"Nacre's a bit edgy since his injury. Probably afraid I'm going to take him running at night again. My friend insisted I take this fellow instead." I patted the chestnut's flank. "My lady, this is Stormcloud. Stormcloud, this is the Princess D'Sanya, who believes she is the finest rider and her Miaste the fastest horse in Gondai. Sooner or later, we shall have to prove her wrong. Again."
D'Sanya sniffed and arched her eyebrows. "Ah, my poor deluded friend, the sad truth awaits you. I've allowed you your few wins on these crude cross-country tracks only to lure you into my clutches. But at Maroth is the most marvelous racing oval . . . lovely, smooth turf . . . and there shall we set our wagers, leave off these saddles, and have a true match. Now give me your hand, and we'll be off." She raised her foot and waited.
I laughed and offered her my linked hands. Her step was so light as she bounded onto Miaste's back, I doubted she needed me for anything but confidence.
"So who is this?" I said, jerking my head toward the placid brown mare, aggrieved at the thought of a third person intruding on our ride.
"This is Savira, who belongs to … ah, and here he is."
Na'Cyd came running down the orchard path and swung skillfully into Savira's saddle. "So sorry to be tardy, my lady. I was making final rounds before our departure. I wanted all to be in order for Gen'Vyl. The grain deliveries have come in. The plum harvest is complete. Mar'Kello has taken leave time to visit her mother. Hy'Lattire is uncomfortable with the new resident and asks that she be allowed to serve a woman instead. I've assigned her to Mar'Kello's resident and asked Sy'Lan to take the new man. In short, all is in order."
Still hoping to prompt the breakfast favor from Cedor, I lagged behind for a moment as D'Sanya and the consular rode up the road toward the hospice gate, but the soft-spoken attendant did not appear. Kicking Stormcloud into motion, I vowed to make up to my father for my neglect the moment I returned from Maroth Vale.
The weather was perfect, the shady route down Grithna Vale cool and pleasant as the morning warmed. Na'Cyd was at least considerate enough to ride a few hundred paces ahead of us, politely out of hearing.
"He had to come," said D'Sanya, after I muttered some remark about unwanted chaperones. "He is to be the master of the Maroth hospice, so he must be involved in all aspects of its birth. Once living quarters are ready, he'll move there permanently."
I watched the green cloak disappear around a bend. The consiliar sat a horse with a commanding air far different from the watchful deference he exhibited at the hospice.
"I'll be glad when he goes," I said. "He makes me feel as if I've dirt on my face all the time, but is too polite to say it." As if he knew something unpleasant about me. "So is Na'Cyd one like Cedor and some of the others . . . one who's been . . . restored?"
"He is a brilliant man. Excellent at his work. Compassionate and faithful."
"But he was Zhid?"
"Why does it matter? He is no longer. None of them are. Their lives were stolen from them, and they deserve to find peace and forgiveness."
"Of course, you're right. It's just difficult to let go of the past." Did the Restored truly remember nothing of all those years of destruction and murder, centuries for some of them? Why did Na'Cyd watch me so closely? Why had he failed to mention his argument with Cedor when reporting on his "rounds" to D'Sanya? She always wanted to know of anything that might disrupt the peace of the hospice. My instincts told me to be wary of him, but then I could not rely on instincts shaped in Zhev'Na, where compassion and forgiveness were unknown.
D'Sanya chattered as we rode, today about the setting, design, and outfitting of the new hospice. Required only to listen and respond now and then, I could have asked no better amusement on the road. Her enthusiasm was boundless, her thoughtful musings, unending good humor, and colorful storytelling making better music than any I could imagine. I never tired of watching the animation of her face, her eyes far brighter than her rings and bracelets struck by stray beams of sunlight.
But my habits would not remain subservient to my pleasure. My eyes and ears and trained sensibilities insisted on surveying the forests and the fields we traveled as they had not in these past weeks as D'Sanya had consumed my mind and heart. Perhaps it was my father's disheartened agitation that put the thorn in my shoe that morning. Perhaps it was the argument I had witnessed . . . that palpable anger … its extraordinary virulence . . . and the purposeful hiding of it. But in the moment I started paying attention, I knew something was wrong.
The sunlight that had shone so gloriously bright after our rainy day on Castanelle felt tarnished, the cool green shade murky. I might have thought I was viewing the world through my father's distorted senses, but for D'Sanya's voice in the background.
". . . though I know you are shy of Avonar, I really must stop in and speak with Prince Ven'Dar. I've ignored him dreadfully these past few weeks, having been so preoccupied." She glanced sideways under modestly lowered brows, the corner of her mouth curving upward . . . not at all modestly. "But as a reward for your indulgence, I plan to show you something truly wonderful that no one has seen in centuries."
Neither her enticing look nor her intriguing promise soothed my growing unease. I returned her smile. It was impossible not to. And I played to her teasing and, as always, felt my skin flush in pleasurable disbelief at my good fortune whenever she turned her eyes on me. But I kept every sense alert and nudged D'Sanya's mount toward the center of the road. I even picked up the pace and followed Na'Cyd a little closer. The consiliar wore a sword, at least.
I probed a little to see if I was alone in my foreboding, asking D'Sanya and Na'Cyd if they thought a storm might be lurking beyond the forested horizon. Neither sensed anything that might spoil our journey.
The day grew hot. We picnicked by a hidden waterfall D'Sanya knew of that was only a few paces from the road. She talked and I listened. Nothing untoward occurred. By evening, when D'Sanya whispered her name to two awestruck guards, and we rode through the gates of Avonar, I was calling myself a worry-wife. But I could not shake the sense that every aspect of Gondai had slipped out of position sometime in the past weeks when I wasn't looking.
Only my unwillingness to disappoint D'Sanya had persuaded me to come to Avonar. I had told myself repeatedly that no one would look at me when she was near. It was only for one night. I would wear a hat in the streets and keep to my room at the palace, feign illness if need be, while D'Sanya talked with the prince. Ven'Dar would see that I was not exposed. But I hadn't expected the whole world to feel askew, and I hadn't expected the crowds.
The streets of the royal city were teeming with people as the blazing summer afternoon cooled off to a mellow evening. We rode through a succession of small commards, each open space jammed with squawking pipers or blaring horn players and uncountable Dar'Nethi, shoving and pushing, everyone in a hurry. Every bridge that crossed the city's five waterways was packed with well guarded crates that Na'Cyd surmised were filled with fireworks for later in the evening. Just past a troupe of drummers clad in billowing yellow silk, we came on a group of several hundred people seated on cushions and blankets laid out on the grass. They watched a theatrical performance in which the actors sang their parts. The place was suffocating.
Feeling threatened and anxious, I balked when Na'Cyd pointed down a steep, narrow lane he had been told was a less crowded approach to the Heir of D'Arnath's palace. But D'Sanya insisted she was tired, and that anything that would speed us to our destination was welcome.
The deserted lane was little more than an alley between the brick walls of two tall houses, and blissfully quiet. Even D'Sanya was subdued. We reached the juncture where the lane opened into the grand commard so quickly, I felt foolish at my apprehension. But when I glimpsed the vast expanse, crammed with enough booths, carts, and vendors hawking sausages, music boxes, card games, and rubbish to make twenty Tymnath markets, the skin on my back crawled. "How did I let you persuade me to come here?" I said.