split his armies to go to Tiglath’s aid. It would have worked, too.”
“The results have been livable,” she remarked.
“Barely. But now the Cunaxans want more money to supply the Merida, who should have taken their supplies from Tiglath itself.” He flicked an imaginary spot of dirt off his cloak. “They could have moved south, captured Stronghold, and attacked the Desert army from behind.”
“Rohan will have to come to this side of the river to establish Davvi in High Kirat. And then you can kill him.”
“Oh, no. Not yet. He still has his uses.” Roelstra’s expression turned thoughtful. “You’ve been useful, too, Pandsala. You deserve a reward for warning me not to cross the Faolain with Jastri, and alerting me to Rohan’s maneuvers. I know now how his mind works in war. How would you like a castle of your own, the same as your sister Ianthe?”
“Like Feruche?” She laughed. “Thank you, no. I’ve been at Goddess Keep for six years, and I’ve no desire to trade a foggy prison for a Desert one.”
“I’m told River Run is a pretty place. It was the Sunrunner witch’s childhood home, you know. It might amuse you to live there with some fine young lord as your husband.” His eyes held a gleam of cunning. “And yourself as Princess of Syr.”
She was surprised to feel eagerness compete with her suspicions. “I’d expected you’d set up one of Ianthe’s sons as prince.”
“Let them earn their positions when they’ve grown,” he replied gruffly. “Do you want Syr or not?”
“I do,” she replied. “But not to be princess at River Run. I want High Kirat itself. And there’s another small condition.”
“Condition? I give you a princedom and you—”
“Just a little one.” She smiled. “I choose my own husband.” Roelstra chose to laugh, and Pandsala relaxed. “You should have been the son,” he told her. “I’ll have you established by midwinter, my pet. But you’ll have to allow me the fun of removing Andrade from River Run first.”
The repeated reference to midwinter puzzled her, but she hid it and smiled again. “Thank you, Father,” she said demurely, bending her head to him as a sign of her submission.
Prince Lleyn had been sorely vexed that his ships had not arrived in time to assist in the battle. He made his feelings known through Meath, who kept Maarken quite busy on the sunlight one morning. Afterward, the squire made his way to the command tent, bowed, and presented his information with a wide grin on his face, shared by Tilal, to whom he had already told the news.
“He sent them to Tiglath!” Tilal cried before Maarken could speak. “Loaded down and wallowing in the water when they passed back by Graypearl!”
“Ha!” Chay clapped his hands together and rubbed the palms gleefully. “Lleyn’s never had any use for the Cunaxans since he caught them stealing from his pearl-beds. Has there been any fighting in Tiglath?”
Maarken elbowed Tilal to silence. “The Merida tried to ambush the party sent to escort the new troops—and lost.” He chuckled. “Tiglath is set for now. Lleyn’s ships will sail again to resupply at Dorval and then come here.”
Rohan shook his head. “Goddess, the concessions Lleyn will demand in the silk trade to pay for this!” But his eyes were dancing.
“We’ll let Davvi contribute,” Chay said slyly.
The new Prince of Syr bowed. “I promise faithfully to suspend any and all horse-thieving along the borders, and to make sure that all the Syrene wine that reaches the Desert is at least of the second-best quality, rather than the third.”
“Decent of you,” Rohan drawled. “What else does Meath say, Maarken?”
“Kleve is on a mission for Walvis. He’s not in Tiglath at all.” The boy shrugged. “Meath says they had to rely on a scout sloop that came down from Tiglath to inform the prince.”
“Wonderful,” Davvi muttered. “Now we have no way of knowing what happens in Tiglath.”
“Walvis must have good reasons,” Tilal said in defense of his idol.
“I wish I knew what they were,” Rohan said.
“I wish we knew what passes on the sunlight between Stronghold and Tiglath,” Chay remarked.
“You think my sister has something to do with this?”
“Davvi, I think Sioned has something to do with nearly everything. And I thank the Goddess who made her that my Tobin can only listen on the sunlight, not ride it.” He took the sting out of his words with a smile at his son.
“But Father, you always say Mother’s more closely related to the Storm God,” Maarken replied pertly.