They want to make it a bargaining point, he told her bitterly. My instinct is to tell Cabar that Andry will pay the fine if I have to skin him alive to get him to do it. But this way, it looks as if I’m agreeing with Cabar just to get that poor woman back into the sunlight where she belongs.
Andry has a lot of explaining to do, she observed. I’ve kept you long enough, my son. Send to me tomorrow at noon, and we’ll talk further.
And her elegant pattern of colors faded down the sunlight.
Pol raked his hair from his forehead and swung around to face the stunned Giladans. The entire conversation had taken no more than a few moments. But during them Pol had made several decisions.
“Lord Barig,” he said, “the High Princess agrees with us that the Sunrunner must be given other quarters. We have explained the situation to her, and she also agrees with our analysis. Nothing can be done until we have spoken with Lord Andry. But we remind you that he will probably be more disposed to an amicable settlement if he knows his faradhi has been taken out of the dark.” Using his mother’s phrase, he recalled her mental shiver and wondered if it was from more than a faradhi’s understandable fear of being shut away from the sunlight.
Andry’s attitude had evidently not occurred to Lord Bang. He nodded slowly. “I understand, your grace.”
“Good. We will be leaving tonight for one of our northern holdings. Please feel free to remain at Dragon’s Rest and refresh yourselves for the journey back to Gilad.”
“I thank your grace.”
Pol left them, Edrel at his heels. When they were far down the curving corridor, sun through the open windows striking bright glints off silver and copper candle-mounts on the walls, Pol said, “Tell Rialt to come to my chambers. Then order the grooms to have five good horses ready by sunset. And I’ll want to see the under-chamberlain and the commander of the guard as well.”
“Where are we going, my lord?”
Pol glanced down at the boy. “We are not going anywhere. I am going to Elktrap Manor. You are staying here to make sure those damned Giladans don’t linger more than a day or two. Let them go plague Chiana for a while.”
“My lord, as your squire it’s my duty to be at your side—”
“Edrel, just do as I ask. We can argue about it later.”
Dark eyes rounded in shock. “My lord! I would never presume to argue about anything with—”
He stopped, took the boy’s shoulders, and smiled. “Forgive me. I know you wouldn’t. I should have said we’ll discuss it later. All right?”
Edrel nodded. “Very good, my lord.” His tentative responding smile suddenly widened into a grin. “You should have seen their faces when you were Sunrunning!”
Pol choked on laughter, but not over the astonishment of the Giladans. “Edrel! If you’re not careful, you’re going to develop a sense of humor.”
“Oh, I hope not, my lord.” The young face raised to his was the portrait of earnest gravity—but the eyes held a dancing glint that made Pol laugh anew.
The household organized by Rialt for Pol’s comfort and convenience went into smooth, efficient action as his orders were made known. By sunset six horses carrying Pol, Rialt, three guards, and Edrel—who had won his point—were cantering toward the narrow northern pass out of the valley. At moonrise, when a confused and then horrified Riyan located Pol, the group was twenty measures from Dragon’s Rest.
But you can’t come to Elktrap! That’s exactly what this dragon killer wants!
Will you relax? And don’t you dare go looking for him without me. Tell Sorin it’s my order that he stay put. You can leave if you want, of course—you’re my father’s vassal, not mine. But Feruche—
—is technically part of Princemarch, and you know damned well I won’t leave without Sorin. That’s a nasty trick to play on a friend, Pol.
But necessary. I know both of you too well.
He smiled as Riyan slid along skeins of moonlight back to Elktrap without more than a mental grunt in reply. And it occurred to him as he rode through a spring night bright with moons and stars that he was, like his father and grandfather before him, finally going to go dragon hunting. Because where a dragon was, this slayer of dragons would be.
10
Elktrap Manor: 5 Spring
The trail to Elktrap was a fairly direct one, and they made good time. But after several steep climbs and nerve-shredding descents through the Veresch, Pol was looking forward to a rest. He didn’t even have to enter Elktrap to receive welcome; a lovely young woman was waiting outside the gates with a wine cup of a size that sent a flush of relaxation through his muscles just looking at it. Reining in, he smiled gratefully down at her as she bowed low. Straightening, she lifted the cup.
“Be you welcome to Elktrap Manor, and rest within,” she said in the ritual formula of mountain folk.
“Lady Ruala,” he said, identifying her by the black braids and green eyes that her grandfather, proud of her beauty, had described in great detail at a vassals’ conclave last year. “How did you know this is just what I need?”
She smiled back. “I know these mountains, your grace. Every traveler who comes through here is in need of a strong draught of wine.”
He took a long swallow, sighed with pleasure at the fine vintage, and gave the cup back to her. “With this and your smile to refresh me, my lady, I’ve almost forgotten that last pass. Whoever named it Tumblewall knew exactly what he was talking about.”
Ruala chuckled and went to offer wine to Rialt, Edrel, and the three guards, repeating the traditional words of welcome to each. Pol hid a grin as Rialt’s gaze widened slightly; she was indeed very beautiful, with the slim, quick figure of a girl and the graceful poise of a woman. The combination of black hair, white skin, and lustrous dark green eyes was enough to make any man look thrice. Add a tip-tilted nose, a charming smile, and that indefinable something about a woman of breeding and intelligence who knows her worth, and Lady Ruala of Elktrap was a formidable creature.
Once inside the gates, their horses were taken by grooms. Riyan, Sorin, and Lord Garic descended the short steps of the manor house, the latter giving him warm welcome. The former two still looked slighty disgruntled. Pol grinned at his friends.
“Oh, stop glowering. I’m here and you’re stuck with me. And I’ve been thinking about how best to trap this dragon killer. Riyan, you and I can weave sunlight and go looking from here, after you give me the picture of him you got from the dragon.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“And stop being so formal—I already know you disapprove of my being here.” He turned to Garic as they entered the wide downstairs hall that seemed entirely carved of dark-stained pine. “And that reminds me, I’d be honored if you and your granddaughter would call me by my name.”
“The honor is ours. Although I’m afraid our folk will bow and stare quite devotedly.” The old man chuckled. “They’ve never served a prince before.”
Rialt laughed as they started up the stairs. “The easiest way to rattle his grace here is to bow to him fifty times a day. It keeps him humble.”
Ruala sent him a gentle frown of puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”
For a moment the chamberlain looked as if he’d wink at her. “He’s just like his father, my lady—treating him like a prince is the best way to remind him he’s only a man like the rest of us.”
Pol made a face. “Thank you for sharing that piece of wisdom with us, Rialt. My lady, you see what I have to endure in my own palace.” He hesitated on a landing, catching sight of the group in a magnificent old mirror. It wasn’t himself he stared at, but Ruala—the dark-gold sheen cast onto her skin, the misted secrets in her eyes. Goddess, she was beautiful—
She smiled at him in the mirror. “Startling, isn’t it?”