an uneasy truce that had never come within shouting distance of real peace, and their borders fluctuated yearly. When Rohan proposed precise definition of his own lands, they had seized on the concept like dragons discovering an unprotected deer.
“What shall set the precedent?” Roelstra had injected into the discussion, and the battle had begun.
Everyone had a precedent. Everyone’s great-great-grandsire had had a precedent. That was what territorial wars were all about. Rohan condemned himself for a fool, because another war seemed ready to break out right now. But he had no one other than himself to blame for this.
Yet as he glanced toward the High Prince, wondering why Roelstra did not intervene to settle this, he learned something very interesting. Roelstra actually wanted them at each other’s throats. The conflict between Saumer and Volog had ignited the same kind of argument between the princes of Firon and Fessenden. And though Roelstra’s face was composed into serious lines, his eyes were laughing. Their disunity was his goal and his delight. Divisiveness was the key to his personal power.
Rohan sat back in his chair, chewing his lip. He had never realized before how Roelstra kept the princes doing pretty much what he wanted. Now he understood. They fought among themselves, encouraged by the High Prince, who waited until factions were ready to tear each other to shreds before proposing some compromise that would see both sides indebted to him for the settlement. And Roelstra would call it “peacemaking.”
Rohan stared down at his hands to hide the disgust he knew must be in his eyes. He wanted only to claim what was his and nurture it in real peace. Care, caution, and cooperation coaxed the Desert into bloom; his vassals had to work in concert to survive, pushing aside their petty differences. It was not the same in richer lands. There was little work involved in bringing forth fruit and flowers from Princemarch or Ossetia or Kierst-Isel. The rulers of those lands had time for other things, and for many years Roelstra had seen to it that their energies had been wasted in quarrels. All that time, all those resources, all that power of mind and wealth—and it had been squandered. Rohan felt as angry at the waste as if he had caught someone purposely draining precious water from the cisterns at Stronghold.
Government was the fine art of coordination. Rule was the subtle and divisive art of power. What Rohan wanted most—peace by rule of laws understood by all—Roelstra would work to prevent with all his might. Rohan understood that now. More, he understood Ianthe’s desperation which had driven her to him last night. She had seen the chance of gaining power through him, and it was the only thing she had ever learned how to want. She had only her father’s example of waste and treachery to learn from.
Suddenly he thought of Sioned, and his heart ached. He himself had played at Roelstra’s game of divisiveness without even knowing it, setting Sioned against the princesses the way Roelstra set the princes against each other while he sat back and enjoyed the show. Rohan had even pitted his own heart against what his mind had made him think was so very clever. But he could not live that way. He needed Sioned beside him—openly, honestly, freely. He saw himself now as an arrogant child who had played the wrong game and hurt not only her but himself in the process.
He became aware that Prince Lleyn was watching him. The faded blue eyes smiled knowingly for a moment, and then the old man got to his feet.
“My lords,” he said; then, more loudly, “My lords!” They settled down. “I congratulate Prince Rohan on his excellent if revolutionary idea. But I suggest that without maps and documentation, we’re wasting our time.”
“Can you solve our problems, cousin?” Roelstra asked smoothly.
“I believe so. We must apply to Lady Andrade.”
“For what?” Saumer asked, a world of suspicion in two syllables.
“Not for a ruling, certainly,” Lleyn reassured him. “But before the next Rialla she might be persuaded to organize land claims so everyone will know where everyone else stands—literally. I suggest that we save the drawing of borders until three years hence, and search our archives for proper precedent.”
“I approve,” the High Prince said. “Your words are wise, as ever. In fact, I am inspired by them to suggest something else rather new. I propose that until we have all agreed on our borders, that things as they stand