Prince Volog of Kierst was Sioned’s cousin, a fact no one would have cared about had she remained an obscure Sunrunner at Goddess Keep. But she had married Rohan, who had become High Prince; events had made her brother Prince of Syr. Thus Volog found himself blood-bonded to some very important people.
He was wise enough—and proud enough—neither to ask favors nor to trade on the relationships. There was no need to do either. His position and his possessions made the bond one Rohan was pleased to acknowledge to their mutual advantage. In his turn, Volog found Rohan a pleasant friend and a helpful kinsman. He did not resent the chance that had given Sioned their grandmother’s faradhi gifts instead of himself, for he was that rare man who held onto what was his, appreciated what life gave him, and did not extend himself beyond his known limitations.
To be sure, he gloated over the eventual union of Kierst with Isel into a single princedom. But he did so in private, not wishing to stir up trouble that Saumer of Isel was perfectly capable of causing until their grandson came of age. At Rohan’s strong suggestion, a marriage had taken place between Saumer’s only son and Volog’s eldest girl. Volog’s heir had later wed Saumer’s favorite daughter. The latter union had produced a son who became sole heir to both princedoms when Saumer’s heir died without issue. The child would be brought up at both courts until his twelfth winter, at which time Volog intended Saumer to agree to the boy’s fostering at Stronghold. He did not require Saumer’s approval, but he was smart enough to know that they ought to be in accord over the education of their mutual heir. Volog enjoyed his triumph in private, and in public was the soul of friendship to Saumer. Each man conveniently forgot about the hundreds of years their forebears had spent encouraging land-thievery and cattle-stealing along their mutual border.
Volog had another daughter, his youngest child and his favorite. Alasen was a charming girl, twenty-two winters old, with gold-lit brown hair and green eyes the color of the sea off the Kierstian coast. Delicate arching brows and a sweet, serious mouth completed her beauty; her intelligence was evident in her face and her conversation. She was Volog’s pride and joy.
But she was not looking her best when he presented her with gruff pride to Sioned on the first morning of the Rialla. Her cheeks were pallid, her eyes dark-circled, and there was a pinched expression about her mouth. Sioned knew that none of it was due to trepidation at meeting the High Princess. She knew the signs of a protracted recovery from crossing water when she saw them.
“The journey from Kierst was not one you enjoyed, I think,” she observed wryly. “Volog, it seems our grandmother’s influence hasn’t entirely missed your line after all.”
“I’m not faradhi-gifted, your grace,” Alasen said quickly, and with such firmness that Sioned’s brows shot up. “Others besides Sunrunners are ill in ships.”
Volog shrugged. “Whether she’s gifted or not remains to be seen, Sioned. I thought you might like to meet her just the same.”
Sioned correctly interpreted this to mean she was to find out whether or not Alasen was indeed faradhi. It hovered on her lips to ask why Volog had not taken her to Andrade long ere this, but the glance of loving indulgence he gave his daughter explained all. Alasen denied the possibility; her father could not bring himself to submit her to Andrade’s testing against her will. Sioned was his next best solution.
“I’m delighted to meet her,” she said, smiling. “If you’re feeling up to it and you’ve nothing else to do, would you care to accompany me to the Fair today? My husband has strictly forbidden me to buy my son presents to spoil him, and naturally I have no intention of obeying.”
Volog rumbled with laughter. “The rights of a mother supercede the commands of a husband, and rightly so! Goddess knows, her mother and I have spoiled Alasen shamelessly.”
“Rohan’s father once told him that daughters are to be indulged, for it’s a husband’s problem to discipline a woman.” Sioned laughed softly, but did not miss the tightening of Alasen’s lips at the mention of husbands. “I can’t say that Prince Zehava ever took his own advice, for he indulged both daughter and wife until the day he died. Rohan never believed him, anyway!” She turned to the girl. “I’d be glad of your company today, Alasen.”
The banter had relaxed her, and she gave Sioned an enchanting smile. “I’d love to join you, your grace.”
“Then I’ll leave her in your care,” Volog said, and departed.
Sioned took the girl’s arm. “If you feel you can’t use my name just yet, then please call me ‘cousin.’ Between the two of us it’s actually true, not like most of the others I have to address by that term.” She wrinkled her nose and Alasen grinned.
“I know exactly what you mean. Every time I have to use it with Prince Cabar, I’m reminded how grateful I am that it isn’t true.”
“Our dear cousin of Gilad is a bit on his dignity, isn’t he?”
“He’s pompous, arrogant, and unbearable,” Alasen summed up tartly, then blushed. “My father’s right—I’ve been so spoiled I forget to speak with proper respect.”
“Speaking it and feeling it are different things. We’re family, Alasen. Say whatever you like.” Sioned winked at her. “Goddess knows I do!”
The two women were dressed casually, and as they joined the queue at the bridge there was nothing to distinguish them from anyone else going to the Fair that day. All rank and privilege were set aside, a relief from the ceremony of other occasions. The vendors addressed everyone from serving maids to princesses with exalted titles; the prettier the lady, the more outrageous the form of address. Men, be they lords or grooms, were always “Your Excellency” at the Fair. Plain garments and a leveling of rank were the rule.
Nevertheless, Sioned’s red-gold hair was well-known, even though the huge emerald on her finger was hidden by thin leather gloves. Attempts to defer to her were discouraged with a smile and a shake of her head, which only led to more deference. She politely refused a place at the head of the queue waiting to cross the bridge; a path opened up for her anyway. On the other side of the river, merchants forsook the rest of their customers to wait on her. She pointedly moved away when it happened, and after a time word spread that the High Princess was in the crowd but did not wish to be recognized. Things settled down, and she was able to do some serious shopping.
“Is it always like this for you?” Alasen asked.
“For the first little while, yes. Long gone are the days when I could walk here unnoticed. This is your first Rialla, I take it?”
“Yes—and it’s wonderful! I’ve visited Port Adni, of course, and the markets there. But it’s nothing like this!” She gestured to the happy chaos of merchants’ stalls, customers, squires and pages running errands, apprentices carrying fresh wares to replace those already sold. The Fair was bright with colored awnings and noisy with a milling crowd in a holiday mood—and, at the far end of the huge field, smelly with pens full of sheep, goats, calves, and young elk. Their bleating was nearly as loud as the chatter of the bargaining going on. The two princesses went to inspect them.
“Look at that little calf with the white splash on his face,” Sioned told Alasen. “He’s going to be an absolute monster when he’s grown, and sire many generations just like him.”
“How do you know about such things?”
“I grew up on a working farm, not in a palace,” Sioned replied, smiling. “That little fellow is descended from stock I tended as a child. His bloodlines are quite as grand as any of Lord Chaynal’s stallions.” The calf, as if sensing himself the object of discussion, ambled over and snuffled at Sioned’s outstretched hand. “Davvi’s going to make a fine profit from you, my lad.”
“Why should a prince concern himself with livestock?” Alasen wondered.
“A prince should involve himself in everything that happens within his borders. Actually, Princess Pandsala thought this up. It’s her idea that the stock of all princedoms can be improved by mixing bloodlines. At a price, of course,” she added, chuckling. “Cattle-breeding may not be as glamorous as Chay’s horses, but it’s a great deal more practical.”
“My father says there are hawks for sale this year, too. Were they the regent’s idea? May we go look at them?”
“I was headed there next. And they’re my idea,” she continued as they started up a hill to the woods. “We could never afford good hawks when I was a girl. The best are bred in Princemarch and kept only for the very rich. They’re still expensive, but most people should be able to afford them.”
The caged hawks were in the cool shade of the trees. A few wore hoods despite the distance from the noise and bustle of the Fair. Sioned surveyed the results of her little scheme with satisfaction. The falconers were doing a brisk business, evidenced by little tags on many of the cages that indicated the birds had been sold. The tags were color-coded to individual princes and athr’im. She was pleased to note that people had done their buying early.
Alasen gazed in awe at a preening amber-faced hawk. One long wing stretched the limit of the cage to show bronze and green and gold pinions. “Isn’t she beautiful?” the girl whispered.
“I always wanted to fly,” Sioned murmured. “Especially watching the dragons over River Run when I was little.”
“It must be the most wonderfully free feeling in the world, ‘ Alasen said dreamily. “To know that all you need is the sky and the sun.”
“It’s something like being a faradhi,” Sioned remarked, and received the reaction she had expected. Ala-sen’s shoulders stiffened and she turned away from the hawk. Sioned pretended not to notice. “I’m about to spoil my son by purchasing one of these birds. Help me pick out the best.”
“But he owns them all, doesn’t he?”
“He owns the right to breed them, which we sell at a nice sum to these good falconers, who reap the profits of their labors.”
A bearded young man approached them, bowed low, and swept out a hand to indicate his wares. His full sleeves made the gesture reminiscent of flight, an im- pression accented by the sharp curve of his nose and two small, bright eyes.
“A. hawk for Your Magnificences? None finer than mine! A personal grant from the high and mighty Prince Pol himself, given with his own royal hands. Modesty aside, my hawks are born of matings much like the one that produced the young prince himself—fabled lady mother and powerful princely sire that he has, and my hawks the same. Allow me to show you birds that the High Princess herself complimented me on only this morning, excellent judge that she is of all things in this world including hawks, and told me the famous emerald on her hand would be a fitting price for any one of these beauties.”
Sioned stuck the gloved hand wearing the famous emerald into her pocket. “That’s as may be. But how much are you willing to sell one for?”
He named a price that made her blink. Pandsala had set strict limits on the amount to “be charged; even taking into account the bartering that would bring the price down, the final sum would be considerably above that limit. The idea was to make the birds available, not to make stupendous profit.
To Sioned’s surprise, it was Alasen who began to bargain the price down. Her expertise was an education to Sioned, who had never been much good at such things. When she saw something she wanted, she could never bring herself to haggle and possibly work herself into a position where pride would compel her to walk away. Most merchants saw this in her face with the first halfhearted exchange. But Alasen was a true artist who obviously loved the game, and soon had the falconer clutching at his tousled hair and clawing at his beard in pretended agony. Sioned kept silent and enjoyed the show.
At last Alasen turned to Sioned. “You’d best go look at the other hawks. I’ll join you shortly, I think—this man’s skull is as thick and hard as an unhatched dragon shell.”
Willing to play her part, Sioned strolled among the other cages. She asked about prices and found equally outrageous starting sums. She counted colored tags, made a rapid mental calculation, and returned to Alasen, who had bargained the price down to where it should have started.
After catching the falconer’s gaze with her own, Sioned slowly and deliberately drew off her gloves. With the emergence of the emerald, the man’s eyes popped. He looked at hair, eyes, and emerald again to confirm her identity, then gave a howl of dismay that brought the other falconers running. For a moment Sioned thought he would prostrate himself and throw dirt over his head in penance. To his fellows, he shouted, “Her Most Noble and Exalted and Gracious Royal Highness, the High Princess!”
Sioned looked them all over, hands on hips. “Goddess greeting to you,” she said sweetly. “I’m very happy to see things proceeding so well, and at so handsome a profit.” She smiled, and guilt appeared on every face. Alasen hid a grin behind her hand.
“If memory serves,” Sioned went on in a tone that indicated her memory was faultless, “a specific price was set for these hawks. Now, I have no objections to a modest markup. That’s economics. But my son will be grieved to find that his generosity to you has not been matched by your generosity to your customers. A simple calculation of the probable sale prices of these birds tells me that each of you has made additional profits amounting to^he price of one hawk each. There are five of you. Therefore,” she concluded with another smile, “you owe my son five hawks.” A meaningful pause. “Thus far.”
“But—Your Excellent Royal Highness—“
Sioned ignored him. “My cousin fancies the amber-faced one over there. I rather like the one wearing the green hood, myself. That’s two. I’ll trust your judgment to choose the best you have and tag them as belonging to my son. Do we understand each other? Marvelous! I think I need not add that I have counted the number of unsold birds, and at a similar rate of unauthorized profit you’ll end up owing my son eight more hawks—if you continue your current practices, that is.”
“But—the scandal if our prices suddenly drop!” one man protested.
“Our first customers will be furious! I beg Your Wor-shipfulness to reconsider—“
Alasen spoke up. “They’re right, cousin. As I see it, there are two solutions. Our good friends here can refund the difference when buyers come to collect their hawks—“ She paused as they moaned, “—or they can stick to their prices and make their next customers believe themselves prodigiously clever bargainers.”
“There is merit in what you say,” Sioned replied thoughtfully, sternly repressing a grin at the girl’s cunning. “It would indeed be embarrassing for these honest merchants to admit they overcharged their first customers, after all. What do you say, my friends?”
The bearded falconer gulped. “Her Graciousness is all perception and genius. We will allow future customers to—to—“ He choked slightly and one of his fellows poked him in the ribs. “The bargaining will continue until prices are what the regent specified,” he finished, every word obviously tasting of vinegar.
“Splendid!” Sioned beamed. “So the five hawks—the two I mentioned and three to be chosen by yourselves— are all you owe my son. By the way, the birds are to be tagged for myself, the High Prince, my son, Princess Tobin, and Princess Alasen of Kierst—with whom you have just had the honor of speaking.”
Alasen’s eyes rounded in astonishment at the gift. Sioned took her arm and with a last smiling glance at the falconers led the girl back down the slope. They were barely out of earshot when Sioned could no longer contain her laughter.
“I haven’t had that much fun all year! Can you believe what they were asking for those hawks? Pandsala will be furious.”
“My lady—I really can’t accept—“
“Why ever not? You earned it. And in case you hadn’t noticed, those five hawks didn’t cost me a thing. You said you loved to watch birds in flight, Alasen, and I can’t think of anything lovelier than that golden-faced hawk with her wings spread to the sun. Not another word on the subject.”
Alasen hesitated, then smiled. “From me, no—and thank you! But you’ll hear plenty of words from people who think they’re terribly clever in striking a bargain!”
They returned to the Fair, heading for the food stalls. Delectable scents competed with each other in a riot of temptation, and Sioned gave in gleefully. From meats, cheeses, cakes, vegetables, pies, fruits both fresh and preserved, and hundreds of bottles of wine, she chose an elegant luncheon.
“We’ll take this down to the river so we can eat in peace,” she said, handing Alasen a crock of fresh berries soaked in honey and herbs. She juggled the rest of the food while trying to avoid a tribe of young pages out for a day’s fun. “Then I have to come back and find something else for Pol, and—oh!” She caught her balance and turned to the person who had jostled her, a handsome woman of middle years with a curiously intense gaze.
“Your pardon, noble lady,” the woman murmured.
“No damage done,” Sioned replied cheerfully. “It’s quite a crush here, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But I see you have no bread for your meal. I can recommend «he baker from Waes, just down this aisle.”
“Thank you for your suggestion, but—“
“His goods are not to be missed,” the woman interrupted.
Sioned was about to smile another polite refusal. But something urgent, almost desperate, about the woman’s eyes stopped her. “Indeed?” she asked cautiously, wondering how far the woman would go in her insistence.
Far enough to whet Sioned’s curiosity. She plucked at the High Princess’ sleeve and whispered, “Please, your grace.”
“Show me.”
She and Alasen followed the woman down the row of stalls to one with a bright red-and-yellow awning—Waes’ colors, displayed by that city’s merchants as all at the Rialla Fair showed their lord’s colors by law. Rounds of unleavened bread were piled in baskets, sorted according to size and flavoring. All bore the baker’s mark on top, an impression much like that made by a seal into wax. This baker had chosen a stylized ocean wave as his hallmark, which also appeared in white paint on the wooden stall.
The angular old man behind the counter turned from completing a sale, and his gaze narrowed at the sight of Sioned’s escort. “Ah. Ulricca. Found me another customer, have you?”
“Only the best for this lady,” Ulricca said.
“I have eyes,” the old man grumbled, and pushed aside a yellow curtain at the back of the booth. “Mind that nobody steals while I’m gone,” he admonished, and disappeared.
“The best?” Sioned murmured to Ulricca, who pretended not to have heard. Alasen looked a question at her, and Sioned gave a little shrug.
A moment later the old man was back. In his hands was a large round of bread wrapped in a clean though somewhat floury cloth. Sioned had coins ready, but the old man shook his head. “No money necessary. I know whom I serve.”
“Even a highborn pays for her meals. I’m sure I shall value your best.” She pressed two gold coins into his hand—a hundred times the cost of a loaf of bread.
“I trust so, noble lady.” He bowed and went to help another customer.
“Sioned—where did that woman go?” Alasen glanced around, frowning. “I didn’t see her leave. Who was she?”
“I’ve no idea.” Sioned looked around for Ulricca and found not a trace of her. Shrugging, she took Alasen down to the riverbank and chose a seat beneath a trellis covered in flowering vines. She set out their meal with deliberate casualness and last of all unwrapped the bread. It was cool, and had been a long time from the oven; the cloth was not to protect Sioned’s hands but to hide something about the bread that might arouse suspicion. It was Alasen who spotted the mark on the bottom of the loaf: not the baker’s ocean wave but the rough outline of a dragon in flight, drawn in the dough with a knife.
“Is it a message?” Alasen asked, wide-eyed.
Sioned shook her head. “Identification.” She pierced the edge of the round with her thumbnail. “I’ll open this as if we’re going to put our cheese inside. And if you move just a little to your right, those people eating over there won’t be able to see a thing. Thank you. Aha!” She extracted a folded piece of parchment about the size of her palm, its surface sticky with oil. As she brushed it off, a golden circle fell out and she caught her breath.
“A ring?” Alasen breathed, then gave a start. “A/a-radhi ring!”
Sioned put the note and the ring into her pocket. “Yes,” she answered. “Open the wine and let’s eat.”
When they had finished lunch they gathered up the leavings and walked down to the river, distributing crumbs to the birds. It was only then that Sioned took out the note. “This had better be worth the gold,” she muttered. Alasen was nearly dancing with impatience as Sioned scanned the terse message and replaced it in her pocket. “There’s only one way to separate a Sunrunner from his rings—which this note confirms.”
“What does it say?”
“Forgive me, Alasen. I can’t tell you. But I can let you know that you’re right about its being a faradhi ring. It’s the color of the gold—slightly reddish, as you saw.”
“And the Sunrunner who wore it is dead.”
“Yes. Otherwise it would still be on his finger.” She looked down at her own hands. “I’m the only one who ever had her rings stolen from her and lived . . . never to wear them again.”
“But the note—“
“I can’t talk about it, Alasen.”
“You think I’m too young and sheltered, don’t you?”
“I was younger than you when I became Rohan’s princess, so it’d be pretty rotten of me to hold your years against you. But there are certain things you should be sheltered from, because honest innocence is the best defense against awkward questions. Right now you know that a Sunrunner is dead and that I received a message. If you don’t know any more, you’ll be safe. Not even princesses with Sunrunner gifts should know everything.”
“You do,” Alasen muttered.
“Oh, my dear! If only!” She paused a moment. “You didn’t jump just now when I named you faradhi. “
Alasen broke cheese into bits she tossed in the water for the fish.
“Have you ever heard the story of Siona, the grand- mother your father and I share? She was a Sunrunner at Goddess Keep who met Prince Sinar at a Rialla. They fell in love. It was a terrible scandal, because at the time princes and lords did not marry faradh ‘im—not formally trained ones, at any rate. It was feared that the gifts would emerge in the next generation of rulers, trained by fara-dhi parents without the supervision of Goddess Keep.”
“Times seem to have changed,” Alasen said with a furtive glance at Sioned.
“Andrade changed them to suit herself. It wasn’t until me that the gifts showed up in the Kierstian line—and now you. It’s not so terrible a thing, you know, being a Sunrunner and a princess.”
“But it makes me valuable, doesn’t it?” Alasen burst out. She flung the rest of the cheese into the water. Silver-green fish converged and the water roiled as they fought over the food.
“Ah,” Sioned murmured, understanding. “If not for me and my rule-breaking marriage to Rohan, then you could have admitted your talents, been trained, and lived only as a Sunrunner if you chose. But because of me, you’re an important young lady when it comes to marriage.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alasen said quickly. “You’re right, I know I have the faradhi talents. I’ve always known it. I didn’t think it was possible to be a princess and a Sunrunner both. And I’m a Princess of Kierst—I have duties. Even if I had been trained at Goddess Keep, my position demands that I marry a prince or a lord. So you see that it’s better this way. I don’t really have any choice.”
“But there’s a part of you. ...” Sioned prompted.
“Yes—a part of me that says if I don’t learn those things, then I’ll live my life knowing I’m only half of what I could have been. But I don’t want to become like those calves or sheep, valuable for my faradhi bloodlines instead of for myself. It’s bad enough being a princess with the kind of dowry my father will give me. But at least I’ve been trained for that kind of life.” She glanced up at Sioned. “I don’t think there’s any training for being a Sunrunner princess except life.”
“Even so,” Sioned reminded her gently, “you want to fly.”
Alasen nodded curtly. “I can’t help it—but I don’t have to give in to it, either.” She dusted her hands clean and shrugged. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t be bothering you with my problems, especially after that note.”
“What I faced was the opposite, you know. I knew how to be a Sunrunner, but I’d no idea what would be demanded of a princess. Come, we ought to be getting back to the encampment.”
Sioned left Alasen at Volog’s tents and went to her own pavilion, where Rohan was taking a midday break from his princely pursuits. She kissed him a greeting and told him first about the hawks, which had him chortling.
“You’re right, Pandsala will be livid! We’ll have to warn her. Alasen sounds a very clever girl.” “It’s a pity she’s too old for Pol.” “I thought you had your heart set on Sionell—and Goddess knows she has hers set on him.”
“Every prince should have a choice,” she told him sweetly. “Just as you did.”
“Mmm—as long as the choice coincides with what you want, you mean.” He tugged playfully at one of her braids. “My morning wasn’t half so entertaining. Everybody bartered back and forth, Lleyn sat there silent and amused, and no one mentioned the real business of the Rialla at all.”
“Firon and Masul, but mostly Masul,” she supplied. “Not even a hint?”
“None. But Lyell has asked to address the princes tomorrow. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”
“Then think about this instead.” She produced the ring and the folded parchment, and told him how she had acquired them. “A little oblique toward the end, don’t you agree?”
He read the note aloud. “ ‘This ring belonged to Kleve, who is dead. His other rings are gone, as are the fingers they circled. His body was being readied for the pauper’s fire when he was identified and given decent burning. His murderer is unknown. But take warning: Word in the city is that the father of a son is in danger usually meant for the Desert.’ “ Rohan chewed his lip for a moment, then said, “Kleve was a good man. A good friend to us.
Was here foi: Andrade’s purposes, do you think?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to attract attention to the baker, so I didn’t go back to his stall. But 1 could ftnd him again if you like.”
“And place him in danger? No. He or this woman evidently consider this note all we need to know.” He clenched his fist around the gold circle. “Goddess—poor Kleve. It’s barbaric. They cut off his fingers—left him to die and be burned in a common pyre—“
Sioned placed both her hands around his. “Kleve was here in Waes. Kiele’s city. The woman who’s championing Masul. Whatever he found out cost him his life. There’s no other way to read it.”
Rohan moved away from her, still grasping the ring. “It’s not me they’re after—‘usually meant for the Desert.’ That implies the Merida, of course. But ‘the father of a son’?” He swung around suddenly. “Whose son are we concerned with here? Roelstra’s! But he’s already dead—so the threat—“
“Wait, you’ve lost me,” Sioned protested. “—must be to Masul’s real father! Don’t you see it? Who could provide the most damaging evidence? A man who looked and spoke and moved like Masul, and who isn’t anywhere near dead!”
Sioned’s brows quirked up, then down. “You’re reaching,” she said flatly. “There are dozens of fathers here who have sons—“
“And only one we’re really concerned with,” he reminded her. “But how do we go about finding him?” “Well, who would he want to find?” “Presumably the people who’ll pay him the most money—either to talk or not to talk. He hasn’t come to us, so I think we can assume he’s looking for the latter. Who would he go to? Kiele? Miyon? Masul himself?”
“If Kiele ordered someone to murder Kleve—and I think she did—then she wouldn’t hesitate to kill this man, too. Permanent silence.” Sioned began to pace. “Who would he talk to? How familiar is he with the politics of this?”
“I don’t—“
He was interrupted by the entrance of a guard. “Your pardon, Highnesses,” the woman said. “The Princesses Pandsala and Naydra request a moment of your time.
“Yes, of course,” Rohan said distractedly. Then he stared at Sioned. “Do you think—“
The sisters came in, and Pandsala’s first words confirmed their suspicions. “My lord, my lady, I’m sorry to disturb you, but a man came to Naydra this morning—“
“Let me guess,” Sioned told her. “He claimed to be the real father of this pretender, and wanted money to keep silent about it.”
Naydra’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
Pandsala turned very pale and whispered, “What a fool lam!”
“You couldn’t have known,” Rohan said. “And you came to me as soon as you learned of it. Princess Naydra, please tell me what happened.”
“He said that as my father’s daughter, I should want you and yours out of Princemarch, and if I didn’t pay him—“
“You sent him away, didn’t you?” he interrupted. “I appreciate your loyalty, my lady, but I wish you’d gotten word to me at once.”
She wrung her hands together. “My lord, I’m sorry, I didn’t think he was—that all he wanted was money—“
“You were right about that part of it,” Rohan said more gently. “I don’t blame you, my lady. Please tell us everything he said.”
“He told me that he’d fathered a child on a woman married to another man, all of them servants at Castle Crag. He was part of the barge crew—I don’t remember him, but that doesn’t mean anything, really. I listened to him as long as I did only because I was so astounded at his impudence.” Naydra pulled herself together with admirable aplomb and told them as much as she knew.
The man had been tall, dark-haired, and green-eyed— as Masul was reported to be. After the barge had burned that night, he had settled for a time in Waes, then worked on various ships. Rumors this spring had brought him back, where he had been waiting for the Rialla to see what his information could get him.
“I went to Pandsala soon after he left, my lord—I was so insulted that he would think I would betray you and Princess Sioned, who have been so good to me—“
“Could you find him again?” Rohan asked. “Tell him you’ve reconsidered?”
Naydra shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said miserably. “After I recovered from the shock of his impertinence, I sent him on his way with no doubts about my loyalties. Then I went to tell Pandsala about his lies, in case he came to her next.”
Sioned sighed quietly. “Well, where would he go next? Not to you, Pandsala, certainly. Kiele is a possibility I don’t want to think about. He wouldn’t live past his first few words.”
Naydra turned pale. “My lady—you don’t think she would—“
“I’m almost positive of it.” She turned to her husband. “If I were he, I’d go to Chiana next. She doesn’t have much money, but she’s got the most to lose.”
What Chiana lost was her temper. She was summoned to the pavilion and told the essence of what had happened, and turned furiously on Naydra. “You stupid fool! Why didn’t you keep him with you and send for the rest of us?”
“That’s enough,” Pandsala snapped.
“Not by half, Princess-Regent!’ Chiana spat, fiery-eyed. “You and lanthe and your stupid schemes—if not for you, none of this would ever have happened!”
“My lady,” Rohan said with deceptive mildness, “your opinion is not necessary right now. Your intelligence, however, is. Calm yourself and think.”
“Oh, yes, you can order me to be calm and cool—it’s not your identity at stake here, is it, High Prince?”
Pandsala took a threatening step toward her half-sister. “Be silent!”
“Don’t you dare presume to give me orders, you treacherous bitch!”
Rohan muttered a curse under his breath. “Stop it, both of you. Chiana, return to Kiele’s tents—yes, I know it’s the last place in the world you want to be, but it’s the only place you can be of use to yourself.”
She gulped in a deep breath, shooting a poisonous glance at Pandsala, and nodded. “Yes. Please excuse me.” She bowed to him and withdrew.
Pandsala said in a wooden voice, “I beg pardon for her manners, my lord.”
Sioned smiled faintly. “Pandsala, the girl has no manners.”
Closing her eyes, the regent murmured, “Yet she’s right. If not £>r lanthe, and Palila’s stupidity in heeding my revision of her plan, none of this would be happening.”
“You were young and desperate,” Naydra said softly. “Like the rest of us.”
Sioned nodded. “I don’t condone what you tried to do. But I understand it.”
Pandsala met Sioned’s gaze, and suddenly it was as if they were alone. “Even though it was all in pursuit of Rohan?”
“He was only a symbol for you both. Freedom, in the form of one man. But I think you’ve learned what lanthe never did—that we make our own jails.”
Pandsala hesitated, then murmured, “I’ve never said this before to anyone, but—he chose wisely in choosing you.” Her cheeks colored and she glanced nervously at Rohan, abruptly recalling his presence. “Forgive me, my lord. With your permission, Naydra and I will leave you now.”
When the pair had gone, Rohan heaved a sigh and flung himself into a chair. “Come here to me, Sioned.”
“How can you sit there and—“
“There’s not much I can do about any of this right now, is there? Come over here.” When he had pulled her down into his lap, he sighed again. “The day becomes more and more interesting. But remind me when I choose a mistress to pick a lap-sized one. Those long legs of yours—“
“I regret my oversufficiencies, my prince. And I still want to know—“
“Sioned, if I order a search of every tent and all of Waes, I’ll alert our enemies to the fact that I consider this man to be of vital importance—thereby killing him more effectively than if I ‘d run him through with my own sword. So I intend to wait and see what happens, which is all I can do for now—other than reacquaint myself with my wife after a whole summer’s absence.”
A few moments later the voice of Rohan’s squire came from the other side of the partition. “Your Royal Highnesses? “
“Damn,” Rohan muttered, and Sioned rose from his lap. “Yes, Tallain, come in,” he called.
Tallain, only surviving son of Lord Eltanin of Tiglath, was wheat-blond and dark-eyed, a well-built young man of nineteen winters only a year or so away from being knighted. Rohan had been fortunate all his life in his choice of squires, and Tallain was no exception. Walvis, younger son of a minor landholder, had become an accomplished battle commander, a trusted athri, and a good friend; Tilal, Sioned’s nephew, was now an important lord in his own right and remained close to them. Tallain would one day rule over the walled city in the north, important bastion against the Merida and the Cunaxans across the border, and he was being trained with this in mind.
He bowed, brushed his ever-unruly shock of hair from his eyes, and said, “I’m sorry, my lord, my lady. But someone left this outside the pavilion. All I saw of him was a plain dark tunic—no emblem, no colors I recognized.”
Rohan accepted the pouch of rough brown wool and undid the drawstrings. “Ah,” he said softly as he extracted a fine glass knife. “Merida.”
Tallain stiffened, but it was Sioned who spoke. “The death usually meant for the Desert?”
“I presume so. Another warning—more and more interesting,” he repeated. “Thank you, Tallain. And don’t worry. This really isn’t meant for any of us.”
“I’ll double the guard anyway, my lord.”
“No, you will not.”
Tallain bowed and looked unhappy. “As you wish, my lord.”
When the young man was gone, Rohan stroked the sharp blade of the knife with one finger. “I’ve seen too many of these, plenty of them directed at me. “
“What do you think they mean by it?”
“They want me to know they’re here. They want me to worry about Pol—but not about this father of a son our baker friend warned us of.” He looked up at her. “Sioned, if I truly were the hero you accused me of being last nighj, I ‘d scour the encampments and give no one any peace until I found the man—and he’d be found alive. Heroes are supposed to act on impulse, do things they haven’t really thought through. And for heroes, such things always work. That’s what makes them heroes.” He paused, turning the knife over in his hands. “When I was young, I had all the impulsive power of youth and unimportance behind me. Oh, I had a princedom and that made me someone to reckon with, but I wasn’t High Prince. I didn’t have to be concerned with everything and everyone. Now, I have to be. The power of being High Prince limits me.”
Sioned nodded slowly. “Back then, the only limit was what you could do. Now it’s what you shouldn’t. “
“Exactly. And there’s no other person in this world who’d understand what I mean. What would I become if I ran roughshod through everyone’s lives simply because I’m the High Prince and have the power to do so? If I were still only Rohan, who ruled the Desert, then I could try pretty much whatever I liked—because there’d be someone more powerful than I to stop me if he could. But there’s no one like that now.” He finished with a self-mocking shrug. “And it’s not in the description of a hero to be shy about using power.”
“My description of a hero is very different,” she said quietly. “I’m looking at him.”
“You, my dearest love, are prejudiced.”
“Of course,” she agreed readily. “But take a look at those around you sometime, who look to you for guidance. Take a look at your son, who worships you. Rohan, if being a hero is having the courage to resist using power arbitrarily, then you are a hero, beloved.”
He shrugged again. “What you call courage looks like cowardice from here. And it doesn’t get us any closer to locating Masul’s father.”
“Is that what we’re really talking about?” she asked softly.
He gave her a tiny smile that vanished almost before it touched his lips. “I suppose not. What we’re really talk- ing about is finding and executing Masul before he can say a single word. Before we have to use this father of his to destroy him.”
He looked down at the knife—a Merida knife, from which the ancient league of assassins had taken their name: “gentle glass.” Suddenly he threw it viciously through the air. An instant later the shining blade hung quivering from a wooden support on the other side of the tent.
“To all hells with debates about power! Sioned, even if I have to break my own laws, I’m going to root out every one of those murderous vermin and execute them— with my own hands, if necessary. Pol is not going to spend his life looking over his shoulder for a Merida blade!”
Sioned stared at the knife for long moments. It took great effort to pry her gaze from it and look at her husband. “Then make it profitable for Miyon to expel them from his lands.”
“What would you suggest?” he asked bitterly.
“Give him something in exchange for the Merida— and, incidentally, for his support against Masul.”
“Such as?”
Calmly, she drew the Merida knife from the wood, held it so the light glinted off its glass blade.
“Set Chiana on him,” she said.