Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince (77 page)

A babble of voices greeted this announcement. Rohan let the noise play itself out, amused. He and Sioned had cast themselves in the role of generous prince, but there were reasons other than public show of magnanimity. Locking up Roelstra’s daughters was not in Rohan’s nature, not even for Pol’s sake, and making silent, captive martyrs of them would have been more dangerous than setting them free to breed children who might one day become a threat. Most would probably sink into obscurity, either living in pleasant manors under close if benevolent watch—he was no fool—or married to some minor lord or other. He looked them over as they struggled to comprehend this total reversal of their fortunes and the prospect of more freedom than their father had ever given them. Eight nonentities, he told himself, but four who would bear observation: Kiele with her new husband Lyell of Waes; Cipris, who at eighteen was sharp and beautiful as a new morning; and sly-eyed little Chiana and her full sister Moswen.

He doubted, however, that many men would be willing to marry a daughter of the late High Prince, despite the rich dowries he intended to provide. He could afford to be generous—especially as he had claimed for the Desert a nice chunk of Princemarch, including the ruins of Feruche and the dragon caves nearby. All thought his reasons were due to some ancient claim of his family. Rohan was not about to enlighten them.

The procession into the Great Hall was nearly over. The daughters took their places, Kiele fuming at the prospect of married sisters as she joined Lyell. Then absolute silence descended as Andrade and Urival walked in. They were both in silver and white, she with moonstones binding her white-gold hair, he with the same gems in a belt around his waist. Knees and heads bent to them as they passed up the long aisle to the high table, and as Rohan bent his own head to his aunt he caught the glimmer of gleeful anticipation in her eyes. He had told her certain things about his plans for tonight that merited the malicious sparkle; he had not told her certain other things, which would probably give her apoplexy. Still—she loved a good show.

The feast began as soon as the wives, heirs, and important retainers of some of the princes present filed in and took their seats. The lowest tables were for the knights and squires, the latter freed from regular duties at table by Rohan’s own servants. Their group was presided over by Maarken and Tilal, two boys who differed from their companions in the self-assurance that came of having known battle. Andry and Sorin were there as well, along with Ostvel’s son Riyan. The trio would be allowed to stay up late so long as no infringement of decorum attracted parental attention.

As the first course was served, Maeta and a nurse came to take Pol up to bed. He was irritable after being subjected to inspection by so many strangers. Rohan sympathized; he had uncomfortable childhood memories of being similarly on display. But a prince was a prince. It was something Pol would get used to.

Walvis had charge of the knight’s table, his poise shaken only when he happened to glance over at a slim, redheaded girl with gray eyes whom it had pleased Rohan and Ostvel to place at the next table, directly in his line of sight. The two men exchanged a meaningful glance and a grin.

It had also pleased Rohan to order special cups made for the high table. Souvenirs of this night they were, magnificently wrought. A goblet of red Fironese crystal footed in silver served his sister and her lord; plain silver set with moonstones was shared by Andrade and Urival. Beside Ostvel’s plate was a golden cup studded by a single carnelian, and a pair of iridescent blue-green goblets for himself and Sioned had been etched with their new design and footed in dragon gold. He lifted his to her in silent tribute, and she smiled. But then she touched the small, empty golden cup between them, that matched those given to all the other princes. He knew her meaning; they were not Rohan and Sioned tonight, but the Dragon Prince and his Sunrunner princess.

With Lord Farid of Skybowl gone, Rohan’s
athr’im
had chosen Baisal as their spokesman. Obedient to a signal from Ostvel when the last dishes had been taken away, Baisal got to his feet and waited for quiet. His joyous grin over the prospect of his fine new stone keep had not faded since midwinter, and probably would not disappear until he was dead and burned—and perhaps not even then. Davvi had informed Rohan privately that if payment for the stone was even mentioned, he would cheerfully break his beloved sister’s beloved husband’s neck. Baisal had performed a great service to Syr as well as to the Desert, and Davvi intended to reward him.

Voice rumbling from deep in a chest the size of a winecask, Baisal called for silence and beamed at everyone. “Your highnesses, my lords and ladies, knights, squires, and all here assembled!” he thundered. “Raise your cups and drink with me to the glorious peace won at Dragonfield!”

“Dragonfield!” some yelled, and Rohan’s people turned it into “Dragon Prince!” He caught Sioned’s amused glance as he had the bad manners to drink to himself, and chuckled.

“Through the past days we have all had the honor of private consultation with Prince Rohan, and he has listened to our hopes and plans for the future. This is his custom,” he added blithely, and Rohan bit back a smile at this description of a technique used only once and that had made his vassals very nervous before his first
Rialla
as their prince. “We have also had the honor of speaking with Prince Lleyn, and this afternoon treaties were signed that define the borders of each princedom and holding for all eternity!” He raised his cup again, flushed with his own eloquence and Davvi’s best Syrene wine. “To the wisdom of Prince Rohan, and the peace that will live forever!”

As the toast was drunk, Sioned whispered. “We’d better shut him up before he starts leading everyone in singing that fool ballad.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m rather enjoying this,” he teased, and grinned as she made a discreet face at him. “Oh, very well. Two toasts are enough, I agree, for modesty’s sake.”

“Modest? You?”

Saumer of Isel solved the problem of silencing Baisal’s oratory. “Your pardon, my lord, but we have yet to understand the exact nature of this peace!”

“Watch out,” Chay whispered.

“He couldn’t have given me a better opening if I’d told him what to say,” Rohan answered softly, then stood up. “My thanks, Lord Baisal, for your tribute to the peace we all desire so much.” As Baisal sat down, smug with the compliment from his prince, Rohan addressed Saumer. “Your grace is wise to seek clarification. With the permission of this gathering, I will answer our cousin of Isel’s doubts.”

“In your element, you damned show-off,” Tobin muttered at her brother’s elbow, and he kicked the leg of her chair.

He then spoke the name of each prince, who rose in his turn. Taking the small golden cup into his hand, he gestured for the princes to do likewise. When they had done so, he waited while servants poured thin, sweet Syrene wine. “All princes here present are confirmed in their possessions as stipulated in the treaties signed here today and witnessed by Lady Andrade.” Their graces drank to their own lands and titles. “All
athr’im
are also confirmed,” Rohan added.

Lyell of Waes stared at the high table with his eyes popping half out of his head. Clutha nudged him and he glanced up to find a stern gaze promising unthinkable consequences if he so much as set a foot wrong in future. Kiele sank back into her chair, faint with relief.

“There are several additions to the lists of
athr’im
and I am pleased to name them to you tonight.” He heard Sioned give a satisfied sigh. “We present to you first of all Lord Walvis of Remagev.”

It was some moments before the young man understood. Feylin leaned across her own table and hissed at him, “Stand up and bow to your prince who honors you so!” This brought a burst of laughter from the Hall and a flush to Walvis’ cheeks. He shot a furious glance at the girl and took the long walk up to the high table, head high and knees shaking only a little.

When he had made his bow, Rohan murmured for his ears alone, “Hadaan insisted we give you Remagev tonight in front of everyone. He has a condition, though—that you let him stay on at the keep to spoil your children and flirt with your wife.”

Walvis looked involuntarily over his shoulder, but not at Hadaan, who was grinning as proudly as if Walvis was his own son. Sioned quivered with silent laughter and whispered, “What did I tell you? A redhead!”

Crimson to his earlobes, Walvis stared at them and gulped. “I—my lord, my lady, it’s too great an honor.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Sioned told him. As Rohan slipped a ring onto his finger, she continued, “Topaz for a long and happy life, dear Walvis. We love you even more than you love us, and in further token of that love—” She slowly drew a string of shimmering iridescence from a pocket of her green gown, a teasing smile on her face and mischief in her eyes. She was so lovely that Rohan wanted to kiss her in front of the whole Hall.

“My lady!” Walvis gasped as the rivulet of glowing silver-gray pearls trickled into his palm.

“Suitable for a wedding necklet, I’d say,” Tobin contributed, and Chay aided and abetted by drawling, “Don’t fuss the boy, Tobin. He’s got the idea.”

Walvis’ wide blue eyes went helplessly from his prince to his princess. Sioned winked at him. “One day, Walvis, you must tell me
exactly
what happened at Tiglath. You may bow to us now, my lord,” she prompted. He did so and started back to his seat in a daze. Ostvel rose and escorted him to a place made amid Rohan’s other vassals. He sat with the pearls in both hands, stunned.

Rohan cleared his throat. “We present to you next Lord Tilal of River Run. Prince Davvi, the honor of confirming your son in his holding is yours.”

This elevation was no surprise to any of those directly involved. Tilal left the squires’ table and went to where his parents sat with his older brother Kostas. A ring was given and Tilal bowed to his father before turning to bow again in the direction of the high table. Wisla, already dizzy with delight at five days of being addressed as her grace of Syr by other princes, burst into happy tears. Kostas, eighteen winters old and a prince now himself, grinned at his little brother and made room for him at the table. A servant brought a chair for the new Lord of River Run, who hardly dared breathe.

“Goddess, how I
love
being a prince!” Rohan whispered to Sioned, smiling down at her. She was alight with an even greater excitement now, for next would come the best of the night’s surprises, known only to the two of them.

“We present to you now,” he called out, “Lord Ostvel of Skybowl.”

He froze at the far end of the high table, unable to move or speak. Chay pushed him up with a hand beneath his elbow and he managed to put one foot in front of the other until he stood facing Rohan and Sioned, his back to the assembly. His face was ashen and so bewildered that Rohan worried about his ability to stay upright.

From far down the Great Hall a small voice cried out, “Is Papa in trouble, prince?”

“Not in the least!” Rohan called back above the laughter. “You come up here too, Riyan.”

The boy raced up and clung to his father’s hand. Ostvel looked down at him, this irrepressible little boy with Camigwen’s wonderful dark eyes. When he faced Rohan again, his own eyes shone with tears.

“You trust me with the caves?” he murmured.

Sioned answered for them. “We trust you with our lives.”

“Forgiven?” he asked quietly.

Rohan did not understand the look that passed between them. Sioned bit her lip, then nodded solemnly. “If
I
am.”

Ostvel bowed his head. “
She
would have understood much sooner than I did, Sioned. If you’re determined to give this honor, do it for her, not me.”

“For you both,” she replied.

Rohan slipped onto Ostvel’s finger a ring set with a topaz so dark a golden-brown that it was nearly the color of Riyan’s eyes. To the child he said, “Your papa is a great lord now.”

Riyan looked excited, then suddenly forlorn. “Does that mean I have to be good
all
the time? No more playing dragons?”

“Oh,
lots
of playing dragons,” Rohan assured him. “You’ll have to teach Pol how, you know.” He reflected that there would be real dragons aplenty in the years ahead, seeking the caves around Skybowl now that they had forsaken Rivenrock for good. He envied Riyan the chance to see them so often.

The boy nodded his relief. “That’s all right, then. And I’ll be good, prince. I promise.”

Father and son went to the end of the high table, Riyan snuggling comfortably onto Ostvel’s lap. Rohan sought out the other fine young lords who would teach Pol: Maarken, Sorin, Andry, Tilal, who would be his friends and support in the future. Eltanin’s boy Tallain would be another, and the children Walvis would have with Feylin—who loved dragons. He smiled, wondering if Sioned’s other prediction would be right, too, and they would name a daughter after her.

Just as Rohan had arranged to have happen at this juncture, a loud, powerful voice boomed into the Great Hall. “Cousin,” called out Prince Volog of Kierst, “I ask the indulgence of this assembly on a private matter.”

“You have our attention, cousin,” Rohan agreed affably.

Volog grinned, unable to contain his glee. But his voice turned to silk and Saumer’s head jerked around, his eyes slits of suspicion.

“My esteemed cousin of Isel and I have more in common than our island. We each have several charming daughters—and we each have an unmarried heir.”

“Yes? That’s intriguing,” Rohan commented blandly, and barely kept a straight face as Andrade gave a complex snort. “Go on, cousin.”

Volog turned to Saumer. “Need I say more?” he asked sweetly.

Saumer turned scarlet and tried not to choke. The audience tittered, appreciating that the price Saumer would pay for retaining his princedom after his support of Roelstra would be its eventual union with Kierst. His grace of Isel glared briefly at his grinning rival of Kierst, then swallowed and said, “How perceptive of you, my lord, and how elegant a suggestion it is.”