Dragon Prince 03 - Sunrunner's Fire (2 page)

“Sioned—is that truly needed?” Tobin asked worriedly.

“I don’t like the idea any more than you do. But Urival was quite specific. And it will only be a little bit. Not enough to do me any harm.” Loosening the drawstrings, she took out a pinch of powdery gray-green substance. “Enough to fit inside a thumb ring,” she murmured, quoting Urival. “The Star Scroll advises caution, but this amount is safe enough.”

“According to a half-translated book hundreds of years old!” Maarken shook his head and glanced at his wife. Hollis did not shrink back from the sight of the
dranath
in Sioned’s fingers, but her eyes were haunted. She had spent the journey from Waes to Stronghold freeing herself of addiction to the drug; even though she no longer craved it, the anguish of withdrawal was still evident in her pale lips and bruised eyelids.

“The conjure I’m working tonight is difficult enough to sustain under ordinary circumstances,” Sioned reminded them. “This one will take all night. Urival says
dranath
can increase powers. And he sanctioned its use.”

Before anyone could say anything else, she sifted
dranath
into the wine and swirled the cup to mix it in before drinking off half the contents.

“I remember how it felt,” she murmured into the silence. “Dizziness for a moment, then warmth. . . .” Her cheeks flushed. There was another effect of
dranath:
sexual desire. Or perhaps, she thought suddenly as she sensed her gifts expand within her, perhaps the power was all-inclusive, and every aspect of body and mind was touched by the drug. She began to sway gently back and forth in response to the humming sensuality compounded of physical and
faradhi
power. There was a hunger in her, not only for the touch of her husband’s flesh but for the unleashing of her talents. She understood the seduction of the drug. She had always been too afraid of it to analyze its effect, but this time she was going to work with the
dranath,
not against it—glorious and terrifying and impossible to resist. The demands of her body slowly faded, subsumed into an urge to ride the last sunlight and dare the shadows, to summon a torrent of Air, to call down Fire and in it conjure fateful visions.

Sioned told herself she chose to succumb.

Her disciplined Sunrunner mind brought forth a gout of Fire into the empty brazier. The polished bowl seemed to ignite. And in cool flames half the height of a man there formed clear, detailed pictures.

Andry, too, had just called Fire. He stood in the courtyard of Goddess Keep, hands bare of rings. All the senior Sunrunners in residence stood in a circle around the bonfire he had just lit. Urival came forward and gave him the first ring. An instant later a whirlwind circled the courtyard, plucking at clothes and hair, blowing Andry’s white cloak taut against his slim body. Urival bestowed the second ring.

Sioned’s view of her old friend and teacher’s face cleared as he faced the Fire. She frowned. Urival’s stern features were set in flinty impassivity, all light gone from his golden-brown eyes. Duty and position compelled him to preside over this ritual; obedience to Andrade forced him to adhere to her choice for Lord of Goddess Keep. He was not happy with Andry’s departure from that ritual. Sioned wished she could reassure him as those around her tonight had reassured themselves. But of them all—including Andry who stood apart—Urival was the most alone.

Sioned heard Hollis catch her breath as Andry made his first change in the proceedings, one that no one had been warned about. As Air continued to spin around him, he upended a pouch of loose, dry soil onto the stones. From his belt he took a glass flask full of Water. He unstoppered it and tossed it high into the air. A few glistening droplets escaped on its upward flight; as it fell it revolved and a stream of liquid raced the glass toward the ground.

Andry spread his arms wide. The spilled Earth was caught by a new whirlwind and rose in tightening spirals. Not a drop of Water reached the stones; the Air seized it, too. Shards of shattered glass glittered like small knives within the vortex as it narrowed. The bonfire swirled in wild patterns, and Earth, Air, and Water were consumed into its red-gold heart.

Andry had brought all Elements into play in a demonstration of power meant to dazzle. Or, Sioned thought, to warn.

He gestured at the flames and within them a conjuring appeared, a vision of Goddess Keep itself, sheathed in light. But it was not the golden glow of sunshine that danced over the walls and towers, nor the cool silvery gleam of the three moons. Icy white starfire frosted the conjured stones in sharp shadows and angles, making of the great castle a citadel of silent power.

Urival stepped forward, his face still expressionless, and slid the third ring onto Andry’s ringer. The young man allowed the conjuring to fade, and in his fine blue eyes was a sudden flare of anticipation.

Sunset light gilded the courtyard. Andry used it to weave a summons to the less-senior
faradh’im
waiting for his call. Dozens of them filed into the courtyard, bowing to Andry and nodding confirmation when Urival asked if they had felt his colors on the sunlight. The fourth ring was given.

At Stronghold, Sioned lifted her face from her Fire-conjuring to the last rays seeping over the western walls. As the fragile, rosy warmth touched her brow, she abruptly knew what Andry would do next, who he would speak to in proving his ability to ride the sunlight at great distances.

How could I not?
Sioned replied, not allowing Andry’s colors to drench hers in brilliant light.
Goddess greeting to you, my lord.

It was a very odd thing to be seeing Andry’s face in the brazier Fire while hearing his voice at the same time in her thoughts.
Yes. And Rohan, Ostvel, and your father. All very proud of you, Andry.

And very worried. Just look at Maarken’s face! Don’t be afraid of this, Sioned. I know what I’m doing.
Andry hesitated.
Is—is Alasen—

No. I’m sorry, Andry.
She saw his face change slightly.

She chose her life,
Sioned reminded him gently,
and you chose yours.

Yes. Of course.
A brief pause. A line furrowed his smooth forehead and something close to suspicion vibrated through his colors.
Sioned—what is it about your colors tonight? I sense something, I can feel—

The sunlight fades here, my Lord,
she replied.
You’d best return.

You
—dranath!
Sioned, are you insane?

With a mannered fillip she disengaged from the contact and nudged him back down the weakening rays of light. She sensed his anger at her use of the drug, and a deeper resentment that she could rid herself of him so effortlessly. She caught a glimpse of Pol in his thoughts and the unguarded hope that the son would not be as powerful as the mother. With the drug singing in her blood she could have followed him while maintaining the Fire-conjure simultaneously. It was an intriguing thought, not the least bit frightening. But she had the distinct impression that she
ought
to be frightened.

Andry had moved closer to the bonfire. No voices or other sounds carried through Sioned’s Fire, but she knew Urival had asked him to tell what he had done, who he had spoken with. As the sun went down and they waited for the moons to rise—early tonight, which was the reason for holding the ritual now—Andry replied, then went round the circle of
faradh’im
and touched hands with each.

Sioned remembered the day she had done the same. With Camigwen at her side, joined in this achievement as they had been in almost all other aspects of their training, she had stood before each Sunrunner to receive greetings and smiles as she became one of them.

“Sioned. . . .” Ostvel’s half-strangled voice brought her back to Stronghold.

She looked in bewilderment at his pain-clouded gray eyes, then at the Fire in the brazier. Within, called forth from her memory by her
dranath
-enhanced senses, stood not the present circle of
faradh’im
at Goddess Keep but a group of people in full sunlight, herself and Camigwen clasping hands with each. Amazed and fascinated, she let the conjured memory last a while longer, feeling not a bit of strain at maintaining it. She looked for the first time in eighteen winters at her beloved friend’s face, the exquisite dark eyes and the delicate features, watched Camigwen complete the circle and stand waiting with her, practically dancing with excitement as Andrade came forward to give them their fifth rings.

“Sioned—please,” Ostvel whispered, the words raw with emotion.

She gave a start and the Fire vanished. “Ostvel—I’m so sorry, I didn’t think—”

Riyan was biting his lip, as heart-caught as his father but for a different reason: he had few memories of the mother who had died before he was two winters old.

“Forgive me,” Sioned murmured, ashamed.

Ostvel shook his head. “It’s all right. Just—a shock. Seeing her again.”

Sioned thanked the Goddess that Alasen was not present, and returned her attention to what she was supposed to be doing. The Fire leaped up again in response to her call, just in time for those watching to see Andry finish the circle and rejoin Urival by the bonfire.

She felt the latter’s colors as she had known she would, his moonlight weaving necessary to confirm Andry’s Sunrunning. Again it was eerie to see his face as his voice spoke on skeins of moonrays.

He’s a little miffed at you for using
dranath,
you know.

To blot out the memories,
Sioned corrected gently.
I wish I could be there with you.

And he was too suddenly gone. Sioned ached for him, watching his face in the Fire as he announced that Andry had indeed completed a Sunrunning to Stronghold. The fifth ring went onto his right thumb, a circle of the special reddish-gold used only by
faradh’im.

It was a ring Andry had never before worn. Up until that moment, he had only been reconfirming skills already betokened by the four rings he had earned before this night. But now he was a full Sunrunner, with all the rings, the honors, and the responsibilities this implied.

And there would be more to come, too quickly.

The scene in the brazier continued, showing Andry as he proved his skills at weaving moonlight, attested to shortly thereafter by Urival. Sioned did not know to whom Andry spoke; she suspected it would be someone approximately as far away from Goddess Keep as she herself was at Stronghold. The
faradhi
at Balarat in Firon, perhaps, or Meath at Graypearl. The idea was for Andry to prove his strength; from the expressions of respect on Sunrunner faces as confirmation came from Urival, he had succeeded admirably.

And here came the next departure from tradition. Instead of the silver ring, the sixth, given for the right little finger, Andry had directed Urival to present him with that plus another silver for his left middle finger. This reflected the change Andry had made in the order of things: now, the sixth would be for an apprentice, and the seventh for full abilities as a Moonrunner. Formerly, the seventh had been for the ability to conjure without Fire. Andry had not yet learned that skill from Urival. Rather than show himself lacking, he had altered the rules.

Sioned tensed as she stared into the flames. She knew what was to come next. The eighth had always been for the teachers, those skilled and subtle enough to instruct others in the
faradhi
arts. Andry conformed to ritual by calling forward a student of one ring and showing the boy, only a little younger than he, how to call Air. But rather than silver for the left thumb, Urival placed there another gold and pronounced Andry a Master—a distinction formerly reserved for the ninth ring.

Andry had other plans for that ninth ring.

As for the fifth, the Sunrunner’s ring, Andry as a Master was now required to make the circuit of
faradh’im.
Sioned’s apprehensions betrayed her. As she watched, the Fire flickered and she felt Hollis’ hand on her arm to steady her. But the flames died out, leaving them all in the silvery darkness of moonlight.

“Sioned?” Rohan asked in a low voice, concerned.

“It’s nothing.” She reached for the cup of wine.

Hollis put her fingers over it, frowning. “You must rest. Please, Sioned. I know what
dranath
can do.”

“I’m not tired. Not exactly, anyway.” She smiled at her nephew’s wife. “I’m all right, I promise.”

“Hollis is right,” Rohan said briskly. “We’ve seen enough. And you’ve certainly
had
enough.”

“We have to see what he’ll do,” Sioned replied stubbornly. “I’ll take a few moments to rest, but I’ve got to renew the conjure.”

Maarken, leaning around Ostvel and Hollis, plucked up the wine. “I’ll do it.”

“No!” Hollis exclaimed.

“Don’t be a fool!” Chay rasped.

“I want to know,” Maarken said simply, and drained the cup to the dregs.

Sioned tightened her lips over a furious protest. She met Rohan’s gaze. He said, “ ‘I want to know.’ That’s probably the most dangerous sentence in any language. More than one of us here tonight has succumbed to it.”