by Melanie Rawn
“Since the day she arrived—at age twelve.”
“And had a room in the west tower.”
“The fourth floor of the central hall. Satisfied?”
“Not yet.”
A dry chuckle. “You’re a suspicious man, my lord.”
“In Andry’s keep, do you blame me?”
“Not at all.”
“What was Sioned wearing the day she arrived here?”
“Oh, dear. How can I remember that far—wait. It must have been the green wool gown with the black sash. She insisted on wearing it until it was nearly in tatters, long after she grew too tall for it.”
Tilal relaxed. “My father sent her one almost like it when I went to Stronghold. Green and black are River Run’s colors. She told me about that other gown when she unwrapped the box.”
The shadows laughed softly, and their mist cleared a little. “I am believed on the strength of a length of wool! What shall I tell her on the moons?”
He gave a brief summary of his encounter with Andry. “You can also tell her I came within a hair’s breadth of throttling him. Now, what can you tell me?”
“Something happened to disrupt the ros’salath but was corrected. The weave wasn’t restored to its former strength. It no longer killed. But it was still strong enough to turn them from us to easier quarry. Your army.”
“Easier?”
“Your pardon. I meant more traditional fighting, where a sword is a sword—and not a knife through the mind. Not a perversion of faradhi gifts.”
Ashamed of his outburst and feeling deeply for the disgust and pain in that voice, he nodded. “Are there others who feel as you do?”
“Forgive me, but that’s another question I can’t answer.”
“Doesn’t matter, I suppose. It’s not something I understand or can do anything about. I need a favor, though. Is there someone who can come with me on the march? All I need is communication. I don’t want a warrior.”
A short silence ensued. Then the voice whispered on a sigh, “No one. Andry would know if even one of us slipped out. If he offers you a Sunrunner, accept. The spy you know is less dangerous than the one you don’t—and, as you say, you need communication.”
“He won’t offer.”
“Perhaps you’re right. If that’s all, your grace, the moons are rising and I should be quick about this. There may be cloud cover.”
“Just one more thing. My love to them—and if Sioned contacts Athmyr—”
“It has already been done. Your lady knows you safe and unharmed.”
“Thank you.”
The wedge of light appeared and vanished once more. Tilal sank back down in bed, and was too tired to think for more than a few heartbeats before he was swallowed in sleep.
• • •
Andry did not offer a Sunrunner. Neither did he come down to see Tilal leave at dawn. Chaltyn reported that a delegation from the common folk had come pleading for troops to be left behind in their defense.
“And what did you reply?” Tilal asked, staring at the road from between his stallion’s tufted ears.
“To trust in the Lord of Goddess Keep—and if that brought no comfort, try the Goddess herself.”
“It pains me to leave them without swords. But I won’t have my people die for Andry’s sake. Not again. The cost is too high—and I’m not talking about what I owe their families.” One of Tilal’s duties after this was all over would be to travel to every farm, village, and holding that had suffered a loss and offer the life-token due the survivors of a soldier dead in a prince’s service.
They rode on in silence. Clouds that had drizzled two days ago and parted yesterday were threatening rain in earnest. There would be no tales spread on sunlight of Andry’s power today.
About forty measures from the keep, when it was getting on for noon, Chaltyn rode up from an inspection of the column with another rider at his side. Tilal knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that it was Andrev.
“See who I found, my lord,” the old roan said, “stuck between the horse and the archers.”
“You need a squire, Cousin Tilal,” the boy said simply. “And a Sunrunner.”
Chaltyn stared at him. “You know how? At your age?”
“I know how.”
“Where does your father think you are?” Tilal asked.
Andrev blinked. “With the others, helping the villagers return to their homes. They won’t miss me until sundown. If then,” he added.
By the Goddess, Andry would be livid—and after yesterday’s events Tilal couldn’t resist a decision guaranteed to infuriate the Lord of Goddess Keep.
“Very well. I need a squire and a Sunrunner. We’ll take care of the formal swearing later. Chaltyn, go find him a tunic of the right color.”
Andrev’s blue eyes shone. “Thank you, Cousin Tilal!”
“His father won’t thank you,” Chaltyn muttered.
“I know.” Tilal barely restrained himself from adding, Ask me if I care. “Andrev, from now on it’s ‘my lord.’ You’re in my service now.”
PART THREE
Chapter Sixteen
It was impossible to keep things from Tobin. Even crippled, she could command information so powerfully with just her eyes that not even her lord and husband could keep his mouth shut. Or perhaps he was the one with the least resistance. Whatever the case, Tobin knew most things only a short while after the others did.
Since their arrival at Remagev it had become her habit to spend the day in any available sunshine. Feylin gave her a corner chamber, with one window facing south and the other west. Sioned, knowing what was in Tobin’s mind, extracted a promise from her not to go Sunrunning unless one of them went with her in case she faltered. It had been a long while coming, but, once given, Tobin kept her word. After all, nothing was said about passively receiving the messages of other faradh’im.
A glorious sunset was just beginning, and Rohan had come to enjoy it with her. Tobin knew why her crafty brother had come now instead of earlier: Tobren had come to sit with her, too, and in the child’s presence there could be no imperious glance ordering him to talk.
The girl perched on a stool by Rohan’s chair, sewing a sling to support her grandmother’s arm once she was able to get about—which Tobin swore would be tomorrow. She had recovered from the flight across the Desert and was back to where she had been before Radzyn was attacked: ready to try walking with a cane to support her bad leg. She felt strong enough. And she knew if she spent one more day confined to this room, pleasant as it was, she would start screaming.
Rohan did not have much to choose from in Walvis’ library, so he read aloud from Feylin’s dragon book which Tobin had insisted Sioned pack. Tobren’s steady stitching paused every so often as she looked up in amazement. Though she was still skittish around Pol, Rohan had won her over. She wouldn’t call him by name yet, but Tobin knew it was only be a matter of time.
In the deep western light, their pale hair was nearly the same color—Rohan’s gone silver with his years, Tobren’s paled by exposure to harsh Desert sun. Tobin wondered what the child’s mother was like—a woman she had never met and about whom Tobren never spoke. That was unnatural, as far as her grandmother was concerned. But then, so little about Andry’s begettings and what passed for his family life at Goddess Keep was usual.
Such thoughts irritated her. She concentrated on Rohan’s voice as he read. It was the chapter Betheyn had enjoyed so much, ridiculing dragon legends.
“I didn’t know the one about dragon spines being poisonous,” Rohan said. “Teeth, talons, and blood, yes. But spines?”
Tobren frowned as she rethreaded her needle. “Maybe it’s like the scorpion. Or a serpent’s fangs.”
“Probably where the idea originated. But, as Feylin writes, the spines would have to be hollow to hold poison. So would teeth and claws.”
“With the teeth, it could be their spit,” she reasoned.
“Hmm. Hadn’t thought of that. But I’m
living proof to the contrary.” He rolled up a sleeve, revealing a scar on his upper arm. “Talon. If I’d been slower, I’d have teeth marks, too. I’m positive the old dragonsire spat on me.”
Tobren caught her breath. “He did? When?”
“A very long time ago, when I was young and stupid enough to go chasing dragons.” He smiled down at her. “I’ve kept a respectful distance since!”
She laughed. “I should think so, my lord! I like hearing about dragons.”
“They’re in your blood, Tobren. There’s no escaping love of them if you’re Desert-bred. It was said your great-grandsire could tell when dragons would come just by the shape of the clouds or the feel of the wind. It runs in the—”
He stopped abruptly. The little girl’s face had taken on that strange, glazed look he and Tobin knew so well. They both held their breath until she was back with them, conscious of their presence again.
“Who was it, Tobren?” he asked gently.
“Andrev! Oh, he’s done a terrible thing, my lord! He’s going to be in awful trouble with Father!”
Rohan traded glances with Tobin. Neither of them was used to Sunrunning in a child, but Andry taught his sons and daughters young. “What has Andrev done?”
“There was a battle and we won—but Andrev ran away! He wanted to help during the battle but Father wouldn’t let him. So he ran away when Prince Tilal left. He says he’s Prince Tilal’s squire now, sworn and accepted and everything. Can he do that, my lord?”
“He’s thirteen?” When she nodded, he said, “Yes, Tobren, he can do that.”
It was a very old law Tobin knew Andrev was unaware of—so was Andry, or he would have invoked it when he was that age and frantic to get to Goddess Keep. Such a thing hadn’t been done in lifetimes. But it was legal for a boy in his thirteenth year to pledge himself as a squire where he pleased. If he did so against his parents’ wishes, however, they were under no obligation to take him back. He risked his inheritance and might have to settle for whatever place and income his fostering lord would give him. It was no secret among their family that Andry intended Andrev’s inheritance to be Goddess Keep itself.
She met her brother’s gaze again. What was Andrev thinking of, to do such a thing? And Tilal, to accept him?
Rohan said, “We’ll have to send to your father so he knows where Andrev is, and that he’s all right.”
“He’ll be furious,” Tobren murmured.
He’ll blister that child’s bottom for him, sure enough, Tobin thought. And deservedly. Whatever possessed Andrev to run away from home?
Then she remembered something Rohan had said once about Pol. “I used to worry about him. He rarely got into scrapes—that I heard about, anyway—and he was altogether too mannerly as a child. But I stopped worrying the day he ran away from home in a fury when he was eleven. That showed spirit—took me a lot longer to get up the nerve to cross Father’s will. Pol had the courage to go off on his own. But he came back, which showed he had the sense to realize that at his age, he was too young. Spirit, bravery, and brains, Tobin—just like your boys. That’s how I knew he was all mine, and not Ianthe’s.”
Andrev, too, had now run away from home. The problem was how to return him before Andry went raging after Tilal. But if the boy had already sworn, it was legal—and Andry couldn’t reclaim his son unless Tilal consented. But why had he accepted Andrev in the first place?
That question exercised the minds of those who met after dinner in Rohan’s chambers for the regular evening discussion. Nothing had been heard from Goddess Keep, so they had no account of the battle itself beyond Andrev’s sparse information that there had indeed been one. Sioned, whose last encounter with Andry had left her shaking with fury she could not allow herself to express to its object, flatly refused to be the one to talk to him this time.
“He’s your brother, Maarken,” she said tersely. “You deal with him.”
“If there’s sun enough tomorrow, I will. I know what he’ll say, though. He’ll demand Tilal release Andrev and send him back.”
“Of course,” Pol said. “But I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Chay, Maarken, please forgive my bluntness—but his son’s involvement in this war is our best guarantee that Andry will help where it’s necessary.”
Rohan arched a brow. “Still kicking yourself over what happened at Radzyn, I see.”
Pol’s color heightened a trifle. “I failed. I’ll bet Azhdeen’s hide that Andry didn’t, and kept them out of Goddess Keep so Tilal could hack them to pieces in the field. Like it or not, we need Andry. And I don’t like it.”
“Consult your dragon before you wager his hide,” Walvis murmured. “Which is to say, wait until we get a full report of what went on there yesterday. If Tilal was angry enough to accept the boy, which was guaranteed to make Andry cross-eyed furious, then much may have happened that we know nothing about.”
“The great athri is wise.” Kazander touched his fingertips to his heart. “No powerful, sane man deliberately insults another powerful man unless he has already received a mortal insult himself.”
Sioned lifted her hands in a gesture of disgust, her ring spitting emerald fire. “So Andry’s livid, Tilal’s in a rage, and our only source of information about the whole mess is a half-trained thirteen-year-old boy who’s run away from home. Delightful. Simply delightful. What other happy news tonight?”
The rising of the moons brought a fuller account of the battle at Goddess Keep—from Sioned’s friend there, not from Andry. Feylin scribbled everything in her records when they all met again at midnight.
Pol smiled tightly. “He wanted us to come begging. But to get his son back safe, he’ll have to help us fight this war.”
Chay drooped in his chair, his graying head bowed. Maarken rose to his feet and left the room. After a moment, Hollis gave Pol a single cold glance and followed her husband.
“Nice work,” Rohan commented sourly. “We all understood, Pol. You didn’t have to say it aloud.”
“I’m not the one who put conditions on help that should be freely given! We princes have a duty to protect Goddess Keep—which Tilal has done. What’s Andry’s part of the bargain, in return for defending him and his?”
Sioned folded her hands. “There is no law, no tradition—he can demand what he likes in return for his help. And if it’s Andrev back at Goddess Keep, we just might have to oblige him.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Pol said flatly. “He owes us. And he can’t let people keep on dying in a war he could stop!”
“Oh, this will look fine, won’t it?” she retorted. “The only reason the Lord of Goddess Keep supports us is because his son is at risk. That’s not what Andrade had in mind when she named him her successor. She wanted you to work together. You wielding the power of a prince, he that of Goddess Keep, Sunrunners in common with a mutual goal.”
“I won’t crawl to him,” Pol said stubbornly. “And I won’t try to convince Tilal to release Andrev.”
Chay glanced up, quicksilver gray eyes robbed of their light. “Pride has a bitter taste when you’re drinking loser’s dregs.”
Pol shrugged. “I don’t think we need Andry to win this war at all. We can learn the weaving ourselves. I know the basics. I’ve got powerful faradh’im of my own to work with. I—”
“Your own?” Sioned began angrily, but Rohan silenced her with a look.
“Pol,” he said quietly, “by all accounts, the ros’salath at Goddess Keep killed. Your mother and Maarken and Hollis took oath—”
“That didn’t stop Mother, a long time ago.”
Sioned’s fists clenched around rings that were no longer on her fingers. “You know nothing about that. Nothing.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
Kazander was caught gaping at this revelation. He quickly smoothed his expression. “These are matters of more weight than I have shoulders to carry. If the High Prince and High Princess in their graciousness will excuse me—”
“Yes, of course,” Rohan said, distracted. The korrus stood, bowed, and hurried from the room.
“You killed with the gifts, Mother,” Pol said relentlessly.
“I’ve paid for it ever since! As you pointed out at Radzyn, you never made that vow. I don’t want you to have to pay for that for the rest of your life.”
“What kept faradh’im safe was that vow,” Chay said. “It’s my shame that my own son has broken it. That if we are to win this war, he’ll have to break it again.” He sighed quietly. “It’s his choice, Pol. His oath forsworn, his decision to do what he knows is wrong. He just doesn’t seem to understand how wrong it really is. How dangerous.”
“If Andry wants to dishonor himself, that’s his business. I never swore. There’s no oath for me to break. Besides, if it saves just one of my people—”
Rohan stood abruptly and began to pace. “Honor! Haven’t you been listening? Chay’s talking about your life! Who do you think that vow is meant to protect? Princes trust Sunrunners not to choose one side or the other. If they ever thought Sunrunners would kill, do you think any of you would be left alive?”
“In the last forty years people have gotten used to at least one Sunrunner choosing a side.” Pol looked pointedly at Sioned.
Rohan snapped, “And do you have any idea how hard it’s been for her? She was the one who drew the line between respect for what she could do and certainty of what she would not do. The line you intend to cross.”
Feylin and Walvis watched them square off across the broad table, barely aware of held breath. Sioned sat with head bowed over her laced fingers, Chay with his chin sunk on his breast.
Pol gestured impatiently. “Andry broke his oath years ago when he killed Marron. You punished him for it. If you hadn’t, the other princes would have been at your throat. Then they would have gone after the Sunrunners—”
