in position saved his life. A finger’s breadth from his ribs the air suddenly hissed with the sound of a passing knife. He dropped instantly into a crouch, boot-knife in his hand, eyes scanning the darkness. A second blade whisked past him, missing his head by a handspan, and he cursed his fair hair that shone even in the moonless night. The nearest cover was twenty paces up the slope. All he could do was become a shadow like any other.
A bird sang out and small animals chittered furiously as a nest was disturbed. Rohan stayed frozen, listening. When the night settled back to silence and there was nothing to be heard but the river, he blinked the cold sweat of tension from his eyes and got slowly to his feet.
Though he presented an easy target now, the night was free of more knives. He waited a moment, then searched the riverbank. A thin hilt was embedded in the mud, angled down as the assassin anticipated Rohan’s defensive crouch. He pulled the knife out and ran his fingers down the fine, smooth blade, catching his breath. It was not made of Cunaxan steel, but of glass.
He hid the knife with his own inside the top of his boot, and returned to his tent. Walvis drowsed in a corner near the lamp. Rohan held the glass knife to the light, unsurprised to see the characteristic notch in the blade that was meant to catch in the victim’s flesh when he tried to remove it. The hilt was wrapped in thin strips of brown leather, the blade made of green glass. A tight smile stole across Rohan’s face and he hid the knife deep in his saddlebags where his squire would not find it.
So the Merida wished to warn him, he thought as he gathered a blanket around him and settled down to sleep. “Merida” meant “gentle knife” in the old language—gentle because the sharp glass blades were as quick and deadly as steel, and the Merida had come to power as a guild of assassins renowned for their silence and skill. Rohan’s death would have been nice for them, but failing that, the knife had put him on notice that they were near. They wanted him nervous and suspicious, hoping he would make mistakes. Rohan smiled again and stretched beneath the blanket. This new problem added to all the others set excitement welling in his blood, eagerness for the coming battles of wits and nerve. If the Merida had meant to frighten him, they had failed.
Sioned reined in her horse at the top of the hill, looking down in wonder at the vast encampment. Other princes had arrived early and set up their tents, and Sioned identified them for Cami and Ostvel, who had come to inspect the area before the main column of Rohan’s suite arrived.
“That yellow group over by the woods, that’s Prince Saumer of Isel. He’s as far away from Prince Volog as he can get—they share their island very unhappily, so they stay away from each other at the Rialla. The orange tents are Prince Durriken’s. He’s going to bake down there, so far from any trees.”
“Who’s been drilling you in this information?” Cami asked. “Urival?”
“Princess Milar. Let’s see—red is Prince Vissarion of Grib, that silly pink for Seldeen of Gilad, and green for Chale of Ossetia—that one’s easy, Cami, you remember when he came to visit at Goddess Keep and the whole place was awash in green uniforms.” She identified the colors and their owners effortlessly, glad now of the princess’ instruction. Scarlet, black, leaf-green, the turquoise of her own native Syr—she knew them all. Conspicuously absent were the High Prince’s violet tents, and when his name was left out of her inventory Ostvel gave her a curious glance.
“He makes an entrance?”
“He makes an entrance,” she confirmed. “He’ll sail down the Faolain tomorrow morning with all due ceremony. Looks like a carnival, doesn’t it, with all those colors clashing against each other?”
“And people doing the same,” Camigwen observed. “Especially princesses. No, I will not be quiet, Sioned! Two gowns were all you’d allow Princess Milar’s women to sew for you—two, when you’ll have to appear at five times that many functions!” She turned in her saddle, eyes flashing. “How long have we been friends? Don’t you know how much I want your happiness? Why won’t you do anything to secure it?”
“After he’s had a good look at the princesses, I’ll know that if he chooses me