His vision was limited by the dazzle that stung his eyes. But there, just beyond the glowing run of molten metal into molds, he saw them. Faces—a man and woman, wearing Skybowl’s colors. Harsh fire-thrown shadows behind them on cave walls. And stacks of finished ingots—not silver, but gold.
Smelted at Skybowl after all—
An excruciating blaze made him cry out. He was drawn farther back, to another fire.
Dragon fire.
Seared by a hatchling’s breath that dried his wings, shining flecks trapped in broken shells melded together in another elemental bonding.
Dragon gold.
Ruval cried out again as he wrenched himself from the spell. The Fire vanished, leaving a blackened patch of earth. The coin was still hot when he picked it up.
With shaking hands he scooped dirt to hide the scar. It was a long time before he could stand. But when he did, he began to laugh very softly.
Skybowl. Dragon caves. Dragon gold. How sweetly, perfectly logical. That he had promised Skybowl to Prince Miyon bothered him not at all. It had never been planned that his grace of Cunaxa would live long enough to take possession.
Mireva stepped out the kitchen door into the squalid back court. Towns, even one as small as Castle Pine, offended her. The dirt, the stench, the crowds, the closeness—all were poisonous to her senses and exhausting to her mind. She hated the tiny, cramped upstairs room she had slept in for two nights now, hated it almost as much as she hated the greasy-haired slattern who ran this place. They had just concluded a stormy passage featuring Mireva’s opinion of the slop the woman had the gall to term “dinner.” Only her own prohibition against use of power and the fact that she, Ruval, and Marron had nowhere else to go prevented her from blasting the woman to quivering jelly. The foray into the back courtyard was an attempt to calm her nerves. It did not succeed.
The first stars had appeared in the dusk, barely visible over the eastern wall. Mireva gazed at them longingly, their light burning into her eyes. So clean, so beautiful and diamondlike, so welcome after a long, irksome day of bright sun outside and dim corridors within.
She heard Ruval’s soft footstep a few moments before he spoke. “If not for the prize to be won, I’d say let’s get out of this swine-wallow and go home.”
She kept her gaze fixed on the emerging stars. “If not for the prize to be won, I would agree with you.”
“You haven’t said what you thought of Meiglan.”
“She’ll do.”
“But what’s she like?”
“Small, frail, spineless, and fascinatingly beautiful. She accepts me as Thanys’ friend.”
“Not as her relative?”
Her jaw clenched at the biting mockery in his voice. He knew how she prided herself on her pure diarmadhi blood and how she hated admitting that any of her family had polluted that blood by marrying common folk. Thanys was indeed related to her, and not as distantly as Mireva would have liked. The woman was her grandniece. But this was not the time to renew her anger, useless at this late date anyway, over the stupidity of her family. Besides, Ruval and Marron were talented enough, even though only quarter-breeds like Thanys.
She ignored his question. “It will be easy enough to go with her when her father takes her to Stronghold. I assume you’ve presented the idea to Miyon?”
“Of course. I’m more interested in the girl, though. Can she be trusted?”
Mireva gave a snort. “She only knows how to be afraid, and her fear cancels any wits she may otherwise have. She’ll be useful only as long as she’s afraid of her father.” Ruval knew as well as she did the inevitable fate for those who were no longer of any use. This reminded her of someone else. “Marron has many soothing things to say about Chiana. She can be trusted only so long as her imagination stays within limits. But I fear that when military maneuvers begin, she’ll start scheming again.”
“Not even you can be in two places at once. We’ll keep an eye on what goes on at the Princemarch-Meadowlord border.”
“So will Rohan, through Sioned. It should make him good and nervous.” She chuckled, bad humor easing at the thought of Rohan’s discomfort. “He’ll recognize the tactic, of course—‘training exercises’ was the excuse used by Roelstra in 704. I must remember to ask Marron to tell me how he got her to think of it on her own.”
“It’s so obvious a copy of grandfather’s ploy that Rohan won’t suspect our interference. But Chiana still has ambitions for Rinhoel. They may be more or less submerged, thanks to your time with her in Swalekeep, but she still has them.”
Mireva shrugged and walked the broken cobbles over to the well. The water level was only a few handspans below the stone rim, its underground source saturated over the winter. She reached down and trailed her fingers through the water. “I don’t like having to use her. But Miyon is even more unreliable. They each have their own grudges and their own ambitions which could be dangerous if indulged. There are limits even to what we can do, Ruval. We have no army of our own, and so we must make it seem as though we have the resources of others to draw on. But it’s such a risk.”
Ruval stared down at her in the gathering dark. “What need do I have of an army? Or are you losing faith in me?”
“Listen to me, you fool!” She swung around, her words low and vicious. “You may know almost—and I stress almost—everything I do about the ways of our ancestors. And with those ways you will defeat Pol and take us back to our rightful place. But Rohan and Pol are different from us. They think like princes, of armies and politics. So we will use those things to distract them. Chiana will provide the army, Miyon the politics. We’ve already given them knowledge of your identity—and that at the back of their minds all spring will make them ever more anxious about Chiana and Miyon. We’ve presented things they understand and will try to counter in their usual ways. But when you appear with your unusual challenge, on our terms, they won’t know how to deal with it. They’ll try to use their accustomed methods—which won’t work.” Ruval nodded slowly. “I understand. But there’s another factor here: Andry. If rumor and our observations are correct, then he’s the one thinking like us.”
“Dangerously so. But this business of the Sunrunner in Gilad is a wonderful stroke of luck. Rohan will have no choice but to support Prince Cabar’s right to punishment—and thoughts of you and the diarmadhi threat you represent will be on his mind in this, too. He’ll be thinking of the support of the other princes against us. But his problem is to give the appearance that there’s not one law for Sunrunners and another for ungifted folk. He must come down on the side of general law, consistent with his policies and mindful of the other princes—and your presence. Idiot!” she spat suddenly. “He entertains the conceit that we who are gifted with power are subject to the same legality and morality as the common herd!”
“Andry will be furious,” Ruval mused. “He won’t give Pol any substantial support. Not that he would have, anyway. They’re jealous of each other’s power.”
“And this will only make it worse. After we’re finished with Pol, Andry will be next. And he does not think like a prince,” she warned.
“Leave Andry to me, just as I’ll take care of Pol. Besides, we’re providing other distractions, too.” Ruval smiled. “And I’m assuming you have one or two more in reserve.”
“One, certainly.” She smiled back.
“I can almost feel sorry for Pol. But at least he’ll be well-educated before he dies.”
12
Feruche: 9-10 Spring
“Tell me.”