“Manhood? So that’s Miyon’s problem—and Halian’s! Of course, with a wife like Chiana—”
“Granted.” Rohan smiled suddenly. “Not everyone is blessed with a woman the caliber of your mother. Be careful when you Choose, Pol. What you want is not just a wife, but a princess.”
“I know.” He shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable with the subject of Choosing a bride, and Rohan stifled a chuckle. “But going back to Ruval and Marron—”
“They committed crimes, and will be punished. But I suspect a larger crime, Pol, against not just the law and our family, but against everyone. Andry’s been very possessive of the historical scrolls Meath found on Dorval, but Urival told me quite a lot of what’s in them. The oppression, the rule of fear, the suffering caused at the whim of these diarmadh’im simply because they had power the common folk did not—their time was all I loathe about power. Lady Merisel and her Sunrunners made a commitment never to grasp for princely power to augment their other gifts, a reassurance to the people that wasn’t broken until your mother’s grandmother married a Prince of Kierst.”
“And now there’s me. But the diarmadhi times are long forgotten, Father.”
“Do you think so? They haven’t forgotten. And with Roelstra’s grandsons pressing a princely claim with sorcerer’s power, everyone else is likely to remember very clearly and very soon.”
Pol gave a grim chuckle. “Will I start to look better to the other princes, do you think?”
“Perhaps. But anybody who can do what they can’t makes them uneasy.”
“So we wait and see.”
“Or not wait and not see. You comprehend the frustration, I take it.”
“Of being a civilized man with principles, yes. It’d be a lot easier on my nerves to behave like a barbarian.”
“I’ve given in to the impulse many times. And had to live with myself afterward.”
He looked up as Pol’s squire, Edrel, entered the room. Rohan smiled encouragement to no avail; although the boy had grown used to serving Pol, he still paled around the High Prince. After a bow much more formal than any of Rohan’s own squires ever gave him after their first few days of service, Edrel spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Lord Tallain is here, your graces, asking if you have a moment to see him.”
“Always. Send him in, Edrel.” Turning to his son after the boy gave another deep bow and left, Rohan sighed, “Do something about that, will you?”
Pol only grinned and rose to welcome Tallain.
The responsibilities of the most important holding in the northern Desert suited Tallain—as did marriage and family life. Rohan saw much of the father in the son, the way Eltanin had looked for the tragically few years of his marriage to Antalya of Waes. She was evident in their son’s face, as well, her sweet smile and self-possessed calm which in Tallain was a serene charm quite unlike Pol’s occasional fire.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Tallain said. “But there are a couple of things I think you ought to know about.”
“Sit down. We’ve all been on our feet all night.” Rohan suppressed a sigh, thinking that whatever Tallain felt couldn’t wait until later was bound to be irksome in one way or another.
After pouring himself a cup of wine, Tallain seated himself and began. “Andry spoke to Tobin on sunlight just a little while ago. He’ll be here in three or four days.”
“And went to his mother rather than any of the other faradh’im present because she lacks the training to talk back to him,” Rohan said, nodding. “Clever lad. Go on.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you must be right,” Tallain mused. “He could just as easily have spoken to Riyan.”
“But not my mother,” Pol put in.
“Well, no. They don’t talk much, do they? At any rate, he also says there’s a girl at Faolain Riverport who ought to be told about Sorin before she learns it from common talk. It seems she’s owed the courtesy.”
Rohan’s brows shot up. “Sorin had a young lady? First I’ve heard of it.”
“Andry’s the only one he told. Not even Riyan knew about her. I suppose that until he’d made formal Choice, it wasn’t something he wanted known except by his brother. There wasn’t anything between them. But she ought to learn it privately.”
“But who is she?” Pol asked.
“Daughter of the chief architect. It seems Sorin was hesitating because the Desert is a hell of a place to bring an unsuspecting bride.”
Rohan smiled. “I remember thinking the same thing myself thirty years ago. You were wise to pick a wife who knew exactly what she was getting, Tallain.”
“I was luckier than I deserved, my lord.” Tallain’s brown eyes sparked and softened as he glanced out a window to where Feruche and Sionell were. Rohan noted the look. Pity, he thought yet again, that Pol hadn’t had the sense to make both himself and Sionell happy. But she was entirely content with Tallain, for which grace he thanked the Goddess. Sionell deserved to be loved.
“I hope I’m half as lucky,” Pol said warmly. “I keep wondering how I’m going to break it to whoever I marry that she’ll be spending a goodly portion of her time in the Desert!”
Tallain grinned at him. “Young ladies pale at the very thought, do they?”
“All they see is Dragon’s Rest,” Pol sighed. “I don’t dare mention the other! But you say Sorin’s lady didn’t much like the idea?”
“Who knows if it even got that far? Anyway, Riyan will get word to her through the Faolain Riverport Sunrunner, and Tobin says she’ll write to the girl within the next few days.”
“Very good. And now the more difficult matter, Tallain?” Rohan asked.
The young man grunted. “There’s no fooling you, is there? A courier rode in a little while ago with a note from Miyon of Cunaxa. He wants a conference regarding trade, and has several interesting proposals. He also wants a swift answer, so I came down here to ask what reply you want sent.”
“How interesting?” Pol leaned forward, blue-green eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Very. For instance, he suggests a yearly port fee for trade through Tiglath, the same for what goes past Feruche. His initial figure is fairly substantial, but it’s still less than I make fining the shipments they try to slip by me.”
“I see,” Rohan said softly. “And what do you think?”
Tallain shrugged. “You must do what you believe is right, my lord, as always. I trust you to see to my advantage as well as your own. But there would be a benefit in setting a yearly fee for as much as they can ship from Tiglath. I wouldn’t have to play this ridiculous game of spying on Cunaxan shipments. It’s highly undignified. I’m willing to give up a little profit for a little peace.”
Rohan flicked a glance at his son. But Pol had never had any experience of greedy, self-serving vassals who said one thing, thought another, and did a third. Pol found Tallain’s words perfectly natural as well as logical.
Pol thought the look was to prompt his comments. “Relations among all three princedoms would improve, you know. We wouldn’t have all this squabbling over fines on illegal trade. It is, as you say, undignified.”
“Exactly. And I’d save the wages of six or eight inspectors, too.” Tallain chuckled. “Ah, they call us lords and princes, when all we really are is glorified merchants!”
“Speak for yourself,” Pol shot back, grinning. “I happen to be a glorified farmer!”
Rohan laughed with them, but as he was agreeing to the conference he was also thinking about the other factor probably involved. Ruval and Marron had escaped north from the vicinity of Elktrap Manor; Miyon was a possible ally in any attempt against himself and Pol. It was conceivable that this trade negotiation in advance of the Rialla was a second move in that challenge. If so, Ruval and Marron might be—no, would be—part of Miyon’s suite.