Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince

by Melanie Rawn

  “And more,” Tobin promised. They joined the line of people waiting to cross the bridge over to the fairground. Just upriver at the dock, the High Prince’s barge bobbed gently on the water, violet sails wrapped tight around the masts. Tobin averted her eyes, determined that political thoughts would not spoil this, the first day of the Rialla. “If you would, please keep an eye out for things my sons would like. We have a thriving trade through Radzyn port, but I want to find something special for them today.”

  Meath was all for shouldering a path through the crowd to the front of the line, but Tobin explained that today everyone was of a rank with everyone else to prevent wasting time over silly questions of honor and prestige. Enough of that sort of thing went on at the more formal functions, and it certainly did not belong on a holiday at the Fair. As they crossed the bridge, Camigwen gazed straight ahead, her expression grim. Tobin noticed, and smiled.

  “Even the sight of water gets to you, doesn’t it?”

  “I can’t watch the waves break on the cliffs without getting sick.”

  “What about you, Sioned?”

  “You’d never get her to admit it,” Meath chuckled.

  “I was used to it before I left home,” she explained. “My father’s keep is called River Run, so I’ve lived waterside all my life.”

  Tobin’s brows arched fractionally. River Run was a holding kept in the family of the Princes of Syr; Sioned’s blood was better than Tobin had thought. Not that it mattered to her, but a bride with noble connections was better than one without insofar as the vassals were concerned. She reminded herself to spread the story and wondered why Rohan or Andrade had not already done so.

  Meath was indeed cast in the role of pack horse. The Fair was a treasure house of goods from all over the continent, and Tobin couldn’t buy things fast enough. Camigwen added even more to the load. Needles, embroidery thread, candles, pottery, carved boxes, Fironese crystal, painted tin boxes filled with spices for taze—the two women spent recklessly, their packages wrapped and handed to Meath. At first he stowed them away about his person, but soon ran out of pockets. He then acquired a sack with a drawstring top. It quickly filled; he bought another. Whenever Tobin directed a merchant to send a made-to-order item to Prince Rohan’s tents, Meath’s eyes gleamed with gratitude.

  Sioned picked over the offered merchandise but purchased nothing. Toward noon she treated the others to a delicious snack of fresh spicebread, fruit, cheese, and a small bottle of mossberry wine each. They sat beneath one of the trellises along the river to eat, laughing as Meath speculated whether it was the wooden beams or the flowering vines that held the ancient arches up.

  Sioned opened the wine, saying, “We make this in my part of Syr. I haven’t tasted any of this holding’s vintages since I was a little girl.” She took a healthy swig, closed her eyes, then swallowed and smiled happily. “Perfect!”

  “Then open mine, quick,” Meath implored. “My throat thinks it’s back in the Desert.”

  They lingered after the meal, enjoying the cool breeze off the river scented with the crimson and blue flowers overhead. Other fairgoers strolled past, and as Tobin returned their greetings she kept up a running commentary so Sioned could learn about the people she would deal with as Rohan’s princess. Not many of the athr’im attended, only the most important ones or those in high favor with their princes—or the young ones who needed brides, like the Desert’s own Lord Eltanin. Tobin asked Sioned why her brother was not here, considering his close connection with the Syrene royal house.

  The faradhi snorted. “Davvi leaves River Run once a year, to pay his duty to Prince Haldor at High Kirat. I think his wife’s afraid someone will make off with a grain or two if he’s gone more often. She’s rather tight-fisted.”

  “Lady Wisla,” Cami said acidly, “is miserly. You know it’s true, Sioned. She begrudged you a dowry and that’s why you were sent to Goddess Keep. And not a single invitation since to visit home,” she added to Tobin.

  “I’ve heard that River Run is a beautiful holding,” the princess said, while thinking that it really was a very good thing that Sioned had no more ties with Syr. Denied her own home, she would more readily embrace Stronghold and the Desert. She rose and brushed off her skirts. “I still have to find something for the boys. And Sioned hasn’t bought anything except our lunch.”

  Camigwen poked the prone Meath in the shoulder. “Wake up, we’re going.”

  “Huh?” He straightened up from his nap in the grass. “Oh—sorry. Lead on, ladies. The old horse has a few good measures left in him yet, but will need to be fed and watered well tonight.”

  “Perhaps you can persuade Hildreth to brush you down,” Sioned teased, and Meath glowered to cover his blush at the mention of the pretty faradhi.

  On their return to the Fair, Camigwen gave a delighted cry at a display of lutes and settled down to bargain for one decorated with white elkhoof inlay. Tobin wandered over to the next stall to admire a rainbow of silk ribbons, but was distracted by Sioned’s excited call from a booth crammed with toys. She held up a pair of carved wooden knights on horseback, one dressed in a red tunic with a white cloak, the other in the opposite combination of colors.

  “The saddles are real leather,” Sioned told her. “And look—the cinches really work, and the swords come out of the scabbards, and the knights’ heads and arms move! Aren’t they wonderful?”

  Each was a full two handspans high, the workmanship exquisite. Tobin knew the twins would be wild to own them. “And in Chay’s colors, too! Thank you for finding them, Sioned!” Then, eyeing the toymaker, who was preening himself at the praise, she asked, “How much are you going to claim they’re worth?”

  While they bargained, Sioned picked up another toy. Tobin watched from a corner of her eye as the girl admired a glazed pottery doll dressed in the height of fashion. Big blue eyes winked from a lovely little face crowned by hair made of fine silk threads arranged in golden braids.

  “I wish I knew someone who had a little girl,” Sioned murmured wistfully.

  “You might,” Tobin said just as softly.

  “A very reasonable price, my lady,” the toymaker said, scenting another sale. “The delight of any child—and another dress comes with her, too. See?” He brought out a box and revealed a gown of pink silk set with chips of crystal. “Look how it matches her necklace,” he urged. “What little lady wouldn’t adore a doll like this? If there’s no small darling in her cradle now at your keep, look to the time when there will be—imagine her playing with this little charmer!”

  A smile touched the corners of Sioned’s mouth. But before she could speak, she was jostled from behind and nearly dropped the doll. She gave a little gasp and turned, brows slanting down angrily.

  “How clumsy!” a sharp voice exclaimed. As Tobin looked around icily, the tone became all oil and honey. “Forgive me, cousin! Someone stumbled into us.”

  “No damage done,” Tobin replied, looking Princess Pandsala straight in her wide brown eyes. “Cousins,” she added as an insulting afterthought to Pandsala and her sister Ianthe. She had met both yesterday on the pier, and had disliked them instantly. Either of them married to Rohan was unthinkable.

  “How clever of you to bring your waiting-woman to assist you,” Ianthe said with a quick glance at Sioned. “Sala and I thought only to browse, but we’ve seen so many lovely things and we’re having to carry our packages ourselves.”

  Tobin’s spine became a sword blade, but she made her voice as sweet as Ianthe’s. “I know how isolated you’ve been at Castle Crag all these years, but surely you recognize the rings of a faradhi. Allow me to make Lady Sioned known to you.”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon,” Ianthe said. “Her fingers were lost in the doll’s clothes.”

  This was not true, Tobin noted as she made the introductions; the emerald was certainly visible enough, gleaming from Sioned’s finger. The Sunrunner had recovered her aplomb and there was a little smile on her lips, but there was al
so a dangerous light in her green eyes.

  Tobin went on, “We were just choosing gifts for some children. Perhaps you could advise us, being surrounded by so many little sisters. Undoubtedly you’re quite used to playing with their toys—to amuse them, of course.”

  The barb hit with obvious impact, but Ianthe made short work of a tactical maneuver. “Sioned?” she asked. “Oh, of course—the Sunrunner proposed by Lady Andrade as Prince Rohan’s bride. It’s the talk of the Rialla.”

  Pandsala nudged her sister. “Ianthe, you’re embarrassing her.”

  “Not at all,” Sioned replied coolly. “Some may have matched us, but I have not. Princess Tobin has been an excellent advocate for her brother, but I find him a trifle. . . .” She finished with a delicate shrug that could imply anything.

  Tobin admired her survival instincts, but decided she’d better help anyway. “Men are like that! It takes a woman to teach wisdom—and you’re just the one to do it, Sioned. But I really shouldn’t gossip about my brother’s private concerns,” she added, hinting with her eyes that she would like nothing better.

  “It seems Prince Rohan is the concern of the whole Rialla,” Ianthe observed coyly. “I hope you find the toys to your satisfaction, Lady Sioned—even if Prince Rohan is not. Come along, Sala.”

  The pair moved off and disappeared in the crowd. Tobin counted to thirty under her breath before whispering a particularly obscene oath that would have shocked her husband—even though she’d learned it from him. Sioned’s smile lingered, her heavy lashes drooping slightly over fierce eyes.

  “Bitches, both of them,” Tobin said. “Pay them no mind.”

  “No? He can’t marry any of them and expect to live long past the birth of his first son. But—Goddess, Tobin, they are both so beautiful—”

  “And you’re not?”

  Camigwen came up, triumphantly carrying the lute. Sioned busied herself admiring the instrument, almost feverish in her praise. Tobin, deciding she would not allow the royal bitches to spoil the day’s pleasure, formed her plans quickly. She paid for the two knights, ordering them wrapped and sent to her tent.

  “Wrap the doll as well,” she instructed. “Sioned, Cami, we’re going to a jeweler’s next, and then—”

  “No,” Sioned murmured, placing the doll back on the counter. “Thank you for showing her to me. I’m sure she’ll be greatly loved by some lucky little girl. I’m older, and my toys are different. Cami, you’re about to get your wish.”

  Tobin’s plans sailed away on the afternoon breeze as she and Cami followed Sioned through the Fair, Meath in silent attendance. Past booths filled with rugs, copperware, blankets, saddles, and parchment books they walked, purpose in Sioned’s every stride. She paused to buy a single blue candle, then continued on, ignoring the displays of furniture, leather goods, and stained glass. Finally she stopped at a silk merchant’s and after a moment spent scrutinizing the wares, pointed imperiously to a bolt nearly hidden in the back of the booth.

  “I want to see that one,” she informed the merchant.

  He looked her up and down, obviously discouraged by her plain clothing. Tobin, standing beside and slightly behind Sioned, signaled with a lifted finger and a nod. The merchant shrugged and the silk was produced.

  Thick, heavy, nubby stuff it was, the color of pale cream and made even stiffer by silver traceries of flowers and leaves wandering all over it. By sunlight it was dazzling; by torchlight, it would blaze as if made of stars.

  “Yes,” Sioned affirmed. “Have it ready for me by the Lastday banqueting.”

  “Impossible!” the man wailed.

  “All things are possible. I’ll send someone with the design, and Goddess help you if it’s not followed exactly.” She held out her hand silently, and Camigwen gave her a purse. Sioned counted out gold coins, weighing them in her hand. “The rest when I see the finished gown. And for this price, I expect stitches so fine I won’t be able to see them.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he breathed as she spilled coins into his waiting palm.

  “I thought so.” She headed for the next booth, where she bought a white linen shift as plain as the silk had been ornate. It was wrapped and given to Meath, who accepted it philosophically and added it to his bags. The next stop was a display of Fironese crystal that shot sparks for ten paces around. Cami, native of Firon, bartered with expert knowledge, and Sioned came away with a pair of intricately etched blue goblets. At another merchant’s, slippers were bought to match the gown, and when Sioned had chosen a bottle of fine Syrene wine she was satisfied at last. They returned across the bridge, Meath pretending to stagger under the weight of his burdens.

  “I may take up a new profession: hermit! Away from all women and especially away from all merchants! But it’s been a real pleasure, ladies, watching you spend money that isn’t mine.”

  He went to deposit their purchases in Tobin’s tent, and the women continued along the river to find an isolated spot beneath a tree. Camigwen sat down with her back resolutely to the water, her arms wrapped around the lute.

  “I suppose you forgot that Ostvel doesn’t know a note,” Sioned remarked.

  “But he has a wonderful singing voice, and he said once that he always wanted to learn how to play. This will be my wedding gift to him.” She winked. “He doesn’t know it yet, but the Lastday ceremonies will include us!”

  “I’m glad,” Tobin said warmly. “Chay and I will drink to you both. Now, would either of you care to enlighten me about Sioned’s purchases?”

  The faradh’im shared a grin, and Camigwen said, “She has an advantage over those princesses, you know. They’re virgins.”

  “Down to their toenails,” Sioned agreed.

  “Isolated at Castle Crag all their lives—”

  Tobin joined in, laughing. “Precious flowers without even a brother to show them the difference between boys and girls—”

  “And probably not knowing what to do about it even if they’re aware of the difference!” Camigwen concluded with a sly smile.

  “My father always said you could tell a woman from a maiden by the way she swung her hips,” Tobin mused. “I could swear he knew the very next morning after Chay and I first—” She broke off, blushing.

  “I assume this was somewhat in advance of the wedding?” Sioned teased.

  “A little,” Tobin admitted. “But what this means you’re going to seduce my brother, which means you intend to marry him. Oh, Sioned, I’m so relieved!”

  “I knew it all along,” Camigwen scoffed, and nudged her friend playfully.

  “You did not! Not for certain, anyway. Please tell me I’m a better actress than that or I won’t have a hope of fooling anyone.”

  “You know you had me doubting,” Cami soothed. Then she addressed the princess. “But it’s no simple seduction we’re planning here. There are certain spells no one’s supposed to teach us until we have at least eight rings, and Andrade doesn’t know that we know them.” She sighed. “I never had reason to use them on Ostvel. It would’ve been fun to try!”

  “It’s nothing dangerous, Tobin. Just a little Fire woven here and there—that’s what the candle’s for—and nothing you can use on a man against his will. Actually, I think it’s mostly the wine.” She winked at Camigwen.

  “Tell me how I can help,” Tobin said.

  “Does anyone sleep in his tent but him?”

  “His squire, Walvis.”

  “Oh, he’ll be in on things. He’s on my side anyway. If you can arrange to have the guards look the other way, I’ll do the rest.”

  “It’s already arranged.” The princess glanced around to make sure they would not be overheard, then leaned forward and said, “You’ll have my help and my blessing, but I want to know a few things.”

  Camigwen laughed. “But how will you explain to Lord Chaynal where you learned them?”

  “He won’t have strength or breath to ask,” Tobin purred.

  After a private dinner with Prince Clutha of Meadowla
nd and Lord Jervis of Waes, his hosts here, Roelstra repaired to his barge and spent a little time with his mistress and his daughters. The first day of the Rialla was always dull, for no real business was done while everyone swarmed over the Fair. Roelstra had stayed in his tent and the princes had come to pay their respects. The only advantage to being bored by them was that occasionally one would let a hint drop about some matter, giving Roelstra something to think about. Still, his spies were efficient and he had heard nothing new today.

  But as he sat with his female possessions over wine and sweet cakes, he reflected that there had been rewards to this day after all. Pandsala and Ianthe had gone to the Fair as ordered, and had returned to the barge with their impressions of Lady Sioned.

  “Scrawny,” Ianthe sniffed when Palila asked what the girl looked like. “Bones and skin—freckled and tanned from being in the Desert all summer.”

  “I thought her rather pretty,” Pandsala said unwillingly. “And there weren’t any freckles.”

  “Dirt-specks, then.”

  Naydra glanced up from her embroidery. “What can one expect from a Sunrunner drudge?”

  “Is it true she’s to marry Rohan?” Palila asked on cue as Roelstra signaled her with a glance.

  “I had my maid talk to one of their grooms last night,” Gevina said. “They’re confused about it. She arrived on Lady Andrade’s order to become his bride, but he wouldn’t have her. And what’s more, they also say that she won’t have him!”

  Lenala cleared her throat. “He’s very handsome, though.”

  Roelstra favored her with a patient gaze. “How observant of you, my dear.”

  “Gevina’s right,” Pandsala put in. “The girl said herself this afternoon that she’s not sure she’ll have him. What a fool!”

  “He is very handsome,” Lenala said, emboldened by her father’s approval.

  Ianthe rose and tucked a pillow behind Palila’s back where she lounged on a velvet chaise. “Is that better?” she asked solicitously as Palila stiffened.

  “I’m quite all right,” the mistress snapped, and Roelstra hid a grin. He sometimes missed the stimulation of several mistresses who all loathed each other, but the clashes between his daughters and Palila were nearly as amusing. Aladra had been the first truly nice woman he had been attracted to since the death of his wife, but he knew himself well enough to realize he would have grown bored with her eventually. It was better that she had died and left him with fond memories. Had she established peace and sweetness in his household, he would have expired of nausea and boredom.