Melanie Rawn - Dragon Prince 3 - Sunrunners Fire

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PART ONE
Chapter One
719: Stronghold
The immense emerald caught and concentrated the fire of the setting sun into a
fierce glow alive with green-gold light. Sunrunner though High Princess Sioned
was, and skilled in the arts of the faradh'im, the other rings that would
signify her rank among them were missing from her hands. For many years she
had worn only her husband's ring, the emerald he had given her half their
lifetimes ago. But tonight she could feel the rest still on her hands, as
she'd told Lady Andrade: like scars.
There were others with her in the evening hush who wore faradhi rings. The
three circling the fingers of her sister-by-marriage, Princess Tobin, were
honorary; nonetheless they betokened considerable if informally trained power.
Tobin's eldest son Maarken and his wife Hollis each wore six rings; Riyan,
only son of Sioned's old friend Ostvel, had four. Had Sioned still worn hers,
they would have numbered seven—but she knew quite honestly that her talents
and her powers would have merited eighth and ninth rings by now. That she
chose not to claim them was indication enough of where her loyalties lay.
She lifted her head and met her husband's solemn expression. He knelt directly
across from her on a broad blue carpet flung over dry grass. A golden brazier
rested in the center of the rug. Its wide, empty dish, supported by four
carved dragon claws, was polished to a mirror's gleam. Before Sioned was a
golden pitcher and a small matching wine cup. She did not look at the latter
very long; she gazed into Rohan's face and, as always, drew strength from what
she saw there.
Rohan was flanked by Maarken and Riyan; Hollis and
Ostvel sat on Sioned's right, Tobin and her husband
Chaynal to her left. She thought of the absent others,
and the reasons why they were not here. Her son, Pol,
was back at Graypearl, safe on Prince Lleyn's island
under the watchful guardianship of another Sunrunner
and old friend, Meath. Alasen, Sioned's kinswoman and
Ostvel's young wife, was at Stronghold, but she would
have nothing to do with faradhi ways. Although she
possessed gifts in generous measure, Sunrunner workings
terrified her. Sorin, Chay and Tobin's third son, was far
away, the only family witness to ceremonies that would
tonight create his twin brother Lord of Goddess Keep in
Andrade's place.
The gardens of Stronghold were silent. Princess Milar's fountain ran dry in
autumn. Servants and retainers were within the great keep or the courtyards,
making ready for departures on the morrow. Tobin and Chay were going home to
Radzyn, Maarken and Hollis to their manor at Whitecliff. Ostvel and Alasen
would stay the winter with Riyan at Skybowl to the north before traveling to
Castle Crag, where Ostvel would assume his duties as new regent of
Princemarch. By tomorrow evening Rohan and Sioned would again be alone at
Stronghold, linked to family and friends only by her weavings of light.
A glance at the shadows told her it was time. She rested her open hands on her
knees, staring down at the emerald. "According to ritual, Andry will call Fire
in front of the senior Sunrunners, and Urival will give him the first ring.
Then Air, and the second ring. They'll pause while Water and Earth are
honored, and then he'll have to prove that he can conjure in Fire. At that
point he'll receive the third ring. Just before dusk he'll weave sunlight to
summon the faradh'im resident at Goddess Keep who wear fewer than seven rings.
Once he's done that, the fourth and fifth will be given. With moonrise he'll
demonstrate his ability to weave moonlight, and that will be the sixth ring.
Up until that time, the ritual will be as it has always been."
Chay shifted and frowned, knowing what she was about to say and unable to hide
his disapproval of his son's plans. Sioned gave him a sympathetic look. They
had gotten over the initial shock of Andry's departure from tradition, but
acceptance was something else again. It
had been several days since Urival had spoken with Sioned on sunlight, his
colors flaring with outrage at Andry's presumption. Certain other important
Sunrunners, who would also be watching tonight from great distances, had been
similarly informed so their startlement would not disrupt the proceedings. But
Sioned wondered what the reaction would be at Goddess Keep itself when the
resident faradh'im actually participated in the new ceremony.
"It won't be sunset there for a little while," Rohan said. "Chay, you've
obviously got something on your mind. Say it."
The Lord of Radzyn shrugged, an attempt at casual-ness. "Maybe I'm just
getting conservative in my old age. Change isn't necessarily a bad thing. And
he seems to have his reasons."
"But why couldn't he have waited?" Tobin burst out. "He's moving too fast. The
tradition of hundreds of years can't be wiped out in a single night!"
Rohan looked pensive. "You're both right, of course. But consider Andry's
motives. He needs to do something to indicate how different his rule will be
from Andrade's."
"She's been dead forty days," Sioned murmured. "Why does it seem so much
longer?"
Ostvel used one finger to smooth a ripple in the carpet. "You've told me she
was uneasy about Andry. But Urival is there, and knows him well. Urival will
guide him."
"But not control him," Sioned replied.
"And did Andrade ever really control you?" Ostvel smiled faintly. "Andry's not
a fool, Sioned, nor is he venal or grasping. He's a very young man thrust into
a position of great power before being prepared for it. I think there are
those among us who can understand his feelings and his needs."
Rohan nodded. "Oh, yes. I understand him very well. I've been the architect of
a few departures from tradition myself, many of them in my first year as a
ruling prince. And this is Andry we're talking about here—a boy you and I
played dragons with, Ostvel. Nephew, son, and brother." His gaze moved around
the circle.
Sioned cleared her throat and looked down at the wine cup. Slowly she filled
it from the golden pitcher. Then she reached into a pocket and took out a
small cloth pouch.
"Sioned—is that truly needed?" Tobin asked worriedly. "I don't like the idea
any more than you do. But Urival was quite specific. And it will only be a
little bit. Not enough to do me any harm." Loosening the drawstrings, she took
out a pinch of powdery gray-green substance. "Enough to fit inside a thumb
ring," she murmured, quoting Urival. "The Star Scroll advises caution, but
this amount is safe enough."
"According to a half-translated book hundreds of years old!" Maarken shook his
head and glanced at his wife. Hollis did not shrink back from the sight of the
dranath in Sioned's fingers, but her eyes were haunted. She had spent the
journey from Waes to Stronghold freeing herself of addiction to the drug; even
though she no longer craved it, the anguish of withdrawal was still evident in
her pale lips and bruised eyelids.
"The conjure I'm working tonight is difficult enough to sustain under ordinary
circumstances," Sioned reminded them. "This one will take all night. Urival
says dranath can increase powers. And he sanctioned its use."
Before anyone could say anything else, she sifted dranath into the wine and
swirled the cup to mix it in before drinking off half the contents.
"I remember how it felt," she murmured into the silence. "Dizziness for a
moment, then warmth. ..." Her cheeks flushed. There was another effect of
dranath: sexual desire. Or perhaps, she thought suddenly as she sensed her
gifts expand within her, perhaps the power was all-inclusive, and every aspect
of body and mind was touched by the drug. She began to sway gently back and
forth in response to the humming sensuality compounded of physical and faradhi
power. There was a hunger in her, not only for the touch of her husband's
flesh but for the unleashing of her talents. She understood the seduction of
the drug. She had always been too afraid of it to analyze its effect, but this
time she was going to work with the dranath, not against it—glorious and
terrifying and impossible to resist. The demands of her body slowly faded,
subsumed into an urge to ride the last sunlight and dare the shadows, to
summon a torrent of Air, to call down Fire and in it conjure fateful visions.
Sioned told herself she chose to succumb. Her disciplined Sunrunner mind
brought forth a gout
of Fire into the empty brazier. The polished bowl seemed to ignite. And in
cool flames half the height of a man there formed clear, detailed pictures.
Andry, too, had just called Fire. He stood in the courtyard of Goddess Keep,
hands bare of rings. All the senior Sunrunners in residence stood in a circle
around the bonfire he had just lit. Urival came forward and gave him the first
ring. An instant later a whirlwind circled the courtyard, plucking at clothes
and hair, blowing Andry's white cloak taut against his slim body. Urival
bestowed the second ring.
Sioned's view of her old friend and teacher's face cleared as he faced the
Fire. She frowned. Urival's stern features were set in flinty impassivity, all
light gone from his golden-brown eyes. Duty and position compelled him to
preside over this ritual; obedience to Andrade forced him to adhere to her
choice for Lord of Goddess Keep. He was not happy with Andry's departure from
that ritual. Sioned wished she could reassure him as those around her tonight
had reassured themselves. But of them all— including Andry who stood apart—
Urival was the most alone.
Sioned heard Hollis catch her breath as Andry made his first change in the
proceedings, one that no one had been warned about. As Air continued to spin
around him, he upended a pouch of loose, dry soil onto the stones. From his
belt he took a glass flask full of Water. He unstoppered it and tossed it high
into the air. A few glistening droplets escaped on its upward flight; as it
fell it revolved and a stream of liquid raced the glass toward the ground.
Andry spread his arms wide. The spilled Earth was caught by a new whirlwind
and rose in tightening spirals. Not a drop of Water reached the stones; the
Air seized it, too. Shards of shattered glass glittered like small knives
within the vortex as it narrowed. The bonfire swirled in wild patterns, and
Earth, Air, and Water were consumed into its red-gold heart.
Andry had brought all Elements into play in a demonstration of power meant to
dazzle. Or, Sioned thought, to warn.
He gestured at the flames and within them a conjuring appeared, a vision of
Goddess Keep itself, sheathed in
light. But it was not the golden glow of sunshine that danced over the walls
and towers, nor the cool silvery gleam of the three moons. Icy white starfire
frosted the conjured stones in sharp shadows and angles, making of the great
castle a citadel of silent power.
Urival stepped forward, his face still expressionless, and slid the third ring
onto Andry's finger. The young man allowed the conjuring to fade, and in his
fine blue eyes was a sudden flare of anticipation.
Sunset light gilded the courtyard. Andry used it to weave a summons to the
less-senior faradh'im waiting for his call. Dozens of them filed into the
courtyard, bowing to Andry and nodding confirmation when Urival asked if they
had felt his colors on the sunlight. The fourth ring was given.
At Stronghold, Sioned lifted her face from her Fire-conjuring to the last rays
seeping over the western walls. As the fragile, rosy warmth touched her brow,
she abruptly knew what Andry would do next, who he would speak to in proving
his ability to ride the sunlight at great distances.
So. You're watching.
How could I not? Sioned replied, not allowing Andry's colors to drench hers in
brilliant light. Goddess greeting to you, my Lord.
And to you, my lady. I see Mother there, and Hollis, and Riyan.
It was a very odd thing to be seeing Andry's face in the brazier Fire while
hearing his voice at the same time in her thoughts. Yes. And Rohan, Ostvel,
and your father. All very proud of you, Andry.
And very worried. Just look at Maarken's face! Don't be afraid of this,
Sioned. I know what I'm doing. Andry hesitated. Is—is Alasen—
No. I'm sorry, Andry. She saw his face change slightly.
/ should have expected it. Sioned, please help her to not be so afraid of what
she is. She'll never find any peace otherwise.
She chose her life, Sioned reminded him gently, and you chose yours.
Yes. Of course. A brief pause. A line furrowed his smooth forehead and
something close to suspicion vibrated through his colors. Sioned—what is it
about your colors tonight? I sense something, I can feel—
The sunlight fades here, my Lord, she replied. You'd best return.
You—dranath/ Sioned, are you insane?
With a mannered fillip she disengaged from the contact and nudged him back
down the weakening rays of light. She sensed his anger at her use of the drug,
and a deeper resentment that she could rid herself of him so effortlessly. She
caught a glimpse of Pol in his thoughts and the unguarded hope that the son
would not be as powerful as the mother. With the drug singing in her blood she
could have followed him while maintaining the Fire-conjure simultaneously. It
was an intriguing thought, not the least bit frightening. But she had the
distinct impression that she ought to be frightened.
Andry had moved closer to the bonfire. No voices or other sounds carried
through Sioned's Fire, but she knew Urival had asked him to tell what he had
done, who he had spoken with. As the sun went down and they waited for the
moons to rise—early tonight, which was the reason for holding the ritual now—
Andry replied, then went round the circle of faradh'im and touched hands with
each.
Sioned remembered the day she'had done the same. With Camigwen at her side,
joined in this achievement as they had been in almost all other aspects of
their training, she had stood before each Sunrunner to receive greetings and
smiles as she became one of them.
"Sioned. . . ." Ostvel's half-strangled voice brought her back to Stronghold.
She looked in bewilderment at his pain-clouded gray eyes, then at the Fire in
the brazier. Within, called forth from her memory by her dranath-enhanced
senses, stood not the present circle of faradh'im at Goddess Keep but a group
of people in full sunlight, herself and Camigwen clasping hands with each.
Amazed and fascinated, she let the conjured memory last a while longer,
feeling not a bit of strain at maintaining it. She looked for the first time
in eighteen winters at her beloved friend's face, the exquisite dark eyes and
the delicate features, watched Camigwen complete the circle and stand waiting
with her, practically dancing with excitement as Andrade came forward to give
them their fifth rings.
"Sioned—please," Ostvel whispered, the words raw with emotion. [
She gave a start and the Fire vanished. "Ostvel—I'm f so sorry, I didn't
think—" I
Riyan was biting his lip, as heart-caught as his father but for a different
reason: he had few memories of the mother who had died before he was two
winters old.
"Forgive me," Sioned murmured, ashamed.
Ostvel shook his head. "It's all right. Just—a shock. Seeing her again."
Sioned thanked the Goddess that Alasen was not present, and returned her
attention to what she was supposed to be doing. The Fire leaped up again in
response to her call, just in time for those watching to see Andry finish the
circle and rejoin Urival by the bonfire.
She felt the latter's colors as she had known she would, his moonlight weaving
necessary to confirm Andry's Sunrunning. Again it was eerie to see his face as
his voice spoke on skeins of moonrays.
He's a little miffed at you for using dranath, you know.
He'll get over it.
Why did he go to you, I wonder?
A rhetorical question, I assume. Ah, dear old friend, I feel your sadness
tonight. It grieves me.
Don't worry. I have a very large flask of your brother's best wine waiting for
me in my rooms. I intend to get good and drunk tonight in Andrade's memory.
To blot out the memories, Sioned corrected gently. / wish I could be there
with you.
No, you don't. You have quite enough to occupy you, High Princess. Well, on
with the festivities.
And he was too suddenly gone. Sioned ached for him, watching his face in the
Fire as he announced that Andry had indeed completed a Sunrunning to
Stronghold. The fifth ring went onto his right thumb, a circle of the special
reddish-gold used only by faradh'im.
It was a ring Andry had never before worn. Up until that moment, he had only
been reconfirming skills already betokened by the four rings he had earned
before this night. But now he was a full Sunrunner, with all the rings, the
honors, and the responsibilities this implied.
And there would be more to come, too quickly.
The scene in the brazier continued, showing Andry as
he proved his skills at weaving moonlight, attested to shortly thereafter by
Urival. Sioned did not know to whom Andry spoke; she suspected it would be
someone approximately as far away from Goddess Keep as she herself was at
Stronghold. The faradhi at Balarat in Firon, perhaps, or Meath at Graypearl.
The idea was for Andry to prove his strength; from the expressions of respect
on Sunrunner faces as confirmation came from Urival, he had succeeded
admirably.
And here came the next departure from tradition. Instead of the silver ring,
the sixth, given for the right little finger, Andry had directed Urival to
present him with that plus another silver for his left middle finger. This
reflected the change Andry had made in the order of things: now, the sixth
would be for an apprentice, and the seventh for full abilities as a
Moonrunner. Formerly, the seventh had been for the ability to conjure without
Fire. Andry had not yet learned that skill from Urival. Rather than show
himself lacking, he had altered the rules.
Sioned tensed as she stared into the flames. She knew what was to come next.
The eighth had always been for the teachers, those skilled and subtle enough
to instruct others in the faradhi arts. Andry conformed to ritual by calling
forward a student of one ring and showing the boy, only a little younger than
he, how to call Air. But rather than silver for the left thumb, Urival placed
there another gold and pronounced Andry a Master—a distinction formerly
reserved for the ninth ring.
Andry had other plans for that ninth ring.
As for the fifth, the Sunrunner's ring, Andry as a Master was now required to
make the circuit of faradh'im. Sioned's apprehensions betrayed her. As she
watched, the Fire flickered and she felt Hollis' hand on her arm to steady
her. But the flames died out, leaving them all in the silvery darkness of
moonlight.
"Sioned?" Rohan asked in a low voice, concerned.
"It's nothing." She reached for the cup of wine.
Hollis put her fingers over it, frowning. "You must rest. Please, Sioned. I
know what dranath can do."
"I'm not tired. Not exactly, anyway." She smiled at her nephew's wife. "I'm
all right, I promise."
"Hollis is right," Rohan said briskly. "We've seen enough. And you've
certainly had enough."
"We have to see what he'll do," Sioned replied stubbornly. "I'll take a few
moments to rest, but I've got to renew the conjure."
Maarken, leaning around Ostvel and Hollis, plucked up the wine. "I'll do it."
"No!" Hollis exclaimed. "Don't be a fool!" Chay rasped. "I want to know,"
Maarken said simply, and drained the cup to the dregs.
Sioned tightened her lips over a furious protest. She met Rohan's gaze. He
said, " 'I want to know.' That's probably the most dangerous sentence in any
language. More than one of us here tonight has succumbed to it." She shifted
uneasily. "Including you," she pointed out. "Of course." And you, my Sunrunner
witch of a High Princess, his eyes said.
Turning to Maarken, she asked, "Well? What's it like for you?"
"Just as Hollis described it. Dizziness, and spreading warmth. . . .." He
looked startled, then smiled slightly. "And the most amazing need to be alone
with my wife— and not just because we're so short a time married."
Hollis blushed in the dimness. "That will pass," she told him.
"Goddess, I hope not!" But his laugh was strained. "This is the damnedest
feeling! Like I could use my thoughts to change the tides!"
"Don't try it," Sioned warned. "Maarken, be careful." "I'm not saying I want
to. I just feel as if I could." He rubbed one hand over his face; the other
was immobilized in layers of bandages, wrist broken in his battle against the
pretender. "So this is what it's like to be a sorcerer."
"Partly, I suppose. But you haven't the gift for it." She glanced at Riyan,
who did. "Don't you go getting any ideas."
"Not if the moons fell out of the sky." The young man eyed the empty wine cup
warily, his right hand worrying at the rings on his left. Then he shook
himself and looked across the carpet at Ostvel. "Father . . . I'm glad I got
to see Mother tonight. I didn't know she was so beautiful."
Ostvel stared down at his hands. "Her face and her spirit."
Chay's eyes were fixed on his eldest son and heir, dark brows shading his gray
eyes nearly black. When the young man's gaze lost focus and he turned pale,
Chay demanded, "Maarken—what is it? Tell me!"
Rohan gripped Maarken's elbow. "What are you watching?"
He gave a start at the touch, gulping in a great lungful of air. "I—I think
somebody's watching us!"
Riyan held both hands out before him. They were trembling. His eyes—Camigwen's
eyes, dark velvet brown with bronze glints—were glazed with pain. "My rings,"
he whispered, staring at Maarken. "Just like when you were fighting Masul and
sorcery was used—"
Ostvel jumped to his feet and hauled his son up. They stumbled toward the
silent fountain, where Ostvel plunged Riyan's hands into the shallow pool of
brackish water. Maarken was gasping for breath, supported by Rohan and Hollis.
Sioned wove moonlight with desperate speed, but could sense nothing and no one
along it.
Then she looked straight up at the stars.
Beautiful, aren't they? a voice said in her mind, rich with mocking laughter.
And you know how to use them, High Princess. Why not use them now to find me?
You've already made an excellent start by drinking that wine. You're beginning
to understand power—the kind your son will have once he's grown. Oh, yes, we
know all about him, your Sunrunner child who also has the Old Blood flowing
through his veins. Someday I'll figure out whether he got it from you or his
princely father.
Wh-who are you? Sioned didn't dare think. She drew into herself, knowing that
to accept the invitation and weave starlight was to court disaster.
Who? You'll have to wait some years before you find that out. Or perhaps you
meant "what." That's something you know very well, Sunrunner.
What do you want?
I'll let you puzzle that one out too for some little while. We're not quite
ready yet, you see. Masul was an interesting beginning, but only a feint. The
real battle is before you, High Princess. Do you think you're up to it? Do you
honestly think you can prevail against the ones you call sorcerers?
And the last thing she heard was gleeful laughter on a breath of starlit wind.
***
Morning sunlight spilled across the floor as Ostvel gratefully accepted a
winecup from Alasen, who settled uneasily on a chair near him. "Can you tell
me about it now?"
"As much as I know." He took a long swallow and closed his eyes. "Which isn't
much."
"But everyone's all right."
"Yes. Still stunned, I think, but not from anything Andry did." He looked at
Alasen, touched her free-flowing hair. It was an unusual shade of gold-lit
brown, straight and fine as silk thread. Her cheeks were pallid with worry and
her green eyes, the same shape and color as Sioned's, were strained. He made
himself smile at her. "Don't look so grim. There's plenty of power among us to
use against these sorcerers, you know."
"Riyan doesn't much like the idea of being of their blood."
"But we learned something very useful last night." He explained his son's
experience with his rings. "So at least we can know when they're working their
spells."
Alasen shivered. "I can understand why they'd be watching tonight, with
Andry's ritual taking place. But why here? Why not Goddess Keep?"
"Perhaps they consider what happens here more important. I don't know. Sioned
says there was no contact, no communication. Besides, can we be sure they
weren't watching Goddess Keep as well?" He drank again and set the cup aside.
"We missed the last part of it," he added idly. "I would have liked to see him
conjure with light from the stars."
"With knowledge gained from the Star Scroll?" Alasen shook her head. "He's
doing dangerous things, Ostvel. And there will be more." She rose and went to
the windows, where dawnlight seeped across the Desert far below Stronghold.
Ostvel gazed at her for a long, silent time. It would be difficult to find a
woman more different from his first wife in either looks or character; where
Camigwen's personality had been all angles and bright light, Alasen was
made of intriguing spirals and a more subdued glow hinting at shadows. In
Camigwen there had been no fear, but Alasen had that summer discovered
absolute terror. What for Cami had been joyous and exhilarating gifts were to
Alasen things to flee from as fast as she could. Both Sunrunners, one trained
and one who would never be trained. That he loved both women was no surprise.
That both loved him was a blessing from the Goddess. And he knew that Alasen's
love for Andry had nothing and everything to do with the fact that she had
Chosen him instead.
He rose and stretched, then went to slip an arm around her slender waist. "I
do love you, you know," he murmured.
She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. "And I love you. So no more
chatter about how scandalous it is that I'm half your age, hmm?"
He laughed. "Well, it is a scandal. A little one, anyway. But I'm feeling
younger all the time."
Alasen pressed closer to him. "Rohan left orders that no one was to be
disturbed until noon at the earliest. Are you feeling that young, my lord?"
"My lady, by the time we get to Skybowl for the winter, you'll have made me
eighteen years old again." The sunlight rippled along her hair and he buried
his lips in its silken thickness. Alasen's hands skimmed up and down his back,
lingering over the muscles of his shoulder. Ostvel smiled into her hair and
bent his head to take her mouth with his own.
All at once she broke away from him and cried out. Sun flooded her white face
and sank its light deep into her green eyes. "No," she whispered. "Andry,
please—no!"
Ostvel caught her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Once out of the
direct glare of the morning sun, she stopped trembling. He smoothed back her
hair and waited for the terror to fade from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "It was Andry—he—"
Ostvel cursed himself. He ought to have remembered, and kept Alasen out of the
sunlight. At dawn after the ritual, the new ruler of Goddess Keep wove the
colors of all faradh'im present into one vast fabric of light, spreading it
across the continent and as far away as the islands of Kierst-Isel and Dorval.
With Andry dominant, direct-
ing the flow, every Sunrunner everywhere was touched. Through the weaving it
was announced that a new Lord of Goddess Keep had been accepted, having
demonstrated his worthiness to wear the ten rings. Ostvel ought to have
realized that of all /aradhi-gifted people, Andry would have singled out
Alasen in particular for his touch.
"I should have known," he told her now. "He loves you. And it's the only way
he can touch you."
"Sioned must tell him never to do it again." She raked her hair back from her
brow and sat up. "Ostvel, I don't want him intruding in our lives!"
Ostvel spoke very softly. "He'll always love you, my dear. And I know that
you'll always love him—just as you know I'll always love Cami." He took both
her hands in his. "Both of us must undertake not to be
摘要：

PARTONEChapterOne719:StrongholdTheimmenseemeraldcaughtandconcentratedthefireofthesettingsunintoafierceglowalivewithgreen-goldlight.SunrunnerthoughHighPrincessSionedwas,andskilledintheartsofthefaradh'im,theotherringsthatwouldsignifyherrankamongthemweremissingfromherhands.Formanyyearsshehadwornonlyher...

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