Dragon Prince - By Melanie Rawn Page 0,61

Sioned lasting more than an instant or two would have his feelings scrawled all over his face. Part of him resented the charade, and part of him resented that she could do this to him. Worse, she was not even aware that she could do it. She seemed as completely unaware of him as he was painfully aware of her. It was maddening—and an excellent lesson in patience.

The vassals began to arrive. Instead of spending his days studying prior agreements, his time was taken up with maneuvering them into changes he wanted to make. He had met with all of them before, of course, but those times had seen him at his father’s side, recipient of respectful bows but no words of real substance. Now all the honors were his, and all the responsibilities. He had never realized the scope of their demands on Zehava’s time. Each manor and keep had its own problems, each lord his own ambitions. Rohan was glad of Tobin’s unobtrusive presence during some of the meetings, for her special knowledge as Lady of Radzyn Keep gave him subtle guidance regarding some of her husband’s fellow athr’im. Chay sat in at other times; as Zehava’s field commander, he had fought beside all these men and his knowledge of them was essential. Andrade never attended, but her very absence was surety that all the vassals thought of her. Rohan wondered in amazement how she did it.

He listened dutifully to the various wants and needs presented for his consideration. He would be his vassals’ representative at the Rialla, and what he won for them there would decide their wealth or poverty in the coming three years. Their lists included everything from timber for houses and ships to Fironese crystal birthing goblets. One lord requested a score of short-bearded sheep from Gilad to improve his herds; another wanted a necklace of silver and agates—jewel of seduction—to appease his jealous wife. Rohan listened to them all without smiling or frowning; not only was this how his father had always heard their demands, but it was also good practice for his pretense of borderline imbecility at the Rialla. Some would think him too foolish to understand what they were saying; others would believe him imitating his father while thinking up ways to avoid his obligations; still more would consider him too frightened to show any expression at all. Those reactions suited Rohan perfectly . . . for now.

Privately, for Chay’s and Tobin’s ears alone, he sometimes exploded with mirth at some of the things his vassals said they could not live without. But he knew the extent of their requests was in no way amusing; he had long, hard bargaining sessions ahead of him in Waes, and had no intention of wearing himself out now in dickering with his vassals.

“Father always let them stew while he pretended to consider,” Tobin reminisced one evening as they sat up late over cool wine and a plate of cheese and bread. “They did most of the give and take among themselves.”

“Zehava had an economical mind,” Chaynal added, grinning. “If two lords with adjacent holdings each wanted a new stud for his mares, he let them argue between themselves who’d get the horse and who’d get free stud service.”

“I can’t let them do that anymore,” Rohan told them. “They don’t think I’ll get much for them this year, anyway, and that’s why their demands are so outrageous. If I go asking for a lot, they figure they might get what they really need—if the other princes are kind to the idiot child.” He grimaced. “What my vassals are offering won’t pay for a third of what they’re asking, and I’d have to make up the difference.” He took a sip of wine, then snorted with laughter. “Imagine, Lord Baisal wants enough Syrene stone to build a new keep! The giving he proposes from his holding won’t pay for the cellars!”

“Isn’t there a Prince of Syr among Sioned’s ancestors? That might be of some help, you know,” Chay murmured wickedly, and was ignored.

“The only thing I can do for now is listen and not make any decisions. That way there won’t be any bargains to go back on once I have what I want.”

“Without settled agreements, they’ll get restless,” Tobin warned.

“They’re already restless. They don’t think I have two wits to rub together. Besides, they’re going to like it even less when they learn I’m going to do away with this triennial song and dance.” He

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