on at the more formal functions, and it certainly did not belong on a holiday at the Fair. As they crossed the bridge, Camigwen gazed straight ahead, her expression grim. Tobin noticed, and smiled.
“Even the sight of water gets to you, doesn’t it?”
“I can’t watch the waves break on the cliffs without getting sick.”
“What about you, Sioned?”
“You’d never get her to admit it,” Meath chuckled.
“I was used to it before I left home,” she explained. “My father’s keep is called River Run, so I’ve lived waterside all my life.”
Tobin’s brows arched fractionally. River Run was a holding kept in the family of the Princes of Syr; Sioned’s blood was better than Tobin had thought. Not that it mattered to her, but a bride with noble connections was better than one without insofar as the vassals were concerned. She reminded herself to spread the story and wondered why Rohan or Andrade had not already done so.
Meath was indeed cast in the role of pack horse. The Fair was a treasure house of goods from all over the continent, and Tobin couldn’t buy things fast enough. Camigwen added even more to the load. Needles, embroidery thread, candles, pottery, carved boxes, Fironese crystal, painted tin boxes filled with spices for taze—the two women spent recklessly, their packages wrapped and handed to Meath. At first he stowed them away about his person, but soon ran out of pockets. He then acquired a sack with a drawstring top. It quickly filled; he bought another. Whenever Tobin directed a merchant to send a made-to-order item to Prince Rohan’s tents, Meath’s eyes gleamed with gratitude.
Sioned picked over the offered merchandise but purchased nothing. Toward noon she treated the others to a delicious snack of fresh spicebread, fruit, cheese, and a small bottle of mossberry wine each. They sat beneath one of the trellises along the river to eat, laughing as Meath speculated whether it was the wooden beams or the flowering vines that held the ancient arches up.
Sioned opened the wine, saying, “We make this in my part of Syr. I haven’t tasted any of this holding’s vintages since I was a little girl.” She took a healthy swig, closed her eyes, then swallowed and smiled happily. “Perfect!”
“Then open mine, quick,” Meath implored. “My throat thinks it’s back in the Desert.”
They lingered after the meal, enjoying the cool breeze off the river scented with the crimson and blue flowers overhead. Other fairgoers strolled past, and as Tobin returned their greetings she kept up a running commentary so Sioned could learn about the people she would deal with as Rohan’s princess. Not many of the athr’im attended, only the most important ones or those in high favor with their princes—or the young ones who needed brides, like the Desert’s own Lord Eltanin. Tobin asked Sioned why her brother was not here, considering his close connection with the Syrene royal house.
The faradhi snorted. “Davvi leaves River Run once a year, to pay his duty to Prince Haldor at High Kirat. I think his wife’s afraid someone will make off with a grain or two if he’s gone more often. She’s rather tight-fisted.”
“Lady Wisla,” Cami said acidly, “is miserly. You know it’s true, Sioned. She begrudged you a dowry and that’s why you were sent to Goddess Keep. And not a single invitation since to visit home,” she added to Tobin.
“I’ve heard that River Run is a beautiful holding,” the princess said, while thinking that it really was a very good thing that Sioned had no more ties with Syr. Denied her own home, she would more readily embrace Stronghold and the Desert. She rose and brushed off her skirts. “I still have to find something for the boys. And Sioned hasn’t bought anything except our lunch.”
Camigwen poked the prone Meath in the shoulder. “Wake up, we’re going.”
“Huh?” He straightened up from his nap in the grass. “Oh—sorry. Lead on, ladies. The old horse has a few good measures left in him yet, but will need to be fed and watered well tonight.”
“Perhaps you can persuade Hildreth to brush you down,” Sioned teased, and Meath glowered to cover his blush at the mention of the pretty faradhi.
On their return to the Fair, Camigwen gave a delighted cry at a display of lutes and settled down to bargain for one decorated with white elkhoof inlay. Tobin wandered over to the next stall to admire a rainbow of silk ribbons, but was distracted by Sioned’s excited call from a booth crammed with