Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince Page 15

  Rohan was far too busy to worry about Sioned. This was just as well; Sioned worried enough for both of them. The near disaster of the moonrunning had shaken her badly. She had lost confidence in her abilities as a faradhi, and if she was to be of any use to Rohan in that capacity she would have to regain her faith in her own powers. To this end she asked his permission to study in Stronghold’s small but impressive library. The vast majority of the books had been collected by the young prince himself, and the breadth of his interests astounded Sioned. History, geography, agriculture, geology, metallurgy, botany, animal husbandry—he owned at least three and often a dozen volumes concerning each, and on many other subjects besides. Sioned spent a long time going through the collection, gaining a feel for the tenor of his mind. But after satisfying herself that he had more formal education than any prince had ever had before him, she ignored the books and used the library instead as a private study. Seated with Urival at Rohan’s long fruitwood desk, she relentlessly questioned, practiced, and reviewed with the older Sunrunner those things she had learned at Goddess Keep. Apart from his position as Andrade’s chief steward, he was a teacher of note and had more than earned his nine rings. He understood her need. He took Sioned through the most basic lessons, guiding her, refining her technique, showing her subtle variations that most faradh’im were not taught until they wore at least seven rings.

  She called Fire, lighting candle after candle until the study was ablaze, then snuffed the wicks out with a single thought. She wove her own complex pattern of colors into the sunlight streaming through the open windows, called Air to cool the room during hot afternoons. She reviewed everything taught her over several years of training until she had once again reached the third ring, the level of apprentice Sunrunner. But the next step, a Fire-conjure, proved difficult. The only vision she could produce in the candleflame was Rohan’s face. Urival made no comment on her choice of subject that was not really a choice, and urged her on to the next level.

  She rode the sunlight as far as her childhood home of River Run and returned with perfect control. The same night she wove the thin moonlight into a path leading as far as Goddess Keep, and when she came back she found Urival looking at her with a sour smile.

  “I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” he grumbled. “How many times do I have to tell you that you weren’t to blame for what happened to Princess Tobin? Everybody knows that except you.”

  “I have to be sure of myself,” she replied stubbornly. “I have to know exactly what I’m doing.”

  He leaned back in his chair, light from a single candle flickering over his craggy face with its large, beautiful, golden-brown eyes. “Why don’t you stay on at Goddess Keep if Sunrunner’s rings are what you truly want? You’ve always been mind-hungry, Sioned, ever since you first came to us. What are you after?”

  “If I decide to marry Rohan, I won’t bring him land or gold or anything else a prince usually marries for. His vassals will be unhappy about that. I have to show them I’m worth their trust and their loyalty. And if it happens that I don’t marry him, then I’ll have to know how to practice my craft at another court.” She shrugged. “I don’t belong at Goddess Keep anymore, Urival.”

  “So what you’re really after is a seventh ring, and an eighth.”

  “Yes. Will you teach me?”

  He spread his hands flat on the table. All but his left ring-finger wore gold or silver, most of the circles set with tiny gemstones.

  “You want dangerous things. Tell me why—and no more stories about marriage, either. You may be able to fool Cami and Ostvel, and perhaps even Andrade, with this nonsense about not being sure. But not me.”

  Sioned took a long time about replying. “When I first came to Goddess Keep, all that mattered was that I wasn’t thought of as a freak, or fey, or an outsider in what should have been my own home. My brother’s wife made me feel that way, and her servants followed her example. I don’t blame her for thinking as she did, Urival. To her, I was strange. And through her I was sent where I belonged. Where I could learn. Once I found out what I could become if I worked hard enough, the thought of not learning all I could hurt more than the lessons ever could.”

  “So you want your rings for yourself alone?”

  “Not completely. For myself, and for Rohan. It’s not just that I have to make up for my lack of lands and wealth. I have to protect him, and all the Desert. I owe it to his people if he takes me to wife.”

  Urival said nothing for some moments. Then, quietly, he told her, “I will teach you nothing more.”

  Sioned jumped up from her chair and cried out, “But why? What have I done wrong?”

  “You want your rings for the wrong reasons. Had you considered that a faradhi who is also a princess is another kind of freak, Sioned? Do you think more rings will give you power enough to ignore those who, like your brother’s wife, will think you strange—even dangerous? Peace between the princedoms depends on the balance of power between rulers. The faradh’im thread that web of power together, hold it steady.”

  “Andrade’s web!” she said furiously. “Andrade, who ordered me to leave Goddess Keep and be Rohan’s wife!”

  “Andrade,” he agreed calmly, “whose reasons are many and perhaps not the same as yours.”

  “Then what does she want? Explain it to me!”

  He got to his feet. There was pity in his eyes but his voice was cold as he said, “Do not order me, Sunrunner. You are not a ruling princess yet.”

  She watched him go, rigid with fury. What did they want from her? Rohan had commanded her to play a role that hurt her; his cruel remark about her training could still make her flinch, for it implied a lack of trust in the only advantage she could bring him as his wife. Andrade was set on the marriage for reasons she did not trust Sioned to know. Urival refused to teach her things he did not trust her to use wisely. None of them believed in her except insofar as she could be useful to them.

  She ran down the hallways to Urival’s chamber and demanded to be let in. Urival sat by the windows, gazing at her with quiet compassion. All her anger drained away, and she whispered his name, humiliated when her voice trembled with threatening tears.

  “Ah, Sioned,” he murmured, and held open his arms to her. She knelt beside him and buried her face against his knee, shaking. Urival smoothed her hair, saying nothing until she was calm again and lifted her face to his. “Do you understand now? Do you see how difficult it will be for you?”

  “I—I see Andrade on one side, and the faradhi traditions of the past. And Rohan is on the other, with my future and my heart. But if she doesn’t want me to use my gifts on his behalf, why did she command me to come here and be his wife? I don’t understand any of this, Urival! Help me!”

  “I think she has faith that you’ll use your gifts wisely, and for everyone’s good—not just Rohan’s.”

  “But they’ll both use me. I’m not a rope, tied one end to an ox and the other to a stallion, trying to make them pull in harness together!”

  “I can guess who you cast in the role of ox,” he said, and she couldn’t hold back a smile. “There, that’s better,” he approved. “I’ll admit I’ve likened our dear Lady to less flattering animals, myself. Sioned, I’d rather see you as leading both those stubborn beasts along, your abilities as the link between them. They can only use you if you allow it, child. You’re free to choose.”

  “Am I? I was born with the faradhi talents, and what I saw in the Fire gave me no choice at all.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “You should be. Now go to bed and sleep, and tomorrow night I’ll teach you what you want to know.”

  She gave a start. “But—you said—”

  “Yes, and I made you think about a few things, didn’t I?” Sioned got to her feet. “You’re a crafty, stubborn old beast yourself, Urival. Why do we all let you get away with it?”

  “Goddess blessing,” he said, smiling. “Off you go now, princ
ess.”

  She stared at him as he gave her the title, the first person ever to do so. He winked at her and made a shooing motion with his hands.

  “You will be, you know. You’d be utterly wasted as anything else.”

  As the days were measured off before the Hatching Hunt, neither Sioned nor Urival was much in evidence around Stronghold. Rohan knew it must be wrong to be so grateful she was busy elsewhere, but in truth he had too much to do to concern himself with her. But each night when he slid into bed he dreamed of her beside him, and each morning when the sun touched his face he thought, half-waking, that it was the caress of her lips. His occasional glimpses of her were always a shock; he had to remind himself that he could not yet call out to her, smile, go to her for a touch or a kiss, behave as if they belonged to each other. He could not even be caught looking at her. He prided himself on control of his expression, but he knew that any glance at Sioned lasting more than an instant or two would have his feelings scrawled all over his face. Part of him resented the charade, and part of him resented that she could do this to him. Worse, she was not even aware that she could do it. She seemed as completely unaware of him as he was painfully aware of her. It was maddening—and an excellent lesson in patience.

  The vassals began to arrive. Instead of spending his days studying prior agreements, his time was taken up with maneuvering them into changes he wanted to make. He had met with all of them before, of course, but those times had seen him at his father’s side, recipient of respectful bows but no words of real substance. Now all the honors were his, and all the responsibilities. He had never realized the scope of their demands on Zehava’s time. Each manor and keep had its own problems, each lord his own ambitions. Rohan was glad of Tobin’s unobtrusive presence during some of the meetings, for her special knowledge as Lady of Radzyn Keep gave him subtle guidance regarding some of her husband’s fellow athr’im. Chay sat in at other times; as Zehava’s field commander, he had fought beside all these men and his knowledge of them was essential. Andrade never attended, but her very absence was surety that all the vassals thought of her. Rohan wondered in amazement how she did it.

  He listened dutifully to the various wants and needs presented for his consideration. He would be his vassals’ representative at the Rialla, and what he won for them there would decide their wealth or poverty in the coming three years. Their lists included everything from timber for houses and ships to Fironese crystal birthing goblets. One lord requested a score of short-bearded sheep from Gilad to improve his herds; another wanted a necklace of silver and agates—jewel of seduction—to appease his jealous wife. Rohan listened to them all without smiling or frowning; not only was this how his father had always heard their demands, but it was also good practice for his pretense of borderline imbecility at the Rialla. Some would think him too foolish to understand what they were saying; others would believe him imitating his father while thinking up ways to avoid his obligations; still more would consider him too frightened to show any expression at all. Those reactions suited Rohan perfectly . . . for now.

  Privately, for Chay’s and Tobin’s ears alone, he sometimes exploded with mirth at some of the things his vassals said they could not live without. But he knew the extent of their requests was in no way amusing; he had long, hard bargaining sessions ahead of him in Waes, and had no intention of wearing himself out now in dickering with his vassals.

  “Father always let them stew while he pretended to consider,” Tobin reminisced one evening as they sat up late over cool wine and a plate of cheese and bread. “They did most of the give and take among themselves.”

  “Zehava had an economical mind,” Chaynal added, grinning. “If two lords with adjacent holdings each wanted a new stud for his mares, he let them argue between themselves who’d get the horse and who’d get free stud service.”

  “I can’t let them do that anymore,” Rohan told them. “They don’t think I’ll get much for them this year, anyway, and that’s why their demands are so outrageous. If I go asking for a lot, they figure they might get what they really need—if the other princes are kind to the idiot child.” He grimaced. “What my vassals are offering won’t pay for a third of what they’re asking, and I’d have to make up the difference.” He took a sip of wine, then snorted with laughter. “Imagine, Lord Baisal wants enough Syrene stone to build a new keep! The giving he proposes from his holding won’t pay for the cellars!”

  “Isn’t there a Prince of Syr among Sioned’s ancestors? That might be of some help, you know,” Chay murmured wickedly, and was ignored.

  “The only thing I can do for now is listen and not make any decisions. That way there won’t be any bargains to go back on once I have what I want.”

  “Without settled agreements, they’ll get restless,” Tobin warned.

  “They’re already restless. They don’t think I have two wits to rub together. Besides, they’re going to like it even less when they learn I’m going to do away with this triennial song and dance.” He laughed as they stared at him. “Think about it for a minute. I’ll set up standard agreements with them all—a set amount of their production every year, and no more trying to wheedle extras out of their prince. They tell me what they need, and if I in my wisdom decide they really deserve it, they’ll get it. This bartering back and forth is damned undignified and I won’t stand for it.”

  He drained his winecup and held it out to Tobin. She obliged him by pouring more, but her attention was on her husband. Rohan grinned.

  “Ah, I see my chief vassal is getting nervous,” he teased.

  “Damned right,” Chay agreed. “You’re not making sense. The way things are now, when they want something special—stone for a new keep, for instance—they offer more of their own produce to pay for it.”

  “Have you ever noticed how often they fail to deliver? Father would get them what they swore they couldn’t live without, and then their mines would produce less than anticipated, or their crops would mysteriously fail, or any number of other things would happen to get them out of having to pay up. Father never worried about it because he was building a princedom and had more important things to do. But it’s my job to hold onto what he built and make it prosperous. Chay, what I’m proposing is that everyone gives me a fixed amount every year—or I’ll send my stewards to find out why. But in return I’ll give them more than Father ever did, and on a regular basis.”

  “And if you can’t give what you’ve pledged?” Tobin asked.

  “Then I’ll make up the difference from my own pocket. I want everyone to know exactly where he stands. No more of this bargaining over how many goats or carpets or winecasks.”

  “And if they can’t meet their obligations?” she went on warily.

  “Then add the delinquent amount to next year.” He rolled his glass between his hands. “I’m only interested in a steady supply of what I’ll need. Tobin, you know how often we’ve ended up with more of one particular thing than we can use, just because a vassal paid for something with it and Father couldn’t trade away the excess at the Rialla.”

  She made a face. “I remember the year we ate Lord Baisal’s blushberries in every conceivable form for an entire summer! I’ve never been able to look at one since!”

  “That’s the kind of thing I want to avoid. I decide what I need here at Stronghold per year, and arrange with the vassals to supply it. In return, I give them their basic needs that only I can arrange for them—wool, foodstuffs, building stone, things from the other princedoms. I’ll get the precise amounts of what I require, and so will they.”

  “They’re likely to get rich, you know,” Chay commented.

  “Don’t quote Father at me, that a rich man is a danger to his overlord. Father was wrong. A rich vassal is a loyal one because he needs to protect those riches, and I’m the one who has that responsibility. That’s why he keeps me in food and wine—and horses,” he added, grinning.

  “The finest horses, if you please!” Chay retorted, and laugh
ed back.

  “Oh, of course,” Rohan agreed. “Your pardon, my lord of Radzyn. But you see that my way, everybody wins. We all get what we need, and they get used to the idea that what they receive comes from me. I’m the only one who can represent them at Waes, and I’m also the only one who can protect their lands.”

  “Does the agreement stay the same during war?”

  “I’ll pay for what I take, Chay, and that’s the difference between Father and me. He was busy securing the borders and he had the right to demand what he needed to do it. But I want to build a different kind of security, and I can’t do it the way Father did.”

  “Are you calling Zehava a thief?” Chay asked, gray eyes dancing.

  “The finest kind of thief,” Rohan said, straight-faced.

  “Rohan!” Tobin’s fist connected with his arm and he winced. “Oh, stop it. You’ve long since healed—and it was the other arm, in any case. How dare you say Father stole from the vassals?”

  “Well, he did. In a good cause, naturally, but what else do you call taking without paying?”

  “He repaid them in security, as you yourself pointed out.”

  “But they were poorer in the only ways they understand: money, horses, and food.”

  She scowled at him. “So you don’t like haggling, and this is why. I think you’re going to change too much too quickly, but I have another question. What about Sioned?”

  Chay gave a soft whistle and sat back, hands lifted in surrender. “Leave me out of this one!”

  By some miracle, Rohan kept his color and met his sister’s gaze levelly. “She fits in where and if it pleases me.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You’ve avoided the subject—not to mention her!—for half the summer and I’m tired of it! The poor girl hasn’t been seen by anyone for more then a moment since she got here. She won’t talk to anybody and she looks dreadfully unhappy. She’s too fine for whatever game you’re playing, Rohan.”

  “If she’s so fine a lady, then she’s wrong for me,” he said bluntly. “I’m not looking for a victim, Tobin. I need a wife and a princess. I want what you and Chay have. How could I watch you for all these years and not want the same thing for myself? But if we can’t trust each other the way you and Chay do, then I’ll have to find someone else. She hasn’t decided about me, either, now that you mention it.”