Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince (20 page)

“I think she has faith that you’ll use your gifts wisely, and for everyone’s good—not just Rohan’s.”

“But they’ll both use me. I’m not a rope, tied one end to an ox and the other to a stallion, trying to make them pull in harness together!”

“I can guess who you cast in the role of ox,” he said, and she couldn’t hold back a smile. “There, that’s better,” he approved. “I’ll admit I’ve likened our dear Lady to less flattering animals, myself. Sioned, I’d rather see you as leading both those stubborn beasts along, your abilities as the link between them. They can only use you if you allow it, child. You’re free to choose.”

“Am I? I was born with the
faradhi
talents, and what I saw in the Fire gave me no choice at all.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You should be. Now go to bed and sleep, and tomorrow night I’ll teach you what you want to know.”

She gave a start. “But—you said—”

“Yes, and I made you think about a few things, didn’t I?” Sioned got to her feet. “You’re a crafty, stubborn old beast yourself, Urival. Why do we all let you get away with it?”

“Goddess blessing,” he said, smiling. “Off you go now, princess.”

She stared at him as he gave her the title, the first person ever to do so. He winked at her and made a shooing motion with his hands.

“You will be, you know. You’d be utterly wasted as anything else.”

As the days were measured off before the Hatching Hunt, neither Sioned nor Urival was much in evidence around Stronghold. Rohan knew it must be wrong to be so grateful she was busy elsewhere, but in truth he had too much to do to concern himself with her. But each night when he slid into bed he dreamed of her beside him, and each morning when the sun touched his face he thought, half-waking, that it was the caress of her lips. His occasional glimpses of her were always a shock; he had to remind himself that he could not yet call out to her, smile, go to her for a touch or a kiss, behave as if they belonged to each other. He could not even be caught looking at her. He prided himself on control of his expression, but he knew that any glance at Sioned lasting more than an instant or two would have his feelings scrawled all over his face. Part of him resented the charade, and part of him resented that she could do this to him. Worse, she was not even aware that she could do it. She seemed as completely unaware of him as he was painfully aware of her. It was maddening—and an excellent lesson in patience.

The vassals began to arrive. Instead of spending his days studying prior agreements, his time was taken up with maneuvering them into changes he wanted to make. He had met with all of them before, of course, but those times had seen him at his father’s side, recipient of respectful bows but no words of real substance. Now all the honors were his, and all the responsibilities. He had never realized the scope of their demands on Zehava’s time. Each manor and keep had its own problems, each lord his own ambitions. Rohan was glad of Tobin’s unobtrusive presence during some of the meetings, for her special knowledge as Lady of Radzyn Keep gave him subtle guidance regarding some of her husband’s fellow
athr’im.
Chay sat in at other times; as Zehava’s field commander, he had fought beside all these men and his knowledge of them was essential. Andrade never attended, but her very absence was surety that all the vassals thought of her. Rohan wondered in amazement how she did it.

He listened dutifully to the various wants and needs presented for his consideration. He would be his vassals’ representative at the
Rialla
, and what he won for them there would decide their wealth or poverty in the coming three years. Their lists included everything from timber for houses and ships to Fironese crystal birthing goblets. One lord requested a score of short-bearded sheep from Gilad to improve his herds; another wanted a necklace of silver and agates—jewel of seduction—to appease his jealous wife. Rohan listened to them all without smiling or frowning; not only was this how his father had always heard their demands, but it was also good practice for his pretense of borderline imbecility at the
Rialla.
Some would think him too foolish to understand what they were saying; others would believe him imitating his father while thinking up ways to avoid his obligations; still more would consider him too frightened to show any expression at all. Those reactions suited Rohan perfectly . . . for now.

Privately, for Chay’s and Tobin’s ears alone, he sometimes exploded with mirth at some of the things his vassals said they could not live without. But he knew the extent of their requests was in no way amusing; he had long, hard bargaining sessions ahead of him in Waes, and had no intention of wearing himself out now in dickering with his vassals.

“Father always let them stew while he pretended to consider,” Tobin reminisced one evening as they sat up late over cool wine and a plate of cheese and bread. “They did most of the give and take among themselves.”

“Zehava had an economical mind,” Chaynal added, grinning. “If two lords with adjacent holdings each wanted a new stud for his mares, he let them argue between themselves who’d get the horse and who’d get free stud service.”

“I can’t let them do that anymore,” Rohan told them. “They don’t think I’ll get much for them this year, anyway, and that’s why their demands are so outrageous. If I go asking for a lot, they figure they might get what they really need—if the other princes are kind to the idiot child.” He grimaced. “What my vassals are offering won’t pay for a third of what they’re asking, and I’d have to make up the difference.” He took a sip of wine, then snorted with laughter. “Imagine, Lord Baisal wants enough Syrene stone to build a new keep! The giving he proposes from his holding won’t pay for the cellars!”

“Isn’t there a Prince of Syr among Sioned’s ancestors? That might be of some help, you know,” Chay murmured wickedly, and was ignored.

“The only thing I can do for now is listen and not make any decisions. That way there won’t be any bargains to go back on once I have what I want.”

“Without settled agreements, they’ll get restless,” Tobin warned.

“They’re already restless. They don’t think I have two wits to rub together. Besides, they’re going to like it even less when they learn I’m going to do away with this triennial song and dance.” He laughed as they stared at him. “Think about it for a minute. I’ll set up standard agreements with them all—a set amount of their production every year, and no more trying to wheedle extras out of their prince. They tell me what they need, and if I in my wisdom decide they really deserve it, they’ll get it. This bartering back and forth is damned undignified and I won’t stand for it.”

He drained his winecup and held it out to Tobin. She obliged him by pouring more, but her attention was on her husband. Rohan grinned.

“Ah, I see my chief vassal is getting nervous,” he teased.

“Damned right,” Chay agreed. “You’re not making sense. The way things are now, when they want something special—stone for a new keep, for instance—they offer more of their own produce to pay for it.”

“Have you ever noticed how often they fail to deliver? Father would get them what they swore they couldn’t live without, and then their mines would produce less than anticipated, or their crops would mysteriously fail, or any number of other things would happen to get them out of having to pay up. Father never worried about it because he was building a princedom and had more important things to do. But it’s my job to hold onto what he built and make it prosperous. Chay, what I’m proposing is that everyone gives me a fixed amount every year—or I’ll send my stewards to find out why. But in return I’ll give them more than Father ever did, and on a regular basis.”

“And if you can’t give what you’ve pledged?” Tobin asked.

“Then I’ll make up the difference from my own pocket. I want everyone to know exactly where he stands. No more of this bargaining over how many goats or carpets or winecasks.”

“And if
they
can’t meet their obligations?” she went on warily.

“Then add the delinquent amount to next year.” He rolled his glass between his hands. “I’m only interested in a steady supply of what I’ll need. Tobin, you know how often we’ve ended up with more of one particular thing than we can use, just because a vassal paid for something with it and Father couldn’t trade away the excess at the
Rialla.
”

She made a face. “I remember the year we ate Lord Baisal’s blushberries in every conceivable form for an entire summer! I’ve never been able to look at one since!”

“That’s the kind of thing I want to avoid. I decide what I need here at Stronghold per year, and arrange with the vassals to supply it. In return, I give them their basic needs that only I can arrange for them—wool, foodstuffs, building stone, things from the other princedoms. I’ll get the precise amounts of what I require, and so will they.”

“They’re likely to get rich, you know,” Chay commented.

“Don’t quote Father at me, that a rich man is a danger to his overlord. Father was wrong. A rich vassal is a loyal one because he needs to protect those riches, and I’m the one who has that responsibility. That’s why he keeps me in food and wine—and horses,” he added, grinning.

“The
finest
horses, if you please!” Chay retorted, and laughed back.

“Oh, of course,” Rohan agreed. “Your pardon, my lord of Radzyn. But you see that my way, everybody wins. We all get what we need, and they get used to the idea that what they receive comes from
me.
I’m the only one who can represent them at Waes, and I’m also the only one who can protect their lands.”

“Does the agreement stay the same during war?”

“I’ll pay for what I take, Chay, and that’s the difference between Father and me. He was busy securing the borders and he had the right to demand what he needed to do it. But I want to build a different kind of security, and I can’t do it the way Father did.”

“Are you calling Zehava a thief?” Chay asked, gray eyes dancing.

“The
finest
kind of thief,” Rohan said, straight-faced.

“Rohan!” Tobin’s fist connected with his arm and he winced. “Oh, stop it. You’ve long since healed—and it was the other arm, in any case. How dare you say Father stole from the vassals?”

“Well, he did. In a good cause, naturally, but what else do you call taking without paying?”

“He repaid them in security, as you yourself pointed out.”

“But they were poorer in the only ways they understand: money, horses, and food.”

She scowled at him. “So you don’t like haggling, and this is why. I think you’re going to change too much too quickly, but I have another question. What about Sioned?”

Chay gave a soft whistle and sat back, hands lifted in surrender. “Leave me out of this one!”

By some miracle, Rohan kept his color and met his sister’s gaze levelly. “She fits in where and if it pleases me.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You’ve avoided the subject—not to mention her!—for half the summer and I’m tired of it! The poor girl hasn’t been seen by anyone for more then a moment since she got here. She won’t talk to anybody and she looks dreadfully unhappy. She’s too fine for whatever game you’re playing, Rohan.”

“If she’s so fine a lady, then she’s wrong for me,” he said bluntly. “I’m not looking for a victim, Tobin. I need a wife and a princess. I want what you and Chay have. How could I watch you for all these years and not want the same thing for myself? But if we can’t trust each other the way you and Chay do, then I’ll have to find someone else. She hasn’t decided about me, either, now that you mention it.”

“Have you even talked with her? Sweet Goddess, Rohan, do you know what she thinks or how she feels?”

“Tobin,” Chay said softly, “leave be.”

“She’s probably terrified of coming into the Hall for fear you’ll snub her again! She has her pride, Rohan—”

“And so do I!” he reminded her pointedly. “I’m not going to be seen running after some fool of a woman who can’t make up her mind about me!” He set his wineglass aside and rose. “It’s late, and I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

“This discussion is nowhere near finished!” his sister raged.

“Let be,” Chay said, more firmly this time.

She glared at them both. “Oh, get out, then! If you’re not going to tell me anything, then I refuse to let you stay here and enjoy it!”

“But it’s more fun than I’ve had all summer,” he replied innocently, then backed off. “Chay! Grab her before she murders me!”

“Grab her? I’ll help her!”

Rohan beat a hasty retreat from their chambers, laughing. But he did not seek his bed. He ran quickly down the privy stairs to the gardens and strode the gravel paths to the pond. The fountain had not played since his father’s death; Milar could not bear to look out from her rooms onto the sparkling display she had created for her husband’s pleasure. Rohan bent, scooped up water to splash on his face, then sat on a bench to wait for Sioned.

It had been quite a while since they had met like this. Walvis had brought back replies that the lady was too tired, too busy, or unable to get away in secret. A respectful apology was always appended to these refusals, but Rohan had had enough. That afternoon he had sent Walvis to her chamber during the worst of the heat, when anyone with any sense simply collapsed in private to endure somehow until evening. The message had been brief and specific: His Grace the Prince Rohan required Lady Sioned to attend him at midnight near the pond. Rohan had wondered if she’d dare refuse this time, too, but she had not. And he had been in a slow fever of impatience all day, longing to see her alone again.

He looked around him at the signs of aging summer—grass that had put up a brave fight but was now dry and yellowing, ripening fruit on nearby trees. The Hatching Hunt neared as summer wore on, and Rohan had no need to play the indecisive prince on that score. He really had no idea what he would do when the day came. He had been on one such foray and been sickened by the slaughter of hatchling dragons as they emerged from caves into the sunlight. But it was expected that he attend and applaud the carnage—and do a great deal of the killing himself. His father always had, and his father before him.