"And the Estall made the Rey'kil to gather it up and keep it from damaging the rest of us. Just because you feed off poison doesn't make you better than the rest of us." His nostrils flared, his eyes widened, and dark color flushed his cheeks for a moment.
She nearly smiled at his momentary discomfort. He had realized just what he had let slip. A wise man didn't let his enemies know what he thought of them, because it gave them warning. Meghianna wouldn't exactly call Timark wise, but he was clever, a schemer, and grasping. That made him dangerous.
"You must excuse me, Lady. I didn't not mean those words as they came out. It was not my intent to insult." He managed a strained, crooked smile, and bowed to her.
No, she agreed, you had no intent of revealing your mind and heart. I am well warned now. And so is my father.
"I have been out in the field for many days, ensuring the safety of my kingdom. To return home and find my dear Glyssani stricken once again, it is enough to push any man into misleading statements."
"I understand completely, Lord Timark." Meghianna gave him a shallow curtsey, certainly more signal of honor than he deserved, and excused herself.
He calls Welcairn his kingdom. I don't like it that he refers to her as his dear Glyssani. Especially in light of my vision. Megs, be ready for a council of war! she called through the Threads.
Meghianna shooed the few remaining ladies from their suite when she returned. She paced several times up and down the length of the front room, gathering her thoughts before she related to her sister her encounter with Lord Timark.
"Convenient that she fell ill when he returned," Megassa remarked.
"Maybe he suspects our other reasons for coming here?"
"If he's smart, he should be very worried that we have the authority to spirit Glyssani and Markas away to safety." She dropped heavily onto the edge of her bed and shook her head. "That's not good. We don't want a smart enemy. Well, what do you think we should do now? Storm the castle ourselves, or call for reinforcements?"
"Definitely we should let Papa know what has happened. Lord Mrillis felt Braenlicach react, and he knows I will report as soon as I know what is really happening here. I am sure he will be listening." A little laugh escaped her. "Even though it is halfway to morning in Lygroes."
"If you have the power to live forever, I suppose you don't really need sleep, do you?" her sister mused.
"What?" Meghianna paused in settling herself to be comfortable for what promised to be a long communication through the Threads.
"Well, that's what everyone says. He's tied directly to the Zygradon, and rumors are that as long as the bowl of magic exists, Mrillis will never die. That sounds lovely, until you stop and think how horrid it must be to see everyone around you get old and weak and ill and die, while you just go on and on." Megassa made a sour face. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
"So am I." Meghianna tried to push that image to the back of her mind so it wouldn't intrude when she contacted Mrillis through the Threads. She took a few deep breaths, made sure she was comfortable, then closed her eyes and reached with mental hands for the Threads.
It was an odd experience she didn't want to repeat, carrying on a conversation among four people when only two could communicate directly. Mrillis went to wake Efrin and inform him of what had happened, as soon as Meghianna gave him a clear mental picture of the situation. Her father asked Mrillis questions, which he passed on. When they included Megassa into the conversation, Meghianna didn't have to speak to her sister, but the effort of bringing her into the conversation and holding the Threads open so she could speak and hear strained her.
Efrin promised he would call on Lord Goaran, a cousin of dead King Markas who was fifth in line for the throne, and whom everyone had expected to be named co-regent with Glyssani. He spent all his time in Lygroes, and openly admitted it was because he and Timark did not work well together. Efrin did not dare move against Welcairn without the blessing and cooperation of other members of the royal family. He thanked his daughters for the work they had done so far, and asked them to do whatever they felt necessary to ensure the safety of Queen Glyssani and her son.
"We should have thought of that," Megassa said, when the conversation ended. She flopped backwards on her bed, visibly drained by the effort of communicating through the Threads. "The poor boy. All ignored through this. I wonder if Timark has made any move against him. We have to find his rooms and wrap a good warning and protecting spell around him."
"It's not that easy." Meghianna shook her head, amused despite the situation, because of her sister's continuing insistence that spells were easy to create and could do anything necessary. Magic was not all-powerful and all-curing, as the uneducated preferred to believe.
"You don't have to," a boy's voice said, coming from the tapestry at the head of Meghianna's bed.
The thick material shuddered and rippled, accompanied by the sound of wood grating on stone. Meghianna climbed up on her bed, walked to the head and yanked the tapestry from behind the ornately carved headboard, in time to see a heavy wooden panel slide up into the thick stonework of the wall. Cleverly designed pins kept it up and out of the way, so Markas could climb through. She stood back and let him clamber over the headboard.
"Oh, no..." Megassa groaned. "It's our fault."
"What is?" She jumped down from the bed and waited for the boy to join her on the floor.
"That panel. There are tunnels in the walls, aren't there?"
"Everywhere. We used to be attacked by the Encindi every few years, when my father was a boy. Farnal, the seneschal, taught me all about them when I was little." Markas nodded, and rubbed at the grime smearing his face.
"What do you wager that some of Timark's people know about the passages, too, and spied on us and heard us talking?"
"Oh." Meghianna sat down again, momentarily overwhelmed by the flood of guilt. They hadn't been cautious in their words, so used to the privacy and security they enjoyed in the Warhawk's fortress and among their loyal people. It had never occurred to her that someone would distrust and expect the worst, and set others to spy and eavesdrop. "I'm sorry, Highness. Our father sent us here to determine if you and your mother were in danger, and here we've only added to it."
"Do you think all her illnesses are caused by Timark?" Megassa said.
"Mother is hardly ever ill. She only pretends it when she knows Timark tries to make her sick to control her." Markas nodded for emphasis. "She has enough imbrose to sense poisons and when something isn't right in her food. He came into her room and offered her a cup of wine and when she refused it, he got angry. He sent all her women away and they argued. She was worried that something would happen, so she told me to hide, and I saw and heard everything." The boy wrapped his arms around himself, trembling with mixed rage and fear. "He forced her to drink it, and then he carried her away." He swallowed hard. "She's not even in the castle anymore."
"You will not leave our side," Megassa said, leaping to her feet. She wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders, giving him a comradely hug, as the women warriors who raised her did.
"We will protect you. And we will rescue your mother. I swear it on the honor of the Stronghold and on the authority of the Warhawk's throne," Meghianna added.
"He's taken her away. And I think I know where. To Tantagar." The boy rubbed at his eyes, smearing them with more grime from the passageways he had probably been lurking in for hours now. "It's in land that's still poisoned. He uses it for people who cause him trouble. People who go there... when they get out, they never say what happened, and some even say he did nothing to them. But I think just going through there and staying alone in the tower all surrounded by monsters, that has to be bad enough."
"Don't worry," Megassa said. "The Warhawk will send warriors to rescue your mother and get rid of Timark once and for all."
"That will take moons, just crossing the sea and getting here." Despite his words, the boy's face brightened with hope.
"No, it w
ill not take moons. There is the tunnel under the sea. We are just past the half-moon. If the soldiers are ready in two days, they will be here at Welcairn Castle at the full moon, and on their way to Tantagar."
"What tunnel?" Markas asked.
"What do you mean, what tunnel?" Megassa laughed.
"Megs... most people don't know about the tunnel because we don't allow anyone to use it except for Stronghold business. You remember when we first started across Moerta, you thought it was so funny that everyone assumed we sailed here, when we actually came through the tunnel. After what happened to Le'esha, Queen of Snows..." Meghianna sighed. This loss of knowledge was another sign of the rot growing deep in Moerta, sundering the partnership between Rey'kil and Noveni that had been bought with blood and pain and generations of hard work.
How much of the unreasoning Noveni prejudice against Rey'kil could be blamed on the Rey'kil holding grudges, and how much could be blamed on the Encindi danger? Mrillis was right when he told her, years ago, that the Encindi were easier to handle and the partnership between Rey'kil and Noveni more peaceful back when the Encindi had their own land to retreat to when they were beaten. With the destruction of Flintan decades ago, the Encindi had nowhere to go except deeper into enemy territory. Desperation, and nowhere to go but forward, gave them a ferocity and stubbornness that made them hard to destroy. The Noveni blamed the Rey'kil for the continuing drain on resources and the inability to dispose of their centuries-old enemy once and for all. The Rey'kil loathed the Noveni's constant whining and the obligation to work with people who didn't respect them, for the sake of everyone's safety and welfare. The old grumbling and attacks on Noveni homesteads on Lygroes that had occurred in the days of Mrillis' youth had resumed, to force all Noveni to flee Lygroes and leave the continent entirely to the Rey'kil.
Meghianna and Mrillis shared a fear that when the last Noveni finally fled to Moerta and there were no one but Rey'kil and Encindi living on Lygroes, all communication and connection between the two continents would sever. No matter how the Encindi continued to attack the Noveni continent, Rey'kil would refuse to honor the alliance any longer. And use magic to seek out and destroy every Encindi, whether friend or foe.
Megassa explained the existence of the tunnel between the continents and the magic that maintained it and compressed time, so that a voyage of half a moon on the surface only took two days on foot. Markas was suitably impressed. His request to go see the tunnel, and travel to meet the Warhawk's forces, struck the sisters silent.
"We do have to get him out of the castle as soon as possible, don't we?" Megassa said, turning to her sister.
"Timark's bullies are probably looking for me right now, tearing apart every room. The ones who know about the passages in the walls are probably on their way here," the boy added. His expression was so hopeful, so eager for an adventure, Meghianna had to laugh.
"Very well, my lord prince, I think it is time to show you many different levels of magic, all at once." She stood up and gestured at the wall pegs where extra dresses had been hung to air and smooth out the wrinkles that invariably came from traveling in packs for days at a time. "You will have to wear a dress--"
"A dress?" the boy squawked.
"You don't think they'd let a servant boy leave with us, do you?" Megassa said, her nose wrinkling with scorn. "If I were searching for a runaway, the first place I'd look is among the servants, and anyone trying to leave the castle."
"I'll look mightily silly in a dress," Markas protested.
"Not with a good layer of magic wrapped around you to change your appearance."
"Then what do you need me to wear a dress for?"
"This is your first lesson in magic," Meghianna said, and held out her hand, drawing the dresses across the room to her. She snorted, muffling more laughter, when the boy's eyes widened at the sight of the dresses flying across the room seemingly under their own power. "Whenever possible, don't use magic. Save it for things you can't otherwise do with your hands and creativity. Magic has limits. The sea might seem endless, but if you drain enough of it away, you will eventually find yourself with nothing but sand and dead fish."
"Oh. Of course." The boy frowned and his eyes unfocused. Meghianna guessed he was still trying to fully comprehend the idea that magic wasn't a bottomless well. She took advantage of his distraction to hold several dresses up to him. Fortunately, Markas was nearly the right height, being in the middle of the usual growth spurt for boys his age. She chose the dress, and Megassa persuaded the boy to peel off his tunic and vest and boots and put on their spare undergarments.
"I didn't realize woman had to wear so many clothes," the boy grumbled as they fussed with ties and lacing and petticoats. "No wonder you wear trousers when you travel."
"I'm sure you'll start to appreciate the effect of a good layer of petticoats in a few years," Megassa assured him, as she finished lacing up the back of the borrowed dress. Over Markas' head, she crossed her eyes at her sister. Meghianna had to turn away to hide her expression as she fought not to laugh aloud.
With magic, she lightened Markas' hair and lengthened it so it flowed in a riot of curls over his shoulders and down his back, then fitted a maid's cap over his head. She had to take several deep breaths and remind herself this was not for fun, but to save the boy's life. Still, she could hardly keep her hands steady, either physical or mental, as she wove the Threads around the boy to alter his appearance and give him a girl's curves and change the shape of his face to soften it, widen and sharpen his cheekbones, diminish his nose and give it a perky tilt, and paint an illusion of softness and dainty color to cover up a tan and a strong jaw.
"I'm sure you'll be delighted to know you have the beginnings of a beard," she murmured, as she stood back and surveyed her handiwork.
"Really?" Markas raised his hand to stroke his chin. "I thought so, but I was afraid to tell anyone." He frowned. "I don't feel it."
"What good is an illusion if someone can touch you and feel the difference?" She nodded, pleased. "I suppose this is what your sister would have looked like, if your mother had ever given you one."
The boy approached the mirror sitting on the dressing table with some trepidation. His mouth dropped open and he went pale, then blushed. Megassa burst out laughing and fell backwards onto the bed, clutching her stomach, when the boy went back a second and third time to examine his reflection. To Meghianna's relief, a grin cracked the boy's face and he laughed with them.
A tapping on the door shocked them all to silence. When Meghianna called out, Ynessa answered. She hurried into the room almost before the door opened wide enough to admit her.
"Lady, I'm sorry, but I thought I should warn--" She stopped short at the sight of Markas, greatly altered, standing there in a green dress. "Do I know you?"
"This is Mara, who just started working in the castle a few days ago," Meghianna said. "She's from a village on the far southern border of Welcairn."
"No, Lady, she is not." Ynessa shook her head. "We don't have time to worry about such things. Do you trust this girl?"
"With our lives," Megassa hurried to say. "What's wrong?"
"I overheard Lord Timark give instructions to lock up the castle and let no one out, and to drug your wine at dinner so you wouldn't try to leave or cause him trouble. Then he rode away, and I swear I heard one of his men say he was going to Tantagar."
"I told you," Markas said.
Meghianna's magic hadn't changed his voice, and the sound of an adolescent boy's voice coming from a young woman's mouth startled Ynessa, so she took several hasty steps backwards until she ran up against the door. Then astonishment opened her eyes wide and she smiled uncertainly.
"Markas?"
"They're helping me sneak out, so we can get help. The Warhawk is coming to rescue Mother," the boy hurried to explain.
"We all had better leave quickly, if we don't want to be taken prisoner and forced to fight our way free," Megassa said. "Ynessa, do you want to come with us?"
"I have an idea," Meghianna said, before the young woman could respond. Judging by the brightness in her eyes, she was about to say yes.
She contacted Pirkin through the Threads, startling the young man enough that he listened and didn't ask a single question. Then Meghianna stomped down the stairs to the main hall of the castle, prepared to throw a temper tantrum to make up for all the tantrums she had never thrown. Long ago, Nalla had told her that a powerful woman's strongest weapon was to refrain from reminding people of her power. At all times, she should act and speak and move with restraint and delicacy, and most of all discretion and reasonableness. Then, when she found it necessary to demand and to scream and vent her temper, the shock of the contrast with her usual behavior would be enough to get her anything she wanted.
Meghianna hoped people would be so intimidated by the image she planned to present, no one would realize that one more person left the castle that evening than entered it that afternoon.
She demanded Timark's presence. When the sullen man-at-arms said he was gone, she demanded Glyssani. When told that the queen was ill and on one was permitted to intrude on her, Meghianna demanded Lord Markas, then the seneschal, then anyone of any power whatsoever in the castle. With each demand unanswered, her voice grew harsher and louder, and she increased the magical nimbus enfolding her. Within fifteen minutes of stomping down the stairs, sparks and tiny bursts of lightning spun out to bounce off the walls and ceiling of the great hall. The sight of people in Welcairn livery ducking and dodging was enough to make her want to laugh--but she couldn't, because she had everything invested in presenting an unreasonable, shrewish, arrogant manner and face and voice.
"Enough of this!" She flung up her hands and blood-red sparks shot through the air, making more than a dozen harried, increasingly fearful people duck and leap back out of the way. "I have never been so rudely treated in all my life. I refuse to stay in this pestilent hole one more minute. Megassa!" Magic augmented her voice, so it echoed and rang throughout the castle, and everyone within view cringed. "We are leaving immediately!"
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 15