Taudde doubted one could ever finish listening to the sea’s music. He thought that once one stood on the harsh shore below the Laodd and heard the waves break against the cliffs, that sound would always underlie all others. He answered without thinking, “If I return to Kalches, I will miss the sound of the sea all my life. Learning to listen to it properly would take all my life.” Then, too late, he realized what he’d said. He added hastily, “But of course I would never again dare break your ban, eminence. I would go to Kalches and never return to Lirionne. I would swear any oath you might require of me.”
There was a little silence.
“And break any oath you made, if war comes,” the king said at last. “No, do not protest. You would not be able to keep any such oath, Prince Chontas Taudde ser Omientes ken Lariodde. There is no point in requiring you to swear one. Answer me this: what would you do if I asked you to stay in Lonne?” He paused, and then went on, still quietly. “I think now that my mistrust of Kalchesene sorcery has made Lirionne vulnerable in ways I did not expect. I banned sorcery in Lirionne—and then found that, once Seriantes blood and death had been poured out into the dark, I could not prevent Ankennes from destroying the Dragon of Lonne. Your sorcery prevented that. You have not flung that fact in my face. But you have hardly needed to. You ask me for generosity. Does it surprise you to learn that I am inclined to be generous?”
This did surprise Taudde. It did not seem politic to say so.
“I would not ask you to serve me,” the king added, “but I would ask you to serve my son—though I understand your oath to him would be secondary to the fealty you owe your grandfather and your cousins, his heirs. If I ask you to remain on those terms, and continue your study of the sea, and teach bardic sorcery to those of my people who might be fit for that study, would you do this?”
Taudde realized that he was staring in open amazement. Turning, he went to the window and pressed his hands against the iron bars, trying to think. He looked blindly out over the sea. The sound of it came to him, ceaseless and indifferent in its power. He was cold. His hands were numb where they touched the metal.
At last he turned back, still not knowing himself what he would say.
The king remained patient. He folded his hands across his knee and waited, his cold gray eyes hooded and unreadable. At his side, Prince Tepres rested a hand on the back of his father’s chair and gazed at Taudde with an expression not quite so closed. Taudde could see that the prince hoped he would agree but believed that he would not.
“I think…” said Taudde. “I think I showed you too much power in those caverns. Whatever you suggest now, I don’t believe you could ever allow me to stay in Lonne, save as your close-guarded prisoner, held behind walls of silence.” He stopped and waited for a response.
“It is true that you are a dangerous man,” answered the king, calmly. “Your power concerns me. Your skill concerns me. I would fear what you might find to do, if the solstice should give way to a summer of iron and fire. I would not wish my mages to face you across a bloody field. I will be plain: I do not wish our peoples to face one another upon such a field. I would prefer a quiet summer followed by a calm turning of year into year. I would be pleased if your country and mine could reach a more permanent amicability. And you, Prince Chontas Taudde ser Omientes ken Lariodde? What would you prefer?”
Taudde answered slowly, “Eminence… now that your dragon is roused, I should hardly wish Kalches to face Lirionne across a field of war.”
“Quite so.” The king gave a grim, satisfied little nod. “If I were to permit you to return to Kalches… you would inform your grandfather of your opinion, would you not? Would he hear you?”
Taudde tilted his head, amused despite himself. “Oh, yes. Once he was finished shouting at me. He would certainly wish to know of your dragon.”
“If you will not remain in Lonne, I shall send you back to him,” Geriodde Nerenne ken Seriantes stated. “But I wish you to remain, on the terms I have outlined. I desire goodwill between us, and likewise between our countries. That you are a prince of Kalches could be useful to me, if your desire runs alongside mine.”
Taudde looked at him for a long moment. At last he said, “Whatever your desire or mine, eminence, I must tell you, my grandfather will not accept the borders as they now lie. He will not and cannot permit Lirionne permanently to own lands so close to the heart of Kalches. However cautious of your dragon he may be, this will remain true. I would not try to persuade him otherwise, nor would he hear me if I did.” He paused.