But the Desert is not going to present him with the very picture of a rabble in arms,” he added sternly to the troops. He snapped out an order and they marched down the slope to the river. Sioned and Camigwen followed in their wake, grateful for the path they carved out of the crowd.
Upriver, Sioned could see violet sails limp in the motionless morning sunlight. Roelstra had not been scheduled to arrive until later, and Sioned suspected he had come early on purpose. Keeping people off balance seemed to be a favorite ploy of princes, to judge the breed by her own. The barge rounded a slight bend in the Faolain and drifted majestically toward the dock. Immense, painted white and gold and violet, it could easily hold over a hundred people in luxurious comfort.
“Will you look at that!” Camigwen whispered.
A man standing nearly snorted. “Aye, and look at the wary watcher on the prow! Some use dragons, some use monsters horrible as the sea creatures they’re put up to scare—but Himself’s ship changes guardian ladies the way Himself changes mistresses. It’s said the latest is with him, big belly and all.”
Though Sioned’s interest was not in Roelstra’s mistress but his daughters, she inspected the magnificent carving. She gave the craftsman full credit for incredible skill and, if the image was accurate, the High Prince’s mistress full credit for surpassing beauty. As the barge floated past, figures and then faces were visible on the upper deck. Most of them were women, and the face matching the wary watcher belonged to a lady who was indeed heavily pregnant. The other women were slim and elegant, high-piled hair glittering with jewels, white dresses accented with violet trim. Four were dark, one was blonde, and the sixth had hair the color of tarnishing copper. All of them were beautiful.
Roelstra himself was even more impressive than his ship. Tall, clad in a white cloak and a violet tunic, he stood at the rails of the upper deck with one hand lifted to greet the crowd. But Sioned, watching closely, saw that his gaze lingered on no one; he seemed to be looking for someone, and Sioned knew who it must be.
“And there’s Himself,” the man beside her said, “all dressed up to dine off my own lord and all the rest. His whore looks ready to whelp—may it be yet another girl! The princesses are a fine lot—lovely as Lord Chaynal’s purest bred fillies, and kicking down their stalls to get at the best stallion, the young Prince Rohan—beggin’ your pardon, ladies, but what I think, I say out plain. Seventeen daughters, would you believe it? You’d think that with as many women as Himself has bedded, there’d be at least one boy in the litter. But no, the Goddess gives as she sees fit, and there’s justice in her giving. My own lord, now, I’m glad he’s happily wed. I wouldn’t want one of the royal bitches as my lady, and that’s the honest truth—beggin’ your pardon again for my unseemly talk, and in the presence of gentle-bred faradhi ladies like yourselves, as well! Come along with me if you want a good view of the show. I’ll escort you close and you’ll see my lord and all the others come down to greet Himself.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Camigwen told him with her dazzling smile. “Our own escort seems to have abandoned us. Lead on, sir!”
“Care of a Sunrunner brings Goddess blessing,” he replied with a wink and a gap-toothed grin. “But the truth is I like being seen in company with pretty women!”
He made a path for them by shoving others roughly out the way, and to any protests growled only, “Faradh’im!” Sioned bit back a smile as she realized that while giving them protection and a good vantage point, he was also using them as the perfect means of getting close to the action himself. They neared the dock and she searched the throng of highborns for Rohan. The short pier was crammed with nobility—even Lady Andrade was there, along with Tobin and Chay. But of Rohan’s blond head she saw nothing.
High Prince Roelstra and his mistress had descended from the upper deck, his daughters trailing along behind. The barge slid smoothly into dock and trumpeters blew out a fanfare, answered by a stately drumbeat from eight young men wearing the Waes city lord’s garish red and yellow. Sioned’s escort pushed through to the very front of the crowd