Crown of Vengeance

“We cannot permit this!” Ladyholder Glorthiachiel spoke as if her wish could make a thing reality.

“My lady, I am certain that—” Carangil Lightbrother stopped, as if even he could not say what he was certain of.

“Well, don’t just stare at me, you cloudwit!” Ladyholder Glorthiachiel turned away in frustration, seeking fresh prey. “We must invade Oronviel!”

“Now?” Runacarendalur strode into the chamber, his hair still disheveled from his interrupted morning’s ride. “May I remind you, my lady mother, that it is Rade Moon, not Sword? And if you mean my lord father to invade one of our treaty vassals out of season, I think you might have summoned me to your council.”

Ladyholder Glorthiachiel’s dressing chamber was crowded: not only was Carangil Lightbrother, her personal Mage, present, but several of Runacarendalur’s brothers and sisters. Only War Prince Bolecthindial Caerthalien—of those who might reasonably be thought to have an interest in any war of Caerthalien’s—was absent.

Runacarendalur tossed his rain-spattered cloak over the nearest chair and leaned back against the wall. Ivrulion was wearing his blandest expression—one Runacarendalur had mistrusted from infancy—and Gimragiel was (as usual) falling over himself to match or even exceed their mother’s fury.

“How can you treat this as if it is some jest?” the Ladyholder demanded. “This treacherous viper— This outlaw, oathbreaker, this— Who knows what she will do? One of the Lightborn setting herself up as War Prince!”

“It’s impossible.” Princess Angiothiel spoke with as much conviction as her mother had.

“Yet it seems to have happened,” Runacarendalur pointed out. “And apparently old Thoromarth is still alive. I’m sure he’ll convince her to honor his treaties.”

“We should crush them,” Prince Gimragiel announced.

Runacarendalur sighed. “Yes, Ragi, of course we should,” he said patiently. “As soon as they do something. Our treaty with Oronviel does not require her to consult with us over changes to her ruling house.”

“She is Farcarinon,” Ladyholder Glorthiachiel hissed.

Farcarinon is gone. Runacarendalur didn’t bother to say so, nor did he say it was likely that Vieliessar, having been raised at Caerthalien until her twelfth year, might be more trustworthy than Thoromarth. It would only prolong the argument.

The news of the change in Oronviel’s fortunes had reached Caerthalien two days before. War Prince Atholfol Ivrithir had sent an envoy. Lord Bolecthindial had received her privately, then summoned Runacarendalur so she could repeat her message. Runacar shouldn’t be surprised that Ladyholder Glorthiachiel knew the messenger’s news: half the Court probably did by now. The tale was like something crafted by a storysinger: at Harvest Court, an unknown knight had challenged Thoromarth for his lands. She had defeated Thoromarth’s Warlord and champion and revealed herself to be Vieliessar Lightsister.

And that, Runacarendalur thought, is where matters become complicated. For Vieliessar Lightsister’s life was forfeit outside the bounds of the Sanctuary of the Star. More, after she had fled the Sanctuary, the Astromancer had ordered all the Lightborn of the land to seek her. Well and good, and no problem for any but the Lightborn.

But when Vieliessar Lightsister became War Prince Vieliessar Oronviel …

What then?

For a Green Robe to set aside Magery was as much a storysinger’s tale as War Princes being challenged for their lands. “’Rulion,” Runcarendalur said suddenly, cutting into the conversations going on around him, “has anyone ever stopped being a Green Robe?”

Ivrulion regarded him with faint suspicion. “It is not something you stop,” he said pedantically. “Yet—yes, there have been Lightborn who set aside their Magery. You will recall the story of Ternas of Celebros.”

“No,” Runacarendalur said simply, and Ivrulion grimaced.

“Ternas Lightbrother was one of the sons of War Prince Farathir Celebros. All others in the Line Direct were killed, save the greatson of Farathir’s heir, Prince Methestel. Ternas became Methestel’s guardian; when Methestel Heir-Prince was slain on his wedding day, Ternas renounced his Light to became War Prince. It was a very long time ago.”

“What has that to do with anything?” Ladyholder Glorthiachiel demanded.

“It is precedent,” Runacarendalur said. “If Vieliessar wishes to cease to be Lightborn, there is no proscription.”

“Words, words, words!” Ladyholder Glorthiachiel snapped impatiently. “I suppose you will say next that there is no proscription against her conquering Caerthalien!”

“None—save the same reason Thoromarth never has. Oronviel cannot muster an army of sufficient size. I suppose they might have done it before this spring, if Thoromarth had been willing to empty his treasury, but we have made that impossible.”

“At the cost of raids and banditry,” Gimragiel said sullenly.

“I shall be certain to tell Father he must consult you before planning his next campaign,” Runacarendalur purred. “I am certain your strategies are equal to your generalship.”

Gimragiel shouted in fury and clutched his belt knife. Ciliphirilir jumped to her feet and shrieked as if she were the one being threatened. Angiothiel’s hikuliasa bounced toward her, barking happily. Ivrulion stepped between Runacarendalur and Gimragiel. “This solves nothing, brothers,” he said reprovingly.

“It brings us back to the question at hand,” Runacarendalur said, walking over to retrieve his cloak. “If Vieliessar chooses to become War Prince—as she might have done if her father had not been a fool—what must Caerthalien do? And not only is that a matter for Lord Bolecthindial to decide, but I remind you all: no one goes to war in winter. Especially in a winter where we shall be much harried by outlaws.”

The Harrowing of Farcarinon had already begun to bear its bitter fruit, and Runacarendalur could only hope the outlaws would soon retreat to their winter camps to give Caerthalien time to prepare its defense.

“So we are to wait for the spring, to give Serenthon’s whelp time to craft her revenge!” Ladyholder Glorthiachiel said.

“If she sought vengeance, Mother, she would have taken it the moment she took the Green Robe,” Runacarendalur pointed out.

“You sound as if you are her defender!” Princess Angiothiel said with an angry giggle.

“Never that.” Runacarendalur turned toward his sister and gave her a mocking bow. “I am merely realistic. And if we are to fight Oronviel come War Season, be sure I shall win our victory.” He turned, bowing this time to Ladyholder Glorthiachiel. “But that decision has not yet been reached.”

* * *

“Do you think she merely wishes to rule Oronviel?”

Ivrulion caught up to him before he reached the staircase. Runacarendalur had suspected he would. It was unkind to say Ivrulion spied on his brothers and sisters—and their mother—but it was probably no more than the truth. He and his children were outside the succession unless all the other possible heirs to Caerthalien died first— and that was some two hundred of the Lords Komen. And yet … Ivrulion had been raised as heir-prince until the day he had been sent to the Sanctuary. There were times Runacarendalur wondered if Ivrulion thought it a fair trade.

“Possibly,” Runacarendalur said. Ladyholder Glorthiachiel’s voice could still be heard, faintly, in the distance. “Think, brother. Vieliessar did not go to the Sanctuary because the Light had been Called in her. She went to break the Peacebond Celelioniel Astromancer had laid upon her at birth. Because she was Farcarinon. Father had no choice in that. If he wed her to Huthiel—or any other of the Line—we would have had everyone from Aramenthiali to Daroldan at our throats.”

“Yet the Light came to her,” Ivrulion said.

“Something no one could have predicted—did you? Did Carangil? Did Seragindill? But even the Green Robe could not win freedom for her. I think her captivity weighed heavy enough that she chose the only path to freedom there was.”

“A domain on our border,” Ivrulion pointed out.

“A domain holding as many from Farcarinon as ours, or Aramenthiali, or Cirandeiron, or Telthorelandor. No doubt some of Serenthon’s vassals remembered old loyalties and helped her to possess Oronviel.” Runacarendalur