Stronghold Page 13

  To his relief, Kierun was attending Meiglan in her solar, helping move furniture. Pol gestured the boy and Thanys out of the room and went to take his wife in his arms.

  “I have to go to Radzyn right away,” he began, and told her why. Her velvet dark eyes, so astonishing a contrast to her pale golden hair and skin, filled with tears at hearing of Tobin’s illness. “You’ll be regent in my absence, but don’t work too hard. Dragon’s Rest runs itself.”

  “Yes, Pol. Don’t worry.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “I’ll manage on my own. I promise.”

  They had not been separated since the day she’d first ridden into Stronghold. He took her with him on all his progresses through his lands, on visits to other courts; he could not conceive of not having her beside him. “I’ll miss you, Meggie.”

  “And I you, my lord.” She held tight to him, trembling for an instant, then pulled away. “I don’t want you to go, but I feel you must hurry. Please tell Princess Tobin I think of her.”

  “I will.” Tracing the sweet curve of her cheek with one finger, he said, “I don’t like leaving—but with Gemma and Lisiel and Sioneva here you won’t be too lonely, I hope.”

  “Of course I won’t.”

  He smiled and lifted her off her feet to kiss her again, his hands circling her tiny waist. “Have a care to yourself, my love.”

  Meiglan kept her feet until he went into the next room to speak with Kierun, then sank into a chair with a shudder. Leaving her, he was leaving her all alone here—but he would not be doing so if he did not believe that she was capable—but she had never been apart from him, never—

  “Kierun, I’m taking Dannar with me to Radzyn. You’re staying here for a very important reason. I depend on you to see to her grace’s comfort and safety—and to look after the princesses.”

  The whole of Dragon’s Rest to supervise—any problems that came up in Pol’s absence—and what if something happened to do with all Princemarch? He would be far away and she would be alone—

  “You’ll be guarding that which I hold most dear—even if Jihan is an impossible pest at times.”

  “Yes, my lord—I mean, no, my lord—”

  Pol laughed. “I understand, Kierun. Now, if you would, please go find the princesses so I can bid them good-bye.”

  She heard his footsteps fade, panic racing and then slowing her heart. She must show everyone the face she had just shown him—calm, dutiful, competent. It was true that Gemma and Lisiel were here to guide her, but she had been princess here for nine years and she could never admit to them that she was not a princess in the way they were. She should not be so frightened of being without Pol. It was childish and absurd and she loathed herself for it.

  She forced herself to rise and go downstairs. Kierun, solemn with his new responsibility, escorted Jihan and Rislyn to her side. Pol rode out of the stableyard with Dannar beside him, and cantered to the front of the Princes Hall where his ladies waited.

  For once, Jihan behaved herself. She adored her Aunt Tobin and was deeply upset by news of her illness. Rislyn was pale and withdrawn. They, too, had never been separated from their father. Meiglan stood dry-eyed and silent as Pol lifted each little girl in turn up to be kissed. All at once she ran toward him and clung to his hand. The great amethyst and topaz ring felt very hard and cold on his finger. He leaned down and kissed her upturned brow.

  “I’ll be home sooner than you think, sweet Meggie,” he assured her. And rode away.

  Chapter Six

  Rohan and Sioned made the trip from Stronghold to Radzyn in a little over one day, and nearly killed their horses doing it. With them rode two guards and Rohan’s senior squire, Daniv. Isriam had been left behind at Stronghold.

  Sioned’s nephew Daniv was Kostas’ son and heir. A tall, well-built boy of sixteen, his long-lidded eyes were the deep turquoise of a summer dawn, almost a perfect match to the color of his father’s banner, and their effect was even more striking in combination with his dark hair and tanned skin. He had strong, rugged good looks that no one ever mentioned were reminiscent of his grandsire Roelstra in his youth.

  As the last dunes fell away behind them in the afternoon sun, Daniv said what they were all thinking: it was impossible to believe there was anything amiss here. Blooded horses, the pride and profit of Chay’s family for generations, cropped what was left of the summer grass. Geldings meandered placidly among the well-grown colts and fillies racing around their mothers, while dozens of mares heavy with foal plodded the sun-baked paths back to the stables. The paddocks and barns were scrupulously cared for, as were the buildings of the small port beyond the keep. Ships at anchor bobbed on the waves, sails furled in winter harborage after the last voyage of the season laden with silks from Dorval or foodstuffs and other goods from far princedoms.

  The castle itself was an awesome sight. Eight towers stood dignified sentry between pastures and sea cliffs, lit from the west with a rosy-gold light that gentled the rough-hewn stone. In appearance and activity Radzyn was as it had always been: strong, prosperous, secure in its wealth and power. It was impossible to believe that its mistress might be dying.

  The red-and-white pennant flew from the main tower, soon to be joined by Rohan’s crowned golden dragon. Chay’s was an honor shared only by Ostvel in all the princedoms: the right to display a symbol just as princes did on their banners. Castle Crag enjoyed the distinction as the former seat of Princemarch and at Rohan’s pleasure, but it had been his first pleasure to give Radzyn a silver sword on a red field, bound in Desert blue. It signified that the Lord of Radzyn Keep was also Battle Commander of the Desert. The pennant rippled on a cooling ocean breeze, as if the sword upon it thrust against any and all enemies, reminding those who saw it that while Rohan believed in the rule of law, there was yet a powerful sword at his command.

  The gates opened for them, and it suddenly became obvious that things at Radzyn were very wrong. At any other time the High Prince and High Princess rode in, the courtyard would have been packed with people come from their duties to cheer an enthusiastic greeting. Cool wine would be offered and friendly banter exchanged between highborns and servants; Stronghold guards would be greeted with laughing insults by those of Radzyn while children of all stations clamored for attention; mothers would show off new babies and grooms the best foals—and Chay and Tobin would arrive at last into the chaos, good-naturedly berating their people for making such a fuss over such unimportant guests.

  This time it was different. The courtyard was nearly empty. Grooms took charge of the winded horses quietly, eyes lowered as they murmured greetings. There was no bustle of welcome, no crowd glad to see them, no laughter and no joy. And only Maarken came to meet them, his handsome face strained and afraid.

  “Thank the Goddess you’re here,” he said, kissing Sioned and grasping Rohan’s arm tightly. “It’s been a nightmare.”

  “Is she any better?” Rohan took the steps two at a time; only his weariness after the long, hard ride prevented him from making it three.

  “The same. She woke up for a few moments last night, but . . . .”

  Nothing more was said. They hurried through the high-ceilinged foyer and turned for the stairs leading to the family’s tower. Daniv could barely keep up with them. Sioned paused to send him to the suite kept for her and Rohan, finishing the order just as Hollis called out from above.

  “Maarken!”

  They raced up the remaining stairs and arrived at the door to Chay and Tobin’s suite. Hollis stood there, her dark-gold hair streaming around her as if she hadn’t had time or thought to tend it in two days. She had no greeting beyond a glance for Rohan and Sioned as she clasped her husband’s hands.

  “She’s awake now, she recognizes us, I know she does! But she can’t move her right arm or leg, and she’s so weak she can barely move the left.” Hollis turned to Sioned. “The physician from Radzyn port feels as helpless as I do. Please tell me you’ll be able to do something for her.”

  Sioned ha
d begun to get an idea of what was wrong with Tobin, but would say nothing until she saw her. She accompanied Rohan into the anteroom after a soothing word for Hollis. The bedchamber doorway was abruptly filled with Chay’s tall form. He looked a hundred years old. There was an emotional battle raging across his face more rending than any he had ever fought in the field—terror for his wife, relief that she was awake, helpless agony at her illness, gratitude that Rohan and Sioned had come so swiftly. Rohan put an arm around him and for an instant he sagged against his brother-by-marriage’s slight frame. Then he led them into the large, airy room.

  Tobin lay in bed, propped up by pillows. Her long hair, tenderly cared for, flowed in a single braid all the way to her hip. It shone black and silver like night sky plaited with moonlight. She might have just wakened from an afternoon nap, but for the tragic alteration in her face.

  Sioned allowed none of her feelings to disturb her expression at the sight of the slurred features. She was sure now what had happened. The left side of Tobin’s face was the same as always, but the right half dragged down at eyelid, mouth, and cheek. It was as if someone had copied her delicate face in soft clay, then passed a hand over one side to blur the fineness. Sioned touched Rohan’s arm, a warning to hide his shock, and went forward to the bed.

  Tobin’s eyes were open, the left fully and the right only halfway. Chay caught his breath as her left hand raised slightly, thin and bony. Sioned lifted the hand to her cheek. The tears gathering at the corner of the drooping right lid nearly shattered her composure. Black eyes fixed on her for a moment, then flickered to where Chay and Rohan stood. Sioned glanced around. A husband’s mute agony, a brother’s stricken silence; and behind them Maarken and Hollis close together, equally quiet. It was as if Tobin’s enforced silence held them, too, in thrall.

  Sioned broke it with deliberate harshness. “What can you be thinking of, all of you? Maarken, Hollis, I forgive Chay for not realizing, but you two should have known!” She stripped off her riding gloves and threw them onto the bedside table. “Well? What are you waiting for? Maarken, come here at once and put a chair next to the window. Rohan, take the blanket. Chay, carry her. Don’t stand there like hothouse plants! Get moving!”

  If she ordered them like servants, they were even more surprised at the content of those orders—and hurried to do as bidden. But Tobin understood, and as Chay lifted her in strong arms, more tears slipped out, the desolation gone from her eyes.

  Placed gently in the chair with a blanket across her knees, Tobin gave a long sigh as afternoon sun flowed over her face and body. Sioned knelt beside her, taking her left hand again. “Now,” she murmured, gazing up into the beautiful eyes.

  Colors merged, woven into the sunlight. Sioned—oh, thank you! I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t tell Chay to put me in the sun—

  You’re going to get well. I give you my word. She smiled and the corner of Tobin’s mouth lifted in half of her usual warm, brilliant smile. Tell me what happened, if you remember.

  I was out by the paddocks looking over the new foals. Suddenly I fell—I couldn’t break my fall. Nothing would work! I tried to cry out, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even reach the sunlight—Sioned, I lay there forever, trapped inside my body—

  You’re a Sunrunner. You’re not trapped anymore.

  I was so frightened—it was like being smothered and bound and I was so helpless—they finally found me and carried me up here. At first I couldn’t feel anything, but feeling has come back to my left side. I think I could move my hand and my leg if I tried hard enough—

  Not yet. Give it time. You only just woke up.

  Tobin’s colors—rich amber and sapphire and amethyst—trembled with the trembling of her body. Then she gave a deep sigh and relaxed. I can’t seem to get my arm to do much, she told Sioned, sounding almost like her old self. But I suppose that will come back in time, she added, more confident now that she was no longer a prisoner in her own mind. I can’t talk, though, and it hurts to try. And my right side is gone. I can’t feel it and I can’t move anything.

  I’m betting that feeling will come back—and you know I never make a wager I can’t win. It’ll take a while, but you’ll be all right, Tobin. I know what this is. You’re going to recover. I promise.

  “Sioned?” Rohan’s voice: hushed, not daring to hope. Chay’s face was as pale as Tobin’s. Both men appeared stunned, uncomprehending. But Maarken and Hollis understood.

  “Forgive me, Mother,” Maarken whispered. “I didn’t think.”

  “She needed the sunlight,” Hollis said. “Just sunlight . . . .”

  Sioned!

  What is it, Tobin? Are you in pain?

  Tell Chay—tell him I love him. It’s all I could think about while I was helpless—

  Sioned unlaced the sunlight, pressed Tobin’s hand, and looked anywhere but at Chay. “She wants you to know—how much she loves you.”

  “Tobin—” He knelt and buried his face in her lap. Her left hand fell gently on his gray hair.

  • • •

  A little while later they gathered in the antechamber, all eyes on Sioned. She sipped wine to ease her dry throat, and held Chay’s haggard gaze with her own as she spoke, willing him to believe her.

  “What I think happened is this. A part of her brain was affected by a seizure that impaired the right side of her body. If it had been her left, she wouldn’t be able to use sunlight.”

  “Why? And where did you learn this?” Maarken asked.

  “You didn’t do as much medicine at Goddess Keep as most of us,” Hollis said slowly. “I remember reading about such things. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have recognized it earlier. I’m sorry, Chay.”

  He shook his head. “No need, daughter. Tell me what it is.”

  Hollis glanced at Sioned, who nodded for her to continue. “Some think a poison in the blood affects only the brain. Others think the brain just wears out. It may run in families—and then again, it may not. There’s evidence that very fat people have seizures like this more often than thin people do. Obviously that doesn’t apply to Tobin, and I don’t have any idea why this happened to her. But unless it kills within the first day, or unless more occur after the first, the victims often recover most of their strength.”

  “And Tobin’s the strongest woman I know,” Sioned finished. Sipping again from her goblet, she went on, “It happened to a Sunrunner at Goddess Keep when I was a girl. He was extremely gifted, but after this seizure, he was helpless. He couldn’t even feel colors, let alone use light. It was horrible. A friend of mine told me he begged her to help him die.” She paused thoughtfully. “It was the left side of his body that was affected.”

  “But how does that—” Rohan began.

  She interrupted him. “Andrade was of the opinion that it was neither poison nor fatigue, but a kind of lightning flash across the brain. She’d seen it before in another Sunrunner—the right side was useless, but she could still function as a Sunrunner. Eventually she recovered completely. So you mustn’t worry, Chay. Tobin’s going to be all right.”

  “What about the man you knew?” Maarken asked.

  She answered reluctantly, “He died. But it wasn’t the seizure that killed him. He got back the use of his hand and arm, and was learning to speak more clearly and even walk a little. But the gifts were gone. One day he simply turned his face to the wall.”

  Chay raked his fingers back through thick hair. “So you’re saying that as long as Tobin can still use sunlight, there’s a chance she might—”

  “‘Might’? ‘Chance’?” Rohan snorted and grinned. Sioned hoped only she could tell how hard he was trying to hide his own fear. “Have you lost what pitiful wits you ever had? Chay, that she-dragon you were fool enough to marry is much too ornery to die so tamely. Do you think anything could get the best of her? I never heard such nonsense in my life. Now, go get some rest. Hollis, find him a nice, quiet bed somewhere. If you have to, weave him to sleep.” Chay opened his mouth to prote
st and Rohan lifted a warning finger. “Don’t force me to make it an order—because I will and you know it.”

  A tiny smile touched the older man’s face. “Tyrant.”

  “Damned right I am. Maarken, see to your father’s comfort. Or do I have to order you, too?”

  Between them, Hollis and Maarken coaxed Chay from the room. His audience gone, Rohan wilted back in his chair. “Our grandfather died of this, Sioned. Did you tell Chay the truth?”

  “Yes. It won’t be easy, and it may take her until winter’s end just to be able to speak again. But if there are no more seizures, she’ll recover. That’s the truth as far as I understand this sickness, Rohan. Feylin is the better physician—perhaps we’d better call her to Radzyn—”

  He shook his head. “If Tobin doesn’t improve, perhaps then. But I know my sister.” He drained his winecup and got to his feet. “I’ll go sit with her for a while.”

  “Oh, no you won’t,” she told him. “Betheyn is there, and she’ll send for us if we’re needed. But we won’t be. Tobin must rest—and so must you.”

  “That sounds like an order. High Princess,” he said as she rose and prodded him down the hall to their own chambers. “Have I ever told you how much I loathe managing females?”

  “Repeatedly, but you should have thought of that before you were fool enough to marry me. Sleep off the journey and that wine, and maybe by this evening you’ll be fit to talk to again. Imagine, ordering Chay around like that! You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “I am,” he murmured as he slid onto the embroidered quilt. “But not for the reason you think.” He caught her hand between his own. “I feel guilty because I’m so glad it’s not you lying there helpless.”

  Sioned gazed down into blue eyes dimmed with weariness and emotion. Twenty years ago, even ten, he and she could have ridden from Stronghold, stayed up half the night drinking, making love, or both, and been fresh as ever the next day. We are growing old, my love, she thought. Tobin’s illness is a hard reminder of that, isn’t it? But I would rather grow old with you than be young again with anyone else.