like Zehava when she was angry. “Listen to me. You’re useful to me here, yes. But I won’t spend my time worrying about your safety. Do you think the boys would leave without you? At Stronghold you’ll be able to help Sioned. Do I have to list the reasons you already know, Tobin.”
She glared at him. “You’re loathsome when you make sense.”
He thanked the Goddess for a woman with brains as well as spirit. Reaching across the table, intending to take her hand and express his gratitude for the towering virtues that sometimes drove him to distraction, he smiled wryly as she snatched her fingers away. Pride forbade her to be gracious right now. So Chay leaned back to appreciate her where she sat with one leg tucked beneath her, clad only in the black glory of her hair.
His silent admiration was ended by a frantic pounding on the door. As he rose to answer it he threw his discarded shirt at his wife and told her to put it on. It came to her knees and decently covered everything else, but when Chay opened the door Baisal’s eyes popped and his cheeks turned scarlet. Just behind him, looking pallid and ill, was Maarken. Chay stared in astonishment at the son he had not seen in two years; the abrupt change from child to tall, self-possessed young squire was more than he could take in at a glance. Father and son gazed at each other for some moments before Chay pulled Maarken into his arms for a hard embrace.
“Goddess, but it’s good to see you! What are you doing here?”
Tobin gave a glad cry and rushed toward them. “Maarken—oh, Maarken, you’ve grown so tall!” Her eyes filled as she hugged her son.
The boy smiled tiredly. “I kept telling everyone at Graypearl how beautiful you are, Mother. Now they’ll get a look for themselves and find I didn’t exaggerate.”
Chay looked to Baisal for explanation. The older athri cleared his throat, embarrassed at witnessing the family reunion and the princess’ unconventional state of dress. It was Maarken who answered his father’s unspoken question.
“I’ve come with archers, Father—fifty of them, sent by Prince Lleyn. We set sail early yesterday and came up the Faolain as far as we could.” He gave a slight shudder. “And then we finally got to walk.”
“No wonder you’re green,” Chay commented. To Baisal he went on, “Please ask my captain to find places for the new arrivals. You and I and Lord Davvi will have to talk to whomever’s leading the archers.”
“As you wish, my lord.” With a last furtive glance at Tobin, he left.
The princess was trying to persuade her son to eat something, and Chay grinned as the boy’s complexion paled further at the sight of food. “Leave him be, Tobin. He’ll eat as soon as he’s recovered from crossing water. I’m surprised he’s upright, frankly. What’s Lleyn up to, Maarken?”
“Exactly what you’d expect. He only regrets that he couldn’t provide more troops on short notice. But more will be coming soon, and ships with them.”
Chay sank into a chair and thought this over. He had never fought a war utilizing ships, but the possibilities enchanted him.
“Meath—that’s Lleyn’s second Sunrunner—was contacted day before yesterday by the faradhi up in Tiglath,” Maarken continued. “The sunlight’s been thick with messages, Father. When Urival contacted Meath yesterday at dawn, Lleyn had already put everything together so we could leave as fast as we could.” He paused, then turned haunted eyes on this father. “Is it true about Ianthe?”
“Yes,” Chay told him. “I’m glad Lleyn acted so quickly—not only in the matter of archers, but in sending you to me.” He glanced at Tobin. “There’s no excuse now for you not to go to Stronghold. Maarken can be squire and Sunrunner both.”
“Meath and Eolie have taught me enough for a first ring, Mother,” Maarken said as Tobin’s brows knotted. “They’re going to ask Lady Andrade for permission to give me the token and further training. I can do what you can do—really I can.”
Chay watched emotions battle on his wife’s face: irritation that she had been deprived of her reason for staying here, pride in her son, sadness that she would have so little time with him before she left tomorrow. But all she said was, “If Meath has had the foresight to make your colors known—”
“The faradhi in Tiglath knows. He can tell others. You can go to Stronghold with a clear conscience, Mother.”