Dragon Prince 02 - The Star Scroll (83 page)

Tobin frowned her disapproval as Rohan gestured to Tallain and yet another bottle was opened. But she realized that the liquor was unlikely to make any of them drunk. They did not drink for any of the usual reasons: to forget, to celebrate, to dull the pain. They drank to get up the courage to talk.

It was the lack of any but the most desultory conversation that concerned Tobin most. There were things that needed saying, discussing, explaining. But not even she dared introduce any dangerous topics tonight. Not yet; not until everyone stopped looking so damned grim.

She was not insensible to the undercurrents of feeling; she shared their abiding grief for Andrade, their shock over the manner of the other deaths, and most especially the lingering weariness of the Sunrunners. But without talk there could be no understanding, and thus no dealing with the horrible events of this
Rialla.

Yet there were people missing who should have been present. She beckoned Tallain over and asked him if he knew where Andry and Ostvel were. The youth shook his head and shrugged.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I left word at their tents, but. . . .”

Tobin gnawed her lower lip for a moment. “I see. Send someone to find them, please.” She went over to Riyan, who was sitting beside Meath near the tapestry partition. They made as if to stand and she waved their back down. “Don’t be silly,” she admonished with a slight smile. “Riyan, what’s happened to your father?”

“I haven’t seen him since he went to see Prince Volog, my lady.” He leaned forward and caught Sorin’s attention. “Why did your lord want to talk with my father?’

“Oh, that.” Sorin swallowed and shrugged. “He wanted to thank him again for helping Allie the other day. She was pretty shaken, you know. Ostvel got her calmed down, more or less.”

“As you know so much, can you tell me where your brother is?” Tobin asked.

“That I cannot, Mother,” he replied easily. “But quite frankly, Riyan, if I were your father I’d stay out of his way for a while. Did anybody else see Andry’s face when Ostvel threw that knife to Lyell?”

“It was mercy,” Meath said slowly. “But I’m not sure it fit in with Andry’s notion of justice.”

Tobin frowned. She agreed with the Sunrunner, but did not care to admit that she hadn’t understood the reaction of her own son. It was a bad business, this not seeing one’s sons while they were fostered. One remembered them as little boys, and the shock of meeting them again as young men was unsettling. It would be far too easy to wound their new adult pride by attempting to treat them as the children they had not been for years.

And now who was it, she asked herself wryly, who wanted to avoid something that needed talking about?

“Sorin,” she said all at once, “get me a cup of wine.” He rose to do her bidding, and she reflected that manners in the young were an excellent thing. She sat down near Meath and Riyan, saying quickly, “Tell me truthfully—what happened to Maarken while he fought?”

Meath blinked; Riyan, to whom the question had been directed, put down his fork and shook his head. “My lady, like the other Sunrunners I only caught glimpses.”

“I think you saw more than that,” Tobin murmured. He flushed. “Forgive me, but—”

“I know,” he whispered. “But it’ll take some getting used to.”

Meath was looking baffled; neither enlightened him. Tobin said, “What did you see?”

Riyan looked down at his rings. “They burned. Perhaps that happened to Pandsala, too.” He drew in a deep breath. “It wasn’t so much actual
things I
saw as
feelings,
my lady. It was like—like fear had taken on shapes, half-misted, felt but not quite seen.” His luminous eyes lost focus as he remembered. “Air alive with shadows. Things escaping from cages, all of them black and terrible. Threats and dangers, some from childhood nightmares, others from—from all Hells. Feelings sneaking up on you from behind, ready to tear your mind out and devour it. Shadows you couldn’t quite see, but you knew they hid something hideous come to kill you and everything you loved—”

Pol had come over to them, drawn by the muted power of Riyan’s voice in the abrupt silence as all turned to listen. His eyes were wide and dark, pupils swollen.

“I saw it, too,” he breathed into the enthralled hush. “It was just like that. You reached to drive it away and it disappeared and something else just as deadly took its place. But you couldn’t really see it or touch it—”

The look in his eyes frightened Tobin. “Pol. It’s all right now. All over.”

He gazed at her for a moment as if he didn’t recognize her. Then the muscles of his face drew into taut lines much older than his years. “Is it? Sejast was only a little older than me. Maybe he didn’t know all that much. What if there are more like him, older and more experienced, waiting for the right chance?”

Urival was at his side, one hand on his shoulder. “Then we shall deal with them. I wasn’t going to propose this yet, but I think perhaps I must. I’ll return to Goddess Keep and stay with Andry while he finds his footing there as Lord. But I’m growing old. I’ve taught many hundreds of Sunrunners in my life—and the last one I will teach is you.”

Pol stared up at him, brief incomprehension whisked away by complete understanding—and gratitude.

Urival nodded. “When Meath says you’re ready, send for me. I’ll come to you wherever you are and teach you what you’ll need to know. Andrade wished it.”

They don’t want him taught by Andry.
The realization horrified Tobin. The tall old Sunrunner turned his beautiful, implacable eyes on her, not without understanding and even compassion. But she had no time to lash out in her son’s defense. Ostvel had come in, and Alasen with him. The pair stopped just at the tapestry partition, the tense quiet startling them both. Alasen’s fingers sought Ostvel’s.

That single gesture was eloquent of all. Volog had thought to reward him; he had been rewarded with the love and the hand of Volog’s daughter.

Riyan was the first to get to his feet. He went to his father and clasped his shoulder, sharing a wordless moment as they looked into each other’s eyes. Then he held out his other hand to Alasen. She placed her fingers within it; he raised her palm to his lips.

Sorin’s jaw had dropped open in amazement. Tobin thought that very odd and resolved to ask him about it later. But all her questions soon became unnecessary. For as the others, led by Rohan and Sioned, came forward to embrace the couple and express their joy—more than welcome on this sad, strange night—Andry came in.

The silence was even more sudden than before, and just as terrible. Sorin set down the winecup and started toward his twin. Hollis took an involuntary step back, clutching Maarken’s arm. Chay glanced around from making a remark to Sioned. She turned stricken eyes to Rohan; his expression changed and he drew breath to speak.

But Andry had already overheard too much. Tobin ached for his pain as he stared glassy-eyed at Alasen and Ostvel. The young woman’s green eyes filled with tears. Andry’s gaze went from her face to the pleading fingers she held out to him—and when he looked up again, at Ostvel this time, his eyes were incandescent with furious hurt.

“You should know better,” he said very softly, “than to interfere in the affairs of Sunrunners, my lord.”

Tobin understood then why Andrade and Urival did not want Pol taught by the new Lord of Goddess Keep. She raged silently at her kinswoman for showing Andry everything of how power was used and nothing of when not to use it. Andry lifted his hands, scant four rings glittering—and Fire gathered between his fingers to outblaze even that in his eyes.

Sickened, Riyan took a step toward Andry. “At least be honest about it,” he rasped. “You don’t give a damn about what he did for Lyell and Kiele.”

Andry didn’t seem to hear. Ostvel pushed Alasen toward Sioned and faced the young man, his eyes like winter.

The Lord of Goddess Keep held the sphere of Fire cupped between his hands, cold white-gold Fire like captured starshine, giving off light but no warmth. He looked briefly at Urival. “You should have read more in the scrolls,” he murmured.

“And you should never have read them at all. I’m the only one who can give you the ten rings, Andry. Stop this or you’ll never wear them. You may put them around your fingers, but they’ll stay hollow.”

The fury shone in his eyes, the Fire in his hands.

“Andry.” Rohan spoke into the terrible silence. “Please.”

The pale flames wavered as he heard the High Prince, his cherished uncle, say that word to him. He looked once more at Alasen’s tear-streaked face, then down at the Fire. It died softly. The lines of his face crumpled into anguish for just an instant before he straightened his shoulders, his expression one of desperate pride.

“I regret. . . .” He bit his lip and tried again, and his mother moaned softly for the pain she could never comfort. “My Lord Urival, there’s nothing to keep us here. Tomorrow morning we leave for Goddess Keep.”
Alone,
his eyes said as one last time he looked at Alasen. He swept his gaze around the other faces, then bowed slightly to Rohan. He left the tent swiftly, not quite running.

Sorin was gone into the night after him before anyone could tell him not to. Chay slumped into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

“Gentle Goddess,” he said in a muffled voice. “Why didn’t I see? He’s my son.” His hands dropped to his knees and he met Urival’s gaze. “Stay with him. Help him. He’s so young, Urival. He’s so young.”

Tobin shook off Hollis’ tender hand, stumbled into Pol’s private chamber alone, and wept.

 

It was nearly dawn before Sioned gathered enough courage to ask.

“Beloved . . . how did you know what to say?”

Rohan turned his long-empty winecup between his hands. “His pride had been demolished. I had to restore it.” He looked up with a bitter smile. “How many people have ever heard the High Prince plead?”

She nodded at his wisdom. “He might have killed Ostvel.”

“I know. I understand it. I was about his age when I found you. If I’d lost you the way he lost Alasen—I might have been tempted to do the same thing.”

Shocked, she protested, “You would never have—”

“Wouldn’t I? Love is even more powerful than those
faradhi
gifts of yours, Sioned. Romantics would call us living proof of that.”

“So you understood his pride, and humbled your own.” She hesitated a moment. “Pol won’t.”

“No. But maybe he won’t have to.” Rohan set the cup aside and got to his feet, moving like an old man. “He’ll have Urival’s knowledge. And power much different than Andry’s.”

“You’re not talking about being High Prince.”

“Oh, no. Not that at all.”

V
olog rode with them as far as the Faolain crossing, where in a sun-washed meadow he gave his most beloved daughter to Ostvel in marriage. On the same day Sioned fulfilled two promises: to stand with Hollis as she married Maarken, and to provide token of the union. She helped Maarken, whose injured hand was still useless, fasten around his new wife’s throat a necklet of silver leaves clasping sapphire flowers. Then Sioned gave Hollis a simple chain made of gold to place around Maarken’s neck. Three of its broad, flat links were studded with a ruby, a diamond, and a faceted chunk of translucent amber taken from one of Andrade’s rings.

A prince’s authority in recognizing marriages was equal to that of the Lord or Lady of Goddess Keep. Lleyn and Volog both stood with Rohan to lend extra honor to the couples joined that day. Meath pronounced the traditional words that should have been spoken by Andry; it would have been heartless cruelty for him to preside as the woman he loved wed another man. The new Lord was long gone in any case, riding with Urival and the contingent of Sunrunners back to Goddess Keep for his investiture. Sorin had accompanied his twin to represent the family during the ritual and because Andry was in need. Rohan, watching as Alasen placed a silver necklet set with luminous gray agates around Ostvel’s neck, thought of his nephew with sorrow. Perhaps Sorin would be able to help him through this. Perhaps not. But as he saw Ostvel’s careful tenderness while clasping moonstones and onyx at Alasen’s nape, he knew that these two at least had found peace. He hoped that Andry would, too.

There was a feast that night, and Sioned at last wore the dress Pol had had made for her. Tobin, astounded by the red-and-silver gown presented by her nephew, was not persuaded to risk it in the dancing that followed until Pol himself led her out into the center of the meadow. Among Rohan’s suite were several musicians—and the moment when Ostvel borrowed a lute and began to sing brought tears to Sioned’s eyes.

“You didn’t know, did you?” she asked Alasen, who listened wide-eyed to her new husband’s music and shook her head. “He hasn’t sung like that since—” She interrupted herself with, “I’m so happy he found you.”

“Then smile,” Rohan whispered, kissing his wife’s bared shoulder.