Marron was a prince. And before he was done, he would be High Prince in his grandfather's place, with the castles of two lands to choose among for his residence. He shifted the banner from the bruise on his shoulder and, after a moment's consideration, decided to spend spring at Dragon's Rest, summer at Castle Crag, autumn at Feruche, and winter here at Stronghold. There would be pleasure trips to Radzyn and other places as he desired, and Elktrap would make a fine hunting lodge. . . . He grinned to himself. If Mireva and Ruval thought he would meekly accept Feruche as his only payment for all he had endured, they would have to think again.

His stomach growled a demand for dinner, and the Tiglathi guard standing nearby with his lord's banner glanced over with a sympathetic smile. Marron gave a little shrug in reply. Tonight's gathering was not the grand banquet ordered up for Miyon's arrival, and so music and dancing would not follow into the night. But the highborns were taking a long time over their taze. With the rumors of the Sunrunner's death in Gilad, it was amazing that a formal meal was taking place at all. He would have thought they'd all eat in their rooms.

The food here was spectacular, even that served to the common folk. The flesh Marron had lost at Tiglathi from unaccustomed physical labor was returning to his belly. He wondered enviously how these Desert people kept their figures; Rohan had the waistline of a man half his age, and the High Princess showed off a lissome shape tonight in a simple blue dress that slid along her like water.

Marron changed his stance again in irritation as the squires went around with still more pitchers. Then he squinted up to the high table and frowned. It was not taze that was being poured but wine, and into tiny crystal gla.s.ses like the ones Chiana used for sweet fruit cordials. A toast, then. Marron grimaced. That fool Miyon had probably signed some agreement or other-not that any of it meant anything. Neither Rohan nor Pol would be around long enough to fulfill any bargains.

He caged his impatience as best he could, knowing that his own plan as well as Mireva's required him to wait just a little longer. She wanted him to a.s.sist in Ruval's challenge to Pol, but Ruval was not going to have the chance. Marron would be the one to claim that right. He would couch it in a demand for Feruche, but with Pol's defeat not just that castle but all of Princemarch would be forfeit. And his dear brother could try as he might to dislodge him. Marron had what Ruval did not: Chiana's trust and, through that, her army.

The noisy chatter in the Great Hall fell to whispers as Pol got to his feet and raised his gla.s.s. The crystal glowed dark sapphire blue in candlelight blazing from wall sconces and tables. Only the best here, Marron thought again-the Gribains demanded outrageous sums for their candles and these were the finest, burning clear and bright amid huge vases of flowers. Not that any candle would dare gutter in the presence of the High Prince, he added spitefully.

Pol waited for silence. Marron doubted he would make any remark about the dead Sunrunner. No one had confirmed the rumors, and the Giladan courier had known nothing useful when Ruval had casually questioned him a short while ago. Lord Andry was looking tight-jawed, Marron noted with a tiny smile. Sunrunner deaths were a thing he'd have to get used to.

Pol began to speak in crisp, admirably carrying voice. Even at the far end of the huge hall, Marron heard every word.

"The death of my beloved kinsman, Lord Sorin of Feruche, has left a void in all our hearts. He was everything that a man should be, and more. He loved the Desert and its people."

Marron smiled to himself. Rest a.s.sured I will cherish your princedom, too, Starborn, once it is mine. Rest a.s.sured I will cherish your princedom, too, Starborn, once it is mine.

"But most especially Sorin loved the wondrous castle he created. Feruche is his from its foundation to its topmost spires. Every stone was planned and placed by him. Sorin's it is, and always will be."

Mine it will be, and all else with it!

"His loss is a grievous one-to his family, his friends, to all of us. It is a sorrow to me to have the giving of Feruche. I had hoped Sorin would give it to his eldest son. But I think he would wish to see his beautiful castle ruled by a man who was close to him in friendship, who will make of Feruche what Sorin would have made of it himself. It is with confidence that I give it now to Lord Riyan of Skybowl."

The blood roared in Marron's ears and he shook with rage. It was Pol Pol he must challenge for possession of Feruche, not some lowborn Sunrunner without a drop of prince's blood in his veins, he must challenge for possession of Feruche, not some lowborn Sunrunner without a drop of prince's blood in his veins, Pol Pol who must own Feruche now that Sorin was dead. How dared he do this? He simply could not give it away, could not ruin Marron's chance to thwart Ruval and gain everything for himself. who must own Feruche now that Sorin was dead. How dared he do this? He simply could not give it away, could not ruin Marron's chance to thwart Ruval and gain everything for himself.

"No!"

His shout was drowned by cries of Riyan's name as everyone lifted their gla.s.ses. But a moment later a woman shrieked in stark terror. Marron's fury had overcome his sorcery. As he strode up to the high table, his second face and form shimmered away.

The scream at the end of the Great Hall found hysterical echo at the high table. Meiglan's face was a horrified mask, her eyes gone black and her skin dead white. Nearly lost in her piercing cry was the shatter of crystal and the soft groan Riyan gave as he dropped his gla.s.s and clutched his trembling fists to his chest.

An old woman ran to Meiglan and hauled her bodily from the room. Rohan saw this from the corner of his eye, grateful that someone had had the sense to remove the girl before her screams infected the whole room. He forced himself to stand straight and still, even though the fragments of Sunrunner heritage in him flinched in response to Riyan's pain, just as Sioned was quivering at his side. He was High Prince; he could show no reaction and especially no weakness.

And no foolishness, as Andry was still young enough to do. He shouted an order for his faradh'im faradh'im to seize the man whose lineaments were shifting, changing, hovering between one face and another in obvious struggle to resume his false shape. Nialdan and Oclel ran down the center aisle and got within arm's reach of the man before a circle of cold white fire sprang up in defense. to seize the man whose lineaments were shifting, changing, hovering between one face and another in obvious struggle to resume his false shape. Nialdan and Oclel ran down the center aisle and got within arm's reach of the man before a circle of cold white fire sprang up in defense.

Rohan could have told Andry it wouldn't work. He kept silent as the Sunrunners fell back. The enemy had strength; Rohan had been expecting a manifestation of it for many days now, and thus was not as shocked as he might have been. Still-none of them had ever heard of this aspect of diarmadhi diarmadhi power, the ability to alter one's face and form. None of them knew how to deal with it. Now, of all times, patience was needed. Strength had been shown; Rohan hoped that waiting would expose weakness. There was noting else he could do. power, the ability to alter one's face and form. None of them knew how to deal with it. Now, of all times, patience was needed. Strength had been shown; Rohan hoped that waiting would expose weakness. There was noting else he could do.

At his shoulder, Pol whispered, "It's Ianthe's younger son. I recognize the red hair. And where one is, the other must be as well."

Rohan nodded. "He must be among Miyon's suite. The search must be conducted by Riyan. Have him take Morwenna with him. They're the only ones who can sense sorcery through their rings."

Pol blinked as his old teacher was identified as part diarmadhi, diarmadhi, but recovered quickly. "I'll have all the Cunaxans rounded up at once." but recovered quickly. "I'll have all the Cunaxans rounded up at once."

Sioned murmured, "Get Rialt to do it. I have the feeling you're to be a featured performer in this little play."

Miyon had recovered from his stupefaction by this time, and gestured for the red-haired man to be brought forward-as foolish an order as Andry's had been. Behind the wall of icy flames as tall as his head, the man had begun to laugh. When he walked the rest of the long aisle, Nialdan and Oclel warily trailing him, it was because he chose to do so. The fire formed a cloak around him.

Miyon braced his fists on the table before him. "I am horrified!" he exclaimed. "A sorcerer posing as one of my own guard!"

Rohan slanted a look at him. The shock had been genuine, but not the protestation. Just as he'd expected. "We understand," he said, knowing Miyon would not hear the irony.

"Do you, my lord? To discover one of that foul race has been in charge of my safety for G.o.ddess knows how long?" Miyon gave an artistic shudder.

"You have our sympathies," Sioned told him. "Perhaps you would care to withdraw, my lord. Your nerves must be quite shattered."

Miyon gaped for an instant before recovering his dignity. A flight of dragons couldn't tear him away from this spectacle.

"No?" Sioned went on. "Very well, then. You must have a great interest in this, after all."

"Self-interest," Tobin supplied ingenuously from nearby. What she really meant and what Miyon had to pretend she meant were entirely different things.

"Naturally I wish to know how this came to pa.s.s, my lady," he said to Tobin, who nodded as if she believed him.

Andry spoke up impatiently, outrage blazing in his eyes. "Confine this man at once! There must be some way to-"

"And what would you suggest?" Sioned asked. He had no answer and no chance to think of one, for the man had reached the area before the high table.

He made a sweeping movement with one arm and the fire vanished. In a ringing voice he called out, "I am Marron, grandson of High Prince Roelstra and rightful Lord of Feruche, where I was born of the Princess Ianthe! I am willing to prove my claim against the usurper Pol at a time and place of his choosing!"

If he had expected pandemonium, he was doomed to disappointment. Absolute silence greeted his announcement. Rohan merely lifted a brow.

Pol said, "If I was disposed to entertain this absurd claim, which I am not, I would point out that Feruche belonged to Lord Riyan the moment I placed its ring on his finger."

"It is you you I challenge, not him!" I challenge, not him!"

Andry had gasped on hearing the name, and now said in a tone of deadly quiet, "This man murdered my brother."

"I am a prince. My person is inviolate unless formal charges are brought against me-and even then I cannot be forcibly detained." Marron smirked. "Read your own law, High Prince."

"It's one we haven't gotten around to changing," Rohan admitted with mild regret. "As for formal charges-the murder of Lord Sorin is primary among them."

"I killed him in self-defense," Marron shrugged. "He attacked me. If every man who slew an enemy in battle was tried for murder, half the high table here would be long gone. And in any case, no one but a gathering of princes can judge me. I am sworn to no one, I am no man's va.s.sal. I am a prince."

"That's open to debate," Pol snapped. "I myself saw you helping to kill a dragon. And that that law applies to everyone, no matter what station!" law applies to everyone, no matter what station!"

" 'Helping'?" Marron grinned at him. "That's a matter of interpretation. There is no means by which you may arrest or detain me. And you still haven't answered my challenge."

Riyan stepped around the high table, still pallid, still rubbing at his fingers. "I accept for Prince Pol. G.o.ddess forbid that he should dirty his hands on you."

"I do not accept! I challenge Pol, not you!"

"And I say Feruche is mine, and it is me you will fight!" Riyan shouted. "Will it be swords, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d excuse for a prince, or sorcerer's tricks?"

"Neither," Andry said. "This man has admitted to murdering my brother. His death is mine."

Marron swung to face him, suddenly wary. In the next instant Riyan groaned and doubled over, his hands twisting into claws as Marron's sorcery lashed out. Before anyone could draw another breath, Fire engulfed Marron's body, gold and crimson and so intense that Nialdan and Oclel cried out and shielded their faces. But defense came too late. Andry spread his arms wide, calling down yet more Fire. And when it subsided, there was only the stench of charred flesh and a pathetic scattering of blackened bones on the tiles.

"He knew somehow about the rings, what they signified," Riyan said.

Ruala nodded. "Even in the brief time since I met him, I've learned that it doesn't do to underestimate Lord Andry."

They walked together through the back gardens, where Princess Milar's fountain blossomed taller and stronger than ever in this spring of abundant water. The little stream that meandered through the lush green gra.s.s and flowers had overflowed all winter, and even now was barely contained by its banks. Firepots glowed along the pathways and glittered from the little bridge arching over the stream. The stars were bright enough tonight to illumine all but the grotto, and it was to this place that Riyan guided their steps.

She had been the one to come to him. After Rohan, looking sick and stunned, had ordered everyone out of the Great Hall, Riyan had sought the coolness of the fountain. It was only memory that burned around his fingers, but memory was enough to make him plunge his d.a.m.nably shaking hands in the water. Ruala had found him there.

She paused at the apex of the little bridge and looked up at the stars. "It was a brave thing you did, accepting challenge on Marron's terms of sorcery."

Riyan shrugged. "I was so furious I didn't really know what I was saying."

Ruala smiled at him. "Yes you did. I've come to know you, too, in the short time since we met at Elktrap."

"And do I worry you as much Andry does?" he asked, inviting her to flirt with him.

She was in no mood for it; her look turned serious and she said, "He's changing everything. All the traditions of G.o.ddess Keep. I don't know why anyone was surprised when he killed Marron using his gifts. I expected it."

"I should have, too, I suppose. But Sunrunner training is so strong-it's not something any of us can even consider, even if we're threatened. And I really wasn't wasn't thinking straight, you know. My rings had turned to fire. I keep wondering why that happens." thinking straight, you know. My rings had turned to fire. I keep wondering why that happens."

Ruala hesitated. "If you promise not to interrupt, I can explain."

He watched her face for a long moment, the dark green eyes shadowed to black, the strong lines of nose and cheek and jaw softened by starlight. Taking her arm, he walked with her down to the pathway again in silence.

"My family is very old and has lived very isolated," she began. "In the Veresch, memories are long. The mountain folk still prefer their dialect of the old tongue. I speak it myself a little-one has to, in order to deal with them. And sometimes they treat the old ways as if the new did not exist. Things you Sunrunners are only now rediscovering through the scrolls, some people in the Veresch have always known."

"What do you know about the scrolls?" he demanded.

She gave him a slight smile. "You weren't to interrupt. But no matter. My grandfather despaired of my ever believing any of the family stories. But this spring has taught me how true they are. How else could Andry have defeated a diarmadhi diarmadhi if he hadn't learned it from the scrolls? Oh, it's not stated openly. You have to be as devious as Lady Merisel herself to discover the method." if he hadn't learned it from the scrolls? Oh, it's not stated openly. You have to be as devious as Lady Merisel herself to discover the method."

Riyan stared at her. "How do you know all this?"

"I might not have credited my grandfather's tales, but I listened to them."

"Lord Garic," he said suddenly. "The same name as Lady Merisel's husband."

"It's a rather common name in the Veresch," she said easily. "Something else he told me was that the ceremony of giving the rings is a simple one, but potent. The very gold you faradh'im faradh'im use is charged with power. Some say Lady Merisel cleaned out an entire mine on Kierst and had the gold brought to her at G.o.ddess Keep to be imbued with power. Lord Gerik and Lord Rosseyn helped her as long as they could, but not even they had the strength to endure five days of it. She was more powerful than any of us can imagine. Rings made from this special gold are given to a Sunrunner rather casually-although I'm told Lord Andry makes it more of a ceremony these days. But it doesn't matter. The spell is already in the gold. That's Lady Merisel's gift to Sunrunners. The warning when sorcery is nearby- use is charged with power. Some say Lady Merisel cleaned out an entire mine on Kierst and had the gold brought to her at G.o.ddess Keep to be imbued with power. Lord Gerik and Lord Rosseyn helped her as long as they could, but not even they had the strength to endure five days of it. She was more powerful than any of us can imagine. Rings made from this special gold are given to a Sunrunner rather casually-although I'm told Lord Andry makes it more of a ceremony these days. But it doesn't matter. The spell is already in the gold. That's Lady Merisel's gift to Sunrunners. The warning when sorcery is nearby-if they possess sorcerer's blood themselves." they possess sorcerer's blood themselves."

"I don't understand. Why would she do that, if she spent her life working against diarmadh'im diarmadh'im? Logically, the power in the rings would be a trap for those trying to pa.s.s themselves off as Sunrunners."

"Tell me, my lord, does the fact that you have diarmadhi diarmadhi blood inevitably make you evil?" blood inevitably make you evil?"

"There are a lot of people who are going to be asking themselves exactly that," he replied bitterly.

"The only answer that counts is yours." She stopped walking and looked up into his eyes, her own strangely intense.

"My answer is 'no.' Of course it doesn't. And I see your point, my lady-character determines how power will be used, not the source of that power."

"Ah." She sighed softly and continued on toward the grotto.

"You don't agree?" he asked, confused.

"Certainly I agree. But how much easier it would be if one could say, 'Here is a faradhi, faradhi, who always does the good and right thing, and there is a who always does the good and right thing, and there is a diarmadhi, diarmadhi, who cannot.' People would prefer it so." who cannot.' People would prefer it so."

"Andry would," he mused. "He doesn't dare touch me, me, but I've always felt that anyone else would be wise to hide it from him." Ruala nodded sadly. Riyan pulled a branch of Sioned's willow out of her way and said, "So the reaction was set into the gold rings as a warning. Wait a moment-the silver ones burn, too." but I've always felt that anyone else would be wise to hide it from him." Ruala nodded sadly. Riyan pulled a branch of Sioned's willow out of her way and said, "So the reaction was set into the gold rings as a warning. Wait a moment-the silver ones burn, too."

"But not as much. Originally all all Sunrunner rings were gold. Perhaps they changed some to silver when the supply began to dwindle, and mixed some of the spelled gold into the making. That would be sensible, but I don't really know." She glanced up. "Why do you think the rings of a Lord or Lady of G.o.ddess Keep are always taken at death and melted down to make the successor's rings?" Sunrunner rings were gold. Perhaps they changed some to silver when the supply began to dwindle, and mixed some of the spelled gold into the making. That would be sensible, but I don't really know." She glanced up. "Why do you think the rings of a Lord or Lady of G.o.ddess Keep are always taken at death and melted down to make the successor's rings?"

"You know a great deal for having lived-isolated," he commented warily.

She ignored his rather obvious hint. "Not that it signifies with Lord Andry, that he had new rings made. The gold and silver are the same. And he has no Old Blood. But once the special gold runs out. . . ."

Riyan saw that he would have to be blunt, "Why didn't your grandfather say something, tell someone?"

"The sorcerers haven't threatened in generations. But they've come into the open again, and Lady Merisel's wisdom is serving you very well. They can't work their spells around Sunrunners such as you without giving themselves away-and without their spells, they are relatively harmless."

They came to the waterfall that tumbled down mossy rocks from the hidden spring and stood quietly for a time, listening to the night. Its sounds were very different at Skybowl: water surged gently there, did not dance and chatter like this. The stars reflected off slow ripples across the lake, did not dart and tease the eye with glinting swiftness off the spraying drops. At Feruche, Riyan thought suddenly, there was no open water at all. Strange that he'd been so unwilling to accept it from Pol this afternoon, and yet by evening was ready to risk his life to keep it.

"You know a lot about the diarmadh'im, diarmadh'im," he said at last. "And about the Sunrunners. I'd like to hear Lord Garic's stories sometime."

"You're welcome at Elktrap whenever you like, my lord. It would please my grandfather very much to see you again."

Riyan looked down at her. He would risk it; somehow he had to risk it. "And would it please you? Would you you welcome me, Ruala?" welcome me, Ruala?"

She met his gaze steadily, and it seemed all the stars concentrated their brilliant light in her eyes.

When a playful night breeze tossed water at them like handfuls of diamonds, they were much too busy kissing each other to notice.

Pol dismissed Edrel as soon as he entered his own chambers and let his clothes fall where they would, careful only of the gold belt buckle given at his knighting. Restless, sickened by the night's events, he paced a carpet made of thin, nubby Fessenden wool and tried to find some center of calm within himself.

He hadn't felt equal to staying with his family as they heard Andry out. He knew how the conversation would go-Andry would say again what he had said when the Fire had died and Marron with it: "He killed Sorin. He deserved to die." No Sunrunner ethic, no consideration of orderly process of law, no argument in the world would ever convince Andry that he had done something terribly wrong. And beneath the angry frustration he knew the others shared, Pol was afraid.

He could not have endured being near his cousin another instant. So he had left with Rialt on the pretext of finding and confining the rest of Miyon's suite so Riyan and Morwenna could test for the presence of sorcery. But Riyan had disappeared. Considering the jittery state of Pol's own nerves after this night's business, he didn't have the heart to track him down.

He doubted anything else would occur before tomorrow, anyway. Long ruminations about the brothers and what Ruval said the day Sorin died had convinced Pol that Marron's action was unexpected, not part of the master plot. Ruval was the elder, and his would be the serious challenge. Pol had been waiting for it. Tomorrow, next day, the day after-it would come soon enough. But not tonight.

A breeze had come up with the rising moons, and Pol stood at the windows to feel its coolness. The Desert smelled different this year, rich with water and flowers, unlike the usual clean aridity, almost the fragrances of Dragon's Rest. His grandmother Milar's fountain rose nearly twice its normal height with increased flow from the hidden spring. As Pol looked down on it, he considered a long walk in the gardens to clear his head. He saw a man and woman strolling idly from the direction of the grotto, holding hands. The pleasure of recognizing Riyan and Ruala as they stopped for a kiss was welcome distraction from the uncomfortable jumble of his feelings.