The Star Scroll Part 32

He had shaved off his beard, a ploy not lost on anyone with half a brain. The clean, harshly handsome lines of his cheeks and jaw were visible now below the startling green eyes. As the horses paraded past the stands, Sioned met his gaze for an instant and saw the sheer glee in his grin. Fury gripped her that he dared wear Princemarch's color, swiftly followed by profound grat.i.tude that Pandsala was safely in her tent. Rohan had told her about the regent's mood and actions yesterday, and Sioned was certain that had Pandsala been here she would have ripped the violet silk right off Masul's shoulders.

She darted a look at her husband, who appeared to be contemplating some similar act of mayhem, Tobin's black eyes were snapping with rage and her cheeks were deeply flushed, but Rohan's anger was as pale and cold as if his face had been carved from snow.

Lyell was the official starter. He toyed with the fringe of a large red-and-yellow flag as the dancing, restive horses lined up. Sioned's gaze traced the measure-round course and saw to her horror that this was the race to Brochwell Bay and back. The jumps were in position; a section of railing had been removed where the horses would leave the track for the cliffs. Anything could happen along that unwatched course. She knew that only too well. Rohan had ridden the same race twenty-one years ago to win her emeralds, and had nearly been killed along the way.

Sorin patted Joscenel's sleek, sunny neck, and a white-tufted ear swiveled back to listen to whatever he was saying. Sioned glanced over the other horses. Sorin was definitely the entry to beat. Two riders were on Lord Kolya's horses and wearing his russet-and-white; two more entries bore the plain red of Prince Velden of Grib. Another of Chay's horses was down the line from Sorin. Both young men were in his red-and-white silks. The eighth horse was Lord Sabriam's, distinguished by the orange and yellow of Einar, and a ninth belonged to Lord Patwin, the rider his younger brother dressed in garish red and blue stripes. These would battle it out for third place, for it was obvious that the contest for first would be between Sorin and Masul.

Tobin, recovering from her initial shock, was now the picture of composure to anyone who did not know her. Sioned, who knew her very well, saw a telltale pulse pounding in her throat as she bent to place the uneaten ice at her feet. Small, delicate fingers were then laced together in the princess' lap, knuckles white with tension. Tobin would show nothing more than a mother's justifiable pride when her son rode to victory. And Sorin must win, Sioned told herself, looking at Rohan's frozen, expressionless face. He must.

Lyell swept the flag down and the horses shot forward like arrows from nine warrior bows. Clods of dirt were flung up as they pounded past the stands and through the opening in the fence. The crowd gasped once, and then the strange, unsettling, whispering silence descended again.

As she had done years ago when Rohan had been up on Pashta in the same race, Sioned swiftly wove a thin plait of sunlight and sent it after the riders-thanking the G.o.ddess that the sunlight was on her face and she did not have to draw attention to herself by moving. As she watched the nine horses separate on their way to the wood, she had the distinct impression that someone else was observing on the sunlight as well. Maarken, perhaps, or Andry, anxious for their brother. Careful to keep her own weaving distinct and separate, she glided toward the cliffs, waiting for the riders to emerge from the trees.

Masul was in the lead, Sorin just behind, the others trailing by at least two lengths. Joscenel was a streak of pale gold against the dark gravelly ground. Sorin rode close to his horse's neck, so much in harmony with the stallion that every stride seemed to find response in the ripple of muscle beneath Sorin's s.h.i.+rt. Sioned had never seen anyone ride this way, not even Chaynal, who was the best rider in living memory. Chay sat his horses with easy authority; Sorin became one with his mount.

Masul approached the sharp, dangerous turn at the cliff with rocks flying from beneath his bay's white-feathered hooves. He had to haul the animal's head cruelly around to avoid plunging over into the sea. Sorin judged the angle better, slowing Joscenel for an easier turn, and made up ground as Masul's outraged horse faltered, nearly stumbling, before finding his stride again.

Behind them, one of Velden's riders miscalculated and his terrified horse pulled up short, skidding to a halt on his haunches a man-length from the cliff edge. His rider went flying and vanished over the jagged rocks. The horse, trembling all over, limped away.

Sioned did not wait to see if the rest negotiated the turn safely. She raced back on the sunlight and saw Rohan and Tobin staring at her, only now realizing she had not been entirely with them.

"A rider went over the cliff," she said. "One of Velden's. He needs help-if he's still alive."

Rohan nodded curtly and left them, shouldering his way down to the track. Sioned felt Tobin cling to her hand, but had no time to rea.s.sure her. She rethreaded the sunlight and sped along it, hoping to catch Sorin and Masul as they emerged once more from the wood.

But the two horses were even faster than she'd thought. Both were well away from the trees. Masul's stallion was lathered, ears laid flat, teeth bared; only his rider's iron grip kept him from giving in to deeper instinct and turning to attack. Blood welled along the bay's hindquarters where the golden stallion had evidently gotten in a vicious bite. Sioned was astounded that the two warhorses still obeyed their riders.

Sorin was pressed even more tightly to his horse's neck now, his s.h.i.+rt cut to ribbons by low branches in the wood. His gloved hands held the reins almost at the bit. For three strides the pair hurtled along neck and neck, and then Joscenel began to pull ahead.

Suddenly Fire blossomed before them to the right, directly in Sorin's path. His horse swerved madly, eyes showing white with terror. Joscenel plowed into Masul's bay and the big horse stumbled. Recovering in a stride, they still ran so close together that sparks struck by iron-shod hooves on stone flew up simultaneously. Sioned saw the p.r.o.ng end of Masul's whip flash, and Sorin's back arched as steel cut into his shoulder. Joscenel struggled to maintain his balance as the young man lurched in the saddle. Masul kept his bay stallion right beside Sorin, riding for the edge of the Fire, forcing Joscenel directly into the chest-high flames.

Sorin righted himself and signaled his horse. Muscle bunched beneath the sweat-darkened hide and Joscenel soared over the Fire, landing a long stride beyond it with his belly singed and his white saddle blanket smoldering. The flames vanished, leaving a thin blackened line in the dirt that was quickly obliterated by the hooves of six other horses.

Sioned gave a violent shudder as she slid back down the sunlight. Staggering to her feet, her vision cleared just in time for her to see the two stallions thunder onto the track toward the first jump. Masul used his whip on his stallion, the s.h.i.+ne of the silver p.r.o.ng sullied now with blood. The first jump was cleared, and the second. Sorin was on his heels by the third. One of Lord Kolya's horses foundered after the first obstacle, his thrown rider rolling quickly out of the way. n.o.body seemed to notice.

Had Tobin's fingers been knives, they would have sliced Sioned's arm to the bone. Someone cried out in the silence, echoed by another shout from the commoners' stands, and sound rippled through the crowd-not cheers of encouragement but release of unbearable tension. Sioned heard a low moan claw up from Tobin's throat, knowing that the princess' control was nearly gone.

Bay stallion and golden stallion cleared the last jump together. The former's ribs and mouth were coated with blood-red foam; still the whip dug into his sides. Under its a.s.sault he used up the last of his great heart and crossed the finish-half a stride in the lead.

Tobin dragged Sioned down through the crowd to the railings, and Sioned finally succeeded in getting in front of her tiny sister-by-marriage to protect her from the wildly screaming throng.

"Make way!" she shouted. "Let me pa.s.s! Make way for the High Princess!"

"Sioned!" came a familiar bellow. "Over here!"

She shouldered her way to Ostvel, gripping Tobin's hand. He was at the rails, keeping a place clear for them to duck through. "Get everyone to the paddock, quick, or there'll be trouble. Chay's got murder on his face."

"Can you blame him?" Tobin snapped before climbing through the rails.

Rohan was already on the track, waiting for Sorin to canter his blown and trembling stallion back to calm. He grasped his sister by the shoulders when she would have hurried to her son. "No! You'll get trampled. Tobin, stay here."

"I'll pull that lying b.a.s.t.a.r.d off his horse and feed him to the dragons!" she hissed. "Let me go!"

He bore with her struggles for a moment, then rapped out, "Stop it! Do you want everyone to see you?"

It was not something that would have mattered to Sioned, but Tobin, born and bred to princely station, had been trained to present a certain face to the outside world. She shook her brother off and smoothed back her hair. "No need to rattle my bones loose," she said acidly.

Rightly interpreting this as a sign of recovery, Rohan nodded. Sorin was riding closer now, and Sioned feared for a moment that Tobin would explode anew. She could tell the difference between marks left by slas.h.i.+ng branches and the torn and bloodied shoulder caused by the lash of a whip. But though rage burned even hotter in her long-lidded eyes, she said nothing.

Sioned felt someone pluck at her sleeve, and looked around. Alasen stood at her side, ashen-faced. "Is Sorin all right?" the girl whispered, and Sioned recalled that the two had grown up together at Volog's court.

"He'll be fine, with only a scar to show for his trouble."

Sorin rode up then, Joscenel having settled down. He gave Alasen a tight smile. "I'm not hurt, Allie. Just get me the h.e.l.l out of here before I kill that pig. I don't trust myself nearer to him than a measure."

"You or or your father," Rohan said mildly, though his eyes flashed. "But I see no need to insult pigs, Sorin. They're certainly much better bred than Masul. Let's get your horse to the paddock and cared for, shall we?" your father," Rohan said mildly, though his eyes flashed. "But I see no need to insult pigs, Sorin. They're certainly much better bred than Masul. Let's get your horse to the paddock and cared for, shall we?"

Tobin turned on him with a look of furious betrayal, still wanting nothing more than to confront Masul with what he had done. But she obeyed Sioned's warning look and took Joscenel's bridle in one shaking hand. "Let's get out of here," she muttered, leading them to where Ostvel had waylaid the livid Chaynal.

Rohan was looking at Alasen. "With those green eyes, there's only one person you could be. Princess, would you be so kind as to stay here and watch certain people for me?"

She understood instantly. "Of course, your grace. It'll be a real pleasure."

Sorin gave a short laugh over his shoulder. "Go flirt with Masul. He'll be so dazzled he won't see that what you really want is to scratch his eyes out."

"If I decided to soil my hands by touching him, I'd aim a good deal lower down," she retorted, and set off toward the group cl.u.s.tered around the victor.

Rohan blinked in startlement, then grinned, and then scowled as Chay finally eluded Ostvel and stormed up. "Not here," he ordered sharply before Chay could do more than open his mouth. "This horse needs attention."

Chay turned scarlet and for a moment Sioned thought he would defy Rohan. But then he swallowed hard, nodding.

"Just as you say, my prince." He ran his fingers gently over the stallion's singed belly and legs, then met his son's gaze. "You'll have to explain this. I trust you can. can."

"Not here," Rohan repeated, and they started for the paddocks.

They were joined along the way by Pol, Maarken, and Andry. Sioned searched the brothers' faces, but saw only anger. Unable to convince herself that it had been one of them she had sensed on the sunlight, she drew Maarken to her with a glance.

"Did you watch the race?" she whispered. "By faradhi faradhi means?" When he looked surprised and shook his head, she called Andry over and received the same answer. means?" When he looked surprised and shook his head, she called Andry over and received the same answer.

"Did you? you?" Maarken demanded. "What did you see?"

"I want to talk to Sorin first."

She appropriated him from his father once they had reached the paddock. Rohan distracted Chay by asking what treatment they would give the injured horse, and they led Joscenel away. Sorin submitted to his mother's inspection of his back and shoulder, wincing as she cleaned the sc.r.a.pes with fresh water brought by a groom. As Tobin worked, Sioned glanced at Ostvel. He nodded and led the unwilling Pol off to help Riyan get ready for the next race.

"Sorin," she said at last, "tell me exactly what happened from your point of view."

He was seated on an overturned bucket as his mother dressed his wounds. He regarded Sioned thoughtfully, blue eyes narrowing beneath the untidy shock of brown hair. After a moment he nodded. "My point of view means you had one as well. I should've guessed. It was a clean ride until we got out of the wood on the way back. All at once flames shot up in front of me. Joscenel was startled and slammed into Masul's horse. That's when he got me with his whip." point of view means you had one as well. I should've guessed. It was a clean ride until we got out of the wood on the way back. All at once flames shot up in front of me. Joscenel was startled and slammed into Masul's horse. That's when he got me with his whip."

"Andry," Tobin said through gritted teeth, "make a bandage from what's left of Sorin's s.h.i.+rt."

Red and white silk ripped as Sorin went on, "Masul went around the Fire, but I had to jump right over it. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d maneuvered me right into it. That's how Joscenel was burned. Then I just kept riding-and lost, d.a.m.n it to all h.e.l.ls!"

"It could have been your life you lost," Maarken said. Then, with an effort at easing the grimness, he added, "Or your looks, if he'd laid your face open with that whip."

"Fire," Andry murmured, holding the makes.h.i.+ft bandage to his twin's shoulder while Tobin tied it. "Sunrunner's Fire?"

Sioned nodded. "That's why I asked if you or Maarken had been watching. I felt someone else. If it wasn't either of you-"

Tobin looked up, her voice dangerously soft. "Do you mean faradhi, faradhi, one of our own, is responsible for this?" one of our own, is responsible for this?"

Andry held Sioned's gaze as he answered his mother. "We aren't the only ones who can call Fire. It you don't need me, Mother, then I'd better go tell Andrade about this."

"I'll go with you," Maarken said. "Sorin, not a word to anyone."

He nodded unhappily. "But you'd better explain this to me, Andry."

"I'm just glad you're still here to explain it to," his twin replied, and left with Maarken.

"And just what is it that needs explaining-and to me, me, I might add?" Tobin demanded. I might add?" Tobin demanded.

"Whatever it is," Sorin said as he got to his feet, "we can't talk about it now. Look." He nodded to the new arrivals in the paddocks: Lyell, Kiele, and Masul, the latter leading his exhausted stallion. "If Father safely occupied?"

"Yes. And I'm leaving," Tobin said. "Sioned, deal with them. I don't trust myself." She turned on her heel and stalked off, a deliberate snub to those now approaching.

"Follow my lead," Sioned whispered, and Sorin frowned. "I mean it. You already know they're dangerous. Let me handle this."

Kiele got to them first, polite concern the thinnest of masks over her triumphant excitement. "Your grace-my lord, what a relief to find you unhurt! How is your horse?"

"Recovering," Sioned observed, "as that one obviously needs to do. Lord Lyell, should you not be seeing to the comfort of your horse?"

"How did you know he's mine?" Lyell asked, then tacked on a hasty, "-your grace."

"Your colors edge his saddle blanket-and this young man can hardly possess the funds to purchase such an animal." Nor does he know how to treat his prize, her eyes added as she gestured to the stallion's hanging head, the blood at ribs and mouth.

"An excellent race, my lord," Masul told Sorin with a condescending smile.

Sorin nodded curtly. "Interesting, certainly."

Masul turned to Lyell. "You ought to take the High Princess' suggestion and see to the horse. I'm sure you'll want to go with him, sweet sister."

Kiele's smile was strained around the edges, her eyes hinting at harsh words for Masul later on for commanding them like common servants. But she turned the moment to advantage by saying, "Of course. We'll meet you back at the royal enclosure for the final contests, your grace."

A corner of Sioned's mouth lifted in a mocking smile as Kiele gave Masul the t.i.tle he did not merit, but she said nothing as Kiele and Lyell led the horse away. Masul was direct about his attack, as she had expected; if nothing else, his lack of subtlety marked him as someone else's son, not Roelstra's.

"I thought you might like to know, Lord Sorin," he said, "that I have no intention of filing a complaint for what happened on the course."

Sioned had been expecting something of the sort. Sorin had not. Thick dark brows slanted down. "A complaint? Against me? me?"

Masul shrugged. "Your reputation as a horseman suggested you could control your mount. I'll have bruises for days after being slammed into like that, and it's a wonder we both weren't thrown. Had it occurred on the track where the judges could have seen it, I would've had no choice but to lodge a formal protest. But since no one else saw. . . ."

Sioned knew how close Masul was to losing several teeth from the temper Sorin had inherited from both volatile parents. She said, "I'm sure Lord Sorin is similarly inclined to generosity, though I would say he'll bear the scar on his shoulder long after your bruises have healed. But I'm pleased to see you young men in agreement. We wouldn't want any difficulties to arise over the race, would we? Such things have a tendency to flare like Sunrunner's Fire."

Masul could not hide his reaction. Green eyes-nearly the color of Roelstra's, she noted now that she was staring directly into them-narrowed and a muscle in his cheek twitched. His voice came from a clenched throat. "I have no experience with faradhi faradhi matters. No offense meant to yourself, High Princess, but I have no wish to learn about them, either." matters. No offense meant to yourself, High Princess, but I have no wish to learn about them, either."

"I am neither offended nor surprised. Fire of any kind is dangerous, don't you agree? One so often burns one's fingers." She gave him a small, chill smile. "You have my permission to withdraw."

Masul froze for a heartbeat, then inclined his head an insulting fraction and strode off. Sorin spat into the dirt where he'd stood.

"My sentiments exactly," Sioned murmured. "But he took the hint, which is what I wanted."

"What hint?" Sorin exclaimed. "That slimy son of a-he had the b.a.l.l.s b.a.l.l.s to accuse me of riding into him on purpose!" to accuse me of riding into him on purpose!"

"And did not mention the real source of the incident," Sioned pointed out. "Sorin, I only want to tell this once. Tonight, after the prizes are given, we'll all meet in Andrade's pavilion and talk this out. But for now, say nothing. And smile-there are some pretty girls coming to comfort you."

"The only thing that could comfort me is redoing Masul's face with my fists," he muttered. "His features please me very little."

"Yours seem to be in favor," she told him. "Relax until tonight, Sorin-and if you don't end this afternoon with at least five of those girls in love with you, then you're not your father's son." She winked at him.

He gave a short laugh in spite of himself, and turned his attention to the young ladies-reluctantly at first, then with more enthusiasm as he realized that being a good-looking young lord with a romantically wounded shoulder could be a most entertaining experience.

Chapter Twenty.

Andrade's white pavilion filled slowly at irregular intervals that midnight. Sunrunners on casual guard wore thin leather gloves against the autumn crispness in the air, neatly hiding the fact that not all of them were in fact Sunrunners; cloaks in various shades of blue, brown, and black concealed any telltale badges of service to Rohan, Chay, or Pandsala. A careful investigation of a few other tents might have given a good idea of who met with the Lady of G.o.ddess Keep in secret that night. But two things counted against the presence of any prying eyes: the extreme lateness and the lavish banquet that had ended only a short time earlier. No one cared about anything more important than getting to bed and avoiding the headaches sure to attend upon the morning. Ostvel had given strict instructions that the High Prince's guests were never to sit more than an eyeblink with empty wine-cups.

Rohan arrived first with Pol and Pandsala. All three were still fuming at the manner in which Masul had collected the jewels he'd won in the race-Princemarch's own amethysts, the reason he'd chosen that race to enter, of course. His bow to Rohan had been barely respectful, his grin openly mocking. Though relegated to a lower table with Kiele and Lyell, he had practically held court both before and after the meal. So great was Pandsala's fury that she had eaten nothing. Rohan had hidden his anger better, and Pol had followed his father's example rather than his regent's. Sioned had been the only one to disturb Masul's triumph, for reasons none of them understood, he was seen to jerk back in startlement when, with on coming dusk, she had risen from her chair to gesture the candles and torches alight. Her smile in his direction had been perfectly poisonous.

Chairs were arranged in Andrade's pavilion around a small brazier where glowing coals kept out the chill midnight air. Urival sat next to Andrade on one side of the circle, Pol between his father and Pandsala opposite. No one spoke. Tobin and Chay arrived with all three of their sons a short time later; Ostvel and Riyan joined the group soon after that. At last Sioned came in with Alasen of Kierst. The girl's hands were folded tightly together and she did not raise her eyes as she was introduced formally around the circle. Andrade looked a question at Sioned and touched her own rings. Sioned nodded confirmation. The Lady of G.o.ddess Keep turned a speculative eye on the young princess, who took the seat beside Sioned and next to Andry.

"Hollis should be here," Sioned commented, her gaze finding Maarken.

The young man flushed. Meeting his parents' puzzled gazes, he drew a deep breath and said, "I ought to have told you before this. I hope to make her an official part of the family in a few days."

Tobin sank back into her chair, stunned. Chay simply gaped. Sioned whispered a request to Andry to go find Hollis, then said, "I'm sorry, Maarken, but I didn't know any other way to include her without its seeming strange to those who didn't know."

"Sioned, my love," Rohan murmured, "you are about as subtle as a dragon spotting an unguarded herd."

Maarken was still watching his parents. "I just couldn't seem to find the right time to tell you. I know you haven't had a chance to get to know her yet, but I'm hoping you'll approve."

Tobin smiled at her eldest. "I was prepared to love whomever you chose, darling-and you've made it wonderfully easy. Although I'll never forgive Sioned for knowing it first!"