carts of his own, he had to wait while Prince Clutha rounded up wains sturdy enough for the hard roads through the mountains. The delay meant that Roelstra was caught in the first torrents of autumn while negotiating a pass treacherous enough even in summer. Rain tumbled mud and rock down the cliffsides to block the trail, drench everyone, and make a journey of twelve days in good weather into one lasting over thirty. When at last the exhausted party reached Castle Crag, Roelstra locked himself in his chambers with Beliaev and Princess lanthe in attendance, and emerged several days later in a temper only slightly less foul than the one he’d taken in with him.
The journey back to Stronghold was of an entirely different nature. Lady Andrade accompanied Rohan to a remote hilltop just inside the Desert border where, surrounded by family and friends and with the Faolain River singing below them in the sunshine, the Lady of Goddess Keep celebrated her nephew’s marriage to his red-haired Sunrunner witch. Afterward she returned to the great castle on the western shore of Ossetia with her faradh’im while the prince and new princess made a leisurely trip back to their fortress. Rohan then locked himself in his chambers with Sioned and emerged several days later looking sunnily pleased with himself and all the world.
By the following spring, lanthe was established in Feruche Castle. There was no proof—not that anyone expected to discover any—that she was behind the Mer-ida attack on Tiglath that season. Young Lord Eltanin, flushed with pride in his beautiful wife and their expectations of an heir, fought off the Merida with assistance from Rohan’s armies and his father-by-marriage’s money. Faced with three hundred troops and the knowledge that Jervis of Waes would provide endless supplies to keep his daughter’s new home safe, the Merida withdrew. They marched back to their northern wastes and seethed, making occasional forays into Rohan’s territory and trusting that time, Roelstra, and lanthe would work in their favor.
Rohan and Sioned rejoiced when Eltanin’s gentle Antalya was delivered safely of a strong son. It was a year for childbearing, it seemed; only a few days after news came from Tiglath, Tobin gave birth to twin boys and at the beginning of summer Camigwen presented the astounded Ostvel with a son. But for the prince and princess, there was no similar happy event.
The next year brought rumors that lanthe had borne one son and was carrying another. The garrison beiow Feruche confirmed the rumors, and the procession of handsome young noblemen through lanthe’s bed made it impossible for anyone to determine exactly who had fathered the children. Rohan made a sour comment that nothing less could be expected of Roelstra’s favorite daughter. Everyone wondered if the High Prince would name one of her sons as his heir. None of the other daughters had married, nor were they likely to.
Word came often on the sunlight from Goddess Keep, where Chiana thrived and Pandsala gradually accepted her lot, though sullenly, to be sure. Andrade reported the startling fact of faradhi potential in the princess and theorized that Roelstra’s long-dead wife Lallante had carried the talent. Roelstra’s own line was as barren of the gift as he was of sons.
And then it was another Rialla Year, a dragon year. The princes packed up their ancient maps and treaties in preparation for showing precedent for the lands they held—or wished to hold; Clutha and Jervis rejected a score of schemes for a Lastday banquet even more spectacular than that of the previous Rialla; Rohan and Sioned waited for the dragons to appear in the sky and nurtured the secret hope that this time she would carry their recently conceived child to term. The Merida were quiet; nothing was heard of lanthe at Feruche; the High Prince was silent at Castle Crag.
But with the coming of the dragons, there also came a plague. It swept across the continent, ravaging the human population, making the summer of 701 a season of death from the Long Sand to the Dark Water.
And the dragons died by the hundreds.