54.

Voncl tlae u.

Vll~rlO~.

~lurous t to sa) e creak.

~ drum ~intures cks lay i L1Se as edged 4thout he last t~~ hap- ~y the sail- Pt!~31TIVE PI~INCE manner ofspur/ous spite. The pages are filled to the margins. and the mayors have promised to appeal for redress at Avenor."

"Ibis Cattrick, "]ieret snapped. "Is h/s loyalty secure?"

"Arithon believed he'd be able to win back the craftsman's trust."

As this fueled a more alarming shift into fury, the Mad Prophet cringed, and cried out, "You know your liege!"

Jieret showed the fat spellbinder no quarter, but drew up his legs and busied his hands working the ringed salt from his buckskins. No need to reiterate the plain fact: that Dakar's intent was equally well suspect, outspoken as he had been in the past concerning the Shadow Master's ethics.

A thunderclap boomed over the ocean. Echoes shook the ominous fiat air, and growled through the Mad Prophet's explanationu "Once Arithon heard that his half brother had signed formal sanction for slave labor, his temper lit off like fell sparks. No reason moved him.

He would go ashore, use his Masterbard's talent and ply the southshore taverns. He meant to recall his craftsmen and recruit those who dared on some devious scheme to stall Avenor's injustice."

Iieret glanced up, his eyes chill hazel. He asked to borrow an oiled rag and a whetstone, then deliberately tended the steel of his quil- 10ned dagger. Dakar, who had once known the caithdein's father, knew better than to interrupt. The clan chieftain took his time, then stabbed the blade upright in the rush seat of a footstool. He gave his considered opinion. "Had I been here, I would have fought my liege bloody, even bundled him in irons to hold him."

"Oh, you could have tried," Dakar rebutted. "His Grace knows the tricks of his Masterbard's title. Even if he couldn't sing triplets to turn steel, the problem's not simple or straightforward. Arithon has changed. The campaign brought to ruin at Dier Kenton Vale left him marked, sometimes too deeply to reach. You don't want to tangle with his temper."

But that had been true far and long before the devastating war in Vastmark. Every one of Jieret's ancestors had lived with the peril of challenging s'Ffalenn royalty head-on. The clan chief probed, "You haven't mentioned the Havens."

^ sudden, fierce gust slapped the sailcloth overhead. Dakar flinched. Brown eyes slid away in discomfort. "Your war captain, Caolle, saw everything."

Jieret stared back in rancorous bitterness. "My war captain? Who came back to us changed? He resigned his post, did you know that?

Said he would lift a sword for nothing else except to train our young scouts sharper skills. But no more to kill. He won't say what took JA~.

~.~o ~ ~ ..... ~zZ"~'~2~ ~s~t. ~77~ CIo~ ~C~t$, ~ ......~ ~ ~a~ ~eo/~e. ~ ~o~'~~. .... ~ o~ ~ OO~on~ s~ff disquiet,~he wi~ rake~ the ~ght, clouds un~l the stars at the ze~th were blackened. Dakar r~x~6~ smile as, ~ boisterous constema~on, the ~x~an~ ...... ~ ~ ~ [~. ~X% ~ ~ ~ ~x~ ~x~ x~ ~ m~ ~ .............

~ ~ ~m~ .~ ~x~ ~ ~m~ ~x~ ~ ~ ..... x~x ~x~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~m ~-~-~ -~%~%~ wks~e~e couX~ xa~e o~x o~ ~e~o~.

He said softlg '7f Caolle can't speak, then ne~er will I. Tmstr.

word. ~at went wrong be~een the Havens and the cl,~h ~x': Lysaer's war host lies beyond spoken words to explain. He,~ r adx:: from a kiend. Don't ask your prince. I beg you, keep clear and d0r p~. Let Arithon expla~ if he chooses."

"If he's still alive, and not roasted for sorce~ on some mayor ~s ~: of lit ~ggots." ]ieret shot out a fist ~d ~abbed the stout spellbinde by the collan "By A~, prophet~ ~ere my price is concerned, I'r more than a ~iend. We're bloodbond! I've ~ice risked my life tt ~ard his m~d kom Desh-t~ere's curse." Pa~, naked and deep as~ canker burst through. "Dharkaron avenge!" cried Jieret. "I've dra~ ~s ve~ blood to spare ~s sani~. ~at happened on that shoreline,: his right m~d or not, could scarcely come to sunrise me."

S~angely ~cowed by the clansman's fierce s~ength, Dakar te~ away. "It's not what you could bea[ nor what I could~" Just anguis~ blazed t~ough and reclothed ~s rompled di~. "Nor do you ques fion a man's conscience alone, but a masterbard's empathy tumec ~der siege by the Fellowship's imposed royal gi~ of compassion. h Arithon be, if you have any mercy."

Hemmed in by the howl~g descent of the squall l~e, Earl Jiem went obs~ate to the bone. "~at one thug I can't do. ~ ths, I am no my own maste[ but ~e oathsworn caithdein of Ratha~. I am th~ realm's conscience ~ maRers of the law~ ~d Lysaer's charges ~ dark sorce~ are too weigh~ to drop without question or ~quiw."

~e tempest broke over the cliff top. W~d screamed, and the bfl.

lowed, d~ dust became ~ampled ~der the cloudburst. ~e sh above Cofi~ split apart ~ ac~c tangles of ligh~g. For a dra~ span of ~utes, theder sla~ed t~ough the old for~ess. Jier*

hung wai~g, racked to naked appeal; he first presumed Dakar hac left hm. Aga~st the w~te ~sh of the lea~ t~ough ~e sailcloth, B agoffized words had o~y the sto~'s voice for answen ~en ~om the tempes~ous wail of the elements, the Mad Prophe m "I~Iow from the kx-x lc~rx~ 5~ ~-~.

56.

J^NN WURTS.

place." Jieret paused, snorted through the high bridge of his n0s~ erv, mixed admiration and disgust. "For stubborn, close secrets, a clam'

less lockjawed than Caolle."

Beyond stiff disquiet, the wind raked the night, deepened~ clouds until the stars at the zenith were blackened. Dakar raised ~ smile as, in boisterous consternation, the sailhands scurried for she ter. His gaze tracked the broken, white line of the breakers creara~~ the reefs far below. Each crest came unraveled in driven, wild $pler dor against shores nothing like another blood-soaked shingle h.

wished he could raze out of memory.

He said softly, "If Caolle can't speak, then neither will I. Trust ~ word. What went wrong between the Havens and the clash wii Lysaer's war host lies beyond spoken words to explain. Hear advic from a friend. Don't ask your prince. I beg you, keep clear and d0~.

pry. Let Arithon explain if he chooses."

"If he's still alive, and not roasted for sorcery on some mayor's p~ of lit faggots." Jieret shot out a fist and grabbed the stout spellbind~ by the collar. "By Ath, prophet! Where my prince is concerned, more than a friend. We're bloodbond! I've twice risked my life guard his mind from Desh-thiere's curse." Pain, naked and deep as~ canker burst through. "Dharkaron avenge!" cried Jieret. "I've dra~ his very blood to spare his sanity. What happened on that shoreline, ~ his right mind or not, could scarcely come to surprise me."

Strangely uncowed by the clansman's fierce strength, Dakar t0r~ away. "It's not what you could bear, nor what I could!" Just angui~r blazed through and reclothed his rumpled dignity. "Nor do you ques.

tion a man's conscience alone, but a masterbard's empathy turnec under siege by the Fellowship's imposed royal gift of compassion. Le Arithon be, if you have any mercy."

Hemmed in by the howling descent of the squall line, Earl Jier~ went obstinate to the bone. "That one thing I can't do. In this, I am my own master, but the oathsworn caithdein of Rathain. I am th~ realm's conscience in matters of the law! And Lysaer's charges dark sorcery are too weighty to drop without question or inquiry."

The tempest broke over the cliff top. Wind screamed, and the b~.

lowed, dry dust became trampled under the cloudburst. The sl~ above Corith split apart in actinic tangles of lightning. For a dram span of minutes, thunder slammed through the old fortress. Jier~ hung waiting, racked to naked appeal; he first presumed Dakar hac left him. Against the white gush of the leaks through the sailcloth, t5 agonized words had only the storm's voice for answer Then from the tempestuous wail of the elements, the Mad Proph~ fron in tt~

12.

face L.

ing ton.

bac7 DoI onc my WO~.

I.

pu~ Ne cai~ gu~ cro 5t5 nose in a clam'$ :ned by :ised no vr shel- earning splen- gle he ~st my with ~dvice don't 's pile inder , I'm fe to as a 'awrl e, in tore ~ish les- ~ed Let ret tot he of FUGITIVE PRINCE.

served his opinion. "Well thank Ath, it's going to be you. Your liege would mangle anyone else who challenged his integrity this time."

"How nicely opportune," a silvery, smooth voice issued unbidden from the rain. "I can see I've returned just in time to play my own part in the satire."

Dakar gasped an oath, and Jieret, spun in one surge to his feet, faced the doorway.

Lightning flared like a rip in black silk, to limn the arrival stand- ing there. The man was slight boned, soaked as a seal in plain cot- ton. Temper smoked through each stabbing vowel as he added, "I'm back from the mainland, blown in with a spate of foul weather.

Don't cheer," said Arithon s'Ffalenn. He stepped forward, reduced once again to a voice clothed over in darkness. "Cattrick didn't sell my killed carcass to the mayors, though assuredly, he had to be wooed."

Dakar's stupor unlocked all at once. He splashed sliding through a puddle, and rummaged after oiled rags and a wet length of kindling.

Nerves interfered. When his hands dropped the flints, he resorted to a cantrip, spell driven. A spark erupted in a ripe flare of sulfur. New flame snagged the torch, fought into tormented brilliance by the gusts. Its tittering glow bronzed the first thing to hand, the bent crown of Jieret's head.

He had knelt. Taller than his sovereign, a muscled tiger before a wraith, he stumbled through the ritual greeting, caithdein to his sworn prince.

Black haired, green eyed, pale as if chipped from veined quartz, the Master of Shadow poised on braced feet with his crossed arms wrapped to his chest. He was shivering. Shed droplets rocked off the plastered folds of his shirt and scribed rubied flecks through the torch- light. "There's a parchment," he prompted, succinct. "Let me see it."

At Jieret's upflung glance of distress, the prince's brows angled higher. "You can hear? Good. Than arise and stop looking amazed.

Your mission's no secret. Every forest scout I met crossing Falwood said a writ had been passed to my caithdein's charge. If I'm not over- joyed to find Rathain's left stewardless, at least I'll see why no clans- man in Havish seemed eager to look me in the face."

Jieret stood erect, his every movement cautious. That his prince was unarmed made no difference. The royal presence framed warn- ing like the gleam on a lake of black ice. The pair of them were bl0odbond, and yet, here stood a stranger masked in the features of a friend. This diamond-edged malice held a febrile, strung focus ~0re volatile than Jieret remembered. While thunder boomed and

57.

JANNY ~URTS.

shook the ancient foundations, and the rain thrashed in torrents, he became aware of Dakar's tense stillness, as if even whisper of a wrongly drawn breath might trigger the spring predator.

Jieret's hand did not shake in its office as he said, "I would this, liege, if I could." In the uncanny, grave style inherited from father, he drew the bundled document from the breast of his and passed it across to his prince.

Arithon stiffened at first sight of the seals: the crown and star'

zon of the purloined s'Ilessid device, and another, stamped lozenge of champagne wax, the rayed sunwheel adopted mark. The Shadow Master flipped open the folded leaves, tipped them to capture the torchlight.

He read. His skin went from pale to transparent, and seemed to stop. Then he stirred. A word passed his lips, the lilt of consonants framed in the grace of old Paravian. He down the indictment as though its mere touch burned his flesh.

he whirled, bent, and in a move of pure fury, plucked Jieret's loned knife from the stool seat.

"Caithdein of Rathain," he intoned in chiseled, formal "The truth, on my word as your crown prince. If that's not you'll have your sure proof through a death seal set into the spilled from my body."

From the comer, Dakar gasped. Before Jieret could decry the sity, Arithon closed an unsteady hand on the blade, over steel meticulously sharpened. Scarlet welled from his palm, s through lean fingers, and ribboned slick tracks down his wrist.

inclined his head to the spellbinder. i "You have my consent. Lay down the binding, my life as surety:!

that nothing I speak is a falsehood."

Dakar arose. Raised to a grave majesty sprung from stark fear, he clasped Arithon's wet fist. The spell rune he framed burned in lines 0t cold light, then twined like barbed ribbon through the rich flood flowing from the knife cut. "Beware," he cautioned. "What you ask ~ done. One word of deceit will destroy you."

By ancient custom, the last scion of s'Ffalenn then knelt before h~ caithdein.

The Shadow Master said in metallic distaste, "The deaths at the Havens are all mine, every one. But this charge of dark sorcery has n0 ground. No spell was spun, light or dark at that inlet. There were no fell tricks. No engagement occurred beyond arrows and steel, not even the use of my birth-born mastery of shadow." Still trembling, he 58 ~.

FUGITIVE PRINCE.

regarded the spreading, red stain on his shirt cuff and finished his venomous delivery. "What happened was simple, cold murder."

lie ~aughec~ then, w~c~e-e~ed, anc~ spun ttxe s~'~ckec~ b~acke. T~xe p~'xx'xt now angled against his own breast, its chased silver pommel a reck- treason ancl tixreatenecl to spit me with barecI steel."

}ieret sv~aklov~ect, stuffed btank and s'tckened. F~ve hundred forty lives had been taken in cold blood: the truth forced out in a naked confession that asked neither quarter nor pity.

"You can't find the gall to ask why?" pressured Arithon, still vent- ing pain into anger. "Or are you waiting for a Fellowship Sorcerer to gainsay a testimony made under truthseals?"

"Almighty Ath, that's enough!" Dakar launched himself across his clutter of belongings and with a competence few would have cred- ited, snatched the knife from Arithon's grasp. He discarded the blade and clutched the prince's soaked shirt in both hands. To Jieret, caught aback as the Shadow Master swayed on his feet, the Mad Prophet cried in rebuke, "What more must you have? Kingdom law has been satisfied. Daelion himself! A crown prince's blood oath alone should have satisfied that the charge of dark sorcery was false. Your duty could have demanded far less, since Caolle himself stood as witness."

With no gap for reply, he turned his invective toward the prince braced upright in his hands. "By Sithaer, you're freezing! Where's Cattrick? Wasn't anyone aboard to share the watch on your sloop?

How long were you out there, manning the helm in the storm?"

"Galleys," said Arithon, abruptly too worn to fuel his own manic fury. "Seven, with registry flags out of Capewell. I lost them six days ago, off the shoals of Carithwyr." Against every precedent, he failed to resist as Dakar pressed him to sit. The drum of the rain nearly can- celed his speech. "Cattrick's still on the mainland. I meant him to stay.

He's agreed to return to my employ."

"He's a fool, then." Dakar shoved past Jieret, who felt awkward and in the way. Displaced wing feathers fluttered helter-skelter as the spellbinder cleared the trunk and flung up the rickety lid. "I won't ask what you promised him."

Folded on the pallet, Arithon said nothing. His face did not show, his head being bent and resting on his knees. The fire in its makeshift bracket across the drum tower had finally ignited the oiled rags.

Golden light limned his appalling exhaustion. His loose, sailhand's cottons hung off his gaunt frame, except where heavy wet had slicked the cloth to his flanks. His wrists showed each ridge of old scars and taut sinew, and the cut on his hand bled too freely.