Sunrunner's Fire Part 36

"I know. But she doesn't know what I intend to do to her. her."

"I doubt you'll be able to kill her."

"So do I."

Myrdal thumped her cane on the step. "Don't play coy with me!"

Making innocent eyes at her, he replied, "I wouldn't presume."

"Oh, as you like, then," she muttered. "You haven't changed since the day you were born."

"But I have, you know," he said seriously. "I've learned how to be afraid."

Pol helped Meiglan into the torchlit courtyard, pleased that she seemed to be growing stronger with each step. A tinge of color had returned to her lips and cheeks, she breathed more easily, and her eyes were brighter, more lucid.

There were hundreds of people currently in residence at Stronghold. Every last one of them-save a telltale few Pol looked for and did not find-jostled for s.p.a.ce in the courtyard. Confusion there was; guards posted at strategic spots made sure there would be no chaos. Pol heard s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation as he and Meiglan descended the outer steps, and it intrigued him that while junior servants and the strangers from Cunaxa and Gilad and Tiglath all speculated on what the High Prince had in mind, those who knew his father simply waited in silence. Their long service here had bred a trust he had never thought about before. But it was not blind faith; it was the certainty of experience that whatever the difficulty, Rohan would solve it the cleanest and quickest way possible.

Pol escorted Meiglan to a place beside Walvis and Feylin. She murmured words of thanks to the couple for their a.s.sistance.

"Not at all," Feylin replied briskly. "Actually, I'm astonished you were able to stand up, let alone walk. That sleeping potion was one of the strongest I've ever encountered."

"Are you feeling better now, my dear?" Walvis asked.

"Yes, my lord." She cast a brief glance at her father, who was out of earshot. "I-I need to explain what happened, your grace," she said to Pol.

"I wish you would," Feylin told her with frank curiosity.

A deeper color mounted her cheeks, and she again looked toward Miyon.

"It will be between us," Pol rea.s.sured her.

Meiglan gave him a strangely dignified nod. "Thank you, your grace. But I d-don't have anything more to fear."

He stared down at her, taken aback. "Not here, of course," he said, groping for words. "You're quite safe, my lady."

"Perfectly," Walvis agreed. "I can understand that watching that man's face changing into something else altogether was startling-I admit I had to pick up my jaw with both hands."

"It's what I saw when the change was complete, my lord. I recognized recognized him." him."

"As what?" Pol asked, unable to keep suspicion from shading his voice.

"Before we left Castle Pine, I came upon my father talking with a man while another approached. He was very displeased and s-sent me away." The catch in her voice at remembered ill-usage tore at Pol's heart. "That man was one of them. I-I recognized his red hair."

"So when you saw his real form. . . ." Feylin encouraged.

Meiglan shivered. "I'm sorry for my behavior. But I-when I knew who he was, and Mireva came to take me out of the Great Hall-"

"She drugged you to the eyebrows to keep you quiet," Feylin said.

"It's my fault," Meiglan said miserably. "I was the excuse and the opportunity to bring sorcerers within this keep."

Walvis took her hand. "Nonsense. n.o.body could possibly blame you."

Pol watched the huge dark eyes fill with tears of grat.i.tude. But she did not weep. He tried to be logical, tried to examine her story rationally. If all was as she had said, then she could not have been in his bedchamber last night.

Meiglan's form, but not Meiglan. Mireva.

The twist of physical sickness in his guts told him he had best not dwell too long on that idea. Meiglan was what mattered now. Did he believe her? Suspect her? Trust her?

What had she to lose at this point? Everyone now knew who the diarmadh'im diarmadh'im were. There was no danger to them in telling her tale. He saw her dry her tears with her sleeve, a childlike gesture that brought a renewed ache to his chest. Did he dare believe? What if it really had been her last night, not Mireva? What if this was just one more lie designed by sorcery and her father? were. There was no danger to them in telling her tale. He saw her dry her tears with her sleeve, a childlike gesture that brought a renewed ache to his chest. Did he dare believe? What if it really had been her last night, not Mireva? What if this was just one more lie designed by sorcery and her father?

But she had just handed him her father on a golden plate. Miyon had been seen with Marron and Ruval, Miyon had taken them into his service. Pol had been sure of Miyon's complicity before, but now he had proof.

Of a sort, anyway. If he could believe her.

She looked up at him, beseeching his forgiveness and understanding. He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing if he would accuse her or accept her.

"Your pardon, your grace, but the High Prince commands your grace to attend him within the keep."

He swung around, startled by Arlis' voice and formal phrasing. "What? Why?"

"The High Prince did not share his reasons with me, your grace. But he was most insistent that your grace obey him immediately."

Pol looked down into Meiglan's dark eyes, tortured. Decide-one way or the other! Decide-one way or the other! He saw his fingers caress the lingering drops from her cheek. Her lips parted in fearful wonder at his touch. Unable to bear even this tenuous contact with her, he turned and followed Arlis up the steps. He saw his fingers caress the lingering drops from her cheek. Her lips parted in fearful wonder at his touch. Unable to bear even this tenuous contact with her, he turned and followed Arlis up the steps.

Chapter Twenty-five.

Stronghold: 34 Spring.

Sioned felt wrapped in darkness, shut away from the sun as she had been in Ianthe's dungeon, touched with the madness of that long-ago time. Weeping had cleansed neither her eyes nor her heart; she felt sick, her eyes throbbed, her whole body ached. She wanted to crawl to her bedchamber and huddle in that darkness like a wounded animal.

She stood silently by the closed doors of the Great Hall. When Pol came into the foyer, her control wavered for a moment. Candles revealed shadows around eyes already bruised with strain. There was darkness about him now, where before there had always been only light.

He saw her and glanced quickly away. Sioned fixed her gaze on the emerald resting heavily on her hand, remembering how she'd wrested it from Ianthe's finger. Claimed back everything that was hers. How young she had been then, only a few years older than Pol was now, how certain of herself and her vision. But what was a wound on her shoulder seen in Fire and Water was a scar on her cheek in reality. Andrade had told her long ago that conjured visions came to pa.s.s if one worked to make them happen. The difference between what she had seen and what had occurred, symbolized by that crescent-shaped scar on her face, had never troubled her before tonight. Now it frightened her. Perhaps it meant she had been wrong to take Pol, wrong to destroy Feruche.

Yet as she risked looking at him, doubt drained away. Even if he never forgave her, even if he wasn't her son, he was Rohan's. All his gifts of strength and pride, intelligence and power, would have been twisted had Ianthe had the raising as well as the bearing of him. What Sioned had done, the way she had done it, had not been wrong.

"Father?" Pol was saying. "What's the trouble?"

"Wait until the others arrive. I only want to explain this once."

"What others?"

"Until you have something useful to say, be silent!" Rohan snapped.

Pol stiffened, answering coldly, "As you wish, your grace."

Myrdal snorted. "Well, well. p.r.i.c.kly as pemida pemida cactus tonight, aren't we?" cactus tonight, aren't we?"

The situation was saved by the entrance of Maarken and Riyan. Rohan had insisted that Arlis make the summonses formal; the two young men took the hint and made their bows to the High Prince, not speaking until spoken to. Rohan acknowledged them with a nod and the words, "I trust your various talents are in working order even in the middle of the night."

"Our gifts are at your grace's command," Maarken affirmed.

Chay entered, Andry beside him, in time to hear Maarken's words. Andry's lips thinned as his brother offered up Sunrunner abilities to a prince's use. He approached Rohan boldly enough, saying, "I'm pent up here like everyone else, even though we both want me gone-you may not wish my my presence, but you may require the Lord of G.o.ddess Keep." presence, but you may require the Lord of G.o.ddess Keep."

"We welcome your presence, my Lord," Rohan answered quietly.

Mollified but wary, Andry nodded.

Sioned did not join them. She waited in the shadowed doorway, watching Pol's face.

"We have ordered Stronghold emptied of all its obvious inhabitants," Rohan said. "Now it's time to take care of the un.o.bvious ones." Without further explanation he took Myrdal's arm and helped her up the stairs.

The others followed, expressions reflecting various degrees of confusion, curiosity, and concern. Still Sioned held back. And what she both wished for and feared came to pa.s.s. Pol mounted only two steps before he paused, turned, and came to where she stood.

Sioned held her breath. She forced herself to look into his eyes as he halted before her, his eyes that were bitterly ashamed.

"I . . . I'm sorry. I never doubted that you love me." He touched the scar on her cheek. "I just-I never expected this kind of proof. That you'd risk so much for me."

Sioned framed his face hesitantly, afraid he would pull away. He did not. Her eyes stung with tears.

"I loved you before you were even born," she murmured. "I saw you and you were mine. I Named you, taught you, gave you everything that had meaning for me. But you're not mine anymore, Pol." His eyes widened in protest and she shook her head. "Let me finish. You belong to no one but yourself. That's what it means to leave childhood behind. No one can possess anything of your heart unless you choose it so. Whatever you feel for me-"

"I love you," he said. "Please don't cry, Mama."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh, d.a.m.n-I swore I wasn't going to-"

"Shh. I love love you." Pol gave her a quick, hard hug. Then, stepping back, he held out one hand. "We'll have to hurry or we'll miss it." you." Pol gave her a quick, hard hug. Then, stepping back, he held out one hand. "We'll have to hurry or we'll miss it."

She swept tears from her face. "Yes." Managing a smile, she added, "Your father does so hate to be deprived of an audience when he's being clever."

It had taken no special cleverness to figure out that those he sought were almost certainly hiding somewhere within Stronghold.

Rohan reasoned this way. It was unlikely, considering Riyan's quick order to the gatehouse, that they had managed to escape the castle. If they had, sorcery would probably be necessary to conceal their movements. Sioned, Maarken, and Morwenna, all of whom knew the surrounding hills and dunes intimately, had searched by Sunrunner methods and found no trace. Riyan, with both diarmadhi diarmadhi blood and blood and faradhi faradhi rings, had sensed nothing on his own forays. Soldiers both mounted and on foot had undertaken a more conventional exploration with the same negative results. The chances of successfully hiding from so many were remote. Mireva, Ruval, and Ruala were not outside Stronghold. rings, had sensed nothing on his own forays. Soldiers both mounted and on foot had undertaken a more conventional exploration with the same negative results. The chances of successfully hiding from so many were remote. Mireva, Ruval, and Ruala were not outside Stronghold.

If they were not without, they must be within. But Riyan's tours of the keep from cellars to battlements had revealed no hint of sorcery either. Physical search by servants and guards had proved equally fruitless.

Every indication affirmed that the three were neither inside the castle nor outside it. But not even a sorcerer could vanish into thin air. Still, there were places in Stronghold that could create that impression.

Rohan knew they must be laughing, safely concealed in his very castle while he made a fool of himself trying to find them. What profit in leaving? How much more formidable they would seem, after all, if the challenge came from within Stronghold itself, as if they already had command and possession of the keep. It was what he would have done. They must be waiting here for a ripe moment to reveal themselves.

Rohan had had enough of waiting.

Given the clues by Myrdal-stubborn old she-dragon, he told himself with an inner smile both fond and exasperated-he led his little group to the southern side of the fourth floor. On the way upstairs Myrdal whispered instructions about which rooms contained secrets. Though she rejoiced in teasing him without mercy, she did so only in private; the privileges of a High Prince did not include being made a fool of in public. So he entered the maidservants' quarters with perfect confidence, blessing her tender regard for his image.

Riyan gestured candles alight without being asked. By their glow the room's features were revealed: a row of beds along one wall, covers tumbled; a carved screen around the private s.p.a.ce for Tibalia, the benevolent despot in charge; standing wardrobes that sectioned off the sleeping area from chairs and tables scattered casually before the windows. It was to this wall that Rohan went.

Chay said, "I hate to ask, but would somebody please tell me what we're supposed to be doing?"

Maarken answered him. "Finding a couple of unwanted guests. Andry, Riyan, we'll have to be ready for just about anything."

Rohan felt carefully along the junction of walls. "I regret I've never heard of a way to prepare for countering an attack by sorcery. I'm relying on your instincts."

"What do yours yours say, Rohan?" Chay asked. say, Rohan?" Chay asked.

"That this is the logical place. Mireva would have been in here several times during her stay. Our tyrannical Tibalia is as strict with guesting servants as she is with our own maids, so Lady Meiglan's pair would have found themselves spending evenings here instead of roaming the castle."

"Which gave the witch ample opportunity to find what we're looking for now," Myrdal finished approvingly. "Very good indeed, my prince."

"Why waste time on places she didn't go? It isn't as if she was free to explore. And I can't convince myself that all the secrets of Stronghold are known by every diarmadh'im diarmadh'im in the-aha!" in the-aha!"

The sunburst pattern was half-hidden in a decorative carving of flowers. Gesturing the others closer, he held his breath and pressed down.

Nothing happened.

He felt the stones all around the sunburst, trying to discern in which direction the wall would give. "d.a.m.n it all, where is it? There's got to be a catch here someplace. Myrdal, help me with this."

"I only know about the fool thing, I've never actually worked it before," she grumbled, but obeyed.

"Riyan," Pol said, and his presence startled Rohan, "you remember the defense we read about today. We'll weave it now, just in case."

Rohan glanced over his shoulder, saw his son standing protectively in front of Sioned. Her face was tense, but the terrible hurt had left her eyes.

"The Star Scroll?" This from Andry, in sharp tones.

"You've used it," Pol said aggressively. "Why shouldn't we?"

Rohan's fingers probed and pushed, twisted, tugged, and tested. Swearing under his breath, he drew back slightly. "Look here, you can see where it fits into the wall. There's a little seam in the stone. But it won't work!"

"Maybe they fouled it somehow," Chay suggested. Then, with an odd look at Myrdal, "How many of these little secrets are are there around here?" there around here?"

"A lot more than in Radzyn," she replied smugly. "I think this one's hopeless. I've opened plenty of others and they all work perfectly. Chaynal's right, it was broken somehow."

"Deliberately?" Sioned asked.