Dragon Prince 02 - The Star Scroll (2 page)

“But I was just a child then,” he assured her, blithely forgetting the transgression of the previous day. “I won’t do anything to embarrass anyone. I’ve outgrown all that.” He paused, glancing at the sea far below. “Except—I’ll have to cross water, won’t I? I’ll try to behave better than I did the first time.”

The princess ruffled his blond hair. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Pol. Indeed, you ought to be proud. All Sunrunners lose their dignity along with their breakfast when they cross water.”

“But I’m a prince, and I should be in better control of myself.” He sighed. “Oh, well. Once to Radzyn and once coming back—I suppose it won’t be too bad.”

“There’s a silk-ship leaving in two days for Radzyn port, and Prince Lleyn has bespoken a place for you on it. He’s sending Meath with you for company.”

Pol made a face halfway between a grin and a grimace. “Then we can be sick together!”

“I’m convinced it’s the Goddess’ way of keeping you
faradh’im
humble! Why don’t you go upstairs now and start packing?”

“I will, my lady. And tomorrow—” He hesitated, then went on, “Could I go down to the harbor and find presents for my mother and Aunt Tobin? I’ve saved almost everything Father’s sent me since I got here, so I’ve money enough.”

He had the right instincts; he was already generous and thoughtful about pleasing ladies. That face and those eyes would be breaking hearts before he was too much older, Audrite reflected, and relished the notion that she would be around to watch. “You and Meath may be excused tomorrow for the day. But I seem to recall you have a certain project to complete for me first. How many lines was it?”

“Fifty?” he asked hopefully, then sighed. “One hundred. I’ll have them done by tonight, my lady.”

“If they’re not in my hands until tomorrow evening, I’ll understand,” she suggested, winning another of his wide smiles and a bow of thanks. Then he ran back up the terraces to the palace.

Audrite spent a few more moments enjoying the shade before she, too, left the gardens. Her steps were lithe and energetic as she climbed; a passion for riding had kept her slim and supple for all her forty-nine winters. She unlatched the gate that led into the private enclave and paused to admire the oratory that rose like a shining gem from the formal gardens. It was said that the one at Castle Crag, a crystal dome built into the side of the cliffs there, was the most splendid in all the thirteen princedoms, but she could imagine nothing more beautiful than this oratory at Graypearl—and not only because she had had a great deal to do with its construction.

Carved stone columns had been taken from an abandoned keep on the other side of the island to support walls of pale wood and brilliant stained glass. The painted wooden ceiling rose far above, punctuated with small, clear windows in an uneven pattern that looked random but was not. It could be said that the oratory was in reality a temple: lit by the Fire of sun and moons, open to the Air, built of the things of the Earth, and circled by a stream of Water that irrigated the gardens below. Audrite crossed the little footbridge and stepped between the columns, catching her breath as always at the beauty of the place. It was like walking into a rainbow. And if standing here embraced by all the colors in the world was a moving experience for her, it must be near ecstacy for
farad-h’im.

The ceiling had been the hardest to reconstruct. Some of its supports had been demolished, and it had taken years of study for Audrite to discern the proper placement of windows. The tiled floor had been painstakingly lifted from the soil and overgrown grasses on the far side of Dorval, and was marked with various symbols for the seasons and indicated the position and phases of the three moons on any given night of the year. Audrite had spent years checking its accuracy, and several new tiles had been fashioned at her direction to replace ones worn or broken long ago at the other keep. Her calculations on the exact relationship of ceiling to tiles, and the observations of Lleyn’s Sunrunners, Meath and Eolie, had awed everyone. For the original design of this oratory had been correct down to the slightest nuance.

Twenty-one years ago, Prince Lleyn had learned from Lady Andrade—she who ruled Goddess Keep and all Sunrunners—that the abandoned castle had once belonged to the
faradh’im.
Stone had been taken from it for hundreds of years to construct other places, including Graypearl, but on Lleyn’s return from the
Rialla
that autumn an excavation had begun in earnest. This master-work had been their most important find, save one. Audrite walked softly over the summer tiles, a smile on her face for the sheer beauty of the oratory and the sheer joy of understanding it. The structure had become again what it had been meant to be: the most remarkable calendar in all the princedoms.

She heard steps on the footbridge and turned. Meath entered the oratory and bowed a greeting. “Full moons tonight,” he said, smiling as he shared her delight at their knowledge.

“You can use them to contact Princess Sioned,” Audrite told him.

“You’ve talked to Pol, then?”

“Yes. I’ll have to give you my notes on the scrolls.” She frowned slightly. “Meath, do you think it’s wise to give them to Andrade now? She’s very old. It may be that she won’t have time to discover their meaning—and it may also be that the next Lady or Lord of Goddess Keep won’t use the knowledge wisely.”

The
faradhi
shrugged and spread his hands wide, rings glinting in the colored sunlight. “I’m convinced she’ll outlive us all, if only through pure cussedness.” He smiled, then shook his head. “As for the other thing—I agree that it’s a risk. But I’d rather have Andrade examine the scrolls now and decide what to do with them than wait and see who next rules Goddess Keep.”

“You were the one who found them,” she said slowly. “I’ve helped with as many of the words as I could—and, Goddess knows, there wasn’t much I fully understood,” she added regretfully. “But the responsibility for them is yours.”

“Well, it’s true that I dug them out of the rubble, but I’d prefer not to have the choice of what’s done with them. If they’re as important as we suspect, then it’s knowledge I’m not qualified to deal with. I’d rather see the scrolls in Andrade’s hands, not mine. She’ll either understand them and use them, or destroy them if they’re too dangerous.”

Audrite nodded. “Come by my library later tonight and I’ll give you my notes.”

“Thank you, my lady. Andrade will appreciate it, I know.” He smiled again. “I wish you could be there to see her face!”

“So do I. I just hope the shock isn’t too much for her.”

 

The hundred lines of verse duly copied and presented to Princess Audrite, Pol was free by late morning to ride to the harbor with Meath. Shops snuggled along the village’s narrow main street, not as varied in their wares as the stores in Dorval’s main shipping center down the coast or in Radzyn’s port. But there were interesting things to be had here—crafts native to the island and not much traded elsewhere: small items made of silk remnants, jewelry cunningly fashioned to hide defects in pearls not suitable for the general market. Pol and Meath tied their horses in front of a dockside inn where they planned to have lunch later, and walked up and down the street, window-shopping.

The merchants all knew Pol, of course, and were of two attitudes when it came to selling him things. Some, aware of his father’s great wealth, quoted outrageous prices in hopes of siphoning off a little of that wealth for themselves. Others cared more about royal favor, and underpriced their wares in a shameless bid for Pol’s further patronage. The young prince usually did his looking through the windows, then consulted with companions on the fair price of goods that caught his eye before making his purchases. Patient for the first and second tours up and down the street, Meath finally asked Pol if he intended to spend all day at this. A third perusal was all the Sunrunner would stand for; he ordered the boy back to the inn for sustenance.

Prince Lleyn did not tolerate seafaring roughnecks in this port. He discouraged them elsewhere, naturally, but here in the precincts of his palace they were forbidden. Thus everything catering to such men—taverns where strong drink was served and brawls were common, disreputable lodgings where they bedded down between voyages, and the girls they bedded down with—were missing from Graypearl’s little harbor. The law assured domestic peace and the safety of the residents as well as of the highborn youths who came to Dorval as squires, and the old prince himself often ventured down to the port for a meal or a day’s ramble in the fresh air. The inn Meath chose was one Lleyn had introduced him to years ago, a clean and merry establishment perfectly safe for the heir to the High Prince. But even if it had not been, Meath’s great height, broad shoulders, and
faradhi
rings would have ensured Pol’s safety.

“Goddess greeting to you, Sunrunner! And to the young master, as well!” The innkeeper, Giamo by name, came out from behind his counter and bowed his respects before escorting them to a table. “Honored to be of service to you both! Now, we’ve some fine cold roast today, and bread right out of the oven, and the first berries of the season, so sweet that they don’t need any honey dol loped on them—although my good wife having a tooth for it, she slathers it on anyway! Will that suit?”

“Perfectly,” Meath said with a happy sigh. “You can add a tankard for me and something appropriate for my friend, here.”

Pol cast him a deeply reproachful look, and when the innkeeper had gone to fetch the meal said, “What’s ‘appropriate’ for me, anyway? A glass of milk? I’m not a baby, Meath!”

“No, but not tall or hefty enough for a bout with the ale Giamo brews, either. Not at just over fourteen winters! Put on a few fingers’ height and some flesh on those bones, and then we’ll see.” Meath grinned. “Besides, all I lack is your mother raving at me for letting you get drunk.”

Pol made a face, then turned his attention to the other noon-time patrons of the inn. There were a few pearl-fishers, easily identifiable by their lean, lithe bodies, well-developed chest muscles, and the scars on their hands from digging shells out of rock crevices. Skin weathered by sea and salt had paled a little during the winter months, but soon they would be out in their small boats again, browned from head to heels by summer sun during the annual harvest. Lleyn’s squires often enjoyed the treat of a day’s sail in the pearl coves—but not Pol. The first time he’d taken a look at those tiny, flat-bottomed boats bobbing gently at their moorings, he’d been most humiliatingly sick.

In one corner of the room a pair of merchants haggled pleasantly over their meal, swatches of silk on the table between them. A young man wooed a pretty girl nearby, their lunch forgotten as he whispered in her ear and sent her into gales of laughter. Near the door sat five soldiers, four men and a middle-aged woman, all dressed in light harness but without swords, according to the law here. They wore the solid red tunics and the white candle badge of Prince Velden of Grib.

“Meath?” Pol asked softly. “What are they doing at Graypearl?”

“Who?” he glanced around. “Oh, them. The Gribain ambassador got in this morning. Something about arranging silk trade.”

“But there’s been a treaty forever that says all silk goes through Radzyn.”

“Well, they can try to convince Lleyn, can’t they? But I don’t think they’ll get anywhere. I wouldn’t be too worried for your uncle’s revenues—or your own,” he finished teasingly.

Pol bristled. “Dorval can do as it likes with its silks—”

“As long as the Desert sees the profits?” Meath laughed, then held up a placating hand as blue-green eyes began to flash. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“I was talking about treaties and the law, not profits,” Pol said sternly.

“I think you’ll find such things are flexible when it comes to making money.”

“Not since my father’s been High Prince,” he stated. “The law is the law, and he sees to it that laws are obeyed.”

“Well, it’s all beyond a simple Sunrunner like me, your grace,” Meath said, barely controlling another smile.

Giamo arrived with a tray, and set before them two huge plates of food, a tankard of ale for Meath, and a Fironese crystal goblet filled with a clear, pale pink liquid that frothed gently with golden bubbles. Pol took a sip under his host’s watchful eye, and smiled in delight. “Wonderful! What is it?”

“My own brewing,” Giamo answered, pleased. “The most delicate and refined of ciders, barely blushing.”

“It tastes just like spring itself,” Pol said. “And I’m honored by the goblet it’s served in.”

“The honor is my wife’s,” Giamo replied with a bow. “It’s not every woman can say that so important a lord has eaten at her table and sipped from her most treasured possession.”

“If she’s not too busy, then perhaps I can visit her in the kitchen and thank her.”

“After you’ve finished your meal in peace,” Giamo grinned. “My good wife Willa could talk the tail off a dragon.”

Sunrunner and prince dug into the food. The healthy appetites of a growing boy and a large, active man required seconds; Meath requested a third piling of meat and flaky bread, and Pol was sincerely sorry that he was too full to do likewise. He lingered over a dish of berries in honey glaze and sipped at his cider, wondering if he might persuade Giamo to part with a bottle as a gift for his mother, who adored fine wines.

The pearl-fishers had gone, replaced by a trio of shipwrights come to enjoy a few tankards of ale. The young man and the girl were now being teased by the two silk merchants; Pol grinned to himself as the couple blushed. In a few years that would be him over there, enjoying the company of a charming lady. But he was in no hurry.

Replete at last, Meath leaned back with tankard in hand, ready for conversation again. “You didn’t say if there was anything in the shops you liked well enough to buy.”

“Well . . . the green silk slippers were pretty, and that comb of pearl shell. But Prince Chadric told me that a man should never buy a gift for a lady unless he takes one look at it and can see her wearing it or using it.”