"Oh, please do intrude, Lady," the boy blurted. His fair skin turned bright red, but he grinned, and his mother chuckled.
"It is no intrusion, Lady." Glyssani gestured to include them, as well as their traveling party. "Please, be welcome." She held out her hand in greeting to Meghianna.
Chords resounded through Meghianna at the first touch of the woman's hand. Braenlicach blazed in her mind's eye, and from the other side of the sea, she heard men cry out in the Warhawk's throne room as the star-metal sword filled the room with light. Meghianna would have laughed, but the images that spun through her mind, and the darkness that enfolded her like a suffocating blanket, tore the sound from her throat.
Chapter Nine
"Meggi? Meggi! I swear, if you don't open your eyes soon, I'm going to call on Lord Mrillis."
Megassa's voice thrummed through the single, bright white Thread that cut through the darkness and pulled Meghianna out of the hazy pit of her vision.
"He contacted me when Braenlicach flared, positive you had done something. I told him you were tired and you fainted, but everything was all right. Don't make me a liar. I'll call him right now if you don't open your eyes." Her sister sounded more than a little frantic. "I know he can hear me, no matter how far away I am or how weak my grip on the Threads. You don't want me to tell him you're sick or something attacked you here, any more than you want Papa to drop everything and come racing through the sea tunnel to rescue you."
"That might be good," Meghianna whispered, and opened her eyes. She had to smile at how weak her voice sounded.
"Thank the Estall." Her sister dropped down on the side of the bed and hugged her, nearly smothering her with her exuberance.
Meghianna gasped, partly laughter, and raised one hand to rub her eyes. She looked around the room. From the tapestries on the walls and the gleam of the wood furnishings, she guessed they had either been put in the king's room, or the very best guest chamber in the entire castle.
"What did you say to Queen Glyssani?"
"I said you were weak and tired from the journey and from sending the latest star-metal lump home to the Stronghold. I also thought to tell them that we had come here specifically so you could rest without people seeing you and worrying that something was wrong, that being so drained was a normal part of the harvesting."
"Very clever."
"I thought so." Megassa preened for a moment, then her smirk crumpled back to worry. "What happened?"
"A vision."
"Oh, I figured that out easily enough. Anybody with the slightest bit of imbrose, no matter how muted, could have heard the chimes all the way to the sea." She got up and stepped over to a table laden with wine and fruit and cakes.
"Braenlicach woke when I touched Glyssani's hand."
"I knew--oh, specifically her? That could be trouble." Megassa poured wine for both of them and selected a cake dripping with honey and dark with raisins to give her.
"My eternal thanks," Meghianna mumbled as she took too large a bite of the cake. Her stomach shrieked and stabbed her, punishment for neglecting it after the draining of the vision. "No, I don't think," she said thickly through the mouthful, and then swallowed it, "that this particular outcry from the sword is trouble at all. I think I've found Papa's true love."
"What?" She looked as if she was about to burst out laughing, but the sound caught in her throat. She took up a handful of early lavendar berries and settled down on the foot of the bed again, poised for a long talk, just like they had done as children.
"I saw Glyssani sitting on Papa's lap, laughing with him, and the light in Papa's eyes..." Meghianna shook her head, swallowing hard to fight down the surge of envy and hopelessness that threatened to smother her as effectively as the vision had. "If anyone ever looks at me like Papa looked at her, I will move the roots of the land and the sky-web itself to ensure that we may always be together."
"So I guess that was Braenlicach giving its approval?" She chewed for a few seconds, eyes half-closed in deep thought. "Did the vision show you anything about the trouble Papa suspects, that brought us here in the first place?"
"Death hovers over Markas, waiting to take his throne. There is magic already woven around Glyssani. Soft, subtle magic. Thinner than spider silk, taking years to grow strong around her." She shivered, so her sister leaned across the length of the bed to clasp her hand. "There are years yet until the magic is so strong and deeply rooted in her that she will never break free."
"Seven years, I'll wager," Megassa said, her voice tightening. "The years left until her son's majority, when he can claim the throne. When she is free of her vow and Timark can pressure her to marry him."
"Or not pressure her at all. Simply crook his finger and have her comply," she said, nodding as she caught what her sister meant.
"And then when the prince is safely crowned king and the bride is safely bedded--" Megassa slapped her hands together. "Disaster. The new king is tragically dead in a very obvious accident, but praise the Estall for his blessings, the new bride is with child, and what is more logical than to make the dead king's half-brother his heir?"
"I think it is time we did something about that magic web, and then spin some magic of our own to protect Markas." Meghianna sipped her wine, closing her eyes as fragments of her vision returned to her. She had indeed seen Markas crowned and sitting on a throne, and all the people around him rejoicing. Then a moment later, the young king lay on his funeral bier, waiting for the pyre to be lit around him. She saw Glyssani holding a child, pale and still grieving, and Timark of Welcairn sat on the throne and gloated over the child. Then a moment later, Glyssani glowed with joy and health, and handed a rosy, struggling infant to Efrin, to hold out for all the Court of the Warhawk to see and cheer.
Glyssani was destined to be the Warhawk's queen, his true love, and mother of his heir. But as Mrillis and her other teachers had taught her, Meghianna knew that nothing seen in a vision was set in stone. The fact that she saw glimpses of two possible futures warned her that she and her sister stood at the watershed moment. The most insignificant step they took could have disastrous or wonderful consequences for the future and the lives of their hosts and their father, and they might never know until the moment had passed.
"I honestly don't want to have to call on Papa about this," Megassa said with a grim smile. "He sent us to assess the situation without anyone being suspicious."
"Speaking of suspicious..." She smiled as a thought came to her. Perhaps the Estall had put the idea into her mind? She was willing to believe in such things. "Remember what Pirkin told us, about all the rumors that Glyssani is so frequently ill? Who is the premier healer in the entire World?"
"Ah, yes, the remarkably talented, young, strong Queen of Snows. Who, by the blessings of the Estall," her sister said with a grin as she leaped to her feet and bowed, "just happens to be here in Welcairn to offer her services." She snorted. "After you recover from the strain of your journey of course. I'm sorry, Meggi. I thought that story would help us."
"It still does." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and took the precaution of putting down the cup of wine before she tried to stand. Meghianna didn't doubt she had fully recovered from the shock of the vision, but there was no harm in being careful.
"Better?" Megassa stepped up to offer her hand, but her sister waved her away.
"Fully recovered." She picked up the wine cup and drained it. "Megs, don't say anything to anyone about Glyssani being Papa's true love. Most especially not to Papa. Visions have a way of turning nasty if people try to help them along. That's why most prophecies are spoken in such oblique ways, to warn us but not give us much time to try to affect them, one way or the other."
"That's not very friendly."
"No, but it does force us to live as the Estall requires--by faith, and not by our own wisdom and strength." She laughed and brushed her hair out of her face. "Now, how much time have we lost from our lovely visit with our gracious hosts?"
&nb
sp; Megassa laughed, clearly understanding what her sister intended. They would play the royal ladies to the hilt, stunning Welcairn's nobles, impressing and dazzling them until they couldn't think straight, and make them think the Warhawk's daughters cared more about dresses and parties and royal status than anything else. Meghianna had learned long ago that the small-minded and grasping preferred to think the worst about everyone around them, especially those of higher rank and responsibility. Those who wanted to see them as social creatures would never trip over the contradiction of a highly trained warrior and an enchantress under all their fancy clothes and manners and paint.
* * * *
Ynessa, Pirkin's sweetheart, arrived less than twenty minutes later, with a handful of Glyssani's ladies to help the two sisters prepare for dinner. Meghianna exclaimed over the bath of hot, scented water, and had to fight to scowl rather than laugh when Megassa, with mischief in her eyes, regaled the maids on the marvels of luxury in the Stronghold, starting with springs of water that were eternally hot, no need to heat water for washing or bathing. She let the ladies pamper her, and listened to her sister tell one fantastic tale after another about the wonders of the deepest, most closely guarded treasure of the Rey'kil. Considering that Megassa had never visited the Stronghold, Meghianna thought she did a marvelous job of mixing truth with blatant fantasizing. She returned again and again to the dangers of the Lake of Ice that guarded the entrance to the Stronghold, the bodies of enemies trapped forever in rotting agony, giving warning to all who would try to storm the magical defenses. True, there were skeletons scattered here and there along the pebbly shore, but they were kept hidden in fog and mist so that the inhabitants of the Stronghold never saw them. Those who came to accost the Queen of Snows and her ladies with evil intent encountered every one as if they followed a map to each spot.
Meghianna made a mental note to check the archives and learn which of her predecessors had thought of that particularly useful and practical bit of magic, and how she had kept it strong through so many centuries. She might need to use such an enchantment in the future.
"Are you well, Lady?" Ynessa asked, resting a hand on Meghianna's shoulder when she shivered at that chance thought.
"I...sense star-metal that needs harvesting. My burden is a strong sense of duty," she added, forcing a smile despite the ripple of reaction among the ladies attending her and Megassa.
That was definitely fear darkening a few faces, widening eyes, making several tremble. Didn't it occur to them that any star-metal in their kingdom had to be far away, or else nothing wholesome and strong could grow near their castle? Welcairn had been taking the longest to be thoroughly cleansed from the poisoning, simply because it was one of the largest kingdoms on Moerta. Its unwieldy size had also allowed it to thrive during the centuries of devastation from star-showers, giving its people enough clean land for growing their crops, and raising their herds and families. Other kingdoms had withered up and died because there simply wasn't anywhere to live that wasn't overrun with warped plants and animals that had turned into monsters because of star-metal's influence.
She thanked Ynessa when the young woman finished braiding her hair with ribbons, and grasped her hand to keep her from walking away immediately. Warmth spread through her at the contact, and she saw Pirkin and Ynessa laughing together, a baby in her arms and three boys of widely varying ages wrestling and playing at their feet. Meghianna wondered, just for a moment, if her prolonged exposure to the star-metal as she refined it and gathered it to send home to the Stronghold had made her more sensitive. Or was this simply the Estall's plan for her, to suffer multiple visions in a short time? Certainly this vision fading from her eyes was a pleasant one, and no strain at all.
"Lady?" Ynessa whispered, leaning closer. "Your eyes--"
"I have Seen... yes, you and your sweetheart will be very happy together. A joyous marriage, and fruitful." Meghianna laughed when the young woman blushed.
"Do I have your blessing, then?"
"What do you need my blessing for?"
"I am half Rey'kil, an orphan, and only by the grace of Queen Glyssani am I given any rank or protection. If anyone knew of my heritage..." Ynessa glanced over her shoulder at the other ladies.
Welcairn was poisoned with more than raw star-metal, Meghianna decided.
"Does Pirkin know?" she whispered. It pained her to realize she had no idea how the young Valor felt about magic, and such strong magic potential, in others. He had come to terms with his own imbrose, relieved that he had not inherited his mother's and grandparents' great strength. She feared that despite the things he had been taught, the acclaim and acceptance he had received, he would always have a distrust of magic, and especially the Rey'kil half of his heritage.
"He knows, and he sympathizes with me. He understands." Ynessa glanced over her shoulder at the other ladies. None of them appeared interested in their conversation.
Meghianna wondered how many of them were more than a little relieved not to have to attend her? Then again, the glamour that surrounded Megassa, princess and Valor, had to be far more attractive than the mystique and power of the Queen of Snows. She reached up to touch her braids. In the last year, the white had grown even more predominant. She feared by the time she passed her twenty-first birthday, her hair would be pure white.
"What makes you smile so, Lady?"
"My hair." She giggled when Ynessa shook her head and frowned, confused. "I just remembered a passage in Lady Ceera's journal, how her sweetheart teased her that her hair, which had been silver in childhood and turned snowy white as she grew in her power, had a tendency to glow in the dark."
"Who would say such a cruel thing?"
"Not cruel. Loving. Laughing." She sighed, longing for love that didn't seem to be part of her destiny. "It is a mark of great power, and some say the Estall's blessing, for a Rey'kil enchanter's hair to be pure white and to glow with light. Lord Mrillis adored Lady Ceera, and his words were spoken with love." She sighed again. "Love allows you to find humor in nearly everything, I suppose."
"Ah. I understand." Ynessa's eyes sparkled, and Meghianna suspected she remembered a few incidents with Pirkin.
"Marry him as soon as you are able," she told her. "You will have many long years together, and your souls are made to create glorious music to please the Estall, but only if merged together. Don't delay your happiness any longer than necessary."
"Music to please the Estall," Ynessa whispered, and a touch of pink graced her cheeks.
A knock on the door sent one of Megassa's attendants running to answer it, and halted the chatter in the room. The girl, who had dark chestnut curls escaping her cap, frowned as she crossed the room to Meghianna and curtseyed.
"Regent Timark's apologies, Lady, but he regrets to inform you that Queen Glyssani has fallen ill again, and will be unable to entertain you tonight."
"Again?" Meghianna glanced at Megassa, and her sister stood, brushing aside the ladies who continued to braid her hair and paint her face. Part of her imbrose talent that remained through the binding magic was an ability to project emotions and augment her appearance. Her warrior aspect enfolded her now, adding height to her appearance, breadth to her shoulders, and an overall darkening of her aspect.
"I am sure Queen Glyssani is only temporarily indisposed," Meghianna said, holding her sister's gaze. "No need for alarm or to suspect ill of anything or anyone."
Megassa nodded and made a visible effort to calm and relax. She sat down, but the four ladies attending her didn't hurry to resume their tasks of decorating her.
"Please convey my respects to Regent Timark. I would be honored to tend to Queen Glyssani. The healing talents are the greatest treasures of the Queen of Snows, and the highest purpose of the Stronghold. It is only right that I employ my gifts from the Estall to her benefit."
"Oh, thank you, Lady." The ladies maid curtseyed again. "But I doubt Regent Timark will..." She swallowed, suddenly nervous and pale. "He will not permit it. He does not
like employing magic anywhere within Welcairn's boundaries."
"Magic is employed all day long. How does this kingdom even exist, except through the use of magic to cleanse and heal it?"
"He will not be pleased or willing to allow you to see her."
When Meghianna went down to the great hall to speak with him, Regent Timark was all unctuous smiles and words so overwhelmingly pleasant, they seemed to drip perfumed oil. He couldn't hide his distaste for Meghianna when she approached him and repeated her insistence that she must help tend Queen Glyssani. His fear and dislike for her--and something else, some sense of secrets and desperation--shone clear in his eyes. It made the wide smile in his fleshy face and his booming, cheerful voice into a travesty, a twisted mockery of something once wholesome and strong.
"Forgive my bluntness," he said, shaking his head, when she insisted for the third time that the queen could be in no more skilled hands for healing. Meghianna noticed he didn't even bother with titles and polite address this time. "Welcairn has no trust in magic, and no liking for it. You may depend on it to keep the breath in your body. We in this kingdom are strong enough to take care of ourselves with the wisdom and skills the Estall gave us, and no weakening reliance on unnatural things."
"Unnatural? When the Estall gave us imbrose, implanted it in our very blood and bones?" She nearly laughed aloud at his illogical assertion.
"Take away star-metal and the power it produces, and what happens? No magic. Star-metal is poison. As soon as it's all gone, no more magic. There'll be no difference between Rey'kil and Noveni any longer. Then we'll see who is the stronger and wiser, won't we?"
"As long as the World remains, star-metal will continue to fall on our land and seas," she responded with a sense of calm that amazed her. She wanted to slap him hard. Maybe knocking him to the floor or against the wall would wake him up, crack something open so some common sense could get through his thick, stubborn skull. Yet something rose up from deep inside to restrain her, making her stand taller, putting a quiet assurance in her voice that echoed off the ceiling despite the softness of her words.
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 14