Chandar looked thoughtful. “I don’t mean to argue, my lord, but it seems to me that this isn’t a regular kind of army.”
“How so?”
“I’ve been considering it. Where would Lord Morlen get so many people? From the Veresch. And they don’t think like soldiers trained elsewhere. Some of our own guards at Castle Crag are mountain folk, and they tell me there’s almost no place they couldn’t take if they set their minds to it. And I don’t believe it’s boasting, either, my lord. I think they’ll attack the expected way, up through the valley. But I also think they’ll come down out of the hills—unexpectedly.”
Jofra spoke up. “I’ll go take a look if you like, my lord. Over on that ridge would be a good place to muster.”
“Do that; But be careful and be silent about it. If Chandar’s right, they may be waiting for you.”
The guard dismounted and vanished into the trees. Donato came back then, shaking his head. “Nothing unusual at the palace—unless you count a couple of servants dallying in the rose garden by moonlight, I spied nothing at all down the valley.”
“How far did you look?”
“To the narrows.”
Ostvel rubbed his forehead. “I don’t like this. Where are they? The man we bought the ponies from said he’d seen them last night. If they’ve melted into nothingness, then perhaps you’re right about their plan of attack, Chandar.”
“I’ll go look again, out beyond the valley,” Donato offered, and returned to the moonlight.
“And then there’s the sorcery,” Ostvel muttered to himself.
“My lord?”
“Nothing.” He dismounted, caught himself against the saddle as his knees buckled, and bent to rub his aching thighs. “I’m too old for this sort of thing. Does it seem to you as if the palace has been warned?”
Chandar shook his head. “Not at all. You see the horses down the valley, my lord? They ought to be in the stables, ready to be saddled in a hurry. Yet there they are in the paddocks as if this were any other spring night.”
“The guards commander could be trying to present as normal a face as possible, to lull the invaders into feeling secure.”
“Not with horses out of quick reach.”
“Damn.” So he’d been right about Andry. But why would Andry want Dragon’s Rest besieged?
Donato was fairly staggering back to them. Chandar jumped down from his saddle and caught the Sunrunner before he could fall.
“Ostvel—you were right, they’re out there! Hundreds and hundreds of them! Even more than I saw at Rezeld! And the banners are raised now in their camp.” He gulped in air. “Meadowlord’s black deer!”
“Meadowlord? What in the name of the Goddess does Halian think he’s doing?” Ostvel felt his brain whirl again, but with shock that chased all the exhaustion away. An idea occurred to him. “Donato—your rings. No burning?”
“None.”
Then their sorcerers were not at work tonight—obviously, or Donato would have seen peaceful, empty space instead of encampment and banners. Ostvel paced away from the two men, thinking quickly. Dragon’s Rest did not know the danger it faced. Halian’s forces did not know someone was aware of their presence. There might be a hope.
He spun around. “Chandar, what are the chances of organizing a raid? Tonight, now, as soon as we can get down to the palace.”
“If it’s done in total silence, my lord, and if Prince Halian’s army is caught unawares—but the narrowness of the valley entrance works against defenders as well as against invaders. Four horses abreast is no way to run a surprise attack.”
“Donato! What kind of horses did you see?”
The Sunrunner frowned. “A pretty wide mix. Mostly those feather-hoofed Kadar horses, but a good selection of Radzyn breed and a lot of mountain ponies. Why?”
“I was hoping you’d say just that. If the ponies are still tethered down below, then their owners won’t be up on the heights getting ready for their own surprise attack. When Jofra comes back, I think he’ll confirm. Donato, find Pol at Stronghold. Sioned will do. But not Andry. Avoid him at all costs. Say what’s happened and what we propose to do about it.”
“At once, my lord.”
Once more he walked out into the moonlight. While he was working, Jofra returned with exactly the news Ostvel had hoped for: signs of reconnoitering, but no troops waiting in the hills.
Donato took a long time about it, but finally joined them again. “I found Riyan out in the gardens with some untrained girl who was trying to hide her colors from me. He’s going to inform Rohan, Sioned, and Pol. But he says to start on his authority anyway while we’re awaiting formal word.”
“Excellent.” They remounted and rode slowly down the steep slope, not wishing to provoke general alarm. A pair of guards galloped up from their regular patrol and, recognizing Ostvel, heard him out. But by the time he had explained everything to the commander and the stabled horses were being readied as quickly and silently as possible, the moons were on a swift descent. Donato remained outside to receive Sioned’s message. When preparations were well underway, Ostvel joined his anxious wait.
“Tell me about the rings,” Donato said suddenly.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked before now.”
“You had other things on your mind. Tell me, Ostvel.”
“It happens to Riyan as well. When sorcery is being done, usually nearby.”
Donato gave him a sharp look. “To Riyan—not to Sioned or other Sunrunners?”
“Only to those with diarmadhi blood as well as Sunrunner gifts,” Ostvel said levelly. “Lord Urival was one.”
A short silence. “Sweet Mother of All—you’re telling me I’m—”
“You have the heritage. So does my son, through his mother. You knew Camigwen. Was she a sorcerer? Was Urival? Is Riyan?”
“Am I?” Donato asked bitterly. Then he stiffened and his eyes lost focus. Ostvel was long familiar with the sight of a Sunrunner at work. He held his breath while moonlight seemed to glow brighter around Donato’s weary face. When it was over, the man stumbled against Ostvel.
“It—it was Sioned—but Andry more than she—Goddess, you’ve no idea his power—”
“Donato!” Ostvel shook him.
“He just—he wove himself through the light, treated her as if she was a single thread in a huge tapestry that was only him—”
“Damn him!” Ostvel snapped. “Tell me what was said!”
Donato straightened a little, breathing heavily. “Sorry—they turned me inside out.” He raked the hair back from his face and went on more calmly, “Before he entered the weaving, Sioned told me about the Sunrunner in Gilad. She’s dead, Ostvel—purposely shadow-lost.”
“Oh, no,” he breathed.
“Rohan took the decision about her away from both Andry and Cabar. Andry’s furious, of course. And then he was there, like a blanket smothering us both. He knows everything. I got the feeling he’d been waiting for this. Before I was flung out of the weave—and I’d love to know how he did it—he said something about taking care of it himself. Sioned seemed . . . trapped somehow. Almost helpless.” His bewildered eyes met Ostvel’s. “I’ve known Sioned since she was at Goddess Keep. I know how strong she is. Andry was late into the weaving, but he took it over as if we were both first-ring novices. He took us completely by surprise.”
“And he says he’ll handle things? How can he, from Stronghold?”
“I don’t know. But he seemed absolutely confident of it.”
“I can’t trust him,” Ostvel muttered. “I can’t believe he can work at such long range.”
“Sioned did, years ago.”
“I know. I watched her do it. But I can’t believe Andry would risk what she did. Look at the moons. They’ll be down in only a little while. What light can be used then? Donato, I don’t trust him!”
“Then let’s get busy with our own work.”
“You’re too exhausted to stand, let alone ride.”