by Melanie Rawn
Sweat began to bead on Tobin’s forehead as the flames rose higher and hotter, augmented now by the silent efforts of the faradh’im standing nearby. Piles of sweet herbs and incense had been placed around both corpses, but they could not mask the smell of charring flesh. She glanced at the faces around her, seeing that Stronghold’s people wept unashamedly for their prince. Various foreigners who happened to be at the keep stood in little groups, wearing conventional masks of solemnity. Tobin resented their presence, but they had to witness the ceremony and Rohan’s conduct during it. He had undoubtedly shocked them all by honoring the dragon, but they would learn by it that he was not to be predicted.
As the first waiting time ended, the outsiders filed toward Rohan, bowed, and started back to Stronghold. The servants and soldiers followed after they, too, had acknowledged their new prince. Before too much longer only the family and the faradh’im would remain here. Tobin tried to pick out Sioned in the cluster of anonymous gray-clad Sunrunners. At last Tobin saw the ends of the long fire-gold hair that hung loose down Sioned’s back below her veil. There were so many things Tobin wanted to know about this woman whose colors she had touched so briefly, but there had been no chance to talk. What did Sioned think of Rohan, of Stronghold, of the Desert—of becoming a princess?
Rohan accepted the homage of the last of the squires, then went to Anthoula and touched her arm, nodding toward Tobin and the twins. The faradhi’s limp was even more pronounced as she approached and held out her hands to Maarken and Jahni. She led them forward to pay their last respects to their grandsire. They turned then to bow to Rohan, and started back to the keep. Tobin was grateful for her brother’s kindness—Anthoula was too old to endure the entire night here, and the boys were too young. She pressed his hand in silent thanks and stood beside him, watching the flames.
Scenes from their childhood seemed to flicker in the fire, and a smile came to her face beneath her veil. Their father had been so good to them, loving them with a vast, gruff, indulgent affection even when he did not entirely understand them. As the hours wore on, she relived the past in the flames, glimpsing Zehava playing dragons with them, teaching them how to survive in the Desert, taking them along as he rode his lands—Radzyn, Tiglath, Tuath Castle, Skybowl, Remagev, Faolain Lowland, and a dozen smaller keeps where she and Rohan learned what it was to be ruler of the Desert. Tobin felt her grief burn away as the memories lit her heart.
Thank you for my life, Father. You never had much use for rituals, did you? But this one reminds me of all the things you gave me by giving me life. I love you as I love the Water I drink and the Air I breathe, the Earth’s bounty that feeds me and the Fire that’s between Chay and me. You gave me all those things. Thank you for my life.
When the three silent silver-cloaked moons were at their highest and their light very pure, the faradh’im formed a semicircle as close to the death stone as the Fire would allow. Smoke and bits of ash rose up to form a gray-black background as they linked hands, twenty-five slate-colored figures with Lady Andrade in their center. At any other time, Anthoula would have performed this ritual alone. Tobin was glad the old woman would be spared this strain—and that so many had gathered to give power to this ritual. She felt the flare of energy around her and swayed slightly. Chaynal, standing at her side, put his arm around her waist. She was aware of the exchange of frowns between him and Rohan over her head, but could not seem to look at either of them. Power was being woven nearby, and she sensed it along every nerve.
The faradh’im were stitching the moonlight into a silklike covering that reached the length and breadth of the land from the Sunrise Water to the island of Kierst-Isel, sending word to every other faradh’im that the old prince was dead. Tobin’s eyes were dazzled by the multiple prisms of color, each one different, all woven together in a loose, complex fabric flung out in all directions. And she was part of it—gliding with them down the skeins over moonswept meadows and mountains, across forests and lakes and deep gorges, skimming snowcaps and broad plains rich with wheat. She was a silver-winged bird gazing down at the whole of the continent, sending feathers of light drifting down to be caught by faradh’im in a hundred keeps. She was herself, and she was all the Sunrunners standing with their faces to the flames.
How beautiful it was, this landscape of an improbable dream. She flew with them, within them, colors shifting and dancing around her. Without any training and without any control but the general guidance of Andrade’s skill, Tobin was part of the gleaming fabric of moonlight across the land; was a bird flying free; was a dragon soaring and gliding through the night sky. She lost herself in image and color, dancing through light and shadow, enchanted.
“Tobin!”
She felt a vague disapproval as someone broke tradition by breaking the silence. Her name sounded again and something wrenched inside her. Too abruptly she returned, and was standing in the Desert near her father’s pyre. Chay’s arms were around her, his face stark with terror. A stabbing pain went through her skull and she whimpered, groping for that part of her that still winged over the moonlight. But she was alone, earth-bound, and cried out in anguish for the loss of that incredible beauty. From somewhere there came an answering cry, as despairing as her own, the voice of some unknown faradhi who understood her pain as none of the others could. She had a swift image of bright colors gone dark, and wanted to weep.
“Sioned!” called out another voice, and with faint surprise she realized it was the first time she had heard her brother speak the girl’s name. She shook like wind chimes in a storm, her bones clashing wild chords as each heartbeat brought new pain lancing through her head. “Sioned!” Rohan called again.
But it was Andrade who answered. “Urival—keep her breathing! Sioned, help me!”
The colors intensified, needles of reds and blues and greens slicing deep into her flesh and bone. Some of them hurt as they were torn away, but others melted into her body and she recognized these as her own.
Tobin became aware that she was propped against someone’s chest and there were hands around her ribs, squeezing rhythmically to keep her breathing. Urival, she thought, not even wondering how she knew. Someone else knelt at her left side, holding her hands, and without opening her eyes she knew it was Sioned. She could sense Andrade just as easily on her right. She sagged back, unutterably weary and desperately glad to be alive.
“Tobin?” Chay whispered, and at last she opened her eyes. He was kneeling by Sioned, the flames shivering along the lines of his face and shoulder. She shifted away from Urival’s support and toward her husband. Freeing her hands, she touched his cheek and smiled slightly.
“Stay right where you are,” Andrade ordered sharply. “I’m not going to tell you twice, so listen carefully. You were nearly shadow-lost tonight, Tobin, and if Sioned and I hadn’t known your colors, you would have died. Don’t you ever attempt to follow a Sunrunner again!”
Milar gave a soft gasp. “Is that what happened? But how could she do it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Andrade shrugged. “She has the gifts, Mila.”
“From me.” The princess turned her head away.
“But it was beautiful!” Tobin protested. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”
“Of course it isn’t,” Andrade said, casting an annoyed look at her twin. “Just the same, you shouldn’t have been able to do it.”
“It wasn’t her highness’ doing, my Lady,” Sioned whispered, her head bent. “I was the one who caused it. Forgive me. It’s because I’d touched her before, you see. I—I’m not fit to wear my rings. . . .”
Andrade rocked back on her heels, scowling. But it was Urival who spoke in deliberately mild tones, saying, “I thought I taught you better than that.”
“It would seem she was not paying sufficient attention,” Rohan said coldly.
Sioned flinched. But though they all stared at him in shock, no one dared make the retort such arrogant rudeness deserved. He was not brother or son or friend tonight; he
was the prince.
Andrade finally broke the silence. “Chay, take her back to the keep and make her rest. She needs time to heal.”
“But she’ll be all right,” he said, not quite a question.
Tobin pushed herself to a sitting position, hiding sudden dizziness. “I wish you’d stop talking about me as if I weren’t here. I’m fine.”
“We’ll see,” Andrade said. “Chay, get her into bed.” Rising to her feet, she took Milar’s arm and returned to Zehava’s pyre.
Tobin submitted meekly as Urival helped her to stand and gave her into Chay’s worried keeping. After assuring himself that she could walk, he didn’t let her; he picked her up and carried her the whole three measures, telling her to keep her mouth shut when she began a protest. She looked back once over her shoulder at her brother, who stood alone and rigid and staring at Sioned’s bowed head.
Tobin managed to stay awake until Chay had tucked her into their bed and made her swallow a cup of wine. After the day’s fasting and the events of the night, the wine hit her like a fist to the jaw. The next she knew, it was morning and he was still at her side. The dark stubble of his beard scratched her cheek as he caught her fiercely against him.
“You scared me to death, you silly bitch,” he growled.
She snuggled into his arms, rightly interpreting this as proof of his love, then kissed his neck and pulled away. “I’m quite all right now. Have you been awake all night?”
He placed her back on the pillows as if she was made of Fironese crystal. “You stopped breathing out there, you know. So I kept count while you were sleeping.”
She bit her lip, then managed, “I’m sorry, love.”
“You ought to be. Turn over and go back to sleep.”
“I can’t. I have to talk to Sioned before Rohan does—and especially before Andrade gets the chance to shout at her. It really wasn’t her fault, you know.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind.” He was frowning.
“Chay.” Tobin sighed impatiently. “Does she seem like the kind of person who’d be so careless? Or, to put it another way, would Andrade have chosen her for Rohan if she was? I know what I experienced last night. I want her to explain exactly what happened, that’s all. We both have to know.”
“I can’t argue about that.”
She hesitated, then plucked at his sleeve. “Does it matter to you? That I’ve turned out to be—”
“What matters to me is that you’re still safe. And it hasn’t been proven that you’re faradhi. I’ll get a servant to go find the girl.” He rose and went to the door, then turned. “But if anything like this ever happens again—”
“It won’t,” she promised but did not think it wise to tell him just yet that it would be because Sioned was to teach her the uses of her gifts.
The Sunrunner arrived within moments of the summons, as if she had been waiting for it—or fearing it. She wore the same gray gown of the previous night, though the veil was gone; by the sand clinging to the material below the knees and the harsh circles beneath her eyes, Tobin knew she had not slept and probably had not even lain down on her bed. Sioned bowed deeply, sat down in a chair near the bed when invited to, but would not look at either of them.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Tobin began. “It was an accident, if I understand correctly what happened.”
“I wish somebody’d explain it to me,” Chay muttered.
Sioned stared at her tightly laced fingers. “Some days ago Lady Andrade communicated with me on the sunlight back at Goddess Keep, my lord. Princess Tobin was part of that sunrunning, and I learned her highness’ colors.”
“My wife is not a faradhi,” Chay said.
Tobin shrugged. “Do you remember the only time you ever took me sailing? I was sick the instant I stepped into the skiff.”
“That was because you were pregnant and we didn’t know it yet,” he replied stubbornly.
“No, love,” she said gently. “That wasn’t the reason.”
He glared at her, then at Sioned’s bowed head. “All right,” he said at length. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m unfit to wear my rings,” Sioned murmured. “The prince was right.”
“It was not your fault, and my brother is a fool,” Tobin said. “And Andrade should have known I’d be caught up in it.”
“Not even she knows everything,” Chay observed.
“But she’s always known I have the gifts.” Tobin watched his eyes for a moment, then turned to Sioned again. “It was indescribable, Sioned. I’ve never seen or felt such beauty in my life.”
“You sensed what we were doing and wanted to be part of it, your highness. But you were never trained. Because we’d touched each other before, you recognized my colors and I yours. It’s very hard to explain, my lord,” she went on, finally looking at Chay. “Think of it like a Fironese crystal window, with sunlight and moonlight shining through it. Every person is made of a unique pattern of colors that faradh’im can touch. I know it sounds odd—like being able to touch a scent. Faradh’im learn their own colors very early, and keep the patterns in their minds so they can return to their own light.”
“And because you and Andrade knew Tobin’s colors, you could bring her back. Otherwise, we would have lost her.”
“It shouldn’t have happened, my lord. I’m sorry.” She paused, twisting her hands together in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“It was beautiful,” Tobin said wistfully. “So much light, threading all through itself like a great tapestry of jewels.”
“And the shadows they cast,” Sioned added quietly. “We’re all made up of shadows, too.”
Chay shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand it, but. . . .” He met Tobin’s gaze and she glanced to the door. “I don’t want any more apologies from you, my lady,” he told Sioned as he got to his feet. “It happened, and it’s over. And now I think I’ll go check on the boys.” He bent over to kiss Tobin, and left.
Tobin sat up straighter in bed, wishing Sioned would look at her. “Subtle, isn’t he?” she said by way of easing the tension.
The Sunrunner finally met her gaze, a little smile teasing one corner of her mouth. Tobin took a quick survey of her features, seeing passion and stubbornness, intelligence and pride. Rohan just might have met his match as well as his mate, she told herself whimsically.
“I’ll have to learn some things about being faradhi. Will you teach me, Sioned?”
“If Lady Andrade says I may—”
“I think she will. She never lets anyone or anything of potential use get away from her. I know my aunt very well. I want to ask you about another thing that happened last night. I sensed someone calling out, someone who wasn’t a part of the group here.”
The Sunrunner frowned. “Calling out how?”
She thought for a moment. “It was terrible to be torn away from the weaving,” she said slowly. “He seemed to understand that. There was such despair in his voice.”
“His?”
“I don’t know how I could tell, but I’m almost positive it was a man.”
Sioned rose and walked over to the windows that overlooked the fountain down below in the gardens. “You’re more gifted than Lady Andrade suspects. It’s not easy to tell sex from a person’s colors. Which did you sense?”
“Sapphire, mostly—and something that felt like a black diamond, if such a thing can exist. Why?”
“You think in gem tints,” Sioned commented, turning to face her. “That’s a very ancient way of identifying faradh’im. Color patterns stay the same, but the shadings can change sometimes. Urival has a theory that when paler colors grow dark, like this black diamond you sensed, then something has happened to alter a Sunrunner’s personality. Sometimes it’s a reflection of mood.”
“Do you know who this man might be?”
“No, your highness. But I’ll tell Urival about it, if you like.”
“It was probably just an echo of my own loss. It real
ly was an incredible experience. One I’d like to repeat, after you’ve taught me a few things. Now, before Chay gets back, and speaking as woman to woman—what do you think of my brother?”
The unexpected query brought a crimson flush to Sioned’s cheeks. “You know the colors of my thoughts, your highness,” she said with admirable control. “You should know that, too.”
“I’m afraid you found out more about me than I did about you. You’re sapphires and emeralds and something else besides, but that’s not what I’m interested in right now. What do you think of Rohan?”
Her spine stiffened and her green eyes shifted to the open windows again. Before Tobin could think up a way to put the girl at ease and coax the information out of her—and had she just accused Chay of being unsubtle?—the door burst open and her sons ran into the bedchamber. She pulled them close for a hug, and when she had settled them beside her on the bed, she saw that Sioned had slipped silently out of the room.
Chapter Eight
Lady Andrade lingered at Stronghold long past the date when she had intended to return to Goddess Keep. Some of her reasons were personal, others political. Her duty to her bereaved sister demanded her prolonged stay, and keeping Milar from succumbing to her grief became her chief occupation. She wanted to lend the weight of her presence to the assembly of Rohan’s vassals when they arrived for the Hatching Hunt—and, not incidentally, amuse herself by watching him deal with them. She allowed it to be hinted, rumored, and then reported as fact that she would be honoring the Rialla this year by attending, a piece of news sure to irritate Roelstra no end and have the other princes on their best behavior. But personal and political aims were combined in her intention not to go home until Rohan and Sioned were firmly married. This had been her goal for years now, and she would see it through. Besides, Sioned’s white silences and withdrawal from the daily life of the castle worried her.