The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (55 page)

A quick look at the bodyguards told Dayn how
displeased they were at the idea. “Are you sure?” Dayn said
doubtfully. “My head is tender. I wouldn't want to impose,
and―”

“Oh, sit down.”

Soong worked through his hair with
surprisingly nimble fingers. A quick word to one of her servants
sent the woman running.

“Your hair could stand a proper washing,”
Soong murmured as she pulled apart his braids. “There’s so much
sand in your hair, I’m surprised you can hold your head up.”

Dayn flushed in embarrassment. “We don’t have
such sandstorms back home. I’ll be better prepared, next time.”

Soong clucked sadly. “No one showed you the
Aran secret to keeping sand out of your hair?”

“No.”

“It’s easy. Stay inside.” The guards chuckled
roughly at that. She set to combing out his hair, and the servant
soon returned with sweet smelling oil, water and towels. After
cleaning his hair, Soong braided in straight cornrows, which
relieved him a great deal. Men had sported many other styles in
Olende, swooping loops and maze-like patterns, but he for one did
not want to look like an overgrown child.

Dayn imagined how odd the scene must look for
any passersby. An Aran lady in silks, surrounded by her guardsmen,
braiding a Shardian farmer's hair. He would have laughed at the
absurdity of it, but did not want to spoil the moment.

“I think more world leaders could do well to
meet you, Dayn Ro'Halan.” Soong said after a while. Nearly
finished, her fingers were already tickling the nape of his neck.
“My father refused to tell me what those Ringmen are playing at,
but I cannot say I trust them. Don't become entangled in their
schemes.”

“They mean well, I'm sure of it.”

“Meaning well and doing well are two
different things.”

“Heiress, we must leave soon,” the elder
bodyguard stepped forward quietly. “There is the offworld curfew to
consider. The Marshal General will toss the four of us from the
Tower Axios should we miss it.”

“And my brother would do worse than that.”
Soong sighed, patting Dayn's shoulders. “Well, these are done at
least. I would have finished sooner if you didn’t squirm so much.
You should have told me your head was so tender.”

“I...” Dayn decided not to argue the point.
He rose, feeling his new braids. They were smartly done, though
tight enough to tug at his eyebrows. They would easily last for
weeks. “I've kept you longer than I should.”

“I meant to visit the Rain Shoppe.” Soong
shrugged, lingering on from the bench. “It’s a store of curiosities
Nnendi spoke of fondly.”

“Heiress, the curfew,” the bodyguard
repeated.

Confound the man,
Dayn thought, as
they began moving out of the garden tower. He noted with some
satisfaction that Soong also lingered.

“Offworlders are supposed to stay at the
Tower Axios, but you’re hiding in the Great City with these
Ringmen. Why?” The Heiress High's directness took Dayn aback, but
he answered with little hesitation.

“You know better than I that Montollos
doesn’t favor the Ring. Nassir thought it best this way.”

“So it’s not because of...” She glanced
pointedly at the bodyguards.

Peace, she means the voidwalkers,
Dayn
thought. He wondered how much the Highest had told her of them.
“No, peace be praised.” The answer was only a partial truth, but
Dayn did not want to frighten her. “Why are you here? Do you follow
the Cycle?”

Soong shook her head, watching a ribbon glide
toward the garden tower's portal. “Hardly. I love my brother
dearly, but there are better things he could do with his time.
Better for him and Ara. The Marshal General says swordwork builds
good character, and my father will not break with the tradition, so
I say nothing. My father thought it would be good for me to journey
to Montollos. Safer than...you know. There are many places I could
have traveled, but I thought...”

Her servant was leaning in curiously, and
Soong favored the woman with a scorching glare. “Are you so afraid
of the ribbon's edge?”

The woman hopped back, mortified to be caught
eavesdropping. “No, Heiress!”

“I'm anxious to leave the towers myself,”
Dayn said quickly. The poor woman looked ready to trip over her own
feet, and that would not do at all. “All these ribbons; it’s quite
a thing to get used to, walking in this place.”

“Please, Shardian. I saw you spinning about
in that contest. The Marshal General spoke of nothing else
afterward, how he should have gone first.” Soong laughed, the same
melodious sound Dayn remembered from the palace garden. Behind her,
the Aran servant gave Dayn a gratified look for diverting Soong’s
displeasure. “You were the talk of the arena.”

Dayn frowned at that unwelcome news. “I doubt
that. Not with the Heiress High of Ara there,” he said.

“This isn't Ara. If not for my father's
guard, I could play cards and throw dice in the filthiest
haventower. Speaking of which...I owe you a lost wager.” She began
to ruffle in her skirts, but Dayn placed a hand on her arm.

“There’s no need, it was all in good
fun.”

Soong pursed her lips thoughtfully. “So is
Shard as carefree of a place as the stories say?”

“I wouldn't know, outside of the Mistlands,”
Dayn replied. “Do the stories say anything of Aran beauty?”

Soong stammered, and her bodyguards all
quickly found points in the horizon to gaze at while she composed
herself. “I...I...wouldn't know, either,” she said.

Dayn nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a beautiful
world, after all.”

Soong's mouth fell open, and she peered up at
Dayn through long eyelashes. He rather enjoyed seeing her be the
one stumbling over what to say, for once.

“Give me your hand,” he said. Her eyes
narrowed, but eagerness tugged at her expression as Dayn dug
through his pack.

“I cannot accept this!” Soong exclaimed. Her
henna-covered palm trembled, cradling a single blue moondrop. “It
makes our wager a grain of sand by comparison.”

The stone was one of Jairn’s finest cuts, an
oval shape with translucent lines that cradled sunlight. The
enormous gem nearly covered her palm.
Save that for someone
special,
my boy, Dayn remembered the gemcutter's words and the
meaningful wink he gave upon returning the finished stone.
And I
don't mean the next time you’re in trouble with Hanalene!

Taking in Soong's face, Dayn was thankful for
the gemcutter’s advice. He clasped his hands behind his back as she
thrust the gem back toward him.

“It’s considered quite rude to return a gift
on Shard,” he said in all seriousness.
Or pass an unwanted one
to someone else,
he almost added, after noticing a speculative
light blossom in the eyes of her stunned retinue.

“But I have nothing to give in return!”

“Well, there is one thing I could ask of the
Heiress High. My kinfolk mean me to visit them at the Tower Axios
tonight,” Dayn ventured. “Perhaps you’ll be free of the Regents
then?”

“So you wish to see me again?” Soong asked,
smiling openly now as they walked.

“Peace, who said that? I just know I’m going
to be awake tonight, that’s all,” Dayn said, putting on a mock
frown. He gestured to his cornrows. “These braids have my skin
stretched so tight, it’s going to be a chore to shut my eyes.”

Soong blinked. “What―”

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Dayn
teased. “If you wanted to see me again, you could have asked.”

Soong let her extended hand fall to her
waist, her ringed fingers finally closing around Dayn's gift. She
shook her head as if arguing with herself, then looked up at Dayn
with an expression that would surely linger in his thoughts for
weeks to come.

“I
will
see you again, Dayn Ro'Halan,”
she said. A collective gasp rippled through the retinue as the
Heiress High stood on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She
swept away in that abrupt Aran manner. The bodyguards and servants
fell in smoothly around her, a river of silk and swords carrying an
orange starwatcher blossom along on its current. Dayn stood there
watching, with Soong's pearlpetal scent still tickling his nose. He
did not move until she disappeared, ascending another skybridge
that soon faded in the distance.

For the second time, Dayn considered dancing
on the spot. Given how well things were unfolding, he could hardly
wait to share his story with the Consuls tonight. If the Ringmen
believed the worlds were properly warned, they might even let him
return home to Shard with his friends.

Whistling, Dayn found another ribbon, which
quickly swept him into the heart of Montollos. He watched for a
pathman to show him the way to Vake's haven, although rejoining the
Ringmen was not quite on his mind just yet. The sun was high
overhead and there was a city to explore.

The Rain
Shoppe

A Thar'Kuri warrior fears just five things, his
bondleader is greatest of these. A bondleader fears only one thing,
and that is me.

-Force General Nassir Toljem

D
ayn wandered for a
while, marveling over the Great City, but his conscience soon began
to pull at him. He stopped to ask a pathman the way to the
haventowers.

“Just beyond the fifty-ninth plaza,” the man
said. “Less than five minutes from here.”

Dayn brightened at the news. He could explore
a little while longer. “Have you heard of the Rain Shoppe?”

“You have peace's own luck, offworlder. Hop
this next skybridge.” The man pointed at the bridge resting near
the edge of the plaza they stood upon. “Take the ascending ribbon
from the plaza. You'll see merchant signs on the tower you’re
brought to. Quickly, or you'll miss it!”

Dayn reached the bridge just before it
slipped away. Minutes later he stood before a tower with signs
hanging above every door. He finally found the one he sought,
decorated with a smattering of silver drops covering a field of
blue.
It almost looks like the mist back home,
he mused.
Peace only knows what those drops might be.

He entered the Rain Shoppe through a thin
metal door. A cool brass teardrop formed the handle, which turned
smoothly in his palm. Too smoothly, for the door escaped him to
thud softly against the inner wall, bringing an assortment of
hanging bells and chimes to life. Dimly lit rows of shelves filled
the room, covered with all manner of jewelry and knickknacks,
enough trinkets to fill Wia Wells from now until the last Sealing.
Two patrons rummaged quietly through the Rain Shoppe's offerings,
backs bent over the shelves as though they were gleaning fields
after a harvest.

“Welcome!” A woman called out in a voice that
matched her smile, full and warm. She sat mending a piece of
jewelry at a table to the rear of the shop.

Dayn offered a polite nod as he surveyed the
Rain Shoppe. “Can you help me find gifts for my family back home?”
He paused, scratching the nape of his neck sheepishly. “And for
a...sister I have met.”

“Of course. Evlyn is my name.” She wore her
white hair in a plain bun and her blue dress was simply cut. Her
eyes were sharp, although one watered, so that she dabbed at it
constantly. “Buying patrons are a rarity these days!” She said the
last loudly, for the benefit of the Montollene men still hunched
over their foraging. Neither of them bothered to look up. She
sighed. “Now, this piece was made for...”

The door chimes rang. Evelyn paused to wave
at more customers with that same cheery smile. Dayn considered the
blue-flecked ring she held.
Mother might like it.
“Would a
painter want a painting for a gift?” he asked.

He looked up when the shopkeeper failed to
answer. Evlyn's face was unchanged, but her fingers betrayed the
slightest quiver. A smothering perfume suddenly filled the Rain
Shoppe. Dayn immediately recognized the rankness it was meant to
cover.

“No,” he whispered.

The two Montollene men both stared at the
doorway. Water slipped from Evlyn's eye, she did not wipe it away
as she turned toward the door. A half-dozen men crowded into the
shop, but not one looked at the wares.

“Don’t you fret.” Evlyn patted his arm
reassuringly, remembering herself. She returned the ring to its
place and glided forward. “Finally, some new business. A moment,
offworlder. We’ll find something precious for your kin. And your
lady friend, too.”

Not one of the men looked alike. Dayn saw
violet eyes he could not place, fair skin from Suralose or perhaps
Nevar, and olive complexions that could hail from a dozen other
worlds.

The only thing truly linking them was the
desperate light in their eyes.
And dirt. Why are they all so
dirty?
Dayn recognized one wrinkly brown face as the man’s eyes
fixed on him.

“The beggar,” he breathed.

Evlyn faced the men indignantly, once it
became obvious they were not interested in her wares. “Get out of
my shop! The Prevailers will―”

“That’s him!” the beggar pointed a twisted
finger at Dayn. “A son of Shard, I saw him in the clear man’s
Sending. Alive, the clear man said! He's worth twice his weight in
silver, and we can keep every stone we find.”

As the men stalked closer, Evelyn reached
behind her counter and withdrew a small wooden club. Before she
could swing it, one of the men casually backhanded her. Dayn
watched in dismay as she crashed into her shelves, then fell still
on the floor amid some shattered pottery.

He almost envied her.
Alive, the clear man
said.
Dayn took a step back, the heel of his boot thudding into
a display rack. There were no other exits from the shop.

Dayn constructed an image of himself trapped
inside the Rain Shoppe, and attempted to push it from his mind, but
Lurec’s lessons came to him clumsily. He could not be far from the
haventower, but doubted his effort at Sending reached the Ringmen.
I need the Seed.