The Star Scroll Part 2

But Ianthe was dead, and Pandsala was here, alive, and second among women only to the High Princess herself. She remembered then that she had a report to write to Sioned, and forgot Chiana, her other half sisters, and the past.

Lady Kiele of Waes was also at her desk that evening, and also considering the gift Pandsala possessed and she did not. Kiele did the best with what she had-but how much more she could have done had she the ability to weave the sunlight and see what others might not wish seen.

Smoothing the folds of a gown made of green-gold tissue, she consoled herself with what she did did possess. But in a short while she would preside over a dinner for Prince Clutha, in Waes to discuss arrangements for this year's possess. But in a short while she would preside over a dinner for Prince Clutha, in Waes to discuss arrangements for this year's Rialla, Rialla, arrangements that would nearly bankrupt her and Lyell. Again. Clutha had never forgiven Lyell for siding with Roelstra during the war with the Desert, and all these years of being watched and suspected had not been amusing. Clutha had hit on the idea that making Waes pay the entire expense of the triennial gathering would keep its lord and lady too short of funds to work mischief elsewhere. Treading the extremely narrow path their overlord had decreed kept Kiele in a near-constant state of nerves. Lyell, however, never seemed to mind. He hadn't enough wits to mind; he was too busy being grateful that he still possessed his life, let alone his city. arrangements that would nearly bankrupt her and Lyell. Again. Clutha had never forgiven Lyell for siding with Roelstra during the war with the Desert, and all these years of being watched and suspected had not been amusing. Clutha had hit on the idea that making Waes pay the entire expense of the triennial gathering would keep its lord and lady too short of funds to work mischief elsewhere. Treading the extremely narrow path their overlord had decreed kept Kiele in a near-constant state of nerves. Lyell, however, never seemed to mind. He hadn't enough wits to mind; he was too busy being grateful that he still possessed his life, let alone his city.

Kiele's fingers trailed along the gold headpiece on her desk. It was not quite a coronet, for not even she would dare that in the presence of her prince. Her pretty mouth twisted as she calculated yet again the chances of wearing the real thing one day. None, unless a great many people died. Though elderly, Clutha was in the best of health, as was his son Halian. The blood connection between them and Waes was in the female line and so remote that Kiele had no hope of its ever becoming applicable to the inheritance of Meadowlord.

The best she could do was set up one of her half sisters as Halian's wife. She had been well on the way to it some years ago when her choice, Cipris, had died of a slow, mysterious fever. Halian had been sincerely attached to Cipris, but that had not prevented him from taking a mistress to console himself. He had sired several children on the woman-all girls, for which grace Kiele thanked the G.o.ddess. Had there been a son, he might have become the next heir to Meadowlord, with no blood ties to Kiele at all.

Halian had been quite happy in his illicit domestic life and reluctant to exchange it for legal marriage. But now his mistress was dead. Kiele smiled as she put her signature to a letter inviting her half sister Moswen to Waes for the summer. Moswen would make Halian an excellent wife-although Kiele wondered why she took the trouble to elevate one of the hateful Lady Palila's daughters. Then she shrugged. She worked with what she had. Moswen was the right age, reasonably pretty, and grateful to Kiele for past favors. She was also hungry for the trappings of power. She saw the jewels, the lovely clothes, the deference, and it was these things she desired. Of the realities of power she saw and understood nothing. Kiele considered her the perfect choice, for she would be easy to instruct and influence. Once Clutha died and both Halian and Lyell were out from under the old man's eye, Meadowlord would be Kiele's to play with as she wished. Halian had proved himself the type of man who could be led by what was between his legs-just like Lyell. With Moswen leading Halian, and Kiele leading her her. . . .

A shift of light in the mirror caught her attention, and the door behind her swung open to admit her husband. Lyell was an angular, pallid man whose blue eyes and nearly colorless blond hair were more faded than ever by the Waesian colors of red and yellow that made up his formal clothes. Kiele frowned slightly as he approached her, for she had ordered his squires to dress him in a shade of green to complement her own gown. They would have been a matched set, and Clutha would have been honored by their wearing his color. But Lyell was stubborn about his family dignity and wore his own colors on all formal occasions. In some ways his stubbornness had served Kiele well, for she might have made some tactical errors in the past if not for Lyell's insistence on the rigidities of tradition. Faint grat.i.tude stirred at the memory, and her frown became a smile by the time he crossed the chamber and stood behind her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, stroking her bared shoulder.

"Thank you, my lord," she said demurely. "I had thought to save this gown for the Rialla, Rialla, but-" but-"

"Wear it then, too. Not even High Princess Sioned can have anything so magnificent."

Mention of Rohan's Sunrunner wife, who with her fire-gold hair and forest-deep eyes wore green even better than Kiele did, decided her against making the dress part of her Rialla Rialla wardrobe. "Did you have something to tell me?" wardrobe. "Did you have something to tell me?"

"A letter arrived for you from somebody in Einar. You said you didn't wish to be disturbed while dressing, so I opened it for you." He produced a piece of folded parchment from his pocket.

A curse nearly left her lips when she recognized the handwriting and the remains of a dark blue wax seal. Forcing herself to stay calm and casual as she placed the letter aside, she said, "It's from my childhood nurse, Afina, who married a merchant in Einar." It was the truth, but she did not add that Afina had been the only servant at Castle Crag to care for her after her sister died of Plague. Afina had wanted to come to Waes, but had been persuaded that she could be much more useful in the vital port of Einar, the first link in Kiele's chain of informants. Merchants heard everything, and usually pa.s.sed it on to their wives.

"A boring letter, really-just family news. I don't know why you bother with a former servant, Kiele."

"She was very kind to me when I was a little girl." To distract him from the subject, sure to touch soon on the unsuitability of the Lady of Waes corresponding with a mere merchant's wife, she brought her arms closer together to deepen the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Lyell's fingers strayed downward from her shoulders, as she had intended.

"Let's go down late for dinner," he suggested.

"Lyell! It took me all afternoon to put this on!"

"It'll take only a few moments to get it off you."

"We don't dare insult Clutha," she scolded, winking at him. "On any other night-"

"But it would be perfect now. now. I've talked with your women. This is the right time to make another heir." I've talked with your women. This is the right time to make another heir."

Kiele vowed to dismiss whichever of her maids had been blabbing. She had learned long ago that men strayed when their women were child-heavy; her father had never been able to bear the sight of his mistresses during pregnancy. Kiele had fulfilled her duty by giving Lyell a son and a daughter. Conception tonight would mean she would be bulky and uncomfortable by the late summer, when she would need all her wit and charm-and when other women would be at their loveliest in pursuit of the richest and most powerful men. Lyell had been the key to the locked walls of Castle Crag for her; she did not love him and never had. But he was useful, and he was hers, and she did not intend for him to seek other beds. Once she ruled Meadowlord through Moswen and Halian, then Lyell could mount as many mistresses as he pleased. But not now.

She smiled at him. "Antic.i.p.ation always enhances enjoyment, Lyell. Now, be a darling and find my green slippers, please? After all, you're the one who kicked them under the bed the other night."

He kissed her shoulder and obeyed. Kiele locked Afina's letter in her jewel box and replaced the key in a pocket of her underskirt. Lyell returned from the bedchamber just in time to see her smoothing her green stockings. He knelt beside her to slide on the velvet slippers.

"If you don't put your skirts down, I'll forget Clutha even exists," he said playfully.

She deliberately hiked the gown a little higher. "Does he?"

"Kiele!"

But she glided smoothly from her chair and out of his reach, laughing as she placed the golden headpiece on her piled dark braids.

Dinner in the banqueting hall was endless. Prince Clutha was full of plans for making this year's Rialla Rialla more splendid than ever, and, G.o.ddess knew, the cost of the last one had been such that Kiele had gone for half a year without a new gown. She was forced to listen in angry silence with a smile on her face as Lyell's pride made him agree to schemes that would beggar him. Most entertainments were put on by the princes, with the burden falling on Rohan as usual, but the prizes for horse races and the spectacle of the last evening's banquet were Lyell's responsibility, with only nominal a.s.sistance from Clutha. Kiele promised herself that once Halian was Prince of Meadowlord with Moswen as his wife, this triennial penury would cease. more splendid than ever, and, G.o.ddess knew, the cost of the last one had been such that Kiele had gone for half a year without a new gown. She was forced to listen in angry silence with a smile on her face as Lyell's pride made him agree to schemes that would beggar him. Most entertainments were put on by the princes, with the burden falling on Rohan as usual, but the prizes for horse races and the spectacle of the last evening's banquet were Lyell's responsibility, with only nominal a.s.sistance from Clutha. Kiele promised herself that once Halian was Prince of Meadowlord with Moswen as his wife, this triennial penury would cease.

Clutha had brought his Sunrunner with him, a frail and withered old man with very dark eyes that saw too much as far as Kiele was concerned. She knew that whenever he accompanied Clutha to Waes, Lady Andrade received detailed reports. When dinner was over, the old faradhi faradhi wheezed his way into the dining room, Clutha's squire at his side. The young man gave Kiele a slight, elegant bow, his fine dark eyes flickering with disapproval of her almost-crown. She favored him with a lifted brow, wondering if his place on the social scale of n.o.bility was low enough to allow her a calculated insult in return. wheezed his way into the dining room, Clutha's squire at his side. The young man gave Kiele a slight, elegant bow, his fine dark eyes flickering with disapproval of her almost-crown. She favored him with a lifted brow, wondering if his place on the social scale of n.o.bility was low enough to allow her a calculated insult in return.

Clutha glanced up from the written list of expenditures. "You've the look of the last sunlight about you, Tiel."

"Indeed, your grace, Riyan and I have just received word that Prince Ajit of Firon is dead. A seizure of the heart, it was."

Kiele made appropriate noises of shock and grief, but her mind raced. Ajit had no direct heir. She tried to recall the collateral branches of the Fironese royal house, and if she was allied with or related to any of them.

Clutha gave a heavy sigh, shaking his bald head. "Unhappy news. Many times I've told him he should live life more easily, as befits men of our age."

Kiele coughed to hide a giggle, remembering that Ajit had planned to take yet another wife-his seventh-this year at the Rialla. Rialla. Halian caught her eye and his lips twitched. Halian caught her eye and his lips twitched.

"There'll be one less wedding at Lastday this year," he remarked.

His father thundered, "You will mourn our royal cousin with respect, you insolent fool!"

"I mean no disrespect," Halian said contritely, but there was that in his eyes that told Kiele he wished the old man dead, burned, and out of his life. She lowered her gaze to her lap after casting a careful look of sympathy at him. Yes, he was ripe for the plucking, if Moswen was clever and played on his impatience with his father. Clutha behaved as if his son was still a lad of barely twenty winters, not a man nearly forty. Kiele would have to remember to tell Moswen the best approach to use. She would be a princess before autumn.

News of Ajit's death dampened Lyell's ardor, for which Kiele was profoundly grateful. While he slept in the huge state bed, she returned to the dressing chamber and lit the candle on her desk. Its reflection in the mirror gave her enough reading light as she scanned the letter from Afina.

You may recall my sister Ailech, who was in service at Castle Crag during your childhood, though not in the honored place I had at your side, but in the kitchens. We were never very close, for she envied me my place. But I have had news of her family after these many years. As you may know, she went to Waes with Lady Palila, both of them big with child, and it happens she bore a son, a fine young man with dark hair and green eyes. Ailech died shortly after his birth, and her husband also having died, Masul was raised by my parents where they are pensioners at the manor of Dasan in Princemarch. Masul is something of a hawk in a sparrow's nest, for with his black hair and green eyes he is unlike the rest of our blond, brown-eyed family. Ailech's husband also had dark eyes, and was small of stature like us, but they say Masul is the height of your late father. But I chatter on about matters that could not interest you.

Afina never wrote about anything that did not interest Kiele and they both knew it. Kiele had asked her to use her contacts in Princemarch to get definite news about a boy said to be Roelstra's son. She had been toying with a particular scheme all winter, working out ideas-purely speculative until now, when it seemed that her arrow shot in darkness had hit an unexpeted target. Delight brought a soft burst of laughter from her throat. She glanced at the open door to the bedchamber, but there was no sound from Lyell.

That night at the Rialla Rialla had always intrigued Kiele. Four new borns in one night; a princess exiled and a princess rewarded; a mistress burned in her bed. Of the four babies, one had been Chiana-insufferable girl. If Kiele shared anything with Pandsala it was an aversion to their half sister. had always intrigued Kiele. Four new borns in one night; a princess exiled and a princess rewarded; a mistress burned in her bed. Of the four babies, one had been Chiana-insufferable girl. If Kiele shared anything with Pandsala it was an aversion to their half sister.

But was Chiana Roelstra's daughter? Kiele chuckled silently as she set fire to the letter and watched it burn to ash on a polished bra.s.s plate. Afina had not had to repeat that part about the green eyes. Roelstra's eyes had been that color. And Masul was nearly Roelstra's height, was he? Kiele bit her lips to keep from laughing aloud.

She pulled out parchment and pen, and wrote a swift letter to Afina thanking her for her letter and asking for more interesting family news to distract her from the strain of organizing the Rialla. Rialla. She ended by expressing a desire for a gift, one of those trinkets Afina often provided to cheer and amuse her-something in shades of black and green. This would be correctly interpreted to mean that the gift was to be Masul himself. As she signed and sealed the letter, another idea struck her. She wrote a second letter, this one a prettily worded invitation for her dear younger sister Chiana to do her the favor of coming to Waes to help her plan this year's entertainments. That Chiana herself would be providing Kiele's entertainment caused another chuckle as she folded and sealed the parchment. She ended by expressing a desire for a gift, one of those trinkets Afina often provided to cheer and amuse her-something in shades of black and green. This would be correctly interpreted to mean that the gift was to be Masul himself. As she signed and sealed the letter, another idea struck her. She wrote a second letter, this one a prettily worded invitation for her dear younger sister Chiana to do her the favor of coming to Waes to help her plan this year's entertainments. That Chiana herself would be providing Kiele's entertainment caused another chuckle as she folded and sealed the parchment.

Kiele weighed her letter to Moswen in her hand for some moments before burning it, too. With Chiana here, Moswen could not be. And with the thought of her other half sister she nearly laughed aloud-for what could be more hilarious than setting Chiana's hopes on Halian, only to have him reject her utterly when her lowly birth was made public? Kiele hugged herself as the letter burned, rocking back and form with suppressed mirth.

After a time she sobered. She knew she would have to be cautious. The physical characteristics Afina had mentioned would be a help, no matter what the boy's true ancestry. Once Kiele had Masul to hand she could judge whether the green eyes and height were matched by reasonable facial resemblance. Lady Palila had had auburn hair; if Masul's was very black, Kiele could heighten the illusion of his parentage by application of a subtle reddish dye. Proper clothes were essential as well. And jewels. She rummaged in her cases and came up with an amethyst brooch that could be redone as a ring to hint at connection with Princemarch. She could slip it in with jewels due to be reset in time for the Rialla. Rialla. At worst, if the boy was impossible, she would have a new ring. At worst, if the boy was impossible, she would have a new ring.

But if Masul was believable as Roelstra's son, then even if he was truly baseborn there were endless ways to use him. Chiana's public mortification when her birth was doubted was worth anything. The burden of proof would be on those who suspected his ancestry to be common-for the only thing certain about that night had been its chaos.

And if the rumors were true, and Masul really was her half brother. . . . Kiele grinned into the mirror, contemplating the delightful prospect of Pandsala ousted from Castle Crag, Pol disinherited, and Rohan humiliated. She pictured Lyell as Masul's champion and herself as his mentor, teaching him how to be a prince-and through him ruling Princemarch.

She gazed at the two letters. One would go to Einar and bring Masul, the other to Port Adni and bring Chiana. She would keep Masul in hiding until the Rialla, Rialla, school him, attach him to her as his only hope of winning his cause. It would not do to have him meet with Chiana before the princes a.s.sembled. school him, attach him to her as his only hope of winning his cause. It would not do to have him meet with Chiana before the princes a.s.sembled.

But it all depended on his ability to pa.s.s himself off as Roelstra's son. Kiele regarded her own reflection by candlelight, asking herself if it might be true-and if she wanted it to be true. She decided not. A fake, with reality to hide, would be much easier to control than the real son of the late High Prince. She knew the characteristics of her father's breeding only too well.

Chapter Three.

Pol had dreadful memories of his first trip across the straits between Radzyn and Dorval. His mother had warned him that faradh'im faradh'im and water were in no way compatible. But, wise in the way all eleven-year-old boys think themselves wise, and very conscious of his dignity as the son of the High Prince, Pol had not believed her. and water were in no way compatible. But, wise in the way all eleven-year-old boys think themselves wise, and very conscious of his dignity as the son of the High Prince, Pol had not believed her.

His first step on board ship had taught him otherwise. He remembered turning to look at his parents, who stood on the dock with Aunt Tobin and Uncle Chay, all of them waiting for the inevitable. The ship moved fractionally on the tide. Pol felt himself turn green. He staggered to the rails, was grabbed by a sailor before he could fall overboard and, after being dreadfully sick, fainted. A long day's misery in a private cabin had been crowned by the indignity of being carried off the ship that night and put immediately to bed.

The next morning his eyes had ceased their imitation of hot coals and his stomach seemed inclined to stay where it belonged. Pol pushed himself upright, every muscle in his body bruised with the violence of his reaction to crossing water, and groaned. A very old man was dozing by the empty hearth. The noise made him start awake from his nap, and a kind smile further wrinkled his face.

"I thought you'd appreciate a good night's sleep on solid ground before riding up to Graypearl. Feeling better? Yes, I see you are. You've freckles on your nose now, not green splotches."

Thus had he made the acquaintance of Prince Lleyn of Dorval. Pol had felt unequal to the breakfast the old prince proposed, and they had ridden to the great palace where the entire household had a.s.sembled to greet the future High Prince. The night's rest enabled Pol to behave with suitable dignity, and his grat.i.tude had been of such proportions that it had been only a short step to outright worship of the wry old man to whom his parents had entrusted him.

Similar arrangements were made in Radzyn so that Pol and Meath could sleep off the crossing in private before their official arrival at Radzyn Keep. a.s.sisted from the ship to a small house Lord Chaynal kept in the port, they were tucked up between cool sheets and in the morning were greeted by Pol's cousin Maarken.

"I won't ask about the crossing," he said, smiling in sympathy as the pair woke up bleary-eyed. "I remember it all too well myself. But you both look as if you'll live."

Meath glanced at him balefully. "I had my doubts last night." Turning to Pol, he asked, "Are you recovered, my prince?"

"More or less. It never gets any easier, does it?" Pol sighed.

"Never," Maarken affirmed. "Do you want something to eat?" Their winces made him grin. "All right, stupid question, I know! There are horses outside if you feel capable of sitting a saddle without falling off."

They did. There was no special welcome from the people of the port, though they paused in their daily routines to greet both Pol and their own young lord. Maarken was the image of his handsome father: tall, athletic, with dark hair and gray eyes like sunlight through a morning mist. He was more lightly built than Chaynal, however; the slender bones of his grandmother's people had lengthened in him, not thickened. At twenty-six he had fulfilled the promise of height and strength that for now was only hinted at in his young cousin. He also wore six Sunrunner's rings where Pol had none. As they left the precincts of the town and started down the road between newly sown fields, he caught the boy's envious look and smiled.

"You'll have your own one day. I had to wait until after I'd been knighted before Father would let me go to G.o.ddess Keep and Lady Andrade."

"What's she like?" Pol asked. "I remember her from when I was little, but not very clearly. And the only thing Meath and Eolie ever say when I ask is that I'll find out sooner than I want to."

Meath grinned and shrugged. "It's only the truth, isn't it, Maarken?"

The pair were old friends from Maarken's days as a squire at Lleyn's court, and they shared a chuckle. The young lord told his cousin, "You'll have the chance to see for yourself in Waes. It'll be a real family reunion this year, in fact. Andrade's bringing Andry with her, and Sorin's to be knighted by Prince Volog."

Andry and Sorin were Maarken's brothers, twenty-year-old twins whose lives had taken divergent paths. Andry had faradhi faradhi gifts, just as Maarken did, but had seen no reason why he should go through the usual pattern of squire's training and knighting when all he had ever wanted to be was a Sunrunner. When Sorin was fostered to Volog on Kierst, Andry went to Sioned's brother, Prince Davvi of Syr. But after only a few years he had successfully pleaded his case to his parents. His progress in earning his rings had confirmed his choice. gifts, just as Maarken did, but had seen no reason why he should go through the usual pattern of squire's training and knighting when all he had ever wanted to be was a Sunrunner. When Sorin was fostered to Volog on Kierst, Andry went to Sioned's brother, Prince Davvi of Syr. But after only a few years he had successfully pleaded his case to his parents. His progress in earning his rings had confirmed his choice.

Maarken glanced over Pol's head at Meath. "When do you ride for G.o.ddess Keep?"

"Tomorrow morning, after I've paid my respects to your parents."

"You'll need an escort, if I'm not mistaken." He gestured to the saddlebags slung across Meath's horse. When the older man's shoulders stiffened, Maarken went on, "Don't worry, I won't ask. But even in your misery last night you didn't let go of them when the rest of the baggage was taken off the ship. That means they're important, and you'll need an escort to protect them-and you."

Meath smiled uneasily. "I didn't know I'd been so obvious. I don't want more than a couple of guards, Maarken. More might arouse suspicion."

Pol eyed his friend. "Then they must be very very important. Why didn't you tell me you were going to G.o.ddess Keep? You told Maarken on the sunlight, didn't you? How am I ever going to be a prince and make the right decisions if n.o.body ever tells me what's going on?" Then he shrugged. "You don't have to say it. I'll learn what I need to know when I need to know it." important. Why didn't you tell me you were going to G.o.ddess Keep? You told Maarken on the sunlight, didn't you? How am I ever going to be a prince and make the right decisions if n.o.body ever tells me what's going on?" Then he shrugged. "You don't have to say it. I'll learn what I need to know when I need to know it."

"Enjoy ignorance, Pol," Maarken said. "When you're older, you'll know more than you want to, sometimes-and they'll usually be the wrong things, anyway."

The road curved through pastureland where tall spring gra.s.s waited for horses to crop it. Ahead of them rose the magnificent towers of Radzyn Keep, seat of Maarken's paternal forebears for hundreds of years. To the left was the sea below ragged cliffs; on the right, far beyond the gra.s.slands, Pol glimpsed the beginning of the Long Sand, shimmering golden in the sunshine.

Again Maarken understood his glance. "It's always out there, isn't it?" he murmured. "Waiting. We work so hard to make this little green ribbon along the coast, but the sand would take it back in a single winter if we ever got careless." Changing his tone, he asked, "How is the old prince these days?"

"Hale and hearty for his age, and asks to be remembered to you. As if anyone could ever forget him!"

"He does tend to make an impression-especially on your backside when he's caught you doing something you shouldn't."

Pol started. "How did you-?"

Maarken grinned. "Oh, you're not alone, believe me. But it's a relief to know he applies the same remedy to princes as well as lowly lords. How long was it before you could sit down?"

"A whole day," Pol admitted sourly.

"He must like you, then. It was two days before I recovered." Maarken stood in his stirrups and peered at the bulk of Radzyn Keep, then smiled in delight. "There's Mother and Father with the new foals! They were going to come meet you today, but the Master of Horse insisted the inspection had to be this morning, and he's a real tyrant. Come on, let's go watch."

A wild ride and several jumped fences later, they drew rein. Princess Tobin, neat and trim in riding leathers, gave a glad cry and jumped down from her horse. Pol dismounted and went to be hugged and kissed. He was then held at arm's length while his aunt's black eyes regarded him in astonishment.

"Chay!" she called to her husband. "Come over here and see what Lleyn sent us in place of the hatchling we gave him three years ago!"

Pol found that he was no longer at eye-level with his aunt. He hadn't realized he'd grown so much taller. She was grayer around the temples and white threads wove through her black braids now, but otherwise was just as he remembered: beautiful as a starry night. Pol looked up as Chay came over to them, and was startled again to find he didn't have to tilt his head as far back to look into those piercing gray eyes.

"Don't be silly, Tobin," Chay admonished, giving Pol a quick hug. "It has to be Pol-either that or Rohan all over again at that age. My own gray hairs tell me that time hasn't gone backward, so it must be Pol. You don't look any the worse for the crossing," he added, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Not now, I don't. But you should've seen me last night. And I have a feeling I did something awful all over the deck!"

"Never you mind," Tobin soothed. "It's just proof that you've the faradhi faradhi gift." She turned and smiled at Meath. "Welcome to Radzyn. And thank you for taking care of Pol on the way." gift." She turned and smiled at Meath. "Welcome to Radzyn. And thank you for taking care of Pol on the way."

"I can't make any claims to having done so, my lady," The Sunrunner said as he swung off his horse. "G.o.ddess greeting to you both, my lord," he went on, bowing to Chay. "I bring you fond words from Prince Lleyn and all his family."

"Glad to have you here at Radzyn," Chay replied. "And it's good to know the old boy's well. If you're not too tired, why don't the three of you come look at our new crop of foals?" He slung a companionable arm across Pol's shoulders. "I'm disgustingly proud of them-like all my brood," he added with a smile for his eldest son.

As they walked to the paddock fence Meath remarked, "The Desert breeds sons and Sunrunners as fine as its horses, my lord. I've reason to know."

Tobin nodded proudly. "I think you'll find that this year, they're all something very special. Pol, do you see those six little beauties over there? Three grays, a sorrel, and a pair almost golden?"

Pol caught his breath at the sight of them. Long legs carried them in playful leaps that were more graceful than awkward despite mere days of life. The golden duo in particular caught Pol's eye, so alike in color and size, and the darkness of mane and tail, that they could have been dragons hatched from the same sh.e.l.l. "They're wonderful!" he exclaimed.

"They ought to be." Chay folded his arms on the top fence rail and gazed dreamily at the foals. "Bloodlines from here to the start of the world and back again, by my best mares and your father's old warhorse Pashta. If there's royalty among horses, you're looking at it. Pashta's last are even finer than his first."

"His last?" Pol glanced up at his uncle.

Chay nodded. "He died over the winter, very easily and full of his years-and his self-importance, too! Almost as if he knew how these six would turn out. By next Rialla Rialla they'll be ready for you." they'll be ready for you."