Dragon Prince 03 - Sunrunner's Fire (19 page)

One of the lawyers, as brown in coloring, clothing, and countenance as Barig was gray, shuffled his lanky bones and said, “Your grace, it is only by the strenuous efforts of myself and my colleague that the widow was persuaded to abandon her plan of charging the Sunrunner with murder.”

“We understand,” Pol murmured, privately shocked. The penalty for murder was death; although the Sunrunner must indeed pay for her mistake, it should not be with her life. But had she been anything other than a Sunrunner, he would not be listening to this at all.

Barig went on, “As it stands, your grace, the charge is misrepresentation of skills, which led to criminal negligence and Master Thacri’s death. The punishment for this in Gilad is a fine, the amount to be determined by his grace on review of the victim’s probable earnings over the course of his remaining natural lifespan. Master Thacri,” he added, “left behind a wife and many dependents.”

Pol had a sudden strong suspicion that Master Thacri had probably lost several years off his age and that the number of his dependents had at least doubled in hopes of wringing that much more in fines. But the real difficulty had yet to be stated. Weary of flying in circles, Pol broached the subject himself.

“The Sunrunner, of course, owns nothing. All that she originally possessed is now the property of Goddess Keep.”

“I am pleased to discover that your grace is conversant with the facts.” Barig inclined his head. “The Sunrunner in question was accepted for training at Goddess Keep in 717, before Lord Andry canceled the practice of dowries.”

So Andry was in for it, Pol thought. Cabar, doubtless supported by Velden and Miyon, would assess a staggering fine that Andry would in honor have to pay. And wouldn’t appreciate at all.

But it appeared from Barig’s next words that Andry had no intention of paying a single gold piece.

“The case has, of course, been presented to Lord Andry. He has replied, your grace, that a Sunrunner’s transgression is a matter for Sunrunners to deal with, not princes or lords or anyone else.”

This time he could not keep reaction from his face or his voice. “He
what?
”

Barig and the lawyers looked indecently pleased with themselves for a fraction of an instant before the courtiers’ masks settled back in place. The second lawyer spoke for them.

“It is my very great regret to inform your grace that the Lord of Goddess Keep appears to consider that there is one law for Sunrunners and another for the rest of us. One can only hope that your grace and your grace’s father, the High Prince, can persuade him differently.”

“Let me get this straight,” Pol said, abandoning the royal plural in his worry. “The Sunrunner made a mistake, and a man died. Now there’s disagreement about who has jurisdiction over punishment. Tell me, is it Lord Andry’s position that the Sunrunner was acting
as
a Sunrunner, and thus should be disciplined by Sunrunners?”

Barig nodded. “Precisely, your grace.”

“And Prince Cabar says that she was acting as a physician, not using her
faradhi
gifts but instead skills available to anyone who cares to do some reading?”

“Your grace has summarized the essentials.”

My grace is madder than hell at Andry for this! How dare he make a mockery of Father’s laws?
He had control of his expression again, however, and merely nodded. Life would be interesting indeed at the
Rialla
this year.

“Where is the Sunrunner now?” he asked.

“She is being held in close but comfortable confinement, your grace,” the first lawyer replied. “And treated with every courtesy.”

Pol had a sudden insight. “Except that of the sun.”

Barig stiffened. “Prince Cabar felt that—”

“I’m sure he did,” Pol interrupted, not wishing to hear excuses for the deliberate cruelty of shutting a Sunrunner away from the light. “But I believe it to be unnecessary. I will speak to your court
faradhi
and ask that this woman be placed in a room where she can feel the sun.” As Barig opened his mouth to protest, Pol snapped, “Her punishment will be decided, but until that time it would not be in keeping with his grace’s reputation for mercy to—sweet Goddess, my lord, do you think she could weave herself gone?”

“As your grace wishes. May I assume that your grace will also consult with the High Prince on this matter?”

Pol correctly interpreted this to mean,
Take our side and we’ll take the wretched woman out of the dungeon.
He did not respond well to being coerced. “We will certainly communicate with his grace through our mother the High Princess at the proper time.”

But his lordship was not so easily put off. “This matter has naturally been of great interest at other courts, all of which desire a clarification and speedy resolution as much as your grace does.”

Now Pol knew why he had mentioned Swalekeep. Chiana must have chortled all afternoon. Fixing Barig with a cool stare, he said, “No doubt. And the High Prince will be most interested to hear of that, too.”

Barig got the message, even if the lawyers did not. One of them started to speak, only to receive a quelling look from his lordship.

Pol stood. The other three rose also and Edrel, still hovering at the door, took his cue and opened it. “We thank you for making the long and difficult journey from Medawari. Please make yourselves comfortable while we consider the matter brought to our attention.”

“Your grace,” Barig said, bowing again.

The outer wall of the corridor was a gentle inward curve, following the line of the building, its windows overlooking the water garden. Sunlight spilled across the hall and into the chamber in irregular rectangles bordered by dark lines of wood frames. Rainbows danced here and there on the white stone floor, flung by the beveled edges of glass windows open to the warm afternoon breeze. Pol had taken but three steps into the light when he felt his mother’s brilliant colors swirl all around him. He smiled and concentrated on the familiar tender touch.

Goddess greeting, Mama,
he replied, giving her the childhood name he never used aloud anymore.
I was just about to weave my way to Stronghold. But how did you know where I’d be within the palace?

He was aware of the Giladans behind him, struck dumb at the sight of a Sunrunner at work. The complete stillness of total concentration while standing in sunlight was unmistakable. But they had almost surely seen it before, he thought. His mother’s quiet laughter rippled through his mind.

It can wait while you tell me what brings you here.
He sensed her colors darken subtly, and frowned. When she had finished telling him about Sorin and Riyan’s discovery of a dying dragon, he was seething with fury.

—is severe. But whoever has done this doesn’t care. He probably
wants
to be found. Sorin and Riyan will search for him. I expect to hear more tonight, and if I don’t, then I’m going to contact Riyan myself.

I’ve been discussing penalties, too.
He gave her a brief summary of the talk just concluded, finishing with,
Andry’s arrogance is beyond belief!

Yes,
his mother responded thoughtfully.
But it’s exactly what Andrade would have done. Tell the Giladans that your father will consider the matter very carefully—and get that Sunrunner out of the dark if you possibly can.
There was a quiver of emotion along his mother’s shining colors, a thrill of fear that he did not understand. Before he could ask any anxious questions, it was gone.

They want to make it a bargaining point,
he told her bitterly.
My instinct is to tell Cabar that Andry will pay the fine if I have to skin him alive to get him to do it. But this way, it looks as if I’m agreeing with Cabar just to get that poor woman back into the sunlight where she belongs.

Andry has a lot of explaining to do,
she observed.
I’ve kept you long enough, my son. Send to me tomorrow at noon, and we’ll talk further.

And her elegant pattern of colors faded down the sunlight.

Pol raked his hair from his forehead and swung around to face the stunned Giladans. The entire conversation had taken no more than a few moments. But during them Pol had made several decisions.

“Lord Barig,” he said, “the High Princess agrees with us that the Sunrunner must be given other quarters. We have explained the situation to her, and she also agrees with our analysis. Nothing can be done until we have spoken with Lord Andry. But we remind you that he will probably be more disposed to an amicable settlement if he knows his
faradhi
has been taken out of the dark.” Using his mother’s phrase, he recalled her mental shiver and wondered if it was from more than a
faradhi
’s understandable fear of being shut away from the sunlight.

Andry’s attitude had evidently not occurred to Lord Barig. He nodded slowly. “I understand, your grace.”

“Good. We will be leaving tonight for one of our northern holdings. Please feel free to remain at Dragon’s Rest and refresh yourselves for the journey back to Gilad.”

“I thank your grace.”

Pol left them, Edrel at his heels. When they were far down the curving corridor, sun through the open windows striking bright glints off silver and copper candlemounts on the walls, Pol said,

“Tell Rialt to come to my chambers. Then order the grooms to have five good horses ready by sunset. And I’ll want to see the under-chamberlain and the commander of the guard as well.”

“Where are we going, my lord?”

Pol glanced down at the boy. “
We
are not going anywhere.
I
am going to Elktrap Manor.
You
are staying here to make sure those damned Giladans don’t linger more than a day or two. Let them go plague Chiana for a while.”

“My lord, as your squire it’s my duty to be at your side—”

“Edrel, just do as I ask. We can argue about it later.”

Dark eyes rounded in shock. “My lord! I would never presume to argue about anything with—”

He stopped, took the boy’s shoulders, and smiled. “Forgive me. I know you wouldn’t. I should have said we’ll
discuss
it later. All right?”

Edrel nodded. “Very good, my lord.” His tentative responding smile suddenly widened into a grin. “You should have seen their faces when you were Sunrunning!”

Pol choked on laughter, but not over the astonishment of the Giladans. “Edrel! If you’re not careful, you’re going to develop a sense of humor.”

“Oh, I hope not, my lord.” The young face raised to his was the portrait of earnest gravity—but the eyes held a dancing glint that made Pol laugh anew.

The household organized by Rialt for Pol’s comfort and convenience went into smooth, efficient action as his orders were made known. By sunset six horses carrying Pol, Rialt, three guards, and Edrel—who had won his point—were cantering toward the narrow northern pass out of the valley. At moonrise, when a confused and then horrified Riyan located Pol, the group was twenty measures from Dragon’s Rest.

He smiled as Riyan slid along skeins of moonlight back to Elktrap without more than a mental grunt in reply. And it occurred to him as he rode through a spring night bright with moons and stars that he was, like his father and grandfather before him, finally going to go dragon hunting. Because where a dragon was, this slayer of dragons would be.

T
he trail to Elktrap was a fairly direct one, and they made good time. But after several steep climbs and nerve-shredding descents through the Veresch, Pol was looking forward to a rest. He didn’t even have to enter Elktrap to receive welcome; a lovely young woman was waiting outside the gates with a wine cup of a size that sent a flush of relaxation through his muscles just looking at it. Reining in, he smiled gratefully down at her as she bowed low. Straightening, she lifted the cup.

“Be you welcome to Elktrap Manor, and rest within,” she said in the ritual formula of mountain folk.

“Lady Ruala,” he said, identifying her by the black braids and green eyes that her grandfather, proud of her beauty, had described in great detail at a vassals’ conclave last year. “How did you know this is just what I need?”

She smiled back. “I know these mountains, your grace. Every traveler who comes through here is in need of a strong draught of wine.”

He took a long swallow, sighed with pleasure at the fine vintage, and gave the cup back to her. “With this and your smile to refresh me, my lady, I’ve almost forgotten that last pass. Whoever named it Tumblewall knew exactly what he was talking about.”