by Melanie Rawn
“After you, Pol.”
“—except that you’re the High Prince, and they knew there was nothing to fear from Andry—or from me. Your authority will work again. If we need to use him—something I’m still not convinced of—Andry can be kept in line.”
“I disagree. Word will spread and demands will begin for him to use this ros’salath in the defense of the continent. I must allow it, they will say. Either that or set my Sunrunner prince of a son to do it.” There was sudden anguish in his eyes. “How do I watch you do a thing I know to be wrong? That breaks all law and tradition? A thing that will make you hated and feared and put you in mortal danger for the rest of your life?”
Pol replied levelly, “If Andry won’t do this without imposing conditions, then I must. Would you rather have everyone looking to him instead of the High Prince? Would you see him become High Prince and Lord of Goddess Keep both?”
As Chay made a soft sound, Feylin glared at Pol. “If I thought it was power and prestige alone you were concerned with, I’d take you over my knee—prince or no prince,” she said.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about those things,” Pol returned forthrightly. “Andry and I have never trusted each other. But if he proves the salvation of the princedoms, think what we’ll have to deal with! Father, you talked about my life being in danger. The same holds true for Andry—and all Sunrunners.”
“You’re wrong.” Chay’s voice was barely audible. “It’s not the same. You’ll be High Prince one day. Andry will not. If it was power and prestige he wanted, I’d march on Goddess Keep myself and break him. But all he’s ever wanted is to be Lord there. I don’t know how you became rivals, but it’s crippling you both. That cripples us in fighting this enemy. I agree with you, Pol, that he and the faradh’im are in little danger once the war’s done if there’s a strong High Prince for balance. But if you’re the one to kill with the gifts—do you see? You’re more dangerous, and therefore in more danger, than Andry. You will become exactly what they all fear most.”
There was a brief silence before Walvis cleared his throat. “Pol, you’d put your father in the impossible position of having to punish you as he did Andry—either that or set aside the law. If he did that for Andry, it would be accepted—barely. If he did it for you . . . .”
“By not punishing,” Rohan said inexorably, “or by canceling my own law, I condone. The scrolls give me authority over Goddess Keep. It is held of the High Prince. Lady Merisel provided a final check on their power—just as even a prince who is not a soldier has final authority over his armies. By allowing Andry to kill, I show that it is acceptable to me. That it may be done again—”
“You don’t care about the Sunrunners,” Pol said. “Not when it comes down to them or me—which is the real issue here. You’d rather Andry did the dirty part of it so your precious son won’t get sullied.”
“I can live with his danger better than with yours,” Rohan snapped.
“Andrade wanted a Sunrunner prince. Well, here I am, Father! You think she wanted both powers in one man. I think she meant me to protect all people—gifted or not, Sunrunner or not, highborn or not.”
“Yes,” Sioned burst out, “here you are! Prince and Sunrunner and with power enough for twelve. And unbound by the traditions of Goddess Keep. If Andrade had lived, you might have become a Sunrunner by earning your rings. But you didn’t.” She paused. “You are as much a renegade as the man Roelstra corrupted using dranath.”
Pol stiffened. “Do you have so little faith in how you taught me that you think—”
“I know that power once used is easier to use a second time. And a third. Until you forget reasons and simply use it because it’s convenient.” She stared at her hands again.
“Thank you for your confidence, Mother,” he said bitterly.
“Stop it!” Rohan exclaimed. “And get out, all of you. This is over.”
“No, my lord.” Sioned rose and stood beside him, facing Pol. “I want your promise. Swear in front of the High Prince and these highborns and a Sunrunner of seven rings that you will not use your gifts to kill.”
Chay straightened as if hit by lightning, and made a little warding-off gesture with one hand. Walvis and Feylin sat mute and stricken.
“Swear,” Rohan echoed.
Surging to his feet with his fists clenched, Pol opened his mouth to refuse. But his father’s eyes had caught him. He wrenched his gaze away, looked at his mother—no better, perhaps worse. Absolute authority, adamant command, power that practically sparked from their fingertips—here in two people was all that Andrade had hoped to combine in one. In him.
Could he swear with the qualification that he could break the oath if he must? No. There was no compromise. Was he Andry, to make an oath and break it?
He was seized by their eyes, Desert-sky blue and midsummer green. They were compelling the words, making them a condition of their trust. He felt his lips part and the phrase form on his tongue.
And then Sioned made a mistake. “Swear,” she said, “or I promise you, if you do this thing—”
He didn’t let her finish, unable to bear a condition set on her love.
“I swear to nothing!”
• • •
She kept silent until they were alone.
“Oh, Goddess—Rohan, what have I done? Why did I say that?”
“I would have said it myself an instant later.”
“So many years I was terrified that he’d hate me for keeping the truth about Ianthe from him. Despise me for what I’d done.” She paced nervously, her voice quick and clipped. “I wronged him when I doubted him. I wronged him again tonight. I should never have demanded it. He’s too proud. I should have let him come to it himself. Learn for himself.”
“Power doesn’t frighten him. That’s what he must learn, beloved. I thought after the battle at Rivenrock . . . but he didn’t kill Ruval. The dragon did.”
“Rohan, we need Andry on any terms we can get him. We can’t let Pol—”
“No. I am High Prince for all people, Sunrunners like everyone else, just as Pol intends to be. Andry doesn’t see the danger he’d put himself in.”
“Not that he’d thank you for pointing it out, any more than Pol did.”
“At least Pol sees it when it’s shoved under his nose. Andry would smile as they acclaimed him their savior—and never understand when they began to fear him. He’s not wise enough to tread that line, Sioned. He doesn’t even understand why there must be such a line. Power doesn’t frighten him, either.”
• • •
Sionell stood with her husband on a wall of their city and squinted into the hazy distance. “Still no sight of them yet. Perhaps we should send out a ship to find them and guide them in.”
Tallain shook his head. “They’d panic at any sail. I know I would, in their position.”
“You’ve never panicked in your life—well, except when you held Talya for the first time.”
“That wasn’t panic. That was the absolute certainty I’d drop her and then you’d flay me alive for—look! Is that them? Those look like Chay’s sails.”
“At last! Goddess be thanked!”
“Poor Meath is probably half-dead of seasickness. And Chadric must be frantic. I’m glad we have good news about Ludhil.”
Sionell caught her breath. “Tallain—I count two ships, not one!”
“Enemy?”
“Silk ship!”
Tallain took her hand and made for the steps. “We’ll have to find room for them. They’ll be exhausted.”
“And hungry and filthy,” she added. “We’ve been ready for days, but we can’t take all of them in the castle.”
“I’ll send Lyela to the guildmaster with a request for housing. She gets along with him—Goddess knows how.”
“Lyela gets along with everybody. I’ll never believe Kiele was her mother.”
They hurried down the wall stairs and across the city square to their residence. Si
onell hiked her skirts to her knees, cursing herself for not having worn trousers today instead, and the populace got a view of long, shapely legs and neat ankles.
Horses were dispatched to the cove immediately. Tallain and Sionell followed a short time later to welcome the Dorvali, and were surprised that only a few had chosen to ride. Most were so grateful to feel firm land beneath their feet again that walking, though chancy for the first few steps, was a gift from the Goddess. Meath stumbled along with two burly Tiglathi guards holding him up. He smiled weakly as he caught sight of his hosts, looked vaguely bewildered for a moment, then crumpled to the ground.
“He would try to stand up,” Audrite commented, shaking her head. “Just as he would have us continue on by ship when we could have landed anywhere and walked.” She embraced Sionell. “I won’t ask for news now. And neither will Chadric,” she warned in her husband’s direction. “It can all wait.”
“There’s one bit of news that won’t,” Tallain said. “My Sunrunner found Ludhil and Iliena only yesterday, camped in the mountains near the old faradhi keep, safe and sound.”
Sionell was glad that Tallain had seen fit not to mention the rest of it—that most of the people with Ludhil were farmers and villagers, not warriors, and the prince had been about to lead a group on a raid of enemy positions. That news could definitely wait.
As they walked back to Tiglath, Chadric told the tale of their journey. “The wind kept shifting—I swear the Father of Storms is on their side, not ours—and we had a terrible time making headway. When we rounded the north side of the island, we saw four of their ships chasing Master Nemthe.” He nodded to the silk merchant, who huddled on horseback muttering complaints. “We were the bigger prey. But Captain Ennov knows his ship. I’m buying his contract and the Sea Spinner from Chay once this is over, I don’t care what it costs. The man uses the wind the way Sunrunners use light.”
“We looked for you days ago,” Tallain said. “Everybody’s been looking for you. My Sunrunner’s informing Remagev and Dragon’s Rest that you’ve landed safe, but they’ll want details.”
“Has Aunt Lisiel had her baby yet?” This from Audran, dancing along at his grandfather’s side with the limitless energy of the young.
“Not yet,” Tallain said. “But they’re all safe and well.”
“Details,” Chadric mused. “After we escaped, we met up with Nemthe’s ship and continued on. The wind drove us into some of the coves, and thirst into a few more. I could map your coast by now, Tallain. We would have had Meath send word so you could get horses to us, but we couldn’t even get him out of the ship to recover. And he wouldn’t let us wait long enough in any one spot—the ship was faster, he said, and easier on the children. So we found what food and water we could, waited for a breeze, and then sailed on.”
“Water?” Sionell asked. “Where?”
“Three places I’ll bet nobody knows about. I’ll mark them for you. We were driven out of one by a sandstorm, so it’s possible it’s disappeared beneath half the Desert. But Rohan will want to investigate. If watches are set up, next time we’ll have warning.”
The castle at Tiglath, the oldest part of the town, was large enough to hold the highborns and their personal retainers. But the city’s population had swollen in recent days with the influx of men and women called to arms. The housing kept for them was full. So the rest of the Dorvali were welcomed into private homes—servant, guard, or commoner, it made no difference to the Tiglathi, who had only to be informed by their guildmaster that help was needed before they opened their homes. Master Nemthe created a minor stir when he asked why he was not being housed in the castle, as a man of his importance and wealth deserved. Chadric gave him a single cold glance, and he subsided.
Vamanis, Tallain’s court Sunrunner for the last six years, met them in the main hall with messages of relief and joy from Remagev and Dragon’s Rest. Tallain sent the Dorvali up to their rooms, where baths and food had been readied for them, and himself gave Vamanis a summary of Chadric’s tale.
“If the sky’s clear, see what you can find out about Prince Ludhil’s raiding party. I’d like to have some good news for his parents.”
“At once, my lord.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Tallain added, “And see what’s going on in the known Merida holdings in Cunaxa.” Vamanis blinked, swallowed hard, and nodded. Tallain watched him go, then murmured to his wife, “I’d better have that section of wall shored up.”
He could have said nothing to shock her more deeply. For the more than thirty years since the Merida’s last incursion, a small part of Tiglath’s walls had lain in rubble—symbol, Lord Eltanin said at the time, of his belief that the walls Rohan would build would be stronger than stone could ever be. Tallain shared his father’s faith in their prince—or so Sionell had always thought.
She said slowly, “Wouldn’t that be just the same as inviting the Merida to come break them down?”
“It’s going to be a long war,” was all he said.
• • •
Andry approached his mother quietly, the restraint imposed on him by her illness serving his purpose well. He must not reveal the fury that gripped him every time he thought about Andrev. He must not reveal the hurt.
She sat in the morning sun, and she was smiling. It pierced his heart that one side of her face did not obey the laughter in her black eyes. She held a cane in each hand, a little unsteadily in the right but firmly in the left. Sliding to the edge of her chair, she levered herself up—and stood.
Her balance was precarious for a moment. Then she took a step. And another. Tobin the indomitable, he told himself gleefully. He should have known. Absolutely nothing defeated his mother.
She made her slow way to the window seat, scowling fiercely with half her face, the other side twitching along brow and mouth. At last she turned slightly on her good leg, fumbled with the canes, and plopped onto the seat. He could almost hear her triumphant laughter.
“Brilliant! And I promise I won’t tell on you.”
“Andry? Andry, where are you? Are you safe?”
“Perfectly. Does Father know you’re walking?”
“It’s to be a surprise. Goddess knows he needs something to smile about for a change.”
She turned her face to the sun, eyes closed. Oh, Andry—this war is bad enough, but to be unable to move, to help—and to have no word from you—are you sure you’re well? And the children?
But for Andrev, about whom I know nothing. He grappled with his emotions, somehow managed to retain calm. I was hoping you might have some word for me about him.
With Tilal. Andry, I know you want him back with you. So do I, when it comes to it. An army is no place for a child.
That’s putting it mildly. Will Rohan order Tilal to give him up, or not?
I don’t know.
Will he release me from that prohibition about using Star Scroll spells to defend places other than Goddess Keep?
I don’t know! Andry—you killed with it. Think what that means!
He made no reply.
She tried again, desperation tingeing her words. You’re Lord of Goddess Keep. You can do as you like with your Sunrunners. Rohan can’t stop you. Frankly, he’d be wrong to try. But you must understand—
I understand that he’s willing to lose this war for a point of pride!
No. Don’t you see? The vow protects you.
And has Pol sworn it, Mother? he asked with poisonous sweetness.
Her eyes opened wide to the sun, tears welling in them. It’s said you knew what would happen at Radzyn years before it came to pass.
He hesitated, then decided he owed her the truth. What I saw and what really occurred were different. I saw the keep in ruins. I saw them kill a hatchling dragon. But Radzyn stands. A dragonsire flew over and ripped the figurehead from one of their ships. It was different from my visions, Mother.
When did this happen? What else did you see?
I watched the day after the
battle. When the dragon came, they fell to their knees in terror. They may know about dragons, Mother, but I don’t think they encounter them often. I’d hoped what he did to the ship would be taken as a portent—but evidently not. They’re building strange things at Radzyn now, using all the wood they can find. I don’t understand what those things are. They’ll march soon. Rohan has to do something, and quickly. He has to decide.
I . . . I don’t know what to tell you, my son, she admitted sorrowfully.
Then tell this to Rohan: I will do everything in my power—and it’s considerable, as you now know—to help him win this war. But I must be allowed to work freely, and I must have Andrev back. Those are my terms. They won’t attack Goddess Keep again, Mother. They learned. Pol tried at Radzyn and failed. I and my devr’im are Rohan’s only choice. He can make no other.
And when it’s over, what will your terms be then?
He flinched at the bitterness. Do you know what else I saw at Radzyn? They heaped their dead onto a ship and sent it out to sea in flames. Those they had captured were on board, too. They burned, too. Life-offerings to the dead.
Her colors shivered in horror. But her words were firm. And do you know what they do when they kill a Sunrunner? They weave the rings into their beards as tokens of triumph.
Andry drew away, just as horrified, and fled, her despairing cry of his name echoing in his mind.
• • •
“So Ludhil’s organizing an army,” Rohan mused. “No insult intended, but I never saw him as the military type.”
“He’s doing what he must—as are we all,” Chay pointed out.
Walvis gave a comical grimace. “Another of your uncomfortable reminders.”
They were out walking on the plain where Walvis held his annual little war, a place which might see war in earnest before too many more days had passed. No skirmish to capture the opposing side’s banner, but a battle that would kill hundreds. The Desert had not failed Rohan; Sunrunners reported scores of corpses half-buried by the sandstorm. But the mass pursuit he had envisioned, with half the Vellanti army perishing in the Long Sand without a single battle, had not come to pass. Either the enemy was smarter than he’d thought, or they had something else in mind for him and his than was happening in Gilad and Syr.
