tomorrow morning! As for arms—what kind of athri are you not to have them to hand at all times?”
“A peaceful one!” he exclaimed, quivering with insult. “My lady, why are you speaking of war? What’s happened?”
“Roelstra.” The name hissed from her lips. “Roelstra and his daughter Ianthe. Lord Baisal, I formally require your duty as my liege man to recover your prince from the High Prince’s daughter at Feruche Castle. Is that specific enough for you?”
Baisal stopped dead at that. She went on without him. Sioned knew that if she paused to explain fully or even long enough to feel her own emotions, she would begin screaming. Rohan, held prisoner by Ianthe—who had no doubt released Tilal to provide details Sioned’s own imagination could readily supply. The commotion in the central courtyard provided welcome distraction, and she concentrated on finding Ostvel in the midst of it.
Instead, she found her brother.
“Sioned!” he cried on seeing her. Tossing his reins to a groom, he hurried to seize her in an embrace scented with sweat and horse and leather. Stunned, she looked over his shoulder and finally registered the meaning of the crowded courtyard.
“Davvi!” Pushing herself out of his arms, she gaped at her brother. It was the first time she had seen him since he had brought Tilal to Stronghold two years ago. “What are you doing here? And with all these troops in full armor—Davvi, explain this to me!”
Their mother’s green eyes regarded her from his half-ahead height advantage. He was twelve years her senior, but dirt caked in the fine lines around his eyes made him seem twice that. There were grooves cut into his cheeks, too, framing his tightly drawn lips.
“I’ve brought all the troops I safely could—not all in one group, of course, or Jastri would have suspected something. Two more detachments of twelve men each are following me, but I took the direct route. The others should be here in a day or so.”
“What are you talking about? What would Jastri suspect?”
“Come into the hall and we’ll talk. I’m exhausted. I’ve been riding for two days without sleep—or is it three?”
Mystified, she accompanied him into the stone-and-timber building that served Baisal as dining hall, seat of justice, and servants’ sleeping quarters. There was a wooden staircase at the far end, leading up to a small addition that was the family’s private chambers. Sioned led Davvi upstairs to the room Baisal’s daughters had vacated for her use, talking all the while and receiving no answers.
“Damn it, tell me why you’re here!” she demanded, digging her nails into his arm. “You were supposed to meet me in five days at the southern bridge!”
“It’s a long way from River Run,” he said irrelevantly.
“I know that!” Hearing the edge of hysteria in her voice, she slammed the door shut behind them and pressed her palms against the wood, taking several long, slow breaths to calm herself. When she turned, her brother was seated on a stool with a winecup in his hand. Sioned put her fists on her hips and after drawing another deep breath said, “Tell me.”
Davvi drained half the wine at a swallow. “Is it beneath the dignity of a princess to pour out more wine? And you’d better have some too, Sioned.”
“If you don’t tell me at once why you’re here with half an army, I’ll pour this over your head!” She refilled his cup, then followed his advice and took some for herself.
“If only it was half an army.” He sighed, clasping his hands around the cup, elbows on his knees and shoulders bent. “Roelstra’s got our young prince right where he wants him.”
For an instant she thought he spoke of Rohan, and wondered wildly how he could know. But then she realized he referred to Prince Jastri, sixteen-year-old son of their kinsman Prince Haldor who had died in the Plague. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I was there at court, at High Kirat, when Roelstra’s man came. None of us thought much about it. Jastri’s not a bad sort, only very young. And ambitious. He and Roelstra are conducting military maneuvers around the Catha River plains. ‘Military maneuvers,’ ” he repeated bleakly, glancing up at her. “I was supposed to join them. I came here instead. He’s only my distant cousin. You’re my sister.”
Sioned paled as she reached the obvious conclusion. “Sweet Goddess,” she breathed, seeing the tapestry map in Rohan’s study as if it was flung out before her now. The Merida at work in