Dragon Prince 03 - Sunrunner's Fire

by Melanie Rawn

  “The attempt failed,” Barig said in a flat voice.

  Sioned looked momentarily irritated by this interruption of her argument. “Her youth and inexperience must be taken into consideration. She is only—what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

  One of the lawyers had the temerity to speak to the High Princess. “That makes no difference, your grace. The man is dead, and through the woman’s fault. The law is quite specific that restitution must be paid.”

  “And what about justice?” Sioned exclaimed. “If the law is to have any meaning, then right must be done. Barbarians know only one definition of a crime and only one punishment for it. Should the man who steals a loaf of bread to feed his starving family be given punishment equal to the man who steals just to prove he can? Civilization’s privilege and duty is to think, reason, and be merciful. But to seek compassionate justice is also civilization’s curse. After all—simple, barbaric restitution is so much easier.”

  Rohan nearly stood up and applauded. It was now his turn to speak, according to their prior agreement. But he had not expected so much passion from Sioned, so much heartfelt belief. Thirty years ago he had felt utterly alone in his commitment to the rule of law rather than that of the sword. But then she had appeared, first in Andrade’s fiery conjuring and then windblown and weary in the Desert near Rivenrock. He had never been alone since, not in heart or mind or spirit. He spent a moment in wordless gratitude for the gift of his wife, then spoke.

  “Her grace has made an excellent point. This Sunrunner does have rights, just as anyone does from the Sunrise Water to Kierst-Isel—peasant, prince, and Sunrunner alike. I have no wish to intrude upon Lord Andry’s right to discipline his faradh’im. Nor do I desire to usurp the right of Prince Cabar to punish wrongdoers within his princedom as the laws of Gilad give him the power to do.”

  Oclel, Barig, and the lawyers all looked puzzled by this speech. Only Sioned knew exactly where he was going with this; a tiny smile played around her eyes as he stitched the final design.

  Rohan paused, then said, “Neither do I mean to deprive this Sunrunner of her right.”

  “What right?” Barig was betrayed by astonishment into the exclamation.

  “To be judged by Lord Andry,” Oclel said with a silken smile that left his face with Rohan’s next words.

  “To be judged by me.”

  Sioned waited just the right amount of time for this to sink in, then said, “The thing that rankled Lady Andrade most in her years of rule at Goddess Keep was the long-standing tradition that Sunrunners are citizens of all princedoms, their only true overlord being the High Prince. Of course, the reason she objected to this was because the High Prince was Roelstra. When my lord husband was acclaimed, she willingly confirmed his rights in this matter.” She smiled. “Lord Andry naturally reaffirmed them.”

  Rohan said pleasantly, “All persons swear loyalty to someone. The common folk to their athr’im, they to their princes, the princes to me. Goddess Keep is held not from the Prince of Ossetia, but from the High Prince. Therefore, just as when people marry out of their own lands, when Sunrunners go to Goddess Keep they come under the rule of that place.

  “Because Gevlia is a Sunrunner, Lord Andry does indeed have the right to decide her punishment. Because the offense occurred in Gilad, Prince Cabar also has the right to judge her.” He leaned forward slightly and lapsed into a stern royal plural. “It is our opinion that each made a serious mistake in claiming jurisdiction to the exclusion of the other, forcing us to decide between two equal claims. And we tell you now that neither will be the one to decide this matter. We will. We are High Prince. Gevlia’s right under very old laws is to be judged by us.”

  Barig sprang to his feet. “Outrageous!”

  “No. Justice. Her grace the High Princess wisely pointed out that it is a difficult thing, being civilized. Both Lord Andry and Prince Cabar seem rather more interested in the degree of restitution rather than in justice. We promise you that we shall seek the latter.”

  It was a terrible insult that neither could reply to when spoken by the High Prince—and which would be duly reported to Cabar and Andry for suitable reply on a level approaching Rohan’s. But they had forced him into this locked room. It was their own fault that they had underestimated him and, rather than use either of the doors they had so smugly provided, he had chosen to climb out an unsuspected window instead.

  But he was furious that he had been put in this position to begin with. He knew his decision would be perceived as an arbitrary action of the autocrat he wasn’t. Neither Cabar nor Andry would be satisfied, the other princes would feel threatened, and the whole mess already left a bad taste in his own mouth. And then there was that poor young woman. She was not an abstraction of an issue. She was a person caught in wretched circumstances.

  He eyed Barig, Oclel, and the lawyers for a moment, then said brusquely, “Thank you for your attendance upon us. You have our permission to withdraw.”

  All four left with frowns. Rohan did not much care. He sprawled back in his chair and blew out a long sigh. Sioned poured wine and handed him a cup.

  “What will her punishment be?”

  “Damned if I know,” he admitted. “Barig’s right, the man’s family must be compensated—monetarily, at least. Andry will have to disgorge a bit, which won’t make him happy at all.” He grimaced at the understatement. “But I think Gevlia will have to perform some service as well. I just can’t decide what.”

  “This will follow her for the rest of her life.”

  “I know. What’s worse, she undoubtedly knows it. What future for a Sunrunner found guilty of murder by accident and incompetence? You faradh’im are so much more visible than the common people, after all.”

  “She did the best she could.”

  “But failed. Somehow I’ll have to find a way of having her publicly pay her debt while restoring her confidence in herself. But you know, out of this may come something I’ve spent years trying to find a good excuse for doing.”

  Her brows arched. “And now I’m supposed to guess what.”

  He grinned at her. “Mm-hmm.”

  She rose to pace slowly back and forth before the gigantic tapestry of the Desert in spring—but not a spring like this one. No artist could have guessed at this year’s glory of flowers. Rohan indulged himself in appreciation of beauty just as glorious as far as he was concerned: his wife’s. His gaze followed the graceful swirl of rustling silk skirts, the supple lines of shoulder and arm, waist and hip. But her frown and her occasional mutterings ruined the picture of regal perfection. He would not have had it otherwise; what use had he for a lovely lackwit?

  At last she spun on one heel to face him. “You’re going to do something about training physicians, aren’t you?” she accused.

  Rohan nodded. “I’m surprised it took you this long to think of it. I gave you enough clues,” he teased.

  Sioned ignored this remark. “A school, I take it. Like the scriptorium on Kierst-Isel.”

  “More or less. The only available training in medical arts is at Goddess Keep or as apprentice to a working physician—not all of whom are of equal skill. A school would allow standardized techniques, shared knowledge, and improved treatments—or so one hopes. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re a devious son of a—dragon. Is there anything you can’t turn to an advantage of one sort or another?”

  “Haven’t run into one yet,” he replied immodestly. “Andry won’t like this much, either. He’ll see it as a threat.”

  Sioned blinked in surprise. “But Sunrunners will continue to be trained—”

  “Of course! Aside from their importance in communications, having someone with at least a basic knowledge of medicine at all holdings is essential. But if they wish to be certified, practicing physicians. . . .”

  “They’ll need credentials from your school. Where will it be?” She grinned suddenly. “How about Gilad?”

  “You can be rather devious, yoursel
f.”

  “It might mollify Cabar a little. But what are we going to do about Andry?”

  Rohan shrugged. “He’ll get used to it.”

  “I doubt it. Rohan, we must tread carefully with him,” she warned.

  “On the contrary, my love. It is Andry who must learn to walk a little more softly around me. Those scrolls Urival and Morwenna brought with them weren’t read only by you and Pol. In them I discovered my right to decide certain Sunrunner questions.”

  “But there are limits.”

  “And wise ones. I confess to sharing Andry’s admiration for this Lady Merisel. She seems to have been a remarkably crafty woman.” He laughed. “I have a taste for the type. I’d even bet she was a redhead.”

  Sioned was in the Great Hall, staring in wonder at the flowers Rialt had brought back to decorate the dinner tables when Andry stormed through the open doors. She watched him stride up the center aisle and engaged herself in a private debate. Then, deciding that his anger did not merit a gawking audience, she gestured to the servants. They abandoned the dozens of vases and beat a hasty retreat, closing the double doors behind them.

  “Is it true?” Andry demanded.

  Sioned met his blazing blue eyes for a moment, then picked up a small, sharp knife and began trimming stems. “Yes.”

  “He has no right. None! It’s given to me to judge a Sunrunner!”

  “I presume Oclel told you Rohan’s reasoning. It’s all perfectly legal.”

  “That doesn’t make it right!”

  She poured water into a vase and selected flowers for it. “Then petition for a change in the law. For now, it stands.”

  Andry pulled in a long breath obviously meant to steady himself. “Sioned, you’re a Sunrunner. Even though you don’t wear the rings, even though you’ve been High Princess for so long—surely there’s some loyalty left in you for the traditions of Goddess Keep. Would you see those rights and privileges smashed for the sake of your own power? That’s not worthy of you.”

  Sioned refused to be baited. “Neither is it worthy of you to imply that I would place power above what is right and just. I forgive you for it because I know you’re angry. But if you’ll think about this, you’ll understand that it was the only thing Rohan could do.”

  “What he should have done was force Cabar to hand Gevlia over to me! I wouldn’t have found her innocent—is that what you were all afraid of? I don’t dispute that she’s guilty of causing Master Thacri’s death. But Sunrunners are disciplined by the Lord of Goddess Keep. Not the High Prince!”

  One vase filled, she started cutting flowers to fit a shorter one. “I don’t think you entirely appreciate the position you and Cabar placed him in.”

  “Oh, come now, Sioned. Surely you’re not complaining that you’ve had yet another chance to demonstrate how powerful you and Rohan are!”

  She slammed the knife on the table so hard the empty vases rattled. “Lord of Goddess Keep you may be, but it hasn’t taught you much about what power really is!”

  “Lord of Goddess Keep chosen by Lady Andrade—who taught all of us about power!” he snapped.

  Sioned forced calm into her voice, reminding herself that this was a proud and potentially dangerous man. And still so young—only twenty-nine. “Andry, I was a Sunrunner long before I was a princess. Do you forget that I pleaded with your parents to allow your training as a squire to end so your chosen life as a Sunrunner could begin?”

  “And have you come to regret it?” he asked bitterly.

  “Don’t be a fool. I don’t always agree with you. I didn’t always agree with Andrade. We all have our own functions, duties, responsibilities—”

  “And Rohan has usurped mine!”

  “You gave him no choice! Can’t you see that? There can’t be one code for Sunrunners and another for everyone else! The woman’s negligence brought about a man’s death. You yourself admit her guilt. You and Cabar both came to Rohan, agreed to abide by his decision—”

  “And he made the wrong one!”

  Sioned gritted her teeth in exasperation. “What do you think Cabar would do if Rohan gave her over to you? What would you do if Cabar was allowed to decide her punishment? Use your brains, Andry! Rohan’s laws provide the only sure justice. That’s his duty as High Prince.”

  Andry met her gaze coldly. “His duty. His laws. His power. Just exactly the way he likes it.”

  “You don’t understand him at all, do you?”

  “I understand him perfectly. I’ve watched him lead the other princes around by the nose every chance he gets. He loves to exercise his power as High Prince and there’s no use pretending he doesn’t. And he’s as jealous of those powers as—”

  “When has Rohan ever acted arbitrarily? When has he ever done anything simply because he felt like it? You’ve watched him at work for two Riall’im since Andrade died. You’re right, he uses every trick he has to bring the princes to agreement. But have you ever considered why?”

  He shrugged. “It amuses him, I suppose. Very well, Sioned, read me the lecture. I’m a little old for the schoolroom, but we won’t quibble about it.”

  She controlled her temper with an effort. “Punishment for crimes—even the definitions of crimes—used to make no sense at all. There were two dozen laws about horse theft and Goddess alone knew how many penalties, depending on whose horse was stolen and what it was worth and how long it was in the thief’s possession—Rohan studied law all his life, and he couldn’t follow all the ins and outs of such chaos. His work has been to organize all the confusion. Every Rialla he hacks away at it a little more, persuading the other princes to agree to one law and just punishment. Law is now associated with him. As High Prince it’s his responsibility to arbitrate—”

  “And why shouldn’t the laws have his name on them? It’s only the reality. His laws, Sioned—his power.”

  “The duties of the High Prince haven’t changed. Rohan hasn’t done anything Roelstra couldn’t have done if he’d been so inclined. But because Rohan does so much through the law that affects people’s everyday lives, it’s perceived that his power is the greater.”

  “It is greater. He uses it.”

  “That’s exactly what he doesn’t do.”

  “Then let him prove it. Let him not use this so-called right he has over Sunrunners, and give judgment to me, where it belongs.”

  Her patience snapped. “Where you’d like all power to belong, isn’t that so, Andry? How dare you prate about traditions when you’ve tossed them aside without a thought! How dare you accuse Rohan of grasping for power when it’s you who reaches out both hands! Lord of Goddess Keep will never be enough for you, will it? Don’t think I don’t know precisely what you’re up to with your emphasis on the powers of the Goddess and your change in faradhi traditions! You’re the one who’s jealous of power, Andry—especially of what will come to Pol when he’s High Prince!”

  He turned white, and went as still as stone, not even breathing. Then he sent the vases crashing to the tiled floor with a violent sweep of one hand.

  She heard the furious snap of his bootheels as he strode from the great hall, but could not watch him go. Servants came in—silent, hesitant—to clean up shards of glass and pottery. Sioned stared down at her hands. Of all the rings she was entitled to wear, only her husband’s emerald gleamed there.

  “Well, beloved,” she whispered, “I made a fine job of that, didn’t I?”

  She wiped her hands on a towel and decided she’d better go upstairs and warn Rohan that because of her, Andry was one step away from becoming their open enemy.

  Rohan and Pol were also discussing the ramifications of power—or, rather, Rohan was talking and Pol was listening. The events at Rivenrock and the outcome of the morning audience having been briefly recounted, they sat alone in the Summer Room.

  “Nobody’s going to be made happy by this,” Rohan sighed. “It’s what usually happens when I use my authority as High Prince.”

  “But there wasn
’t anything else you could have done.”

  “No. But that’s not how it’s going to be perceived. And perception is all, you know,” he added ruefully. “The scriptorium at New Raetia is a good example. I contracted with several princes for the physical makings—hide for parchment and bindings, ink, and so on—but I ordered each prince to provide copyists. It was the only way to reproduce the volumes at speed. I used Desert wealth to buy the materials, but I couldn’t buy the people. So I made it an order of the High Prince. And nobody approved, even though the future advantages ought to have been obvious.”

  Pol said, “But by now everyone’s cooperating for the good they get from the library. The same thing will happen with the school for physicians.”

  “One hopes so. Still, it’s my decision, you see. My use of power. My name that gets associated with it all.”

  “It may take everyone a while to understand, but—”

  “Oh, it always takes more than a while. I never deluded myself I could accomplish it all in my lifetime. Laws, in particular. How do you correct such a mess in thirty years? I could’ve decreed things and made the princes bow down to my authority. But I don’t think I would have lasted long if I’d tried. Not even Roelstra attempted to rule all the princedoms by decree.

  “Almost everything I’ve done has been through the Rialla, slowly enough so no one gets too nervous. I let them thrash out an issue among themselves and mostly they end up agreeing with me. When they don’t, there’s usually something wrong with my reasoning and I have to rethink my position. As often as possible I’ve let them believe the whole thing is their idea. But I’m still High Prince. I’m the one whose name goes at the top of the parchment.”

  “You’re proud of it, Father, don’t try to fool me,” Pol said with a smile.

  “Of course! But that doesn’t change the fact that however much benefit comes from the laws I initiate, however careful I am to bring the other princes into the process, some still think I just wave my hand and say, ‘This shall be done because We order it so!’ ” Rohan laughed shortly. “Goddess, if it were only that easy!”