Pol ignored the taunt. "What about dranath? dranath?"

"What about it?"

"Do you need it?"

"Do you? you?"

For answer, Pol unhooked his father's wineskin from his belt, unstoppered it, and deliberately upended it. The dark liquid charged with power-enhancing drug spilled onto the sand.

He heard a soft gasp behind him-his mother, probably. Perhaps it was a foolish gesture, but it was one he had to make. Ruval was responding quite nicely so far. Rejection of dranath dranath would not only further encourage belief in his weakness and stupidity, but it would also signify something more important: he was Sunrunner, not sorcerer. The stray thought teased at him that Andry would approve. Grudgingly. would not only further encourage belief in his weakness and stupidity, but it would also signify something more important: he was Sunrunner, not sorcerer. The stray thought teased at him that Andry would approve. Grudgingly.

"That leaves only the shielding," he said.

"Impossible. Tradition calls for three on each side. I have no one but myself. I need need no one but myself to kill you." no one but myself to kill you."

"My mother, the High Princess, constructed one before."

"She knows nothing," Ruval scoffed.

"Yet she managed it."

"No. I do not not agree." agree."

Pol made his shrug one of disappointment; he hadn't really expected to win that point. "Yet I expect you will will agree to the use of the Unreal." agree to the use of the Unreal."

"Oh, so you think to terrify me with horrible visions?" Ruval's good humor returned. "By all means! It should be interesting. If we're agreed, then call forward witnesses. Your father, Miyon, and Barig will do."

Pol did so, as if submitting to Ruval's authority. When the three stood near him, he listed the conditions of battle in a slightly hoa.r.s.e voice. Rohan's carefully composed expression was belied by the dark concern in his eyes; Miyon seethed with a silent, angry demand that Ruval emerge the victor; Barig simply stared, understanding perhaps four words in ten. But he hadn't the temerity to ask for a lengthy explanation.

"The conditions are acceptable to both of us," Pol said at last. "If any of them are broken, the violator's claim is forefeit. Punishment is your responsibility, as witnesses."

"Understood," Miyon snapped. "Get on with it."

Ruval grinned at him. "Why, your grace! So eager to see your guards recruit win? Or do you expect me to lose?"

The Cunaxan looked ready to strangle him. He turned on his heel and strode back to his horse.

Barig said nervously, "As my prince's cousin and representative, I'll keep a d.a.m.ned sharp eye on the proceedings."

Pol appreciated his situation-and his bl.u.s.ter that tried to hide almost total incomprehension. "We thank your lordship for the a.s.surances."

"And trust in your perceptions," Ruval added mockingly.

Rohan said nothing until Barig had returned to the group. Then he murmured, "You'll die tonight, Ruval-one way or another."

"Have you the stomach to kill the son of the woman who bore your child?"

Pol tensed in spite of himself. Rohan only lifted one brow.

"I saw him that night," Ruval went on. "Just after he was born. My last brother in his cradle where he burned to death."

"Such touching family sentiment is rather unexpected," Pol made himself remark.

"When I've finished with you, I'll settle with your mother-who killed mine." He glared at Rohan. "You I'll leave alive long enough to watch the death of the I'll leave alive long enough to watch the death of the faradhi faradhi b.i.t.c.h who also murdered your son." b.i.t.c.h who also murdered your son."

"Had Ianthe raised him, he would not have been been my son," Rohan replied. my son," Rohan replied.

Pol swallowed hard. There was the center of it, he thought. And he was pa.s.sionately grateful for Sioned's courage. He no longer cared whether or not she had been the one to kill Ianthe. He'd have to live through this, if only to tell his mother how deeply he loved her.

Rohan left them. Pol turned to Ruval and drew in a deep breath. He reached into his pocket, fingering a little golden talisman, remembering the wise old Sunrunner who had given it to him. The Star Scroll had taught him many things today-most of which he hoped he wouldn't have to use. He must defeat Ruval as a Sunrunner, not a sorcerer. Not just for symbolism's sake, but for his own. He was the son of Rohan and Sioned, not the scion of diarmadh'im. diarmadh'im. Yet the techniques perfected by his ancestors chattered in his mind, as if words written on parchment were speaking to him. They advised this spell or that, debated the merits of each, proposed new variations to fit the circ.u.mstances. But in a worried undertone a woman warned of danger. Her voice was his mother's and Lady Andrade's and Tobin's, and nervous fancy told him that some part of it was Lady Merisel who had written the words of the Star Scroll. She had preserved perilous knowledge and then hidden it away. Why? The scholar's fatal reluctance to let any learning disappear? Or something else? Yet the techniques perfected by his ancestors chattered in his mind, as if words written on parchment were speaking to him. They advised this spell or that, debated the merits of each, proposed new variations to fit the circ.u.mstances. But in a worried undertone a woman warned of danger. Her voice was his mother's and Lady Andrade's and Tobin's, and nervous fancy told him that some part of it was Lady Merisel who had written the words of the Star Scroll. She had preserved perilous knowledge and then hidden it away. Why? The scholar's fatal reluctance to let any learning disappear? Or something else?

Likely he would soon use that learning to kill his own half-brother. He looked into Ruval's eyes, and it was no blood-bond or sentiment between siblings that revulsed him from the inevitable. It was a terrible, will-destroying sadness. His princedom, his place, even his life, had been won with other people's b.l.o.o.d.y deaths: Ianthe and Roelstra, the pretender Masul, Segev, Marron, and now Ruval. What made him worth so much killing?

But then he remembered Sorin, and the anger swelled in him. Those others had died mortal enemies; Sorin had been murdered defending him. For Sorin he would win this battle. For his mother, who had risked everything for him. And for his father.

He held Ruval's gaze with his own, seeing not his brother but the Enemy, all Enemies.

"We begin," he said.

Chapter Twenty-eight.

Stronghold: 35 Spring.

Andry stood on the top step, looking down into the cellars. He told himself he was not afraid of Mireva. He also knew this was at least a partial lie. It wasn't what she might do-Rohan's gambit with the steel wire had all but removed that fear. It was what he might learn from her.

Secrets more deadly than those of the Star Scroll. Ways of power that, once learned, could pollute everything he was. Truths that might mean his eventual defeat.

Knowledge of any kind being power, he finally descended the stairs into the cool dimness. In chambers to his left were the enormous cisterns that held Stronghold's water supply-nearly overflowing this year, ensuring plenty of water for years to come. The grotto spring provided the main supply, but Andry could remember times in his childhood when it had nearly dried up. Even if it turned to sand for several years, Stronghold would still be awash in water, kept fresh by the addition of herbs that also gave it a clean, distinctive taste. It was one of the small things he missed at G.o.ddess Keep, the subtle tingle of this water on his tongue.

He paused in a doorway to view the ma.s.sive cisterns for what he fully expected would be the last time, then continued through the maze of crates, excess furniture, rolled-up carpets, and other stored items to Mireva's cell. Along the way part of his mind busied itself with contingency plans: how many of Radzyn's people could be housed at Stronghold when-and if-the castle fell? How many could the cisterns keep alive, and for how long? If Stronghold was taken as well, was there a way to deprive the invaders of this precious bounty of water in the Desert?

He believed in his vision as if it was already historical fact. He had thought that perhaps it would come to pa.s.s this spring. But Radzyn still stood. He would detour there on his way out of his uncle's princedom. He desperately needed to see it whole and proud on its seaside cliffs. One last time.

There was a cellar below this one, so protected from the blazing heat that ice could be made within it. He remembered sneaking in with Sorin when they were children, sc.r.a.ping enough dry frost for good approximations of s...o...b..a.l.l.s. He remembered so much . . . playing at dragons, learning to ride, trying bows that drew too much weight for little boys, causing dreadful mischief and never being able to talk their way out of it, taking seriously old Myrdal's bedtime tales of secret pa.s.sageways and turning half the castle inside out before Chay caught them, and Sorin being unable to talk them out of that that one, too. . . . one, too. . . .

He stood before the locked iron door of the cell, conjured a flame to the torch set in the wall, and prepared to face the woman ultimately responsible for his brother's death.

He had been careful and silent in his approach. But before his fingers even touched the lock, her voice came m.u.f.fled and mocking from within: "What? Not out watching sorcery at work?"

He opened the door. She stood against the far wall, long white-streaked hair straggling about her shoulders, gray-green eyes glittering, wrists b.l.o.o.d.y testimony to her efforts at escaping her bonds.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable," he said, matching her jeering tone.

"Oh, quite."

There were any number of things he might have said. Any number of ways he might have opened his conversation with her. But the words that came from him were blunt, direct with the force of his need.

"Tell me what you know. I need your knowledge."

Mireva laughed at him.

"Tell me."

"And why should I do that?"

"Because it's your last chance." He paused. "Do you know what Rohan plans for you?" It had been mentioned this afternoon, before he had told Rohan he would not be going to Rivenrock. He wholeheartedly approved the idea; it had an elegant simplicity and promised days of excruciating torment. Rohan could be admirably ruthless when it suited him.

She shrugged. "Does it matter? We both know I'm to die."

"There are ways and ways of dying. I'd kill you myself, right now-but I must admit that he has a more interesting way." He stood in the open doorway, letting his shadow fall across her. The sight pleased him. "Are you feeling the lack of dranath dranath yet?" he asked with malicious gentleness. yet?" he asked with malicious gentleness.

A spasm went through her that tugged her wrists apart, renewing a sluggish flow of blood down her hands.

Andry nodded. "I thought you might. Tell me what I want to know, and I may decide to end your life quickly."

Her eyes closed for a moment. Then she gave a resigned little shrug. "Very well. But release my bonds."

He very nearly laughed. "Not even for what I could learn from you."

"Fool! This cell may be four stone walls, but the ground beyond is laced with iron ore! Can't you feel it, Sunrunner? Are your senses that weak? The door's made of iron-I couldn't get past it even without steel in my flesh! If I'm going to die, at least let it be with a shred of dignity! Don't kill me when I'm trussed like a pig for slaughter!"

Andry considered, then closed the door. "I'll loosen them," he said at last, conjuring a bit of Fire high on the wall to see by. "But the 'earring' stays."

"As you wish," she answered sullenly.

He untwisted the steel wire connecting her arms, making sure each swollen wrist was still encircled, careful that the bonds were not loose enough to slip over her hands. She was free, after a fashion; the blood-dark wires were only bracelets now. He was confident that before she could work them off or remove the steel from her earlobe, he could get out the door and slam its iron shut.

"Too gracious." She rubbed her wrists. "What do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning. It won't make any sense otherwise."

Mireva settled onto the floor. Leaning her head back against the wall, her hands in plain view, she held his gaze with her own and began to speak.

Years ago, before Andry had been born, Mireva had changed her youthful shape to that of an old hag and given Lady Palila the secret of dranath. dranath. Roelstra's mistress had used the drug as Mireva had hoped. A Sunrunner named Crigo had been addicted and thereby enslaved. It was a satisfying thing to watch for a sorcerer who had spent her life in hiding. Yet as things developed, Mireva began to dare a larger hope: that when one of Roelstra's daughters by Lallante married Rohan, Crigo could be used even more effectively against Andrade by being in Rohan's inner councils. Roelstra's mistress had used the drug as Mireva had hoped. A Sunrunner named Crigo had been addicted and thereby enslaved. It was a satisfying thing to watch for a sorcerer who had spent her life in hiding. Yet as things developed, Mireva began to dare a larger hope: that when one of Roelstra's daughters by Lallante married Rohan, Crigo could be used even more effectively against Andrade by being in Rohan's inner councils.

"Tell me more about dranath, dranath," Andry interrupted.

"Think it might be useful, do you?" she jeered. "You know that it augments power? Ever used it yourself, Sunrunner?"

"And risk addiction?" he snorted. It was none of her business that he had experimented with the drug. "Leave myself vulnerable to what Rohan wants to do with you?"

"It's worth it." She shrugged. "If you ever plan on slipping your beloved cousin a little, be aware that anyone with the gifts can resist direction if he becomes aware of it-and it's not difficult to detect it, believe me. But unless he suspects, he'll be open to any interesting little suggestions you wish to make."

"What about ungifteds?"

"Nothing to work with. Their minds are empty so far as dranath dranath is concerned. All it does is addict them. It takes the Blood to be vulnerable that way-which is why Ianthe was able to beguile Rohan into lying with her." is concerned. All it does is addict them. It takes the Blood to be vulnerable that way-which is why Ianthe was able to beguile Rohan into lying with her."

"Oh," he said, bored, "the phantom son."

"No more than Ruval or Marron or Segev! He would have had Sunrunner sensitivities from his father and the full diarmadhi diarmadhi gift from his mother." Her gray-green eyes unfocused. "What I could have taught him. . . ." Then she met Andry's gaze again with another small shrug for lost opportunities. "But he died with her in the razing of Feruche." gift from his mother." Her gray-green eyes unfocused. "What I could have taught him. . . ." Then she met Andry's gaze again with another small shrug for lost opportunities. "But he died with her in the razing of Feruche."

"You can mourn him some other time," Andry said impatiently. "Go on with the story."

She settled with her back against the wall, seeming to enjoy this chance to lecture the Lord of G.o.ddess Keep. "Lallante was a kinswoman of mine. We married her to Roelstra hoping for a son who would be diarmadhi diarmadhi and High Prince both-just as Andrade mated her sister to Zehava and Sioned to Rohan, wanting the same thing for you and High Prince both-just as Andrade mated her sister to Zehava and Sioned to Rohan, wanting the same thing for you faradh'im. faradh'im. But Lallante was terrified of her powers and wouldn't use them. When she rejected her heritage, we gave up hope." But Lallante was terrified of her powers and wouldn't use them. When she rejected her heritage, we gave up hope."

"We?"

"My father, her father, and I. They died shortly after she did." Mireva's voice was bitter and brooding. "Died of the failure. It didn't take a Sunrunner that time. Lallante was one of our own, and she betrayed us." Mireva wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the stone floor. "There were others who worked with us. But ours was the purest line-a lineage more royal than yours, Sunrunner." She grinned suddenly. "Descended from none other than your precious Lord Rosseyn, ally of Merisel the Cursed."

"He was no sorcerer!" Andry exclaimed.

"No. But his woman was. And so were her children by him. You weakling Sunrunners-it takes two of you to produce gifted offspring. The talent recedes without careful mating. But the diarmadhi diarmadhi powers are present in the children even if only one parent is gifted." powers are present in the children even if only one parent is gifted."

He stared at her, fascinated. "Then all Lallante's daughters-"

"Are part of us. Only that whimpering fool Naydra survives. With her dies Lallante's line. Except for Ruval."

"And so?"

"Crigo's death, Ianthe's failure to win Rohan-Pandsala's similar failure-but then there were Ianthe's sons. Three fine, strong, powerful boys. One of Feruche's guards was diarmadhi, diarmadhi, my watch there. He brought them to me. I knew what it was to hope again. . . ." my watch there. He brought them to me. I knew what it was to hope again. . . ."

Mireva had taken the boys in, nurtured their gifts, taught them who they were and what they must do to reclaim their birthright. Segev, the youngest, had gone to G.o.ddess Keep that spring of 719.

"You never knew," she purred as Andry stared in shock. "That he was a sorcerer, you guessed. That he was Ianthe's son-" She laughed. "You and Hollis even let him help you translate the Star Scroll. Now that that was irony! Even though he failed to bring me the original or even a copy, I saw enough of it on starlight to know it wasn't the thing whispered of in legend." was irony! Even though he failed to bring me the original or even a copy, I saw enough of it on starlight to know it wasn't the thing whispered of in legend."

"Ah, but it is is." He got some of his own back as her eyes widened.

"Impossible! The spells are wrong, they're-"

"Written that way deliberately. They only work if you know the code Lady Merisel used."

Breath hissed between Mireva's teeth. "So! That filthy b.i.t.c.h-she was arrogant enough after all to preserve what she stole from us!"

"Tell me about her."

Mireva's face darkened with fury. "This paragon of all farad-h'im farad-h'im -she was Gerik's wife, but she slept with anything and anyone. She spread stories of her beauty, but she was hideously ugly-when she left her keeps she cast a shape-changing spell to foster belief in her loveliness. She ruled Gerik and Rosseyn and every Sunrunner alive with an iron whip-and killed those who didn't obey her." -she was Gerik's wife, but she slept with anything and anyone. She spread stories of her beauty, but she was hideously ugly-when she left her keeps she cast a shape-changing spell to foster belief in her loveliness. She ruled Gerik and Rosseyn and every Sunrunner alive with an iron whip-and killed those who didn't obey her."

Andry almost smiled. The woman whose strength and beauty sang from the historical scrolls bore no resemblance to the one Mireva described.

"She used treachery and deceit to destroy us-nothing was too low for her. The only time she was utterly disobeyed was when she ordered all children killed at our citadel of Castle Crag. Two of them were Rosseyn's. No one knew about them. He reported that all had been murdered-when he had in truth taken them to safety." Mireva sprang to her feet and began to pace the narrow cell. "As for the adults-the men she didn't kill outright, she gelded. The women she rendered barren through drugs. The pregnant ones-she tore the babes from their mothers' bodies and had them spitted on Merida knives. Did you ever learn the secret of Merida gla.s.s knives? They were hollow, filled with poison. When stabbed into flesh, they broke and the poison seeped out. Merisel used those knives against children! children!"

Mireva was panting for breath as she leaned one shoulder to the wall, as if the force of her hate had exhausted her.