Roelstra’s regimentals lolled about in the sunshine. One of them rose to greet him, smiling.
“A fine day, my lord!”
“That it is, Cahl. And we’ll be on the move at last.”
“Out to sea?” he asked eagerly, then laughed when Urival shuddered. “Ah, I forgot—you Sunrunners! Well, it’ll be a relief to get out of the High Prince’s clothes, anyway.” Cahl plucked at the gold-embroidered tunic, freckled face screwed up in comical disgust.
“How’s our good friend the captain? Recovered yet from all those lies he’s told Roelstra’s messengers?”
“Oh, he’s become very philosophical, even about his losses at dice. Will you want him locked up with the rest of his men before we leave?”
“Yes. Lady Wisla will get a shock when she comes home.” Urival grinned. “We’ll take all the horses with us, so even if they do manage to escape, they won’t be able to warn Roelstra in time.”
Urival gave his instructions and returned to the courtyard, chuckling at the memory that teased his thoughts. Roelstra’s captain had received quite a shock one winter morning when the gates of River Run had opened to him and Lady Andrade had signaled her readiness to be escorted back to Goddess Keep. Lleyn’s sailors, their agility in climbing ship’s riggings put to good use in scaling the back walls of the keep one night, had deprived the captain and ten of his men of their weapons, their clothes, and their ability to warn their fellows. Others had come to investigate and been treated in like fashion. A minimum of blood had been shed before Roelstra’s men had been incarcerated with fine thoughtfulness in River Run’s wine cellar. Andrade had reasoned that Davvi wouldn’t begrudge the loss of a few casks, and she hadn’t wanted Roelstra’s men to complain of mistreatment, after all. Only the captain had been allowed back outside with several sharp-eyed sailors watching him at all times. When Roelstra’s couriers came, he had said all the right things—motivated by a knife held unobtrusively to his spine.
Thus Andrade had waited on her terms, not Roelstra’s. One cage was indeed very like another, except when the guards were on one’s own side and one could walk out whenever one pleased.
There had been only one sour thing about the whole satisfying proceeding: Chiana. She had been locked in her room to keep her quiet during the maneuver, but had subsided only when tied to a chair with a towel stuffed halfway down her throat. It had not been a pleasant experience for anyone, and daily Urival had expected some act of revenge. If the girl did not behave herself today, he was quite willing to tie her to her saddle with the gag back in her mouth.
But he forgot about her as he directed the preparations for departure. By midmorning all was ready—and Chiana had not been seen. Urival had the keep searched, and emerged puzzled and impatient into the courtyard to report his lack of success to Andrade.
She was stalking across the cobbles, practically spitting fire. “Do you know what Chiana’s done? Cozened one of those fool grooms into giving her a horse early! And now she’s gone!”
“Good riddance,” Urival muttered. “I hope she gets lost and falls in the river.” And then, because Andrade’s excellent humor had already been spoiled, he told her the bad news about Feruche.
High Prince Roelstra received three increasingly nasty shocks that day, and his daughter Pandsala was in a position to observe them all.
The first came when he had finished his breakfast and was taking a morning stroll through his camp. He had risen late, and Pandsala was kept waiting for some time outside his tent, for he liked to have her accompany him so the soldiers could see that they had their very own Sunrunner. Father and daughter had begun the rounds, exchanging remarks about the clear weather and the possibility of a battle soon, when a rider crested the low hill to the south and thundered down into camp. Stragglers followed in bad order behind him. He leaped from his horse, made frantic obeisance to his prince, and started babbling about dragons.
“More than ever before in the world—all of them after us! We fought them but it was no use, your grace. That wizard Prince Rohan has them under his spell, him or his Sunrunner witch of a wife! There were hundreds of them, your grace—with claws like swords and breathing fire—we had to retreat or all would have been lost! It’s surely Prince Rohan’s work!”