“Murder does not go unpunished in this princedom. Use of power does not go unnoticed. We choose now to use our own.”
The royal plural stunned Andry. “He killed Sorin! He deserved to die! Who had a better right to do it than—”
Rohan paid no heed to the outburst and continued implacably, “We do not harbor murderers in our princedom. You have three days to remove yourself from our lands. Set foot here again on pain of arrest and trial for murder.”
Andry’s face went death pale. But there was more.
“Further, whatever princedom we see fit to inhabit for whatever amount of time, we forbid you to be present in that princedom. We lift this restriction for the Rialla every three years, and for two days preceding and following.”
“You have no right—”
Rohan’s temper flared at last. “We have every right! Be grateful we don’t order you confined to Goddess Keep!”
Surging to his feet, Andry challenged, “And how would you go about it?”
“This ros’salath of yours might prevent us from entering—but we could also prevent you from leaving. Further—”
“How dare you?” he cried. “I refuse to be sentenced for a crime that was no crime, by someone who has no authority—”
“Further,” Rohan repeated, “any use of the thing you term ros’salath for other than direct defense of Goddess Keep is forbidden for as long as we are High Prince. You deemed it necessary to learn, necessary to teach, and now necessary to use. Whatever the reason, consider your motives carefully. Rest assured that we will do the same.” He stared Andry down. “Your grandfather said once that the promises of a prince die with him. When Pol rules here, he may decide as he pleases about these things. But while we live, Lord Andry—”
“You have no right!”
“We have every right,” Rohan said again. “Or had you forgotten that tradition states and ancient scrolls confirm that faradh’im hold Goddess Keep of the High Prince? How long, do you think, would it take for us to make good a revocation of that gift?”
Andry gasped.
“You’ve not inspired trust among the princes,” Rohan observed coldly. “Or even your own senior Sunrunners.”
The struggle for control made a battlefield of Andry’s features. He mastered himself and turned to Pol. “You think yourself well-educated in the scroll Urival stole for you, don’t you? You think you can defend yourself from what will come when—when the princes have had enough of a Sunrunner High Prince. Think again, cousin!”
Pol didn’t much care what Andry thought or believed; he was railing against the consequences of his father’s lack of action. Why hadn’t something been done before now? he cried inwardly. Why did it have to come to this?
Rohan spoke again. “We strongly suggest you accept your punishment, my Lord. It is mild indeed, compared to that which we might have chosen.”
Andry appealed to his parents. “You can’t let this happen!”
“You let it happen,” Chay told him gravely, his face twisted by grief.
“Mother!”
Tears ran down Tobin’s cheeks. “Andry—don’t you see? You left no other choice.”
He turned to Maarken, beloved eldest brother, only brother now. There was no succor there either, and equal grief. Andry’s expression hardened as he turned to Rohan again.
“I understand, High Prince. You see me as a threat. You’re afraid that my power is greater than Pol’s, so you want to make me as impotent as you’ve made your other enemies. I am no enemy of yours, High Prince—nor even of your son. You understand nothing about me or my intentions. I saved your precious palace for you, and this is how you repay me. Oh, I accept the punishment. By law I can do nothing else—you made your precedent yesterday, when you took judgment of a Sunrunner from me. How clever of you,” he snarled, “how expert in the use of your power. As High Prince you have jurisdiction over us all.”
“We are pleased you understand that,” Rohan said.
“Make sure you understand this, High Prince. I will leave the Desert and never return. I will even abide by your restrictions on my movements. But I will do as I like at Goddess Keep. Someday you and yours will call out for devr’im to protect you. Be warned by the Lord of Goddess Keep—you will need us.”
He raked the group with one last icy glance, then strode from the room with his Sunrunners behind him.
Rohan went to his sister. “Tobin . . . I’m sorry.”
She gazed up at him, her black eyes liquid with anguish. “I lost one son this spring,” she whispered. “Now I’ve lost another.”
Pol stood irresolutely in the antechamber of his suite, unwilling to enter the bedchamber where the smell of Meiglan and what they had done last night surely lingered. When Edrel appeared from the inner door, carrying an armful of bedclothes, Pol turned away to hide his flinch. He’d been right; the sheets carried her perfume and the scent of sex.
The boy deposited his silken burden in a large hamper, then approached Pol. Wordlessly he held out a delicate veil of taze-brown lace. Pol accepted it helplessly. His earlier shame was nothing compared to this.
“Edrel,” he began.
“I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed, my lord. Your lady mother relayed an order for you to rest.”
“I couldn’t. Not after—” Neither could he meet the squire’s gaze. Thirteen innocent winters old; he couldn’t remember what it had been like to be that age, and untouched. “Edrel,” he said again, but did not go on. He had no right to upset the squire with talk of what had happened, especially not to ease his own mind. If he felt soiled, it was his own fault.
“You really ought to try to rest, my lord,” Edrel said.
“If you wish.” He started for the bedchamber door.
“My lord?”
He forced himself to turn and face the boy. But in those guileless black eyes there was the same trusting admiration as always. “Yes? What is it?”
“I’ll come back in a little while with some food.” Pol nodded and fled into the next room. The bed was pristine. He sprawled in a deep chair by the windows and stared at the view of cliffs and sky, trying not to think of anything.
His brain did not cooperate. Meiglan was part of it, but mostly it was Andry and the punishment Rohan had decreed. Not that Pol disapproved; it was only what his cousin deserved. The law was the law, no matter what. But something in him argued that if only his father had done something before this, no punishment would have been necessary and Andry would not now be an open enemy.
And what of his threat—promise, really—that sooner or later they would call on him in their need? Was it only to frighten, or had he truly seen into the future? Pol knew his mother had done so several times. He wished he’d inherited the gift from her. Since he hadn’t, he must rely on his instincts and his other gifts. And they demanded that he act.
Marron was dead, but his brother was here somewhere at Stronghold. Pol could sense it all along his nerves. The waiting was intolerable. Today, tonight, tomorrow—when? A challenge would come and he would have to face it—react instead of act. He was not made the way his father was, he could not be that patient.
Yet what could he do? The curse of using power wisely was to keep from using it until absolutely necessary. He had been taught that all his life through lesson and observation, and had believed it. But not this time. He must do something. He must control events, make them happen, instead of waiting for them to force him into a corner. He was prince and Sunrunner with power to act as he chose. What good was power if one didn’t use it?
Pol pushed himself out of the chair and left his suite. At the very least he could find out whether Riyan or Morwenna had discovered other sorcerers in their midst.
He met the new Lord of Feruche on the main stairs, accompanied by Rialt. Ruala was with them. Even the seriousness of the day could not dim the joy she and Riyan had found in each other.