THREE DROPS OF BLOOD

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Mrillis snorted. "Nectar pot?" He nodded and dropped into the chair facing Efrin's worktable. He agreed that the euphemism for a daintily decorated chamber pot, fit for a fine lady's inner chambers, suited Timark of Welcairn most appropriately. Outwardly lovely, well-spoken and well-mannered, yet foul on the inside.

  He glanced over the suspiciously brief message Queen Glyssani had sent. She expressed her desire to come to Court to present her son to his father's dearest friend, and prayed the Estall that if a particularly troublesome nectar pot constrained her to remain in Welcairn yet again, perhaps the Warhawk would care to pay a visit instead. The words 'yet again,' had extra ink on them, as if the writer had penned them several times, for emphasis. Considering that Timark had been named co-regent at Markas' death, when his wife was deathly ill from birthing their stillborn second child, Glyssani's perpetual absence from Court took on new significance.

  "Do you think she's being kept prisoner, but in such subtle ways she can't make official complaint to me? Timark had an unnatural gift for diplomacy and saying three different things with the same words. We all knew he meant the most vicious interpretation of any innocuous remark, but proving what he meant was the hard part." Efrin drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Timark has said for years that Markas is not a healthy lad. 'Not nearly as healthy as his father,' is the phrase he uses, year after year, when I inquire about the welfare of mother and son. His health could be easily manipulated, and if his regent holds the key to continued good health..."

  "Glyssani obviously believes either her son is in danger, or she can at last request help, if you are witness to her situation."

  "I can't simply go haring off across the sea without good reason. That would raise Timark's suspicions immediately. Especially if he knows Glyssani sent me a message. Especially if he couldn't intercept it." He stroked his beard, eyes hooded as he thought.

  The sound of his daughters' laughter floated through the open window. Mrillis nearly stood up as the first glimmer of an idea entered his mind. He sat still, letting the idea unfold without interfering. Hadn't Megassa been complaining just a few days ago, before she learned her sister was coming for a visit, that there was nothing to do, no adventure, no excitement? He and Efrin had teased her that she should allow herself to get comfortable with her spurs of full Valor status before she set off to save the entire World.

  Wouldn't this be an adventure Megassa would enjoy? And who would suspect the Warhawk's daughter of coming as a spy if she traveled throughout Moerta on her father's behalf? Every minor kingdom that hosted her would preen with the honor. And Megassa could add another dozen minor princes and nobles to the collection of adoring, broken-hearted men who tried to win her and fell woefully short of her requirements.

  "You've thought of something," Efrin said. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Something fiendishly clever, judging by that smile."

  "Megassa wanted an adventure," Mrillis said, and waited for comprehension.

  "Send her to Welcairn to challenge Timark to battle? She'd win without a doubt, but I don't think killing the scoundrel is the answer."

  "Not battle. Though she'd enjoy it, wouldn't she?" Now it was his turn to chuckle. "No, I was thinking of sending her more as a spy. From all reports, from what I remember when I last spoke with her, Glyssani is clever enough to realize why she came. She will get word to Megassa, to pass on to you, if she needed help, don't you think?"

  "The adventure Megs was whining for. Yes. Perfect fit." He nodded, stroking his beard as he thought. "Timark is enough of an idiot, he would naturally assume her status as Valor was honorary, as my daughter, rather than genuine, and discount her authority as judge. If he's as scheming and arrogant as I suspect, he might just try to seduce her and make a claim to the Warhawk throne." A bark of laughter escaped him. "I have a better idea. Send both my girls together. Everyone will quake in fear of the Queen of Snows, if they don't fall over themselves in their eagerness to claim her as a friend and ally. No matter what happens, my girls together can handle it." His face fell. "But how to explain Meggi being on Moerta at all? I can't send her in a good will gesture, like I can Megs."

  "Harvesting star-metal," Mrillis said. "How long has it been since the Queen of Snows allowed herself to take up such a mundane, boring task?"

  "But I've always wanted to go," Meghianna said, when they proposed the idea to the sisters over a private dinner that evening. "I never thought I could justify spending three entire moons away from the Stronghold. It sounds like a gloriously tedious journey, and plenty of freedom from all the officious boors while I'm out in the forests and fields."

  "What am I to do while you're gathering up star-metal dust?" Megassa said. Her eyes sparkled, making a lie of her whining tone and words.

  "Hunting all sorts of strange, twisted creatures damaged by the influence of star-metal in the air and soil and water," Efrin said. "Your uncle Cafral and I had quite a good time of it, the few times we could go over to Moerta and run free."

  "Sounds lovely. I'm up for it. And playing spy. And rescuing Queen Glyssani from that pestilent co-regent. I've heard stories about him." She shuddered. "Banrax is from Welcairn, Papa, and he told me Timark pressures Glyssani at least once a year to marry him. She vowed before five Star Mothers, back when Markas was just a toddler, that she would not marry until her son was old enough to take his father's throne. Then she made Timark swear that if the boy died before he reached his majority, no matter what the cause, he would travel to the ends of the World to find the murderer. He can't make claim to the throne if he's on the other side of the world, can he?"

  "Hmm." Efrin narrowed his eyes at his younger daughter. "Why do I feel you know more about what's happening on Moerta than I do?"

  "Gossip, Papa," Meghianna said. "Unfortunately, all gossip has a large percentage of truth in it. Two of my newest students are from Welcairn, and they say the co-regent is universally disliked. There would be outright rebellion if he ever claimed the throne. He needs Glyssani, because everyone loves her. If he truly is threatening her son's life and keeping her prisoner in her own kingdom, I would insist on helping to rescue her."

  * * * *

  Meghianna chafed against the necessity of the subterfuge she and Megassa had to establish. How could they determine the truth of Queen Glyssani's situation if their reasons for visiting the kingdom were suspicious? She found it amusing that the need to examine every action and word kept her from enjoying the adventure of traveling through the untamed regions of Moerta to harvest the fragments of star-metal that remained in the land.

  When she remembered that the previous Queen of Snows, Ceera, had started the harvesting and purification of Moerta so many decades ago, when her predecessor was close to her age, Meghianna wondered if the second continent of her world would ever be totally cleansed. With every bit of star-metal the harvesters brought back to Lygroes, the sky-web grew stronger, and attracted more of the dangerous material to one central spot, rather than letting it rain down uncontrolled. However, dust and fragments smaller than pebbles did manage to reach Moerta and the seas. It might be decades yet before every fragment of star-metal was gathered and refined and controlled. Only one-third of all star-metal harvested and refined each year was allowed to be made into rings and bracelets and chains, for Valors to wear to enhance their imbrose. The rest stayed in the Stronghold, the amount increasing with the years. According to the theory Mrillis and Ceera and their teachers had proposed so many decades ago, someday the magnetic property of the star-metal would grow strong enough that all star-metal that rained down on their world would be drawn to the Stronghold. There would be no more need to travel to gather it up. From there, all star-metal in the World could be controlled and the World would be safe.

  Until then, Meghianna decided she would grant herself a moon of freedom every spring, when she could justify leaving the Stronghold, and travel through the tunnel between Lygroes and Moerta. She would wander where no nobles would fawn on her and no uneducated
, prejudiced fools would speak false friendship and either hate or fear her because she was Rey'kil. She enjoyed wearing trousers, riding astride, and sleeping under the stars on clear, dry nights. It amused her and pleased her that this was Megassa's area of expertise, and that her sister found so much enjoyment in handling all the mundane details of traveling; finding trails through the wilderness, detecting water, and ensuring the star-metal harvesters were protected from strange, warped animals and unfriendly settlers. Megassa blossomed under the responsibility of leadership. When she went a step too far and acted as if she were a decade older than her sister, all Meghianna had to do was meekly curtsey and say "Yes, my elder sister," to earn peels of laughter, embarrassed blushes, and a relaxing of her attitude. For a day or two.

  The laughter didn't ring out quite as often as the days turned into half a moon before they could justify leaving the larger party of harvesters and turning their smaller group's path through the kingdom of Welcairn. Meghianna said a prayer of thanks to the Estall that a large patch of untamed, poisoned land lay on the southernmost edge of Welcairn, near its border with Goarlotte. She and Megassa and their escort of four Valors called on King Pyris as they passed through. He and Queen Lynzette were suspiciously missing from the castle, but Pirkin greeted them with a warmth that Meghianna knew to be genuine, and offered to escort them to their next destination. She listened to her sense of people's true souls, and when they stopped for the noon meal along the way, confided in him the true mission that brought her and Megassa to Moerta. Then she asked for his thoughts on the situation.

  "Now that makes a great deal of sense," the young Valor said, nodding.

  "What have you heard about Welcairn and its regents?" Megassa said.

  "Just what you've already told me--the queen is beloved, and the late king's cousin is to be avoided except in matters of warfare." Pirkin's eyes narrowed and his mouth flattened. Meghianna guessed his thoughts weren't pleasant, and whatever he had heard before had taken on new significance, thanks to her questions. "It is odd that there seems to be more trouble with Encindi in Welcairn than in all the surrounding kingdoms. As if, despite the reported battles, they prefer settling here more than anywhere else."

  "Why?" Megassa leaned back against the tree that provided shade for their conversation. "There is also a larger concentration of star-metal poisoning Welcairn than any other kingdom, because of all the ravines and valleys and cliffs that make travel and searching so difficult. The Encindi aren't stupid, and they have to know what causes the poisoning in the land. They should be avoiding it, not flocking to it."

  "Unless someone is encouraging them to stay," Meghianna guessed.

  "And to pretend to lose battles," Pirkin said, nodding. "Or perhaps not fight battles at all, just pretend to."

  "Timark is clever, I grant you that. He gives the impression that his knowledge and expertise is needed," Megassa said. "How do we prove the battles are false and he lives a lie?"

  "We need to determine what is real and what is false for ourselves, first," Meghianna said. "We will need more than your escort for this, if you are willing."

  "Oh, more than willing. For the sake of my good neighbor, whom I rarely see, I might add." Pirkin's expression brightened, with a mischievous quirk to one corner of his mouth. "And no one will wonder why I am there, because I have an interest in Ynessa, one of Glyssani's ladies."

  "Why do you rarely see Glyssani?" she had to ask. There had been something in Pirkin's voice that made her think he knew more and wasn't sure whether to speak it.

  "According to Timark--"

  "Who is rarely to be trusted," Megassa inserted.

  "Indeed, now I think I must encourage Father to re-think everything we have ever heard from our neighbor. But according to Timark, Glyssani is fragile and not in the best of health. He worries incessantly for her. He claims that she puts on a brave front and depends on magic charms and potions from the Stronghold. And then he very indiscreetly admits he does not place much trust in such things."

  "The nerve!" Megassa exclaimed.

  "Indeed." Meghianna could think of a dozen reasons why someone would have reason to doubt the efficacy of the healing potions and powders that came from the Stronghold. The most likely being that Timark was anti-Rey'kil, and his reasons had nothing to do with the potions themselves. She wouldn't be surprised to learn that the potions reputed to come from the Stronghold came from elsewhere, and were deliberately tainted, to harm the reputations of the healers who supposedly produced them. And deepen the chasm of distrust between Noveni and Rey'ki.

  "I wouldn't be surprised," Pirkin said slowly, "as Markas grows closer to his majority, if Timark doesn't make some effort to entirely wean Glyssani from her supposed dependence on magic, and she suddenly has a full restoration of health."

  "Or she dies and he blames magic," Meghianna murmured.

  "He can't rule without her. The people won't accept him as king. He's too far from the direct line. There are others with stronger and older claims, if anything happened to Markas. There are dozens of witnesses who will testify that Markas the Elder named Glyssani to be regent for their son if anything happened to him, and only two documents that say he wanted his distant cousin to rule with her. And those documents appeared more than a moon after his death fighting Encindi."

  "Encindi who were suspiciously well-armed and organized?" Megassa asked in a too-sweet, innocent voice.

  "I think Timark needs killing," Pirkin said.

  "That is up to the Warhawk's council," Meghianna said. "One question--should we send riders ahead to let Timark and Queen Glyssani know we are coming, or surprise them?"

  "I think Glyssani will enjoy surprise visitors," her sister said slowly, her expression turning into that determined, somehow frightening, fierce smile that made her look so much like Efrin. "Who knows? She might be in the best health of her life if she doesn't know we're coming."

  * * * *

  Someone had seen their party as they rode up the long trade road between Goarlotte and Welcairn. The Warhawk's banner flew to the right of the main gate of Welcairn Castle, and the drakags flag of Welcairn on the left. Meghianna noted the emblem for the kingdom and wondered if it could be taken as a warning or omen. Drakags were a product of star-metal poisoning. They had been established so many centuries as a species, she feared the purification of the landscape would not encourage them to die out. The vicious lizards had poisoned talons and acid venom in their teeth, and the larger ones, taller than men when they were on all fours, could spit acid that ignited if it traveled long enough in the air. Their tails had razor-sharp scales, and they had been known to slash through the toughest leg armor and break bones if they had enough room to maneuver and sweep their tails at their enemies.

  She remembered some of her more depressing political lessons, how the poisoning of the land through the increasing levels of star-metal had led to a splintering of the united kingdom of the Noveni, and many minor nobles had established themselves as kings in their own rights, owing no allegiance or support to anyone else. Every kingdom for itself, and let all others perish, had been the unspoken motto of some lands. Welcairn was among them. Welcairn had swallowed up every kingdom smaller and weaker than it, refusing to take anything less than total subservience in exchange for assistance in battling the twin disasters of magic-spawned monsters and decreasing amounts of safe, livable land.

  When Maxin Warhawk had united the Noveni in the battle against the Encindi, he had been wise enough not to insist the minor kings give up their authority, but acknowledged them as his equals, only retaining the right to call up warriors for the battles against the Encindi threat. He was such a capable warrior and leader, it was seen as an honor to serve him and to be considered a comrade-in-arms, rather than an onerous obligation.

  Meghianna wondered now if the sensible leaders of Welcairn had run their course, and the bad blood would take ascendancy again, through Timark--who only held his rank and position in the royal family because of the g
enerosity of King Markas' grandfather. He had been uncle to Timark's promiscuous, drunkard mother, who hadn't even been able to name his father. Meghianna wondered if anyone had ever stepped forward to claim Timark as his son--and if Timark had welcomed the man who spawned him, or had him killed.

  Queen Glyssani, dressed in dusty lavender, stood at the head of a large party of servants in the deep purple and black livery of Welcairn. A gangly, brown-haired boy stood at her side. Both smiled and looked perfectly healthy and strong. Meghianna noticed no man standing with them to welcome the castle's visitors. She made a wager with herself that Timark was far enough away from the castle that he hadn't received word of her party's approach in time to return and greet them. So that begged the question of how long she and her sister and Pirkin had to determine the true situation in Welcairn.

  "Welcome, Queen of Snows Meghianna. Welcome, Princess Megassa Warhawk. Welcome, Prince Pirkin of Goarlotte." Queen Glyssani swept them a deep curtsey, so the end of her long, pale gold braid and the multi-colored ribbons twined into it trailed across the flagstones of the gateway. "Welcairn is honored and blessed to play host to you."

  "Lady?" Prince Markas stepped up and offered his hand to Meghianna to help her down from her saddle. His nose was too big for his face, and she feared he would not grow into it. His mouth was too generous, and crooked, but his smile was genuine and warm and gave his uneven features a handsome sense of character. Meghianna prayed he would live up to the promise of generosity and kindness in his face.

  If he was allowed to grow up at all.

  She shivered as her sense for trouble, of reading people and the very atmosphere of a place, told her that all was not well here in Welcairn. For just a moment, she saw a dark haze of portent and threat enclosing the boy.

  "Thank you, Highness. We are delighted to be welcomed so warmly to Welcairn. We are on the yearly harvest of star-metal, and will not intrude on your hospitality long at all."