Dragon Prince 02 - The Star Scroll

by Melanie Rawn

  “My lord High Prince, his grace of Cunaxa desires speech with your royal highness.”

  Rohan blinked at all this formality, then realized Tallain was speaking loud enough for Miyon to hear. He kept amusement from his voice and replied, “By all means, send him in. I hope you haven’t kept him waiting.”

  The squire bowed, straight-faced, and a few moments later Miyon was admitted. He nodded to Rohan, threw an irritated glance at Tallain, and sat where Rohan indicated.

  “I have ministers enough to make pretty speeches for me,” the prince said without preamble. “I shall be direct with you, cousin. What are you willing to give Chiana if she chooses me for her husband?”

  “I had not know you were considering the match, cousin.”

  Miyon condescended to smile, as one does when believing he holds the key to another’s locked gates in his hands. “I could be persuaded to consider it, if there were profit to be had.”

  “My, my,” Rohan murmured. “This younger generation. One would think the lady’s charming person would be your primary motive.”

  “Romance in marriage is the luxury of a prince with safe anchorage,” Miyon stated flatly. “What bargain can be struck between us, cousin?”

  Rohan looked him right in the eyes. Miyon’s were black, like the chips of glassy stone found at Skybowl. “What did you have in mind?”

  “My support for your cause, in exchange for shipping rights at Tiglath.”

  “With Chiana as the—how did your man put it? Ah, yes: the fine silk wrapping.”

  “I would not ally myself with a commoner, naturally. My willingness to marry her would go far toward convincing others of her rights as opposed to Masul’s.”

  “So much for romance. Is that all you want?”

  “Free access to the harborage at Tiglath isn’t unreasonable as a part of her dowry.”

  “A part,” Rohan echoed softly. “What else?”

  “Ten square measures of northern land to use as a staging area for my trade.”

  “And?”

  “The two hundred gold pieces you gave her other sisters who married.”

  “And?” Rohan asked again, patiently.

  “Your armies the hell away from my border!”

  Rohan flicked a glance at the water clock in the corner and smiled. “Don’t tell me a simple little military exercise a full fifty measures from your border has made you nervous? You and your Merida armed with the best Cunaxan steel?”

  “I came here to offer you—”

  “You came here to be bribed.” Rohan’s smile did not fade, but his eyes and voice were frigid. “I know you, Miyon. You have three ambitions in life: a port, a rather large slice of my land to get the Merida off your neck, and recognition that you are a man worthy of sitting in conference with princes. The first two depend entirely on me. The third is your problem. I will not be the means through which you reassure yourself of your manhood.”

  Miyon sprang to his feet, quivering with insult. “How dare you!”

  “Listen to me carefully, princeling. You want Chiana because you think she’ll bring you all three of those things. Shipping rights at Tiglath, a chunk of my land, and accolades from the princes for your cleverness in outwitting me. Is that a fair summation?”

  “It’s the best offer you’ll receive!”

  “I think not. The day Chiana weds you is the day I cross your borders—all of them—with more troops than you could amass in twenty years. One of you greedy little royals on my northern flank is quite enough, and you and Chiana together would cause me no end of irritation. I know her, too, Miyon. I’ve allowed you to survive thus far—”

  “Allowed me!” Mayon shouted.

  “Those advisers who kept you chained up during your early youth certainly didn’t teach you any manners. Or perhaps you’ve spent too much time around the Merida. Do you know what they originally were? A brotherhood of trained assassins using razor-sharp glass knives. It’s said they killed almost painlessly.” Rohan leaned forward, palms flat on the desk. “You may find yourself trying to breathe around a glass knife in your throat some night, cousin.”

  “They have every right to the Desert! All those lands were theirs before your grandfather—”

  “They have no right to it at all, which is why most of the other princes supported my grandfather. Miyon, you don’t care a damn about their rights, except where they might provide an excuse for your own ambitions. And I’ll tell you something else, princeling. I know you’ve been offered certain things by Kiele—but you don’t trust her. And you don’t entirely believe in this pretender, either.”

  “How did you—” Miyon stopped too late, his face crimson with rage.

  “You’re trying to build a bridge from the middle of the river, and whoever provides you with the most planks will have you on his side. I offer nothing, Miyon. I have no need of your support, especially not if purchased with my honor and my son’s future. You can fall into the river and drown for all I care. You have my permission to withdraw.”

  For an instant Miyon looked as if the killing fury in his eyes would find its outlet in a physical attack on Rohan. “You and your Sunrunner bitch!” he spat. “Spying, manipulating—do you think the princes will sit still for it forever? We won’t be ruled from Stronghold and Goddess Keep! We’ve endured the faradh’im, and we’ve endured a High Prince—but not both together!”

  Rohan smiled. “When you repeat this story, Miyon, be sure to tell it truthfully. I see by my timepiece over there that their graces of Ossetia and Syr ought to be in the antechamber right now, listening to every word. It would be terribly embarrassing to be corrected by them in public.”

  Tallain, smart boy, chose that moment to step around the partition. “Your royal highness, Prince Chale and Prince Davvi are waiting for your grace.”

  “There, you see?” Rohan beamed at Miyon. “I was right. Give them wine, Tallain, and tell them I’ll be with them shortly. Well, Miyon?”

  Voice thin with rage, the younger man said, “You have made an enemy today, High Prince.”

  Rohan was no longer smiling. “Your house and mine have been enemies since the day the first Merida found welcome at Castle Pine. I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out.”

  Miyon turned on his heel and strode from the pavilion. Chale and Davvi were instantly into the private area, and Rohan stood, greeting them with a comical grimace.

  “I was afraid he was going to say something like ‘You’ll be sorry!’ ”

  “That was murderous,” Davvi remarked. “He’s a vicious bastard, Rohan. Watch out for him.”

  Chale, seating himself, fixed Rohan with curious gaze. “I appreciated your point about a marriage between him and Chiana. What wouldn’t the two of them come up with? But tell me, how do you know he talked to Kiele?”

  “It has nothing to do with Sunrunners, cousin. Cabar of Gilad has a wife who adores her husband and loathes Miyon. And my sister had opportunity to speak with her when our ladies spent the afternoon together the other day. . . .” He finished with a shrug.

  Chale snorted. “Ah, yes, the redoubtable Princess Tobin. If I’d been twenty years younger, I would have given Chaynal a race for her, let me tell you!” He continued to eye Rohan, but now a faint smile played around his lips. “I was just remembering that innocent-faced young prince who beguiled us all at his first Rialla. Your father would be proud of you, Rohan.”

  “Thank you. I treasure that, especially from a man who didn’t always agree with him.” Rohan sank into a chair away from his desk. “Let’s talk of more pleasant things, shall we? How do you like having Gemma with you?”

  “Davvi’s done a fine job of her education,” Chale said gruffly. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and a good heart to go along with it. She reminds me of her mother, my sister Chalia. But I assume you’re asking how I like this idea of her and Davvi’s boy, Tilal.”

  “His grace and I have been discussing it all morning,” Davvi put in, adding w
ith a rueful smile, “We agree that I’ve been an idiot not to have seen it sooner. And he’s been kind enough to suggest that we hold the ceremonies privately, after the Rialla.”

  “In respect to my son and grandson, as well as to young Kostas,” Chale nodded.

  “Who can’t be at all happy about losing such a prize. My lords, I can’t tell you how pleased I am that at least one thing has turned out well this year!” Rohan gestured to Tallain, who brought fresh goblets of wine. They drank to the young people, perfectly in accord—a rare enough circumstance to put a wry smile on all three faces.

  Chale said, “She’s marrying a man who’ll make her happy as well as make Ossetia a good prince when I’m gone.” He paused, then shrugged. “You’re right, I didn’t have much in common with your father, Rohan, and you and I don’t see things the same way, either. It irks me to agree with Miyon on anything, but your boy being a Sunrunner and a prince worries me, too. I like what I’ve seen of him, make no mistake. But he has many years of growing to do and power has ruined good men in the past.”

  “I understand your misgivings, cousin. I have them myself. But I also have faith in Pol’s character and the training he’s getting from Lleyn and Chadric and Audrite.”

  “And when he goes to Goddess Keep and finds out what he can do with sunlight and Fire? What then?” Chale cleared his throat and shrugged again. “Well, that’s in the future, and I won’t be around to concern myself with it. Tilal grew up at your court. He’ll understand these things better than I ever could. In any case, I’m on your side in the matter of this pretender, for two reasons.”

  Rohan concealed his glee. “I’m grateful for your support, my lord.” “You ought to be grateful that Roelstra came before you,” Chale pointed out sternly. “Only a fool would prefer another such as he to you. And from what I’ve seen of the boy—the thought of Roelstra’s son at Castle Crag sickens me. That’s my first reason. The second is Gemma. She and Tilal will have to deal with him if he’s proclaimed, and she’s made it quite clear that aside from her Chosen’s feelings, she’ll consider Masul an enemy all her days, after what Roelstra did to her brother.” The old prince grunted. “Using the boy’s pride to make him bear the worst of the battles! You know I often supported Roelstra—we all did—but that matter opened my eyes.”

  Rohan couldn’t help saying, “And yet it was in battle against me that Jastri died.”

  “Do you think I’m such a fool as that? He may have been my nephew, my own dead sister’s only son, but I know who put him in the way of his death. It doesn’t make me fond of you that you led the troops that killed him, but I know who was truly responsible for his death.”

  Rohan nodded slowly. “Forgive me.”

  “Politics is an odd business,” Chale mused. “Look at Saumer and Volog. At each other’s throats for years, and now fussing over their mutual grandson and heir as if they’d never stolen a single sheep from each other. And if you’re counting up real peculiarities, there’s Roelstra’s daughter as your regent in Princemarch.” He sighed and shook his head. “You know, most of us are reasonable people. Princes have to be in order to survive. Miyon hasn’t learned that yet, and that makes him dangerous.”

  “As dangerous as my Sunrunner princess of a wife?” Rohan said, smiling.

  Chale looked startled, then burst into wheezing laughter. “Oh, your father would have loved that one!”

  “Again, I’m complimented,” Rohan said, grinning now. “And may I say in return that my father would have appreciated your reasoning and your support.”

  Chale wagged a finger at him. “I’m not saying I’ll agree to anything you say, mind.”

  “Cousin, I would be disappointed in you if you did.”

  “Then bring me some more of that wine and let’s drink to Gemma and Tilal again. And may your own boy find it easier to win his Chosen lady!”

  Sioned turned the full fury of her green eyes on her husband. “How could you? It was going so well! Miyon could have been ours! Chiana had him on the hook! All you had to do was give her a little help reeling him in!”

  With a patient sigh, Rohan said, “And if she had? It would have been his perfect chance to humiliate me. All he’d have to do is tell the other princes in council that I’d agreed to his terms for taking Chiana, making it seem as if I’d begged him to do so in order to win his support.”

  “It would have worked!” she fumed.

  “It would never have worked. Listen, Sioned—he wanted to outsmart me, prove himself more clever, have something he could hold over me. Instead I’ve put him in his place and let him know he can’t out-think me. Ever. Have you forgotten that he keeps Merida in his princedom and at his court? That they’ve tried to kill Pol? Do you think they could have done that without Miyon’s help, or at least his acquiescence?”

  “You’ve made an open enemy. Is that preferable to the veneer of tolerance?”

  “I’d rather have him an enemy everyone knows about rather than a pretended friend who might fool my real allies. They’ll beware of him now. And whenever he approaches any of the other princes, they’ll remember that he and I are opposed, and think twice about what he says. And aside from all that, would you really want Chiana on our border, scheming with Miyon against us? A woman whose very name means ‘treason’? There was nothing else I could do. I regret that you disapprove, but it was my decision to make, not yours.”

  She was silent for a time, then shook her head. “I understand why you did it, Rohan. But I don’t like it that you used me. And you did, you know—and Tobin as well, having us work Miyon and Chiana to where you wanted them.”

  Setting Chiana on Miyon had been Sioned’s idea. Rohan had neither encouraged it nor interfered; he had simply taken advantage of what she had done on her own. A pretty point of distinction, a sop to his conscience, that she would not appreciate. He was wise enough to keep his mouth shut about it. What he said was, “You’ve learned almost everything a prince needs to know in order to govern. But you have yet to learn that sometimes people have to be used.”

  “I suppose it’s one of the things I didn’t learn from Andrade,” she said, quietly.

  “She does it to perfection, with no regrets. It’s not particularly nice, and it’s certainly not noble or heroic. The difference between Andrade and me is that sometimes, like now, I hate things I’ve had to do. Oh, I admit I had a rollicking good time doing what I did to Roelstra my first Rialla. I enjoy gaming those too stupid to realize their own ambitions have led them along the path I want them to walk. I don’t regret Miyon at all, because he had to learn to bow to me. As for the rest of them—”

  Sioned smiled slightly. “Let me guess. You wish they didn’t bow quite so low.”

  He nodded. “It’s why I value Chale and Lleyn and Davvi. They bow right along with the rest, but they know why it’s necessary. The others just—do it.” He glanced at the water clock and sighed. “Over half the night gone. And tomorrow isn’t going to be pleasant at all.”

  “Rohan . . .” She stood beside his chair and he circled her waist with gentle fingers. “Let me help you sleep, love. You need it.” When he smiled and shook his head, she went on, “But you’re exhausted. And so am I,” she added frankly. “I can’t sleep if you don’t. Just this once, Rohan. Indulge your faradhi wife and let her work a little magic on you.”

  After a slight pause, he asked, “You will anyway, won’t you?”

  “Well. . . .”

  “Oh, all right. I’ve had enough for today, I suppose. And the only thing I lack is an argument from my stubborn witch.”

  “You’re welcome,” she told him wryly, and he laughed.

  A short while later they lay in each other’s arms beneath a light silk sheet and a loosely woven wool blanket. Sioned curled close to her husband’s side, her face bathed in thin moonlight drifting in through the screened window opening. She closed her eyes and threaded the delicate strands of silver into a soft net, placing it across Rohan. He sighed once, tense muscles re
laxed, and in another moment was asleep.

  She lay wakeful beside him until morning, listening to the steady, reassuring rhythm of breath and heartbeat that kept perfect time with her own.

  Rohan looked at Andrade once, seeing her pen poised above the parchment, before he said, “His Grace of Cunaxa.”

  Miyon stood, tall and lean and implacable. “I side with Prince Masul.”

  Lleyn’s brows arched. The privileges of his great age and long years of rule allowed him to say, “The Lady Chiana will be disappointed.”

  Miyon’s cheeks crimsoned. “I vote with my brains, cousin. Not my balls.”

  “Indeed,” Lleyn murmured tolerantly.

  Andrade made a mark on the parchment.

  “His Grace of Ossetia.”

  Chale pushed himself to his feet. “I say this young man is mistaken,” he growled, staring straight at Masul, who stood easy and relaxed near the water clock. “He’s no more Roelstra’s son than I am.”

  “Brother,” Masul said, and gave Chale a small, mocking bow.

  “Be silent,” Andrade snapped as she wrote.

  “His Grace of Dorval.”

  Lleyn took some time about rising, and leaned heavily on his dragon-headed cane. “I have watched and listened most carefully, as befits this weighty matter before us. I have seen no proof that the Lady Andrade and Princess-Regent Pandsala were misled in their perceptions of the night in question. Moreover, I have seen no compelling evidence that this youth is justified in his claims. I regret any pain this might cause him, but I must in all conscience decline to believe him.”