“No, greedy one, don’t ruin Mama’s armor!” She set him down hastily and went to kick the door shut. “Have you escaped your squires and tutors again?”
“They wanted me to read boring things,” he informed her. “I don’t need to read at all, Mama. I hate it and I’m a prince and people will read to me when I order them!”
“True,” she admitted, taking off the helm to let her hair cascade down her back. “But often there are messages you won’t want anyone to know about. That’s why you must learn to read well and quickly, my own. You wouldn’t want to depend on someone else to read to you what must be kept secret.” She had a sudden idea, and, being a mother intensely concerned with her son’s education, she acted on it at once. Turning the straight chair around again, she said, “Rinhoel, shall I tell you a secret?”
“Yes! Tell me now!”
He claimed the hand she held out to him and suffered himself to be lifted onto her lap. She watched their reflections in the mirror. “Mama is going away tomorrow for a little while.”
“Where?” he demanded. “To battle? Is that why you’re dressed like a soldier? I want to come!”
“Not yet, darling. But very soon. While I’m gone, I’ll send you letters every day and tell you everything that’s happening. You wouldn’t want anyone else to read them, would you?”
“They’ll be secret?”
“Of course. From everyone but us. Between a princess and her princely son there are no secrets.” It was amazing how much pleasure the titles still brought her.
“But you weren’t going to tell me you were going.”
“I would have this evening if you hadn’t burst in on me all unmannerly.” She squeezed him. “Look in the mirror, Rinhoel. Can you see yourself wearing this same kind of armor, riding a beautiful big horse into Castle Crag?”
“I don’t want Castle Crag, I want Dragon’s Rest.”
Chiana told herself that naturally a little boy would desire a place he had seen rather than one he had not. Her official excuse for bringing him with her to the last Rialla had been that she could not bear to be parted from him. True enough. But it was another secret between them, solemnly sworn even though he had been only four years old, that she had shown him the palace halls and gardens whispering of the day Dragon’s Rest would be his along with the rest of Princemarch.
“You will certainly own it soon. But remember that Castle Crag belonged to our ancestors for many generations, and we’ll rule from there—the way your grandsire did and his grandsire before him.”
“I’m not supposed to tell Father about this, am I?” he asked shrewdly.
“It’ll be our secret, Rinhoel. Think how much fun it will be to receive my letters and know things that no one else does! So you must practice your reading all the time, my darling. Do you understand?”
“I’m not a baby.”
“No, you’re not. You’re my prince, aren’t you? And together we’ll ride into Castle Crag—after we take Dragon’s Rest, of course.”
Rinhoel considered, then nodded acquiescence. He hopped off her lap and recovered the discarded helm. Chiana watched in delight as he put it on and marched back to her, wielding an imaginary sword.
“And that to Prince Pol and all Sunrunners!” he cried, thrusting toward her heart.
She applauded and together they laughed.
Swalekeep—like every other princely seat, all the major and a good many of the minor holdings—had a resident faradhi. But unlike most court Sunrunners, Vamanis usually had very little to do. There were other places where his kind were tolerated, and some where they were openly suspected. But no Sunrunner was so thoroughly ignored as Vamanis. He saw their graces of Meadowlord only when a message had come in from elsewhere, for tradition dictated that the Sunrunner speak directly to those he served. Prince Halian and Princess Chiana never used him for communication with other princes or with their own athr’im—which to Vamanis’ way of thinking was surpassingly stupid. Why send couriers when one had a Sunrunner at hand? But they obviously did not trust him. Part of faradhi ethic was to respect the privacy of such communication no matter what it might be—although he had to admit that under young Lord Andry, that tradition was becoming as flexible as many others. There were things Vamanis swore Lord Andry could have known only because a court Sunrunner had broken the oath of secrecy. Vamanis’ own training had been under Lady Andrade, and she had been a stickler for tradition. But convincing those at Swalekeep of his honor had proved impossible. Especially forbidden him was the usual Sunrunner duty of helping instruct the children of the house. So he rarely had anything to do.
Fortunately, he had other interests and resources. His mother had been a silversmith, his father a cook in their home city of Einar, and Vamanis exercised both talents when he wasn’t exploring the countryside, idly courting several pretty women, reading, or conversing on sunlight with friends who lived anywhere from Snowcoves to Dorval. It was a pleasant life all in all, devoted to private pursuits. But after three years it was beginning to bore him. He had just completed his twenty-eighth winter, and his rings made him one of the elite of his world. There were many other things he could do with his life and he often felt as if his gifts were starting to rust. This summer he intended to petition Lord Andry for another posting, and let someone else enjoy this cushiony existence for a few years.
Vamanis was in the kitchens conferring with the pastry cook about a delicacy for that evening’s meal when an abrupt message on the sunlight streaming through an open window caught his mind. In her characteristically brief, dignified, but friendly fashion, the High Princess requested that he inform Lord Barig of Gilad that the High Prince earnestly desired his presence at Stronghold. Vamanis paused an instant to savor the elegant pattern of Sioned’s colors; he had seldom been touched by them, and her mastery and her glow were a rare treat. After promising to convey the request, he tendered his respects and sighed faintly with the loss of her. Now, there was a woman and then some, he told himself as he went to find Lord Barig.
Duty required that he inform Princess Chiana first. Thus he went upstairs and asked to be admitted to her private chambers. One of her squires arrogantly demanded to know his purpose. Vamanis was tempted to read the boy a lecture on the respect due Sunrunners, but then decided this was too minor a matter to stand on ceremony he hadn’t much use for anyway. So he merely smiled and waited patiently while the squire took the request to his mistress.
Chiana saw him alone. She wore one of her plainer gowns and only a few of the diamonds she so adored and that her husband lavished on her. Vamanis noted that she had on a bracelet of twisting silver wires he had fashioned for her during his first year at Swalekeep, when he had still entertained hopes of being a real court Sunrunner instead of an ignored lackey.
“Your grace honors me,” he said with a bow.
She saw the direction of his gaze. “Oh—you mean the bracelet,” she replied, and he was reminded that she could be a surpassingly beautiful woman when she chose to smile. “Actually, I was about to send for you, Vamanis. But first tell me your news.”
He did so, watched her slight frown, and then asked, “How may I be of service to your grace?”
“Service? Oh. I would have asked one of the resident crafters, but I was going through my jewels and was reminded how clever and delicate your work is. The frame of my mirror is ready to break. Can you fix it for me?”