Dragon Prince 03 - Sunrunner's Fire (55 page)

Pol secured the lock. “It won’t take long.”

“Are you prepared for it? For what he’ll try to do to you?”

He thought his tiny fingerflame closer so he could see Andry’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re concerned.”

His cousin shrugged. “Better you as High Prince than Roelstra’s grandson.”

Pol kept reaction from his face. “I thought you’d see it that way.” Then he sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I wanted to thank you for your help tonight. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

“That’s right,” Andry said, nodding, and they started up the steps.

Pol’s next words came at even greater price, but he said them. “We worked well together. I think that shows we could continue to do so.”

Andry gave him a quizzical look. “What was it she said? ‘When dragons fly the seas instead of the sky’?”

“Why do you have to make things so difficult?”

“I have my duties and responsibilities. You have yours. If they clash—well, at least we won’t be accused of conspiring together toward complete tyranny. Isn’t that a desirable outcome? Won’t it be reassuring to the other princes?”

Pol stopped him with a grasp on his arm. “Stop this, damn it! Andrade and Roelstra were checks on each other’s power—and lifelong enemies. We don’t have to emulate them.”

“You’re a dreamer, cousin. You think of what
could
be. I must think in terms of that I know is to come.”

Pol kept hold of his temper with difficulty. “You keep mentioning this mysterious future. What exactly are you afraid of?”

For a moment he thought Andry might tell him. Then his cousin shrugged. “If you live long enough, maybe you’ll find out.”

His grip tightened. “You don’t think I’ll defeat Ruval?”

“On the contrary. I think you will. But you have other enemies. Stray
diarmadh’im
looking for revenge for killing their leader and their prince. Stray Merida—there are always stray Merida. Chiana cannot be discounted. Nor Miyon.” Andry paused. Then, with mock solicitude: “Tell me, if you end up marrying the girl, do you think the knife in your back will have his handprint on it—or hers?”

Pol let him go as if the contact burned him. “It’ s a damned good thing you’ve been forbidden this princedom.”

“Remember that when the future I’ve seen comes to pass.”

They glared at each other by the angry flicker of two small flames. After a few moments Andry shrugged once again and continued up the stairs. Pol waited until he had regained control of himself, until the cellar door had opened and closed again behind his cousin.

“The last word—this time,” he vowed. “Never again.”

Fortunately, he had calmed enough to listen to what he said—and grimace. So much for what he thought he’d learned tonight. He had acted swiftly and decisively with Mireva, and he had hung on long enough for his father to carry out his plan. And that was the difference between them: Rohan had known exactly what he was doing and Pol had not. Pol had acted on instinct and emotion. His father worked from sure knowledge and patient reasoning, those things that were Rohan’s greatest strength.

Maarken might indulge in quick fury, but Pol must not. Particularly not regarding Andry, who seemed to have mastered the art of angering him. Nor, he realized suddenly, regarding this mysterious future threat. While he felt no duty toward Goddess Keep and none of the awed deference most people, especially Sunrunners, accorded its Lord or Lady, he could not but respect Andry’s certainty that this threat would appear. Pol was living testimony to the power of
faradhi
visions.

Patience. The ability to wait, to think things through, to act only when one understood. To use power and strength where they did the most good. To be certain of when, how, where, and why one acted. To be cautious always—and ruthless when necessary. To know exactly what to do. Rohan and Sioned had built peace on those qualities. He suddenly despaired of ever matching their wisdom.

Had either of his parents been aware of the towering virtues Pol ascribed to them, they would have gaped with astonishment and then roared with laughter. Their catalog of mistakes, miscalculations, and misapprehensions was no less than anyone else’s—and they would have been the first to admit how often they had acted on blind instinct without any patience whatsoever.

Yet as he climbed the last flight of stairs, Pol’s reprimands to himself taught him much more than if his perceptions had been more accurate. Some other time he would examine history and conclude that perfection was not among his parents’ attributes. But for now, exhortations to patience, caution, and knowledge were of much more use to him.

They allowed him to listen with a quiet mind and a calm spirit as Ruval’s challenge echoed on the last starlight just before dawn. Pol heard the arrogance and the anger, the insults and the impudence, and knew they covered fear. He stood in a windowed hallway, in a pool of bright white light, smiling. And made no reply. His answer would come tomorrow when noon sun baked Rivenrock Canyon.

T
obin stormed into her brother’s chambers a little after dawn, her rage reminding him forcibly of their parents. The flash fire temper was Milar’s; the blazing black eyes, Zehava’s. As he heard her out, he wondered idly what they would have thought about this present pass. Not to mention a few other things he had done in his life. . . .

“—as clearly as if the bastard was standing next to me!” Tobin was fuming, pacing up and down before the bed where he lay propped on soft pillows.

“What took you so long to get here?” he interrupted.

“I was with Hollis and Maarken, trying to keep the babies from having hysterics!” she shouted. “First you roust everyone out of bed in the middle of the night, and then Ianthe’s bastard scares the children half to death!”

“Are they all right?” He was half out of bed, ready to go to Chayla and Rohannon even though there was nothing he could do.

“Once they wake up from the sleeping draught we had to give them!” Tobin glared at him.

Rohan settled again with a long sigh. “Listen, do me a favor. Don’t tell Pol. He’d be furious, and that wouldn’t help him at all.”

“Furious? I’ll show you furious! I’ll geld that impudent whelp, shrieking his challenge to every Sunrunner in the keep! I—”

“And to every Sunrunner in reach of starlight,” Rohan interrupted.

That stopped her in her tracks. “What?”

“Sioned confirmed this morning at sunrise. Or, rather, she received messages from Donato at Dragon’s Rest and Meath at Graypearl. Currently she’s contacting several other friends. I suspect the sky will be as busy today as it was last night.”

Tobin sat at the foot of the bed. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“It’s Pol’s fight now, not mine. I’ve done all I can.”

“All you can?” she echoed incredulously. “You could find Ruval the way you found Mireva and—”

“The time for killing Ianthe’s sons in secret was years ago, before anyone knew they existed. Hollis got one of them, Andry the second. The third belongs to Pol.”

“And what if he loses?”

“He won’t.”

“You’re very sure of yourself!”

“No, I’m sure of
him.
” He raked both hands back through his hair. “I have to be. I was right about where Mireva was hiding, and I was right about Ruval’s means of escape. His horse trotted in just before dawn, wearing Stronghold saddle and harness, and one of our guards was found trussed up in a tack room in the stables. I’ve been right about almost everything, and I’m right about Pol, too. I have to be,” he repeated.

“No one’s ever doubted that you’re clever,” she snapped. “And I have no doubts about Pol, either. But Ruval is an entirely different threat than the pretender was nine years ago.”

“I disagree. The threat isn’t just to Princemarch. Masul tried that, thinking that all he need do was appear at the
Rialla
to be acclaimed as Roelstra’s true heir. I see now that Alasen was right, and this was the
diarmadh’im
’s first move back to power. Masul never knew. If he’d won, Ruval would eventually have killed him and taken Princemarch after being revealed as Ianthe’s son. But we can’t think just in terms of land and castles. Look at the way Ruval’s done it, Tobin. How many Sunrunners heard the challenge last night and his claim to Princemarch? One hundred? Two? All of them, touched by starlight, sleeping or waking? Pol’s the next High Prince, but he’s also a Sunrunner. Kill him, gain his lands and his position, and the
diarmadh’im
have a power base to work against Andry and all other Sunrunners.”

She scowled at him. “And my honorable fool of a brother feels he must meet this challenge head on instead of killing the whore-son outright as he should.”

“If I’d found him last night, perhaps I would have killed him—or let Pol do it. Though I think Andry would have given him a fight for the privilege. But I can’t do that now. Too many people know.”

“And what does
Pol
know?”

“Everything.”

She caught her breath and all the fire went out of her. “Oh, Rohan,” she whispered.

He looked down at his hands. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And Sioned—but he understands. He may even forgive us, in time. He had to know, Tobin. He needs the advantage that knowledge of his other power can give him.”

“Against his own half-brother.”

He nodded. Kicking back the covers, he rose and shrugged into a thin, pale silk bedrobe. “Arlis is taking a long time about breakfast.”

“Don’t change the subject.” She stopped again, scowling. “Wait—you said that two of Ianthe’s sons are dead.
Hollis
killed one?”

“Nine years ago. Segev. Sent by Mireva to infiltrate Goddess Keep, probably to steal the scrolls Meath found that year. That’s just a guess, based on the fact that he worked with Andry and Hollis on them. But Urival recognized him and told Pol about it before he died. Pol told us last night, after the challenge. Mireva made a threat about Hollis, that she’d pay for the murder—”

“In Maarken’s hearing?” A fleeting glint appeared in her black eyes.

“Yes. I’m surprised she survived it, myself. In the tack room where the guard was found, there were also several things belonging to Hollis. And one of Chayla’s little shirts and a pair of Rohannon’s shoes as well. I don’t like to imagine what they planned to do with them.”

Tobin sucked in a breath, her eyes kindling again. “I’ll kill that witch myself!”

“I think you’ll approve of my method of execution,” he responded grimly.

She nodded, satisfied. “So Pol knows all of it now.” Her gaze sharpened. “Even my part, and Ostvel’s?”

“Not that he killed Ianthe.”

“Don’t ever tell him.”

“As far as he’s concerned, she died in the Fire.” He paced to the windows, bracing his fists on the ledge. “You know, Tobin, if Masul had won Princemarch, I would have had to go to war—and with enemies I hadn’t yet guessed at. I owe Maarken and Hollis more than they’d ever acknowledge. Without them, there would have been terrible battles and thousands would have died. Instead. . . .” He shrugged again. “We have an intimate little war. Only one of them will emerge from it alive. They’re on equal footing now, Tobin. Both young, strong, and powerful, with exactly the same blood-claim through their mother. . . .”

“If it came to war, our people would fight. They’d insist on fighting for you and Pol.”

“Why should thousands suffer for the sake of a few? When I vowed never to raise my sword again in battle, nobody heard that I vowed the same thing for my people.” He turned to her. “To defend them from attack, yes. But if we
are
ever attacked, my incompetence will have caused it. I’d have no right to ask them to go to war for a fool.

“I won’t ask it now, either. Because I
was
a fool years ago. Somehow, in spite of my stupidity, I gained a son who’s my pride and my hope. What I did at Feruche is my responsibility. It shames me that Pol is suffering for what I did. But, cold as it may sound, better him than the men and women who’re sworn to march out and die if I order it.”

“You’ve always had too much conscience,” she observed. “You’d fight Ruval yourself if you could, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not my fight. I’m insignificant. I’m only the High Prince. Pol’s Sunrunner and
diarmadhi
both. I envy him, if you want the truth.” He gave a rueful smile. “Not for the battle he must fight that I can’t, but because I’m too old, I haven’t his gifts, and I’m not even in the running to try.”

“Ah, so you’re ancient, decrepit, useless, and powerless,” she mocked. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t agree.”

“You can hardly do otherwise. You’re six winters older than I am.” He sank into a chair and frowned. “Damn it, where’s Arlis?”

“Didn’t sleep much, did you?”

“Enough.”

“I’d take bets you won’t be able to eat a bite.”

“Fainting from hunger isn’t in the plan for today.”

She leaned forward eagerly. “Then you
have
plans. Tell me.”

He sighed. “Tobin, you’re my sister and I love you dearly. I honor your opinions and your wits, and I’ve relied on your counsel for years. Your marriage brought me my best friend. You’ve supported me, schemed for me, and given me absolute honesty all your life.”

“And if I don’t shut my mouth and get out of here, you’ll have me forcibly removed.” She came to him and took his face between her hands. “We’re not as young as we used to be, I’ll admit. But I think we’ve held up pretty well, all things considered. I love you, too, little brother. More than that, despite my irritating questions, I trust you.” She kissed his brow tenderly. “You’re my brother and my prince. So do what you must. Whatever it is, it will be the right thing.”

He closed his eyes under the caress, wearier than he would have shown to anyone but her. “I’m glad
someone
thinks so.”