"Lady Merisel was wise," he said quietly. "We are so made as Sunrunners that we cannot conceive of causing death with our art. This is as it should be. We are here to work with and for the princedoms, not to terrorize them with our power as the diarmadh'im diarmadh'im did. did.

"But I have come to believe that we must learn to do what our ancestors did. Not to kill in battle, but to protect. Many of you were at G.o.ddess Keep in 704, when Lyell of Waes camped outside our gates-ostensibly to protect us against the war between Roelstra and Prince Rohan. You who were here remember how helpless you were against only fifty or sixty armed soldiers.

"You may rightly say that times are peaceful now, with no need for learning what I propose we learn. But consider the possible results of a single death: that of Prince Pol."

Hollis' dark golden head jerked up at that. He met her gaze calmly, knowing he need not spell it out in words of one syllable or less. But he explained it anyway. They had to understand. This was a thing dire enough to convince them, while leaving the real threat unrevealed. The prospect he detailed was real enough in any case, and frankly made him sick to his stomach.

"My cousin is heir to two princedoms, and to the High Prince. He is the only only heir. He is a strong young man in excellent health-but so was Inoat of Ossetia, who died very suddenly with his only son, leaving Chale without an heir. Had there been no Princess Gemma to inherit Ossetia, war would have come-and in the very princedom G.o.ddess Keep inhabits. heir. He is a strong young man in excellent health-but so was Inoat of Ossetia, who died very suddenly with his only son, leaving Chale without an heir. Had there been no Princess Gemma to inherit Ossetia, war would have come-and in the very princedom G.o.ddess Keep inhabits.

"My cousin's life has been threatened before, by the Merida. I don't need to number Roelstra's grandchildren for you-enough to make life interesting, certainly, should the Merida or mere accident claim Pol's life, G.o.ddess keep it from happening. Which of Roelstra's get have parents powerful enough to back a claim to Princemarch? Don't remind me that their mothers signed away all right-what would that signify, with a princedom at stake?

"My brother Maarken would inherit the Desert, of course." He nodded at the tall, composed man in their midst-Sunrunner, able warrior, Radzyn's heir-and his heart gave a skip of sheer pride. There was no finer man alive. "But there would be war over Princemarch. We all know it."

He paused again, gathering all his determination. "I don't believe any of this will happen. But it could. And who can say what else might occur that none of us could ever d-dream of?" The stumble was almost unnoticeable; he had a sudden vision of Sorin's worried eyes. "One day we may be called upon to defend ourselves. Quite frankly, I don't intend to be trapped within G.o.ddess Keep as Lady Andrade was. Beside this, it is unfortunate but true that my kinships excite the suspicions of certain princes. If war comes, for whatever reason, G.o.ddess Keep is the first place they would attempt to capture. And how easy it would be to do it!"

Andry gestured to Nialdan. The tall Sunrunner stepped forward and with one lifted hand called a flame to a torch pole set just outside the open gates. A moment later the crowd was startled by the quiet thunder of hoofbeats. All eyes fixed on the forty riders, led by Oclel, galloping across the fallow fields. Andry knew what they were imagining: not men and women they knew, wielding blunted swords and cloth-wrapped arrows, but soldiers under enemy banners. He slipped down the inner stair, deliberately un.o.btrusive, but few marked his pa.s.sage in any case. He nodded his satisfaction. Let them see danger, he thought; let them see their own helplessness.

Oclel raised his sword, and arrows thickened the sky. They thudded to the ground, hopelessly out of range. But the next volley hit the walls-away from the open gates, yet close enough to emphasize the threat. There were gasps, and a few cries of protest or outrage. Andry repressed a smile.

"What in all h.e.l.ls do you think you're doing?" demanded a familiar voice at his side, anger echoed in the strong grip on his arm.

"Hush," Hollis murmured to her husband. "We're about to find out, I think. Let him work, Maarken."

Andry gave her a sharp glance, surprised that she knew his mind better than his own brother. He shook Maarken off and strode to the gates. Standing in the center of the wide gap, he lifted both arms. Jeweled rings and wristbands flared in the sunlight-and in the glow of a wall of Fire that sprang up fifty paces from the castle.

Nialdan was nearby, arms similarly raised, rugged features clenched with the strain of calling another barrier of Fire just this side of Andry's. What no one but the two men knew was that whereas Nialdan worked with the sun, Andry had mastered the diarmadhi diarmadhi technique of constructing the wall without it. technique of constructing the wall without it.

The riders slowed when Fire appeared. Oclel bellowed an order and they abandoned their frenzied horses to approach on foot. Andry whispered a silent apology to his friend; Oclel had no idea what he was letting himself and his people in for.

Sunrunners approached Fire-and began to scream.

Andry silently counted to twenty, then lowered his arms. He spoke Nialdan's name into the horrified stillness of the courtyard and the smaller Fire sputtered out. Oclel led his weak-kneed troop through the gates, pausing only to fling an order to the grooms to gather the horses.

"Sorry," Nialdan muttered to Oclel, who gulped and shook his head.

Andry said nothing. The testimony of those who had felt the spell would be enough. He watched solemn-faced as furtive glances slid to him and then away.

The shaken "attackers" had recovered their voices. Andry listened to sc.r.a.ps of conversation and once more had to keep his lips from curving in a grim smile.

"-dragon-sized wolf with eyes of flame and claws bigger than my fingers-"

"-came right at me, I tell you-"

"-one of those rock lizards like the ones on Dorval, only with teeth-"

"Wolf? Lizard? I I saw dragons, all black and breathing fire-" saw dragons, all black and breathing fire-"

"Dragons I'll grant you, but blood-red, and dripping it from talons and jaws-"

"My Lord?"

Andry looked around. Oclel stood there, expressionless. A wave of sympathy nearly swamped Andry's glee over how well his ploy had worked. "Rough, hmm?"

"Indescribable."

"It had to be done this way the first time."

"I understand, my Lord. May I tell the others that?"

"It should be common knowledge by dinner tonight."

Oclel nodded. "As you wish. I think-"

What he thought would have to wait. Maarken strode up, coldly furious.

"Andry," was all he said.

"In a moment, Maarken-"

"Now."

Oclel bristled; no one spoke to the Lord of G.o.ddess Keep in that tone, not even the Lord's own brother. Andry gave brief consideration to a.s.serting rank over a man who was, after all, a Sunrunner, then discarded the notion. He wanted understanding and cooperation, not resentment. And Maarken, though in general even-tempered and gently-spoken, was proud as a dragon-and the son of their fiery mother.

"Very well. Let's go upstairs to the gatehouse. We can be private there." He sent a caustic message with his eyes that acknowledged Maarken's need to express his rage. A gaze like gray winter ice met his, and for the first time he wondered if he'd miscalculated.

Hollis followed them. She shut the door and leaned on it, trembling a little. Before Maarken could say anything she gave a choked gasp. "Andry! The wine-you didn't-"

He went to the table and picked up the piece of folded parchment Sioned had given Andrade eight years earlier. "I did. And I'd like you to ask Pol if he'd send some more. This is the last."

She flattened her spine against the door, eyes wide. "Don't you understand? Don't you know the risk?"

"Calm yourself," he said, biting back impatience. "There's no danger in small amounts, rarely taken. Besides, it's necessary."

Maarken's voice was silk-soft now. "You can't work a diarmadhi diarmadhi spell without it?" spell without it?"

"It works better with the added power. We're not here to discuss dranath. dranath."

"No."

The brothers squared off with the table between them. Andry knew he should stay silent until he could judge what form Maarken's fury would take, but he had to make him see, had to convince him.

"Everything I said was true. You know how helpless we'd be here if it came to war. I'm kin to the High Prince and his heir-and I'm the Lord of Radzyn's son. Somebody like Miyon or Chiana or even Pimantal of Fessenden would know exactly how to paralyze you in the field with a threat to G.o.ddess Keep."

"Go on."

Andry realized abruptly that he'd been wrong about Maarken's anger. It wasn't Tobin's-volatile, incandescent. This was Chay at his cold, hard, implacable worst.

"We must be able to defend ourselves. Not just against the threats we can antic.i.p.ate, but-" He broke off and eased his stance, taking his hands from the table and extending them palms up to his brother. "I've seen things, Maarken-"

"Oh, yes." Dismissively. "Sorin says you have odd dreams."

Andry felt his own temper begin to ignite. "Not just dreams-visions. Of a future that terrifies me. Maarken, you don't have any idea of the blood-"

"I saw none today," the older man said quietly. "What I saw was terror. And what I would have seen was madness, if that wall hadn't collapsed."

"That was the d.a.m.ned idea!" Andry exclaimed, frustrated. "The ros'salath ros'salath doesn't kill-not in this form, anyway-" doesn't kill-not in this form, anyway-"

Hollis caught her breath. " 'In this form'? 'In this form'? Andry, what have you done?" Andry, what have you done?"

"Broken more rules," Maarken snapped. "Taken the traditions and laws of G.o.ddess Keep and thrown them into the middens!"

He made a last try. "Andrade saw things. Sweet G.o.ddess, Maarken, you and I exist exist because of what she saw-and what she did about it! I'm telling you that what I've seen is destruction you can't imagine! I can't let it happen-and the only weapon I have against it-" because of what she saw-and what she did about it! I'm telling you that what I've seen is destruction you can't imagine! I can't let it happen-and the only weapon I have against it-"

"Is Sunrunners learning the ways of sorcerers! Why haven't you said anything about these visions before, Andry? Why keep them such a secret? You have an uncle and a cousin who are princes with armies to command-why do you need an army of your own?"

"You mean the uncle who trusts me so much he sent his faradhi faradhi son to me for training? The cousin who sees me as a threat to his own Sunrunner powers? Is that who you're talking about, Maarken?" son to me for training? The cousin who sees me as a threat to his own Sunrunner powers? Is that who you're talking about, Maarken?"

"Andry-" Hollis came forward, still trembling. "Andry, please, you don't see what you're doing. Will they trust you more when they learn of this?"

"I've seen death," he snapped. "What's more important, Hollis? Pol's conceit or hundreds and hundreds of people? Rohan's trust or R-" He choked off the name of his birthplace, the ravaged waste of it swirling in his mind.

Maarken slammed his hands flat on the table. "What's more important, Andry-your might-be vision or the reality of Sunrunners learning how to kill?"

There would be no understanding. He had been a fool to expect it. His brother belonged to Rohan. To Pol.

Andry pulled his clenched fists in to his sides. "I ought to have known. You're a Sunrunner, trained at G.o.ddess Keep, owing duty to G.o.ddess Keep-and to me. But you're also an athri, athri, loyal to your prince. One day they might not live so comfortably together within you. One day you might have to choose." loyal to your prince. One day they might not live so comfortably together within you. One day you might have to choose."

The skin around those gray eyes tightened just a little, and he knew he'd struck home.

"But not today," Andry finished softly. "Not today, my brother. Go back to the Desert. Tell Rohan what you like. It won't make any difference. If war comes-any war-then it will come. But I'll be ready for it, Maarken. Tell Rohan that, too."

"Andry, wait-"

He left the room feeling incredibly old, incredibly tired. Not even the lingering dranath dranath could warm his blood. could warm his blood.

Torien waited for him outside near the well, dark Fironese face creased with worry. Andry summoned up a tiny smile.

"Order my brother's horses made ready for him tomorrow morning."

The Chief Steward was rubbing his fingers absently, as if a chill had seeped into them. "I thought they'd be staying another eight or ten days."

"No. And I don't think they'll be staying here again."

Part Two

Year 728

Chapter Eight.

Near Elktrap Manor: 3 Spring.

The dragon was dying.

He lay on his belly, wings nailed to enormous trees felled for the purpose, spread like a skin left to dry in the sun. Spikes of the kind used for mountain climbing in the Veresch had been driven through the bones of his wings. Blood had crusted around these wounds and where his talons had been gouged out. There were a few sword slashes on his blue-gray hide, but not deep enough to let him bleed his life out quickly. Whoever was responsible for this intended a slow, slow death: the great amber eyes were dulled with long agony.

The sword dropped from Sorin's shaking hand. He gulped back nausea and glanced at Riyan's stricken face. A short time ago their horses had refused to go any farther, shying and rearing when the two young men urged them on. So they had left their mounts tied in the forest, unsheathed their swords, and warily proceeded. To find this.

"Sweet G.o.ddess," Sorin whispered, or tried to. His mouth was dry and tasted of the foulness of this deed; his throat was too tight for speech. Who had done this? Through his shock he felt a savage anger beginning, an incoherent vow to give the murderer a death that matched the cruelty done to this dragon.

Riyan put a hand on his arm. He had to clear his throat several times before he managed, "Sorin, we have to do something-"

He nodded. But he knew how helpless they were. "Water. That's all we can do for him."

Riyan let his own sword fall to the gra.s.s. "I'll get the extra from my pack."

While he was gone, Sorin moved a little closer to the dying dragon. Amber eyes saw him, sparked faintly with rage, then glazed over again. A man had done this to him, but he lacked the strength even to glare his hatred for long. Sorin circled the huge, pain-rigid body, fists clenched. The spikes were new steel, shining in the morning sun above the b.l.o.o.d.y wounds they had inflicted; they marched in a perfectly straight line down the felled trees, stretching the dragon's broken wings to their full span. Sorin fought back mind-numbing fury and took careful note of the circ.u.mstances of the dragon's agony. Whoever had done this had taken all the time in the world to make his crime a grisly work of art.

Riyan came back as Sorin knelt beside the dragon's head. "Careful," he warned as neck muscles rippled and the head shifted sluggishly.

"He's got strength to swallow, and that's all," Sorin replied. He shifted the great head onto his knees and stroked the smooth hide between the eyes. "I'll hold his head. Try to get some water down him."

The dragon proved angry enough still to take a feeble snap at Riyan. But when cool water slid down his throat from the goatskin carrier, his eyes closed and tension seeped from some of his muscles. Sorin went on rubbing the dragon's face and neck. Riyan gave him as much water as he would take, then stoppered the skin and sat back on his heels.

"This can't be the one that brought us up here," he said slowly. "Word came twenty days ago. Not even a dragon could survive this for twenty days. This must be the wh.o.r.eson's second kill."

"And his last," Sorin answered grimly.

"We'll catch him." Riyan settled onto the gra.s.s, kneeling by the dragon's head. "Sorin, I've never tried this, but I know how it's supposed to work. Sioned let me watch when her Elisel came flying by Stronghold last year. But I've never actually done it." He gave a brief grimace of a smile. "Catch me if I fall over, all right?"

Before Sorin had time to protest, Riyan had closed his eyes and begun the mysterious-to Sorin-work that would allow him to touch the dragon's colors. Even though his twin brother had explained the feeling and a little of the technique many times, Sorin despaired of ever understanding what happened when a Sunrunner used light. Andry had likened it to master weavers gathering threads for a multicolored tapestry, master gla.s.scrafters selecting stained gla.s.s for a window. But to touch sunlight or moonlight, or to perceive a person in terms of the hues of the mind-it was like asking Sorin to imagine drinking music.

Riyan's spine snapped straight as a sword blade and a groan escaped him. His eyes opened, the dark brown lit by strange bronze and gold and greenish flecks, the pupils pinpoints like black stars. He dug his fingers into the ground as if they were talons, shock and fury swirling in his eyes. Sorin held his breath as an expression of mortal anguish twisted his friend's face. Then Riyan cried out and slumped.

Sorin placed the dragon's heavy head onto the gra.s.s, sparing a look at the amber eyes. They glowed faintly, then faded once more.

"Riyan!" He shook a shoulder. "Come on, wake up!"