“A descriptive and accurate name. Rather too beautiful though, for a fight to the death.”
“Just a moment,” Riyan protested. “Does that mean if the other man knows the rules but you don’t, he doesn’t have to adhere to them?”
“Exactly. He’s bound only by what’s agreed to. Any unstipulated tactic is fair. I suggest you learn this section word for word,” he added with deceptive mildness. “Anyone who breaks the stated rules, even if he wins, forfeits all rights and claims to whatever he challenged for. Read on.”
Pol continued, “‘The first of the rules is this: that battle shall be between two persons only. Interference by another person is forbidden. Second, all Elements may be called upon as skill and power allow. Third, the Unreal may be used at any time.’ ” He frowned. “A reference to conjuring up horrors, the way Andry did.”
“The part about all Elements worries me,” Riyan confessed. “We can call Fire, of course, and Air—but spinning Water and Earth into it isn’t something we ordinarily do.”
“Learn,” Rohan said succinctly, and Pol grimaced.
“‘Fourth, perath shall be constructed by three persons for each combatant. Within this dome of interwoven light the rabikor is fought. If any of the six die during the battle, they shall not be replaced.’ ” He looked up again. “Perathl ‘Needle wall’? No—‘talon’!”
“A tribute to dragons, one supposes. It keeps anyone from getting in—or out. The victor destroys the perath at battle’s end.”
Riyan hesitated. “Is it that dangerous, that its makers can die of it?”
“Evidently.”
Pol continued, “ ‘Fifth, physical touch and weapons of iron, bronze, gold, silver, or glass are forbidden.’ Damn. I can’t take care of Ruval cleanly, it seems. I have to beat him through sorcery.”
“Only if you agree to that condition,” Riyan reminded him. “If it doesn’t come up, you can do as you like.”
“Hmm.” Pol considered, looking troubled. “What’s to keep us honest in this, Father? Not the witnesses. None has the power to enforce a forfeit if the rules are broken. Besides, Miyon’s against us, Barig’s representing a prince who’s furious with us, and as for Andry—” He stopped and grimaced again. “He’s not fool enough to want a sorcerer in my place, no matter how much he hates me.”
Rohan nodded. “I trust you appreciate the irony. You’re perceived as a Sunrunner even though you weren’t trained at Goddess Keep. Your defeat would shake confidence in all faradh’im—not a desirable outcome as far as Andry is concerned. Oh, yes, he’ll support you. He can’t do otherwise.”
“I don’t know,” Pol said, openly doubtful. “He was angry enough to make a lot of threats. But I still don’t understand why either of us should keep to the rules.”
Rohan shrugged. “Honor, on your part. The ancient ways on his, or so one hopes. Perhaps he’s confident that you don’t know the rules.”
“Pol. . . take a look at the sixth one,” Riyan murmured. He read it to himself, then blanched and read aloud. “ ‘Sixth, the use of dranath is imperative. It shall be taken publicly in equal amounts by each combatant.’ Father—dranath addicts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. It won’t make for a pleasant time as it fades. But neither will one dose chain you.” He deliberately forgot Sioned’s experiences with the drug, Hollis’ terrible climb out of addiction.
“We have some available?” He shrugged irritably. “Stupid question.”
“Forgivable,” Rohan answered. “It’s not every day one has to plan a battle against a sorcerer.” He rose. “I’ll leave you two with the scroll now. Read it through from here to the end. It’ll tell you how to function with dranath in your blood, and some specifics that may help you defeat Ruval.”
Sioned was waiting in the hall and silently took his arm as they walked to their suite. When they were alone in the bedchamber, she flung her arms around him and shook. “Hush,” he whispered. “Sioned, sweet love—it’ll be all right, I swear it.”
Her voice was muffled against his shoulder as she said, “Rialt told me. Rohan, it’s worse than we ever suspected.”
He held her away from him, frowning. “What is it? What’s frightened you?”
“Ruala was the perfect choice as hostage. She’s diarmadhi.”
“What?” Rohan’s head spun. “Are you sure?”
“She sensed the sorcery before Riyan did with his rings.”
“So he and Pol told me. But that doesn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t it? They’ll call for the perath. They need three against three faradh’im. Marron was to be part of it, I’m sure of it. This woman Mireva is the second. And I know who they had in mind for their third.”
He felt his fingers clench on her shoulders. “Riyan,” he whispered.
She nodded. “With Marron dead, they were crippled. But they have Ruala, and she’s of the Old Blood. She can be drugged into it—all that’s really needed is her power, not her conscious cooperation.”
“And Riyan won’t let her go through it alone. We’ve both seen the looks they give each other. What they demand of him, he’ll do.”
“He’ll have no choice.”
Rohan paced away from her, thinking furiously. “He’s in with Pol reading the Star Scroll now. That should help him.”
“The perath can kill.”
“So can I,” he said.
“Rohan—no! It’s gone too far for that! And how would you do it? You saw Andry destroy Marron—what you didn’t sense was the effort it cost him, even though he knew more or less what to do!”
“Sioned, I can’t let Riyan and Ruala fight that battle for me. I delayed too long in killing Masul nine years ago. I won’t let—”
“There’s more,” she interrupted. “And worse.”
He laughed harshly. “Of course there is. There always is.”
Sioned hesitated, not looking at him. “I went in to see Meiglan. Edrel met me outside her rooms and asked if she was all right after last night. I thought he meant when Marron’s false shape vanished.” She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. “I told him it seemed she’d been helped to sleep shortly after it happened and had been sleeping ever since. And he—he said that wasn’t possible because he found a lace veil belonging to her in Pol’s room this morning. But she couldn’t have been the one who left it there.”
Rohan’s throat closed as if a fist gripped it.
“Can you possibly imagine that pitiful child sneaking into a man’s chamber, even on direct threat from her father? Besides, she was taken away in hysterics last night and I can’t see her making a quick recovery.”
“You . . . have evidence,” he managed around the terrible constriction of fear.
She nodded. “I know some medicine. Tobin knows more, and Feylin more than both of us combined. Her mother was a physician. I had them confirm what I suspected. The amount of drug in Meiglan’s wine produces identifiable levels of unconsciousness as it works. When I left her, she was in the last stages. The drug must have been given only a little while after her so-called maidservant got her out of the Great Hall. Pol didn’t leave us until much later than that.”
“It won’t work, Sioned.” He heard the desperation in his voice and tried to control it. “You can’t be sure whether or not the amount of drug was changed, added to since—”
“Both Tobin and Feylin confirmed it!”
“All three of you could be wrong!”
“But you know we’re not.” She wilted into a chair. “You know it as well as I do, Rohan.” “Gentle Goddess,” he whispered with no voice at all. “Ianthe couldn’t change her shape, so she changed your perceptions with dranath,” Sioned told him in lifeless tones. “This woman Mireva—what she must have done—would Pol have sensed sorcery? Even if he didn’t, once he finds out about Meiglan, he’ll put it together. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to protect him.”