Sunrunner's Fire Part 23

The uncertain gray light muted the brilliance of the snowy peak rising up before him. What had been torrential winter rains in the lowlands had covered the Veresch in the heaviest snow within living memory. Castle Crag had become a glistening fantasy in ice, silent until the children had discovered that this strange frozen stuff they usually saw only on mountaintops was tremendous if chilly fun. But all was eerily quiet now, except for the crunch of broad hooves on snow and soft exhalations that sent clouds into the frosty air.

It was noon and they were nearly at the top of Whitespur before both Ostvel and Donato were satisfied with the suns.h.i.+ne. They refreshed themselves with a bite to eat and some wine, huddling beside their ponies for warmth. Then Donato faced east, toward Rezeld Manor.

Ostvel saw his eyes go blank, unfocused. How many hundreds of times had he watched a Sunrunner at work? Chances were that he himself possessed a glimmer of the gift; his elder son was a faradhi faradhi trained and skilled, and whereas eight years old was young to show the signs, last summer Jeni had flatly refused to join a sailing party on the Faolain. Ostvel was pleased that at least two of his children were gifted. He had always wondered what it might be like to weave light, to fly without dragon wings, to revel in the flush of power through body and heart and mind. But he had also seen what possession of the gift had done to Alasen, the pain and terror that had taken years to fade. And he had also seen Sionell's anguish that her lack had rendered her an unsuitable match for Pol, even if he had ever noticed her as a woman. Ostvel had always honored and valued trained and skilled, and whereas eight years old was young to show the signs, last summer Jeni had flatly refused to join a sailing party on the Faolain. Ostvel was pleased that at least two of his children were gifted. He had always wondered what it might be like to weave light, to fly without dragon wings, to revel in the flush of power through body and heart and mind. But he had also seen what possession of the gift had done to Alasen, the pain and terror that had taken years to fade. And he had also seen Sionell's anguish that her lack had rendered her an unsuitable match for Pol, even if he had ever noticed her as a woman. Ostvel had always honored and valued faradhi faradhi powers in his youth; ambivalence about them had crept slowly into his mind, beginning the night Sioned had almost killed Ianthe using those powers. powers in his youth; ambivalence about them had crept slowly into his mind, beginning the night Sioned had almost killed Ianthe using those powers.

Donato stumbled suddenly against the pony's shoulder. Ostvel steadied him, knowing better than to distract him with questions before he had fully returned. In a moment the Sunrunner had caught his breath. He chafed his gloved fingers, looking stunned.

"They're all gone! It's like nothing was ever there!"

"You mean they've marched."

"I mean there's no sign of the encampment I saw last night! No scars of cookfires on the ground, no hoofprints, no evidence." He shook his head. "Ostvel, I saw what I saw last night."

"Look again," was the grim reply.

It took a few moments. Meeting Ostvel's gaze again, he kneaded his laced fingers together to warm them. His voice was expressionless as he said, "Lord Morlen's lady is in the courtyard with her daughter. They're standing in front of a mirror combing their hair dry. The servant holding the mirror steady is Fironese. The little boy holding the hair ornaments is trying not to drop them-it's all b.l.o.o.d.y nothing! nothing!" he spat. "What I saw last night is gone!"

Ostvel paced a few stiff step away in the snow. All at once he looked back over his shoulder. "Why are you rubbing your hands?"

"It's cold."

"Not that cold. What's wrong with your hands, Donato?"

The Sunrunner pulled off one glove with his teeth. His fingers were shaking. "Sweet G.o.ddess," he whispered. "They feel burned."

"Sorcery." The word hissed in the white quiet of the mountainside. "You slammed right into it. Faradh'im Faradh'im work with sunlight by day-no need for this by night, not with all the clouds and the moons rising so short a time." He kicked one booted foot into the snow. "But there's sun over Rezeld today." work with sunlight by day-no need for this by night, not with all the clouds and the moons rising so short a time." He kicked one booted foot into the snow. "But there's sun over Rezeld today."

"It's impossible. They couldn't hide a whole army-"

"Then perhaps you were only dreaming last night," Ostvel growled, knowing very well Donato had not. "How do we know what they can and can't do? Andry himself admits that Lady Merisel didn't tell everything she knew in the scrolls. The point is, we've got to get word to Rohan. From Rezeld to Dragon's Rest-"

Donato interrupted. "Pol is his own Sunrunner. He's at Stronghold. There's n.o.body at Dragon's Rest to warn."

"They'll have to send a messenger through the mountains, then. And a small troop with him to see that the news gets there. Contact Sioned at once."

While Donato obeyed, Ostvel paced. He could not imagine life without faradh'im, faradh'im, but in the end they were useless against those who understood their limitations. but in the end they were useless against those who understood their limitations.

Donato was pale and drawn by the time he returned from Stronghold. But he was also angry. "I couldn't find her. Andry was the one who answered. He said she's otherwise occupied. But I told him everything." His lips twisted. "He a.s.sured me he'll inform Sioned-but I know he didn't believe a word."

Ostvel nodded slowly. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Donato was one of the old guard, like Morwenna, who had chosen service elsewhere rather than continue residence at G.o.ddess Keep and watch faradhi faradhi traditions shatter. It was no secret that Andry wanted his own representatives at all courts. Several years ago he'd sent a young woman to be Donato's second; though pleasant in her person and quite skilled, she was so obviously loyal to Andry that Ostvel had wasted no time in packing her back to G.o.ddess Keep with a polite but firm refusal of the offer. The episode had insulted Donato, irritated Ostvel, mortified the rejected Sunrunner, and infuriated Andry. traditions shatter. It was no secret that Andry wanted his own representatives at all courts. Several years ago he'd sent a young woman to be Donato's second; though pleasant in her person and quite skilled, she was so obviously loyal to Andry that Ostvel had wasted no time in packing her back to G.o.ddess Keep with a polite but firm refusal of the offer. The episode had insulted Donato, irritated Ostvel, mortified the rejected Sunrunner, and infuriated Andry.

"I saw what I saw," Donato repeated stubbornly.

"Perhaps he did did believe you, and chose not to indicate it," Ostvel mused. believe you, and chose not to indicate it," Ostvel mused.

Donato's jaw dropped slightly. "Wherever else his ambitions might lead him, he could hardly want the destruction of Dragon's Rest!"

Ostvel only grunted.

The Sunrunner thumbed one of his rings nervously. "Are you going to tell me about these? Why they hurt?"

"Not now. But thank the G.o.ddess for it, my old friend," he said more gently, trying to ease Donato's eventual shock when he learned he, too, had diarmadhi diarmadhi blood. blood.

After helping Donato onto his pony, he mounted and they rode down the mountain, back into the fog that still blanketed Castle Crag. He saw the faradhi faradhi to his chambers for a well-earned rest, then climbed up to the oratory and stared out at the gray mist. Eventually he almost smiled. Sorcery might have disguised whatever was happening or had happened at Rezeld, but Ostvel would need no magic to hide what he was about to do. to his chambers for a well-earned rest, then climbed up to the oratory and stared out at the gray mist. Eventually he almost smiled. Sorcery might have disguised whatever was happening or had happened at Rezeld, but Ostvel would need no magic to hide what he was about to do.

Only a short while later he stood beside Dannar's cradle, watching the boy sleep. He stroked one finger lightly over bright red hair, remembering when Riyan had been this small, this defenseless. His paternal reverie was broken by a smile as Dannar's sleeping face screwed up in a terrible grimace.

"Ah, now, none of that, my lad," he whispered. "You must be very good while I'm gone, and let people sleep nights."

The mere sound of his voice settled the child, and a great yawn was followed by a drowsy mumble. Ostvel tugged unnecessarily at the blanket-a gift from Rohan and Sioned, woven in Desert blue and Princemarch's violet to signify his relations.h.i.+p to both, with a touch of Kierstian scarlet around the edges to honor Alasen. So much royal heritage wrapped around so small a child. . . . He smiled again. Camigwen had always accused him of being a perfect shatter-sh.e.l.l around babies.

A soft voice behind him made him turn. "Everything's ready."

"Thank you." He did not need to ask if Alasen had accomplished it all in secret. "If anyone asks-"

"Donato is indisposed and you're out checking the herds again after the winter rains," she finished for him.

They left the nursery and went to their own rooms. Donato and two male guards waited there, dressed warmly and carrying small satchels. Ostvel accepted his own pack from Alasen, then turned to his escort.

"I trust you or you wouldn't be here," he said simply. The guards gave him brief, proud nods. He led them through the anteroom to the bedchamber. "My lady?" he asked. "Will you do the honors?"

Alasen walked unerringly to the fireplace, touched a carving in the form of a star, and stepped aside as a narrow section of stone slid soundlessly back, revealing a dark pa.s.sageway. "This leads to Prince Pol's rooms," she informed the dumbstruck guards. "And thence down about a million stairs to the river. I hope you're in good shape," she added wryly. "Remember to douse the candles before you emerge from the pa.s.sage, and don't use any light in the boat. And-" She faltered slightly. "And take good care of my lord."

"With our lives, my lady," one of them said, and followed Donato through the opening, each carrying a lighted candle. The second man hung back, tactfully studying a tapestry as Alasen turned to Ostvel.

"I'd come with you, but you know how I feel about crossing water," she told him.

He framed her face in his hands. "I wish you'd reconsider about having Sioned or Riyan contact you with news Donato will send them."

She shook her head. "They'll have enough to worry about without adding me to the list. I'll be fine."

He didn't press the point. Leaning down to brush his lips against hers, he was startled when she flung her arms around his neck and clung to him.

"Be careful." Then she let him go as abruptly as she had embraced him. "Hurry."

A few moments later, holding a candle high as he negotiated the narrow pa.s.sage, he heard the whisper of stone sliding shut behind him. He was gambling that four men could get to Dragon's Rest in the same time an army could march there from Rezeld. The swift-flowing Faolain would take them to a landing where they would commandeer horses. At his age he was not looking forward to a forced ride, but with a little luck they'd make it in time.

As for the reason he was doing this crazy thing-he pushed hard on the star carved into the wood paneling of Pol's bedchamber and led the way through the opening. He supposed it was the habit of half a lifetime to look after his princes' interests. There was no one at Dragon's Rest of sufficient authority to counter Lord Morlen, so it was his duty as regent in Pol's absence to forbid this unlawful undertaking. Flimsy, Flimsy, he thought; he thought; nicely attentive to Rohan's law, but no man who raises an army against his prince is going to be bothered by a little thing like legality. Besides, you've never commanded a defensive action in your life, unless you count Stronghold in 704 when the Merida attacked, and even then it was Maeta and Myrdal who ran things. nicely attentive to Rohan's law, but no man who raises an army against his prince is going to be bothered by a little thing like legality. Besides, you've never commanded a defensive action in your life, unless you count Stronghold in 704 when the Merida attacked, and even then it was Maeta and Myrdal who ran things.

He called a stop halfway down the interminable stairs so the four of them could rest their legs before knees turned to mush. During the brief respite, he continued examining his motives. There was no Sunrunner at Dragon's Rest to receive Pol's orders at a distance. It was essential that Donato be there. But this excuse held up only little better than the other. If Andry was prompt about relaying Donato's message, even if he didn't believe it, then someone would arrive at the palace about the same time as Ostvel.

If Andry told Rohan and Sioned. Not Andry told Rohan and Sioned. Not when. when.

His real reason was that of the few people he trusted absolutely, Andry was not among them. Rationally, he knew there could be no motive for Andry to conceal what was going on, but trust was not a thing rationally arrived at. Ostvel wanted to be be at Dragon's Rest, to warn, to lead if necessary, to defend his princes as he had done for nearly thirty years. at Dragon's Rest, to warn, to lead if necessary, to defend his princes as he had done for nearly thirty years.

Chapter Eighteen.

Stronghold: 32 Spring.

Stifling a yawn, Rohan slid his arms into the s.h.i.+rt his squire held out for him. Sioned was seated at her dressing table mirror, sunlight bathing her in gold as she braided her hair. A morning like any other, except for her silence. He nodded permission for Arlis to retire, guessing that his wife desired privacy. He was right; she waited only until the door closed before speaking.

"I suppose that girl is going along."

"I suppose so."

Last night Pol had proposed an expedition to Rivenrock Canyon to view the dragon caves. Rialt had gone ahead early with a dozen servants and the open-sided pavilion where the party would be served a simple meal before a leisurely ride back in time for dinner. The ride was a pleasant day's diversion and, considering the discussions awaiting him, Rohan almost wished he had been asked to be diverted.

"It'd be nice to go with them," he went on. "But we do pretty much as we please the rest of the time, and pay for it on days like this."

"Who's first today, Miyon or Lord Barig?"

"Which one would you prefer to avoid?"

"Have I a choice?" She gave him a sour smile.

"Both breathlessly await our summons." He fastened the cuffs of his s.h.i.+rt and bent over to peer at his hair in her mirror. "You know, I never see the gray except when Pol's here."

"Speaking of whom. . . ." She gave him frown for frown in the mirror. "You've been putting me off for four days and-"

"Sioned, I can't fix my mind either on Miyon's schemes or Barig's arguments if I'm distracted by what's going on with Pol."

"You wouldn't have sent Arlis out if you weren't ready to discuss it. And discuss it we will." She spun around on the cus.h.i.+oned stool. "Miyon's never been able to best us any other way, so now he's resorted to low cunning. Dangling this girl in front of Pol-"

"Don't you think Pol knows that? I told told you, Sionell made it clear to me that he's perfectly aware of why Meiglan is here." you, Sionell made it clear to me that he's perfectly aware of why Meiglan is here."

"Then why is he falling headlong into the trap? And in case you hadn't noticed, he's not a boy. He's a man. You'd better hope he thinks with what's between his ears instead of what's between his legs!"

Rohan told himself to be patient. "So why don't you talk to him about it?"

"I did," she replied shortly and turned to the mirror again, picking through a jewel case with quick, angry fingers. "Yesterday."

"What did he say?"

Her voice dripped sarcasm. "That it's only good manners to be polite to someone so obviously shy and unused to company. That he wants to learn more about her music. That he admires her looks. That I can't seriously be suggesting, Mother, that he should snub her because of who her father is." Sioned snapped the case shut. "That I ought to mind my my business, not his!" business, not his!"

"Pol never said that."

"He implied it!"

Rohan put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing the tense muscles. "My love, you've been jumpy ever since we learned who this Ruval really is. I think you're being a little too sensitive."

"Don't patronize me," she warned. "Ruval is something else you won't talk to me about, and don't think I don't know why." She glared at him in the mirror. "Jumpy, am I? Sensitive? Pol's behaving as if he's about to Choose an enemy's b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter, Ianthe's sons have suddenly appeared out of nowhere to challenge his right to Princemarch-with sorcery involved-and I can't even express what I feel in decent privacy to my own husband?"

"Sioned!" He had rarely seen her so upset. "There are threats here, I'll admit, but Pol's not a child. And he's not fool enough to take Meiglan as his wife!"

"Do you believe that?" she demanded. "Do you? If you answer yes, you're a liar."

"You and I made a promise to tell each other the truth. Or at least never to lie, which doesn't quite amount to the same thing, as you've demonstrated on several occasions. So-yes, the prospect of a Cunaxan as the mother of my grandchildren revolts me. But until Ruval comes out from whatever rock he's hiding under and Pol comes to his own conclusions about Meiglan, there's not a h.e.l.l of a lot I can do, is there?"

Sioned relented. Placing her hands on his where they rested on her shoulders, she said, "I've been frightened before, G.o.ddess knows. Pol's been in danger before, his rights in doubt. But-"

"But you and I were always acting on his behalf. Protecting him, making the decisions for him. This time he's on his own. We have to trust him, Sioned-and trust in the training we gave him."

"Yes," she replied slowly. "He's not a child. But there's an innocence about him, Rohan. I can't quite explain it. A quality of being . . . untouched somehow, even though he's a grown man and a ruling prince-and no stranger to women."

"Unlike his extremely backward father," Rohan murmured, smiling a little.

"Oh? I heard about when you were eighteen and had been in your first battle and were quite full of yourself."

"Myrdal told on me, I suppose. Did she also mention I was so full of victory wine that I remember almost nothing of that whole night?"

"Almost?" She arched a brow.

"Well. . . . Enough to know what I wanted when I finally met you."

"Exactly. And Pol knows enough to know what he he wants from this girl." wants from this girl."

"She has a name, you know."

"Don't divert me from the issue," Sioned told him severely.

"Very well." He pulled a chair into the sun and sat down; since they were obviously in for a long discussion, he decided he might as well be comfortable. "Let's talk about trusting Pol's wits and judgment. Do you or don't you?"

"In everything else, yes! He's proved himself as a prince and as a man-"

"Has he? I wonder."

"And what is that that supposed to mean?" supposed to mean?"

Rohan propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, lacing his fingers together. The great Desert topaz surrounded by emeralds shone on his hand. "I worried sometimes that my son would come to resent me the way I resented my own father. Oh, I loved Zehava and admired him deeply, for all that we were nothing alike. But by the time I was twenty or so I was frantic to rule a princedom I thought I understood better than he did." He smiled wryly. "A fine piece of adolescent conceit, you'll agree."

"Pol doesn't feel that way at all, Rohan."

"No. We're lucky that way. He has his own princedom to govern, so he doesn't have to covet mine in order to prove his talents. He's not even sure he wants wants to be High Prince-he's perfectly willing to let me wrestle with that for the next fifty years or so. So there's no jealousy or rivalry between us." to be High Prince-he's perfectly willing to let me wrestle with that for the next fifty years or so. So there's no jealousy or rivalry between us."

"Of course not. But I don't understand-"

"Let me finish. When I put Princemarch in his name instead of mine it wasn't only because he has blood-right to it, while my claim was only spoils of war. I wanted him to grow up thinking of Princemarch as his, his, to know that he would rule it long before he gets the Desert as well. By now he has every confidence in himself as a prince and a man. to know that he would rule it long before he gets the Desert as well. By now he has every confidence in himself as a prince and a man.

"But, you see, he never really had to work work for it. He's never been given things outright-he had to earn his way from squire to knighthood, and, G.o.ddess know, Urival and Morwenna were strict enough with for it. He's never been given things outright-he had to earn his way from squire to knighthood, and, G.o.ddess know, Urival and Morwenna were strict enough with faradhi faradhi training. You and Ostvel and I put him through an equally tough school when it came to governing. But he's never fought for and won anything, either. The way I had to fight Roelstra that summer to win my own respect as a prince-and to win you." training. You and Ostvel and I put him through an equally tough school when it came to governing. But he's never fought for and won anything, either. The way I had to fight Roelstra that summer to win my own respect as a prince-and to win you."

Sioned tapped her nails on the dressing table. "And Pol hasn't done that yet. Rohan-do you think he needs to?"