"Or what sort of animal might have established a den."

Their gazes met in perfect understanding; none of these eminently sensible reasons had anything to do with why people must not explore the caves where sh.e.l.ls shone with gold.

Pol said, "I was hoping for a chance to talk with you. I've been considering what's to be done about Feruche."

Riyan gave a soft sigh. "I can't imagine anyone but Sorin as its athri, athri, but I suppose someone has to run the place. Do you have anybody in mind?" but I suppose someone has to run the place. Do you have anybody in mind?"

"Who else would I give it to, Riyan?" Pol smiled.

"Me?" The young Lord of Skybowl gaped at him. "Why?"

"Because it's with in easy distance of Skybowl, you're demonstrably capable of it, and I don't want anyone else to have it."

"But it should be saved for one of your family! Maarken's bound to have other children-"

Pol shook his head. "No. And don't let on that I told you. Hollis found out at the Mother Tree that Chayla and Rohannon are all the children she'll ever have."

"But-your own younger sons, or your daughters-"

"What's the matter? Don't you want Feruche?"

Riyan bit his lip. "Alasen and I had this conversation years ago. She thought that as my father's eldest son, I ought to have Castle Crag after him. But I'm Desert-born, Pol-and I don't want to live anywhere else."

"Feruche is only a day and a half from Skybowl, and n.o.body's asking you to give up your primary holding. And it's not as if being the va.s.sal of two princedoms is going to be a conflict, when the two are father and son! What's the real reason? I know very well you're not afraid of the work."

"It's-what I already said," Riyan replied softly. "I can't imagine anyone but Sorin there."

"And I can't imagine anyone he'd want to have it more than you. Or anyone who'd make of it what he intended it to be. If you won't accept it for yourself or for me, then accept it for him."

Riyan hesitated. "May I have time to think it over, my prince?"

"Take as long as you like-as long as your answer is yes. With the new trade agreements we're sure to reach with Prince Miyon, I need somebody there I can trust to carry out a few plans."

The older man laughed. "G.o.ddess! You're Rohan's son to your fingertips, aren't you? He makes plans stretching years ahead before he's even told the people those plans include! My father says that Rohan's the only man he ever knew who reminisces about the future! Very well, I'll hold Feruche for you-but with the understanding that if you need it at any time for a second son or a daughter's dowry, it will revert to Princemarch."

"And you're you're the only man I know who'd take a magnificent keep with one hand and give it back with the other!" Pol shook his head in comical amazement. "I'll accept your conditions for now. But I have a suspicion that sooner or later you'll have sons and daughters of your own to dower, my friend." the only man I know who'd take a magnificent keep with one hand and give it back with the other!" Pol shook his head in comical amazement. "I'll accept your conditions for now. But I have a suspicion that sooner or later you'll have sons and daughters of your own to dower, my friend."

"The sooner the better, according to my father. The 'What, not married yet yet?' looks come fast and thick at your age, but wait till you get to be mine!"

"Oh, I don't intend to wait that long," Pol said.

Sudden raucous yells heralded the beginning of a surprise ambush. Chayla and Rohannon rode up at speed to besiege Pol and pelt him with blossoms. He cowered in his saddle and shouted for help, which brought the Stronghold guard thundering up in earnest. The adults heroically hid grins as the disgruntled soldiers solemnly accepted the children's apologies. Then Andry created a gentle whirlwind that sent the flowers spinning around the delighted twins.

"What's the good of knowing how if you can't do it for fun sometimes?" he countered when Maarken said something about wasting his energies to entertain a couple of monsters.

"I see now why one has to be at least fourteen to begin training," Hollis laughed. "Can you imagine the chaos otherwise?"

By the time they reached the gold silk pavilion Rialt had brought earlier, everyone was starving. The canopy was set up just below the spire that stood sentinel over the entrance to Rivenrock. It was here that Pol's grandfather, Prince Zehava, had taken mortal wounds battling a dragon; Rohan had killed the same dragon somewhere in the canyon. Here, too, the Hatching Hunts had been held before Rohan outlawed the triennial butchery. Pol could not conceive of doing any injury at all to a dragon, let alone going out to fight one as proof of prowess. And the thought of ambushing the hatchlings as they emerged into the sun, wings still damp and eyes dazzled, sickened him.

But he understood why Rohan had killed the dragon that had killed Zehava-the last one slain until the three that Princess Ianthe's son had slaughtered. Rohan had promised Zehava that dragon's death, but it also announced his own strength. Pol thanked the G.o.ddess that circ.u.mstances made it unnecessary for him to provide a similar demonstration of his abilities with a sword. Indeed, his father's whole life had been dedicated to making sure Pol did not have to live by the sword at all.

He lazed back on the thick carpet spread under the pavilion, full plate and wine cup in easy reach. Outings like this with just his family were much less formal-bread, fruit, and cheese to make a meal on while seated in the shade of a dune or a rock outcropping. But he had acquired a taste for elegant frivolity at Dragon's Rest, where guests expected more than a loaf, a water skin, and the hard ground. Besides, his present companion deserved elegance.

Lady Meiglan sat on a cushion to his right, slim and dainty in a riding outfit of creamy beige accented with orange embroidery. She had gained enough confidence around him-and away from her father-to answer harmless questions. But he had still not decided if her shyness was genuine or deliberate.

Pol had always known that Miyon's trade treaties were secondary to some other plan; that he was supposed to think Meiglan was was that other plan had occurred to him rather more slowly than was comfortable for his conceit. He gave the Cunaxan prince full marks for choosing his diversion well. Pol's wits had not worked with the usual speed because she was indeed enchantingly lovely. that other plan had occurred to him rather more slowly than was comfortable for his conceit. He gave the Cunaxan prince full marks for choosing his diversion well. Pol's wits had not worked with the usual speed because she was indeed enchantingly lovely.

So he had decided to become enchanted.

His amus.e.m.e.nt at this conscious resolve tugged the corners of his mouth up. This game would be almost as good as one played thirty years ago: the only point in which his father could top him was the number of females he'd played off against each other.

Rialt and Edrel had been scandalized by Pol's opening gambit two mornings ago as they'd helped him dress for the day. Critical attention paid to clothes, from a man who usually put on whatever was given him without knowing or caring what it was, had astonished them almost as much as his words.

"Did you notice her eyes? Like a pool kept secret in the forest, in autumn when leaves drift down to darken the water. But when she smiles, the sun shines. What do you think, Edrel-the agate, for seduction?" He'd held up a plump stone set in a silver earring.

Rialt's scowl had answered for the pair. "Amber would be more appropriate-for protection against danger! My prince, please recall who this girl is!"

Pol only laughed. "Definitely the agate."

Rialt gestured Edrel from the room. "You can't seriously be-"

"-attracted to a pretty girl? Come now, Rialt. You know me better than that." He sprawled in a chair and grinned. "I'm only attracted to the really beautiful beautiful ones." ones."

"If you desire her, fine. G.o.ddess knows, she's lovely. But you don't have to make such a show of it! And you certainly don't have to treat her to a display of the family charm!"

"Why not? She's a princess-of a somewhat irregular sort, true. But one doesn't go about seducing even b.a.s.t.a.r.d princesses, Rialt. I'm ashamed of you for even suggesting it."

"But there are a hundred reasons why you shouldn't notice her at all, let alone make much of her! First, she is is illegitimate. Second, she's too young. Third, she's Cunaxan. Fourth-" illegitimate. Second, she's too young. Third, she's Cunaxan. Fourth-"

"I beg you, don't don't give me the entire list! Besides, I could think think up a reason in favor for every one you think up against." The expression of shock on his chamberlain's face was delightful; Pol wondered why his father had never told him this could be so much fun. "First, b.a.s.t.a.r.dy doesn't really matter much. Second, she can't be much younger than Sionell was when she married Tallain. Third, what better way to make peace than to make love? And fourth-she has but a single fault." give me the entire list! Besides, I could think think up a reason in favor for every one you think up against." The expression of shock on his chamberlain's face was delightful; Pol wondered why his father had never told him this could be so much fun. "First, b.a.s.t.a.r.dy doesn't really matter much. Second, she can't be much younger than Sionell was when she married Tallain. Third, what better way to make peace than to make love? And fourth-she has but a single fault."

Rialt's fiery blue eyes widened still more. Pol laughed.

"Don't you want to know what it is?"

"I can't wait," he spat.

"It's only a little one," he said, playing it out to the end. "Rather easily remedied." He paused. "Her fault is that she's not my wife. Yet."

"Pol!"

At last he took pity on his friend. "I really have you fooled, don't I?"

Rialt sank bonelessly into a chair.

"A moment to treasure!" Pol allowed himself to gloat a moment, then sobered. "No one must know about this, not even my parents. Just you and I, or it won't work. I've a pretty good idea of what Miyon is up to with this girl. And I'll need your help, the way my father needed Walvis thirty years ago. Have you heard that story?"

It took a couple of tries before Rialt could form coherent words. In the end, he said only one. "Roelstra?"

"Exactly. Miyon's not overly burdened with wits, but he's capable of copying someone else's plan. One of Roelstra's innumerable daughters was supposed to marry Father, give him a son or two, and then become his grieving widow-and regent while the little vipers grew. It was a clever idea and might even have worked if Father really had been the fool he pretended to be for Roelstra's benefit."

"And if not for your mother. But-Lady Meiglan can't possibly be a party to this!"

Pol shrugged. "She looks as innocent as a new morning, but who can say? I don't want to hurt her unnecessarily if she really doesn't know anything about her father's plot. Still, I have to play along-only the game is going to be mine, not his grace of Cunaxa's. That's why you have to help me. Make sure people know how worried you are about my interest in her. I'll have enough trouble being obvious without being too too obvious-it wouldn't do for anyone who knows me well to guess what I'm up to." He grimaced. "I warn you, I'll start sounding and behaving like a madman." obvious-it wouldn't do for anyone who knows me well to guess what I'm up to." He grimaced. "I warn you, I'll start sounding and behaving like a madman."

"Why change your style now!" Rialt laughed. "Just make sure you don't get overwhelmed by your own game. And if the girl really is the innocent she appears, this isn't fair to her."

That was the only problem, Pol reflected as he watched Meiglan smile at some remark of Ruala's. Now, there there was a fascinating young woman, he acknowledged, and it was obvious that Riyan thought so, too. But there was something about Meiglan that did attract him, and he was powerless to a.n.a.lyze exactly what it was. Certainly she was beautiful, and in a way vastly different from other women he knew. But though Pol was deeply sensitive to beauty of any kind, from the glory of the Veresch in springtime to the delicate grace of Fironese crystal, he had never been a slave to his senses. Her music bewitched him, but music always had. He decided that what intrigued him was the uncertainty. Was she truly as she seemed, or did her vulnerability mask a ruthless mind? was a fascinating young woman, he acknowledged, and it was obvious that Riyan thought so, too. But there was something about Meiglan that did attract him, and he was powerless to a.n.a.lyze exactly what it was. Certainly she was beautiful, and in a way vastly different from other women he knew. But though Pol was deeply sensitive to beauty of any kind, from the glory of the Veresch in springtime to the delicate grace of Fironese crystal, he had never been a slave to his senses. Her music bewitched him, but music always had. He decided that what intrigued him was the uncertainty. Was she truly as she seemed, or did her vulnerability mask a ruthless mind?

He would find out eventually. But for the present he was sure of two things. First, she represented danger-either through total knowledge of the way he read Miyon's plan for marriage and death, or in total innocence that really might enchant him. Second, until he discovered which it was, he must conduct most of his act out of her sight and hearing. If she was conversant with Miyon's aims, it would not do for her to think she was succeeding; if she was not, he had no wish to cause her pain. His conversations with Feylin and Riyan that day would be duly reported to his parents; just sitting beside her would work as well as if he openly flirted with her. Come to think of it, he mused, she probably didn't know how how to flirt. to flirt.

It worried him a little that he was deliberately fooling those who loved him. But he had little choice. And his father had done the same thing, after all. Still, even though he had taken a page from Rohan's book, he was very different from his father. Rohan had learned how to wait-indeed, preferred to wait while things developed on their own. Usually it worked for him; sometimes it did not. But Pol was not made that way. He had to do do something, could not merely allow things to happen to himself or others. He had to influence events, turn them in directions he wanted them to go. He supposed in time he would discover the kind of patience his father had. But for now. . . . something, could not merely allow things to happen to himself or others. He had to influence events, turn them in directions he wanted them to go. He supposed in time he would discover the kind of patience his father had. But for now. . . .

After the meal some of the group mounted up once more to ride into Rivenrock Canyon. Pol chuckled under his breath as he saw Riyan's attempts to gain Ruala's sole companionship foiled by the twins. They had taken a liking to her and insisted she ride with them-graciously allowing Riyan to join them. Maarken and Hollis chose to linger in the pavilion for a comfortable chat with Andry and Sionell. Meiglan, however, came along. Whether she wanted to or had been told to was open to speculation.

Feylin played tour guide as they rode into the canyon. Nialdan, Andry's other faradhi faradhi companion, listened in abject wonder as Feylin described the cycle of dragon mating: first the devouring of bittersweet plants, then the cliff-dance and the sand-dance during which the females selected their mates. companion, listened in abject wonder as Feylin described the cycle of dragon mating: first the devouring of bittersweet plants, then the cliff-dance and the sand-dance during which the females selected their mates.

"Afterward, the she-dragon walls up her eggs to bake through the summer. When the little beasts hatch, they gobble their weaker siblings to give them the strength to break down the walls. They breathe fire to dry and toughen their wings-and to roast their first meal."

Nialdan gulped. "I see," he said shakily.

Feylin had a grin and went on remorselessly, "Yes, back when the dragons were using these caves, it was said that when the walls finally came down you could smell broiled dragon meat all the way to Radzyn. Ask Lord Andry sometime. He'll tell you."

The big Sunrunner gave a faint nod, eyes wide.

"Of course, that's nothing to the mating stink. The sires give off the most appalling stench. You may be wondering how I know so much," she added blithely. "Some years ago I had the great good fortune to carve up a dead dragon. Remarkable creatures. Incredible structure to the wings, of course, but the stomach and brain were nearly as interesting, once I'd washed all the blood off."

"Indeed, my lady," Nialdan managed, looking rather pale.

Pol glanced around and was relieved to find Meiglan out of earshot, riding between Chayla and one of the Cunaxan guards. He turned his horse in their direction and was amused to see the man bow and ride off; none of Miyon's people got very near him, and had probably been given orders that whenever he approached Meiglan, they were to back away.

"What do you think of the canyon, my lady?"

"I-I can imagine the dragons here, my lord, even though I've never seen one."

"Never?" Chayla exclaimed. "Oh, but you have to! They're beautiful!"

"If his grace my father allows it, then perhaps we'll stay long enough to see them."

"Only another few days," Pol supplied. "They'll fill the skies with their wings and their challenges to each other. It's not to be missed."

"Can we go look in the caves?" Chayla asked. "Please?"

"Not today, sweetheart. Didn't your papa ever tell you what happened to him and his brother when they tried it once? A baby dragon popped out and nearly scared them to death!"

"And your your papa and Sioned scared the dragon away," she finished. "But there aren't any dragons here now." papa and Sioned scared the dragon away," she finished. "But there aren't any dragons here now."

"No." He squinted up at the canyon walls. Darkness gaped here and there, natural caves carved even larger by dragons. They must return here or they would never reproduce in the numbers that would ensure their survival.

"I wish they'd come back," Chayla sighed.

Meiglan regarded her curiously. "Do you remember them so clearly, then? You couldn't have been very old during the last mating."

"Dragons fly over the Desert every year. Oh, you have to stay to see them, Lady Meggie! Pol, tell her she has to stay."

He smiled at them. "I'll do everything in my power to a.s.sure it."

Rohannon trotted up and challenged his sister to a race-supervised by Riyan and Ruala, so Pol allowed it. When he and Meiglan were alone, he turned to her once more.

"Chayla called you 'Meggie' instead of Meiglan."

The girl flushed. "It's-a nickname, my lord, given by my nurse. Chayla happened on it by accident, I think."

"The old word for honey-pine is 'megna,' isn't it?"

She nodded. "n.o.body's called me that in many years, my lord."

"Does your nurse think you're too old for nicknames now?"

"She died when I was about Chayla's age."

"And you loved her very much."

"Yes," she said unwillingly, as if admitting to emotion was dangerous.

Pol was ashamed, but an apology was impossible. He knew without being told that the only love in her short life had been connected to that nurse; G.o.ddess knew, she received none from her father. The fact that she had not mentioned her mother in connection with the tender nickname hinted at no affection from that source, either. Pol realized again how lucky he was in parents as in all else.

"Shall-shall we join the others, my lord?" Meiglan asked warily.

The somber expression brought by his thoughts had alarmed her; she looked as if afraid she had said something wrong. But there was nothing he could do to apologize or make amends except give her a rea.s.suring smile.

He left her in Nialdan's care and rode with Feylin down the canyon, talking dragons and trying to imagine what it had been like when they used Rivenrock. But there was no feel feel of dragons here as there was at other cavern complexes. of dragons here as there was at other cavern complexes.

The sounds of hoofbeats and laughter rang off the stone as the children raced their ponies. Pol noted that Riyan had finally managed to separate Ruala from the others, and grinned to himself; the sooner the better, indeed. Elktrap was a formidable dowry. Ostvel would be pleased. But Riyan might get a little ragged around the edges, supervising Skybowl, Elktrap, and Feruche- Suddenly someone screamed, and Feylin lurched forward in her saddle as another horse's shoulder plowed into her own mount's hindquarters. Feylin's mare kicked back instinctively, but the second horse was already galloping back down the canyon. Pol's heart stopped for an instant as he saw that the rider wore cream and orange, and thick golden curls whipped back from her face.

He swore and dug his heels into Pashoc's sides. Though Meiglan's mare was no match for the stallion, she was Radzyn-bred for strength. Panic gave her wings. As the distance between them narrowed too slowly, Pol wondered what could have spooked the usually placid animal to bolt. The reins had escaped the girl's hands entirely and she had both arms flung around the horse's neck. If the mare stumbled on the reins and fell- He rejected the image of her slight body pitching over the mare's head to shatter on stony ground. Riding low over Pashoc's neck, he urged the horse to greater speed. They were out of Rivenrock now, thundering past the gold pavilion out on the dunes. The mare began to tire. At last Pol was able to lean from his saddle and grab one of the dangling reins. Another few moments, and the mare had slowed to a shuddering, exhausted walk.

Meiglan still had a death grip on the horse. Pol spoke her name several times without response; she clung trembling to the mare's neck. He stopped both horses, leaped down, and bodily pried Meiglan from her saddle.

It seemed she didn't much care what she hung on to, as long as there was something to hold. His ribs nearly cracked with the terrified strength of her arms. He stroked her disordered hair, murmuring wordlessly to soothe her. At length she gave a long, quivering sigh and her muscles relaxed enough so he could breathe freely again.

"There now," he said softly. "You're safe, Meggie. All over now."

All at once her head jerked back and two huge brown eyes stared up at him in horror. "You-!" she gasped.

"Yes, just me. Nothing bruised or broken? You're quite all right?"

She stumbled back from him, hands at her mouth, those great eyes even darker in contrast to the golden curls tangled around her face.