“There is always another,” Arcolin said. He turned the ring on his finger so the dragon crest was outward, held it long enough for Samdal to see, then wrestled it off his finger. “You knew I had taken my father’s gift, the bastard’s ring he gave me in case of any need. I give it to you, to take to the Chancellor of Horngard; I have kept it from dishonor all these years. You will find a true king for Horngard; it is not my task. Though I might suggest some places to look.”

“There are no more of your father’s get or your grandfather’s…”

“There were the daughters—”

“Women cannot be dragons’ get—”

“Their sons—”

“I tell you there are none!” Samdal shook his head at the offered ring. “Only you.”

“There is Andressat,” Arcolin said. “He and his family follow Camwyn; he has good sons and grandsons.”

“They are not of Horngard,” Samdal said. “Not of the mountains.”

“Perhaps Horngard is of Andressat, far back,” Arcolin said. “You have the genealogies.”

“Andressat will not do … Has a dragon come to him?”

“Not that I know of. But I know he swears by Camwyn’s Claw.”

“He is not a king; I have heard much of him. A fussy old man, a mere count—”

“A man of honor,” Arcolin said sharply. “A man of courage and resource. But if you will not have him, if you want a prince born—” No. He must not say it. His oath to Mikeli surely forbade telling a stranger about the prince. But he could tell Mikeli about it later—and certainly Camwyn was everything Samdal would admire. Brave, rash, enthusiastic, and crazy about dragons, according to Mikeli. Almost in love with dragons, in fact … with one dragon, who had allowed him to fly, however briefly, in the dragon’s mouth.

“What? You know of a prince born—someone else of the dragon’s line?”

“No,” Arcolin said. Samdal squinted at him as if trying to pierce his reticence. “No,” he said again. “But I think Dragon may have touched more tongues than you know.”

“Your king … has a son?”

“King Mikeli has no sons yet,” Arcolin said.

“Then Kieri Phelan, who is now king—”

“Not yet,” Arcolin said.

“But you are not telling me all you know.”

“I am bound to another realm; do you not understand? I cannot tell you all I know, and I do not know all—be reasonable.”

Samdal twisted the ring on his own finger; with the design upright, Arcolin saw that it was the Chancellor’s ring, set with the flame-jewel, flickering reds and yellows.

“You’re Chancellor now?”

“Aye. My father died two years agone.”

“You could be Regent, then, until you find another to rule.”

“I’ve been Regent since last fall,” Samdal said. “I’d rather be Chancellor alone. And I beg you: tell me what it is you are hiding from me.”