DIANORA COULD REMEMBER THE DAY SHE CAME TO THE Island.
The air that autumn m had been much like it was today at the beginning of spring—white clouds scudding in a high blue sky as the wind had swept the Tribute Ship through the whitecaps into the harbor of Chiara. Beyond harbor and town the slopes mounting to the hills had been wild with fall colors.
The leaves were turning: red and gold and some that g yet to green, she remembered.
The sails of the Tribute Ship so long ago had been red and gold as well: colors of celebration in Ygrath. She khat now, she hadnt known it then. She had stood on the forward deck of the ship to gaze for the first time at the splendor of Chiaras harbor, at the long pier where the Grand Dukes used to stand to throw a ring into the sea, and from where Letizia had leaped in the first of the Ring Dives to reclaim the ring from the waters and marry her Duke: turning the Dives into the lud symbol of Chiaras pride until beautiful Ora had ged the ending of the story hundreds and hundreds of years ago, and the Ring Dives had ceased. Even so, tvery child in the Palm khat legend of the Island.
Young girls in each province would play at diving into water for a ring and rising in triumph, with their hair shinio wed a Duke of power and glory.
From he prow of the Tribute Ship, Dianora had looked up beyond the harbor and palace to gaze at the majesty of snow-ed Sangarios rising behind them. The Ygrathen sailors had not disturbed her silehey had allowed her to e forward to watch the Island approach. Once shed been safely aboard ship and the ship away to sea theyd been kind to her. Women thought to have a real ce at being chosen for the saishan were always treated well oribute Ships. It could make a captains fortune in Brandins court if he brought home a hostage who became a favorite of the Tyrant.
Sitting now on the southern baly of the saishan wing, looking out from behind the ornately crafted s that hid the women from gawkers in the square below, Dianora watched the banners of Chiara and Ygrath flap in the freshening spring breeze, and she remembered how the wind had blown her hair about her face more than twelve years ago. She remembered looking from the bright sails to the slopes of the tree-clad hills running up to Sangarios, from the blue and white of the sea to the clouds in the blue sky.
From the tumult and chaos of life in the harbor to the serene grandeur of the palace just beyond. Birds had been wheeling, g loudly about the three high masts of the Tribute Ship. The rising sun had been a dazzle of light striking along the sea from the east. So much vibran the world, so rid fair and shining a m to be alive.
Twelve years ago, and more. She had beey-one years old, and nursing her hatred and her secret like two of Morians three swining about her heart.
She had been chosen for the saishan.
The circumstances of her taking had made it very likely, and Brandins celebrated grey eyes had widened appraisingly when she was led before him two days later. Shed been wearing a silken, pale- cown, she remembered, chosen to set off her dark hair and the dark brown of her eyes.
She had beeain she would be chosen. Shed felt her triumph nor fear, even though shed been pointing her life toward that moment for five full years, even though, in that instant of Brandins choosing, walls and ss and corridors closed arouhat would defihe rest of her days. Shed had her hatred a