Dragon Prince 02 - The Star Scroll (59 page)

“Oh, that.” Andrade waved away the boy’s lapse with one hand. “I was impressed by his control, actually. Sioned, we have things to discuss that can’t wait.”

“I’m sorry, your grace,” Pandsala put in quietly.

“Apologize some other time,” Andrade interrupted. “Sioned, over the years you’ve reasoned out most of my plans. But now the time is perfect for the culmination of everything I’ve worked for—and everything you and Rohan have wanted as well.”

Sioned felt herself go rigid with suspicion, and tried to relax. “The two are not necessarily the same,” she commented warily.

“Nonsense. We all want the same thing in the end. And there’ll never be a better chance for it. You can’t consolidate everything under your own banner this year, of course, but the makings of it are right under your nose. Rohan started it himself when he encouraged Kierst and Isel to join in marriage. When Volog and Saumer are dead, that boy—what’s his name? Arlis—he’ll inherit both princedoms. And he’s Pol’s kinsman, which makes it perfect. Pol might just as well be ruling Kierst-Isel himself.”

Sioned murmured, “Go on.”

“As for Ossetia—if we marry off Gemma to Kostas, then Ossetia and Syr are united as well under Pol’s kinsman. What could be better?”

“Is there more?” she asked softly.

“Yes, your grace,” Pandsala replied. “There is Firon. If it becomes part of Princemarch, then the crystal trade will be yours, as well as another princedom. And there is Port Adni. Lord Narat has no heir. His holding will revert to Volog on his death, and become part of Arlis’ wealth. And there is Waes, as well. Once this pretender is exposed as a fraud, Kiele and Lyell can be dealt with, and Waes will become Clutha’s.” She hesitated an instant, then went on determinedly. “I suggest the same for all the others who support Masul. If they are allowed to retain their princedoms after opposing Pol’s claim, they will always be enemies and not to be trusted. There are enough loyal young men within your own family and those of your allies to provide princes for Cunaxa, Gilad, Grib, and Fessenden, which look to be the main sources of opposition.”

“Do you agree with this?” Sioned met Andrade’s cool blue eyes.

“I do,” she answered, nodding.

“So,” she said. “If I understand you correctly, our goals should be as follows. First, obliterate Firon to our own profit, no matter what anyone else might say about it. Second, arrange for a marriage that will combine two princedoms under my nephew, no matter what the two young people involved think or feel. Third, oust the Lord of Waes and his wife for the crime of being mistaken, so that Clutha may have the city as a present with our good wishes. Oh—and replace all those others who opposed us with persons of our own choosing. Are these the general ideas? Am I accurate in my interpretation?”

Pandsala compressed her lips for a moment, then said, “Yes, your grace.”

Andrade frowned slightly, then nodded. “Reluctantly, yes.”

“
Reluctantly!
Sweet Goddess! You, Pandsala, I might excuse, for you know me little for all that you’ve been Pol’s regent so many years. But you, Andrade! You’ve known Rohan and me since we were children! You can propose such things?”

“On behalf of the dream we share—yes!”

“We share
nothing!
” She stood, fists clenched, glaring at the two women. “How dare you suggest this! As if Rohan would destroy princes and princedoms to create new ones more to his liking! As if you and we shared a dream!”

Andrade sat forward in her chair, white with fury. “And will you let this go on and on—all the petty rivalries, the threats to Pol? What I dream is a consolidation of
all
princedoms under your son as High Prince!”

“The
Sunrunner
High Prince!”

“And why not? Rohan started it by taking Princemarch and setting up the unification of Kierst and Isel! What was he aiming at, if not what I’ve outlined to you? When will there be a better time to achieve it all? When Masul is seen as the liar he is, all those who supported him
must
be punished! What cleaner way to rid yourselves of enemies and unite their princedoms under Rohan? Or do you want him to do it in the field, with blood soaking into the lands Pol will rule? Rohan, who long ago put up his sword and swore never to wield it in battle again! You can balk with pretty questions of conscience at this chance to do everything at one stroke?”

Sioned took the few paces that separated them and bent, gripping the arms of Andrade’s chair, until their faces were only a breath apart. “His dream and mine is a union of princedoms under laws agreed to by all, enforced not by the sword but by honor and belief that those laws are
better
than the sword!
Your
dream is to arrange the world to your liking, with Rohan as the figurehead!”

“Not him, your grace,” Pandsala said clearly. “Pol.”

She whirled on the regent. “You’d give him a legacy such as this? Lands seized, holdings absorbed, princedoms smashed together without regard to laws or the people those laws were meant to serve, princes thrown out of their castles—or were you planning to kill them all?”

“And what legacy will come otherwise?” she countered. “Opposition from all corners, princedoms up for sale to the strongest sword!”

“Lands held together by consent!” she snapped. “Not by some unholy patchwork—with a pack of embittered former princes plotting to regain their lands, the Merida multiplied tenfold!”

“Then kill them,” Pandsala said simply. “There will be time for laws later, after your rule is consolidated.”

“After my husband has lost the trust of
all
princes!”

“They’ll agree with whatever he says, and live by it!”

“You mean they’ll live with his sword at their throats! I won’t live that way, Pandsala—and that’s not the world we’re going to leave our son!”

“But you’re going to take Firon, aren’t you?” Andrade interposed shrewdly.

Sioned drew back. “If the Fironese wish it, and if the other princes agree according to law—”

“A nice salve to Rohan’s tender conscience! You sound more like him than yourself, Sioned. I taught you to be more practical.”

“You taught me many things, Andrade—some of which I know you wish I’d never learned. But my husband has taught me much more. Yes, we’ll take Firon, within the law. Don’t you understand? I know you scorn his need to make all of it legal and proper when he could simply grab what he wants and have done with it. But don’t you see? What would that make of him, and the laws he helped to write? If he doesn’t abide by the law, then who will?”

“I’m trying to show him there’s a chance to extend his rule of law from one end of this continent to the other! He can do it all
now,
things that would take the rest of his life to accomplish if he plays the honorable and noble-minded prince! Goddess, why can you not
see?
Zehava had the sword for it, but not the cunning. Rohan—”

“You’d make him into another Roelstra,” Sioned told her icily. “If that’s what you want, give your support to Masul!”

Andrade pushed herself to her feet, white-faced and trembling with fury. “You fool! You told me you still wore your rings! I gave you a world wrapped in a silver ribbon, and you—”

“You gave me nothing but the rings I indeed no longer wear—that are like scars around my fingers and my mind!”

Sioned was trembling, too. It was the old battle between them, Sioned’s heart-deep commitment to Rohan battling Andrade’s adamant demand for obedience. They had thrown the words at each other before, but never this openly, never with Sioned’s defiant disobedience confronting Andrade’s imperious verdict of betrayal.

“You’re like me, Sioned.” The Lady’s voice scathed like a whiplash. “Your schemes are only variations on my own. Yes, I’ve known you and Rohan since you were children. I made you what you are, both of you. And I made your son, too, through you.”

“You’re a spider!” Sioned retorted. “Weaving sunlight and moonlight like a web to trap and poison us all! You want everything to belong to you, because you’ve never belonged to anything! I’m not yours! Neither is Rohan, and neither is Pol!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. What can be your goal, if not consolidation of all princedoms under him? As both High Prince and
faradhi,
trained by me—”

That was the single word that could break Andrade, in this battle she could only lose. Sioned saw it in her eyes, the sudden shattering of her anger, leaving only a pitiable plea; she saw it, and felt vicious satisfaction.

“
I
will be the one to teach him,” she went on. “Not you. And you’d better hope you made Rohan and me as well as you believe you did, Andrade—for what Pol will be,
we
will make.”

“No!” she gasped, betrayed into the cry by panic. “You cannot!” But pride flooded back almost at once, flushing color into her ashen cheeks. She swept from the tent in a furious rush of silk skirts. After a moment, Pandsala followed.

Sioned stood alone, quivering, ashamed to realize that Andrade had been right about one thing: the words were Rohan’s, not hers. And she admitted to herself how close she had been to casting aside her husband’s honor and agreeing wholeheartedly with Andrade.

All during childhood and youth she had been taught to obey Andrade without thought or question. Rohan had been raised a prince to rule and to give orders, not to obey as Sioned had been taught. It had been so easy, so safe to do as bidden and not ask why. But the power of a High Prince and his Sunrunner Princess necessitated constant questioning. Sometimes Sioned wished she could simply give over the responsibility and obey the orders of others. But she could not. Rohan had shown her that it was impossible.

Tobin had no such scruples. But then, Tobin had nowhere near the power Sioned possessed. Chay evidenced no conflicts. But however high his station, Chay was a vassal of the High Prince, sworn to obey him in all things. Chay had absolute faith in Rohan. He might question, but he trusted totally, and obeyed.

Sioned did not have the luxury of such obedience. Rohan wanted her to agree with him intelligently or not at all. If she nodded placid acquiescence to everything he said no matter what she really thought, he would despise her for a fool. If he ever dictated that he was right and that was that, and she let him, he would hold her in even greater contempt for abrogating the responsibility inherent in the possession of a mind.

She went into the bedchamber area and stretched out, arms folded behind her head. The difficult times came when her mind agreed with Rohan and her feelings could not. The mind educated by over twenty years of ruling according to law—the mind that had always leaned in that direction anyway—had been horrified at Andrade’s and Pandsala’s proposals. But the feelings for her son, for his safety and his prosperity as High Prince, clamored that the two women were right. Take what was offered, seize the chance to be rid of obstacles like Miyon and Kiele, and leave law to a time when they could afford it.

Sioned could almost see her husband’s elegantly arched brows. “How very expedient of us that would be,” he would say, and smile—for he knew that whatever her emotions, she would no more give in to the demands of the barbarian than he would.

No one disturbed her for a long while, and it was well after noon before she roused herself. Princess Audrite would be coming by soon to discuss the latest rumors of who was on whose side. And then Rohan would come back from the afternoon meeting, tense and restless as he had been ever since the
Rialla
began. Sioned would not tell him about Andrade and Pandsala. The less he had to worry him, the better.

Going into the main part of the pavilion, she was surprised to see Pol had returned from the Fair. Sioned hadn’t the heart to scold him for the offense of the morning, not when he slouched wearily in his chair like this, arms dangling at his sides.

“So you’re back,” she said. “Have a nice time?”

He looked up at her, his face uncannily like his father’s as the dark blond brows lifted. “Oh, yes. Just lovely.” The tone of voice was Rohan’s, too: sardonic, with a faint edge of bitterness.

“What happened?”

One hand lifted, fell again. “Not now, Mother. Please.”

Sioned stared at him, nonplussed. She was spared the necessity of thinking up a reply by the entrance of three young squires with two enormous wooden boxes and a huge package wrapped in fine silk. Pol directed them to set the parcels on a nearby table.

“I presume you’re not going to tell me what those are,” she said at last.

He glanced up again, as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Well, the biggest one’s for you,” he said.

“My present?” she asked, feeling strange. He no longer looked anything like the little boy he had been at the beginning of the summer. “May I open it?”

“You’ll have to, to be sure it fits. You didn’t notice being followed the other day when you were at the Fair, did you? The merchant crept along behind you, taking your measurements with his eyes!” Pol laughed, but still the boy made no appearance. “He said today that if it weren’t for your red hair to identify you, he never would have guessed whether you or Alasen was the older!”

“Merchants are lying thieves—but do tell me what else he said about me.”

Finally the strained expression left Pol’s eyes, and he was a boy of nearly fifteen again, not a man twice that age. Sioned laughed with relief as she tore open the silk wrapping. Then she gasped.

“Pol!”

“Don’t scold,” he pleaded, eyes alight with excitement. “You remember what I told you about the inn below Graypearl? A couple of silk merchants there insisted on rewarding me with enough silk for gowns for you and Aunt Tobin. The red and silver one is hers—they’ve made clothes for her before, so they already knew the size. The other one—”

Sioned held the gown up, listening to the delicious rustle of richly embroidered green silk. “This is absolutely beautiful—and absolutely scandalous! No lady wears anything fitted so tight and cut so low!”