Mrillis met the first returnees from the brief battle, directing the wounded and those who helped them to the tent set up for healing. Meghianna stayed in front of her father's tent with Ynessa, waiting for Efrin to bring Glyssani and Markas and Pirkin out with him. She didn't know whether to be amused or irritated at how Ynessa did nothing but pace, nearly tripping over the camp stools set around the fire, nearly knocking over the bowls waiting for the stew or the cups waiting for the hot drink. Despite the prejudice against her for her Rey'kil blood, obviously Ynessa had high enough rank and respect that she wasn't used to domestic chores.
The humor in the situation--that the Queen of Snows knew more about such things--had just struck Meghianna when she saw Efrin in the tower doorway.
The weary giggle died in her throat as she saw her father lead Glyssani out, holding her hand, his other arm around her shoulder. She in turn had her free arm wrapped around Markas. It was hard to tell which man she leaned on more. Perhaps it was both. All Meghianna knew was that they looked like a family already.
Tears joined the full-to-bursting sensation inside her, stealing her breath, as she wondered if she and Megassa and their father had ever really been a family. Yes, in some respects, because she knew her father loved them both, and she and her sister loved him. He was their guide and guard and friend, someone they both wanted to please and make proud of them. And Efrin in his turn wanted to take care of them and spoil them. Their increasing independence and strength sometimes tore at him, because they were no longer his adorable little girls whom he could carry on his shoulders and shower with useless, delightful trinkets and surprises.
Now is the wrong time for such thoughts, Meghianna scolded herself. It was useless to feel jealousy for something that she hadn't actually missed. Except that she wondered what the path of her life would have been if Ceera hadn't seen her years before her birth and named her as Queen's Heir, or if she had been born a boy, and her father's heir.
"They're all right," Ynessa said, her voice just as choked with emotion as Meghianna felt. Megassa and Pirkin appeared from the dust and gloom of battle and dying torches and the chaos as the tower emptied. She hurried forward, and for a moment it was an even contest between her sweetheart and her queen, who she would attend to first.
Glyssani embraced Ynessa only briefly, and then turned the young woman and nearly shoved her into Pirkin's arms. Meghianna's estimation of the woman's perceptiveness and generosity rose many notches, just from that little gesture. She stepped forward, holding out the pitcher of restorative drink in one hand, and a string of camp cups in the other.
"You're wonderful," Megassa said with a rasping laugh, and pretended to stagger as she stepped up to help Meghianna pour. Their little group stopped right there, halfway between the tower and the camp.
"How are you, Highness?" Meghianna asked.
"She's a wonder, herself," Efrin said. He had recaptured Glyssani's hand the moment she released Ynessa, and now he kissed the queen's fingertips before putting her hand into Meghianna's grasp. "Please, Meggi, check that she hasn't been harmed?"
A pretty blush tinted Glyssani's cheeks, and all the heaviness in Meghianna's chest fled at that sure sign that the attraction was indeed mutual. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, and turned her vision sideways, to call up her imbrose and check the queen's condition, physical as well as emotional.
Thank you, blessed Estall, she thought, when several seconds of discrete glimpses into Glyssani's outer thoughts revealed no brutality, no abuse, nothing that she tried to hide in shame. Perhaps Timark had still intended to win her with lies and pretty manners, or perhaps he had simply been too busy with the siege of his tower to threaten or abuse his prisoner.
I can hear you, Glyssani thought back to her, wonder and weariness mixed in her mental tone.
You have some imbrose then, Highness. Please try to hold still, with your mind as well as your body, while I examine you?
What did you mean, when you thanked the Estall?
I was grateful your captor did you no lasting harm.
Indeed, thank the Estall. And thank you, for watching out for my boy.
Highness, Markas is nearly a man grown and well able to take care of himself. He contributed just as much to the rescue as the rest of us, Meghianna said. She laughed aloud at the ripple of surprise and consternation from the queen.
The woman laughed with her a moment later, confirming yet again the strongly favorable impression she had of her from the beginning.
Oh, Papa, she thought, keeping those thoughts in particular shielded. Be happy. She will make you happy. You will both be very good for each other.
* * * *
"If I didn't like her so much, I think I'd be disgusted," Megassa said, as their triumphant rescue party approached the gates of Welcairn Castle two days later.
"Why?" Meghianna mirrored her sister's mischievous grin. She knew exactly what Megassa referred to.
They rode two horse lengths behind their father and Queen Glyssani, and spent quite a bit of the journey watching the two of them. They had a private wager between them, over the day and the manner in which Efrin and Glyssani would reveal that they were officially courting.
Meghianna couldn't decide if everyone around them was simply too exhausted from the siege, or they were too politely discrete to reveal that they noticed the longing glances, the blushes, the many touches on wrist and shoulder and hand. Glyssani looked ten years younger, just from the sparkles in her eyes and her many blushes. As for Efrin, Meghianna thought she understood what was meant when someone referred to a gawky young lover as being calf-eyed. Who would have thought the mighty Warhawk, wielder of Braenlicach, High King and protector of two continents, would be tongue-tied, and prone to sighs and ridiculous grins, one on top of the other?
"They look ridiculous, but they're so obviously happy..." Megassa sighed. "I think I would do anything to have someone look at me the way they look at each other."
"Ninny." She laughed when her sister sat up straight in her saddle and gave her a wide-eyed look of surprise. "I've seen a dozen men at one time look at you like that, but you never noticed."
"Hmm, I suppose it would be inconvenient, or at the very least irritating, if I didn't feel the same way in return, wouldn't it?" Nodding, her sister slouched in her saddle again, but the look she focused on their father and future stepmother held more thoughtfulness now.
"Don't envy them too much," Mrillis said, dropping back from his place in the long line of horsemen to ride next to Meghianna. "Politics will keep them apart for a few more years."
"Isn't there anything we can do to help?" Meghianna asked, pitching her voice low, and realizing it might just be too late already. Someone must have overheard their conversation. She didn't like the idea of the rest of the world discussing her father's first serious tumble into love in far too many years.
"Short of bending time so that Markas can become a grown man overnight?" He shook his head. That bemused smile that lit his weary face surprised Meghianna. "Don't begrudge them the years of waiting and testing of their love. I'm old enough to testify that the things you wait for--and yes, suffer for--are all the more precious when you finally attain them. They will have time to learn about each other and consider what a life together will hold for them. Just because you have seen their future and you have heard the resonance of their souls and you know that they are made to be one, that does not mean it will be instantaneous or easy for them."
"Why does he always have to be so wise and so right?" Megassa grumbled. A moment later, she stuck her tongue out at them, clucked to her mount, and moved up in the line to ride beside Pirkin and Ynessa.
"She's right," Meghianna said. "You can be quite irritating, always being right."
Mrillis tipped his head back and roared laughter.
She felt lighter, more alive, free of some indecipherable burden, when she joined in a few heartbeats later.
* * * *
Timark had
chosen to fling himself from the parapet where he had faced Efrin in battle, rather than admit defeat and submit to the Warhawk's justice. There was a short trial for the higher ranked men who had supported him in his rebellion, but Glyssani testified to the lies Timark told them, freeing them of much of the responsibility and consequences.
The Encindi woman who worked magic to defend the tower was nowhere to be found. The Valors who had the gift of looking into minds discovered odd patches of blankness in the memories of many of their prisoners, indicating just what she had done to effect her escape. The majority of the work to clean up after the siege tended to be exactly that, cleaning up, rather than dealing with prisoners and wounded and trials and punishment. Mrillis was glad for that, and grateful that Efrin was able to spend a decent portion of his time with Glyssani, rather than tending to duties of justice and war craft.
It wasn't enough time, in his estimation. Certainly not enough time to establish a decent courtship and relationship between the two. He repeated to himself the advice he had given Megassa and Meghianna, every time he grew impatient over the blockades that stood in the way of Efrin falling thoroughly in love with Glyssani--and claiming her as his queen and true love.
Those thoughts were heavy in his mind during the farewell and celebration feast Welcairn Castle gave to Glyssani's rescuers, eight days later. He surprised himself with a stab of irritation at Pirkin's response to Glyssani's ritual question of what he would desire as his reward for his part in her rescue.
"Highness, I would ask you to release my Lady Ynessa from her promised five more years in your service, and allow us to be betrothed and married, and make her my future queen." Pirkin spoke with just enough speed and smoothness to his words, Mrillis knew his grandson had practiced the request many times.
"She is very young," Glyssani said slowly. She glanced at the knot of her ladies, standing at the back of the dais, half-hidden in the shadows of the curtains.
"If I may offer some advice?" Efrin said, standing up from his seat at her right hand.
Mrillis noticed a ripple of reaction spread through the hall. This was Glyssani's moment, but it wasn't rude of him to intrude. He wondered what Efrin would say. Then Mrillis bit his lip against a grin when he realized he started to think of the Warhawk as 'the boy' again. It was good to see him a little uncertain, eager, with a spring in his step now that he had begun the sweet, dizzy fall into love.
"I value your wisdom, Majesty," Glyssani said, dropping a shallow curtsey.
Efrin stopped with his mouth open, eyes widening just enough that those sitting at the head table on the dais could see. Meghianna, sitting next to him, nudged Mrillis, as if he couldn't see for himself. He was delighted to see a faint blush touch Glyssani's cheeks.
"My queen, I beg you, do not stand in the way of true love. It is rare in this world. Those who think they help by advocating patience and common sense sometimes cheat young lovers of precious days and moons and years." Efrin caught up her hand and kissed the back, just a brush of his lips, enough contact for Glyssani to flinch and yank her hand away. And blush a little darker.
"You and I both know that time is a cruel ally. When we think we have many years to enjoy with the one who has claimed our hearts, that time is stolen away from us in the blink of an eye. I have seen Pirkin, son of King Pyris, with Lady Ynessa. He has treated her with honor and lives up to his name of Valor. Their love shone through all the dark days of the siege, even when their concern for your safety was first in their thoughts and actions. Let them have their happiness immediately, because we have no guarantee how much sand remains in the hourglass the Estall gives to each of us."
"My, I never knew Papa was such a poet," Megassa whispered, leaning against Meghianna so Mrillis on her other side could hear.
"I think it's charming," Meghianna whispered back.
"I'm surprised the whole countryside doesn't know how they feel by now." She sighed and sank back into her seat. "Please, Estall, let someone get so silly over me someday."
"If you think such talk is silly, how can you respect the man who uses such words?" her sister retorted.
"Hush, the both of you," Mrillis chided softly, and fought not to burst out laughing.
"My lord Warhawk, you could have commanded me," Glyssani said, just before the silence that rang between them grew noticeable.
Chapter Thirteen
"That is not the way of friends and allies." Efrin bowed to Glyssani and took a step back, turning to face Pirkin, whose face grew more strained with every heartbeat that passed. "I value Prince Pirkin ny Pyris highly, as a Valor, as a friend to my daughters, as an ally, for his father's sake, and for the sake of his grandfather, who has sacrificed so much for our entire World."
Mrillis ached, one sharp stab, when Pirkin's face went pale and his grandson twitched, visibly fighting not to look at him.
"For Lord Pirkin's sake, I wish his marriage to begin with your blessing, willingly and graciously given, and not coerced because you feel some small debt to me and mine."
"Coerced? Small debt?" She burst out laughing, a hearty sound that chimed off the beams of the high ceiling and warmed that cold spot that had settled around Mrillis' heart just a moment ago. "My Lord Warhawk... I do swear, I would gladly give you anything you ask for, no matter how small or large. Yes, gladly, I give my permission and my blessing to Ynessa and Pirkin. May they find their greatest happiness in each other." She caught her breath. "And may their good fortune spill over to bless all of us here today."
She is entirely lost, Meghianna observed, resting her hand on Mrillis' on the table to enhance their link, so he could feel her satisfaction. Thank the Estall, she feels the same about him as he does about her. May it be strong enough to last them however long they must wait to be together.
* * * *
Mrillis considered making excuses and leaving Moerta as soon as possible, but he had enough doubts about his feelings and reasons to make him hesitate. Did he want to leave before the arrangements were made for Ynessa and Pirkin's wedding festivities, so no one felt obligated to invite him? Did he fear meeting with Pyris after all these years, and learning just how far the bitter influence of his Noveni relatives had pushed him? Did he feel hurt by Pirkin's slight reaction to Efrin's praise and mention of him, so he wanted to run away and lick his wounds like a spoiled child deprived of a toy?
Meghianna stopped him. She asked him to ride with her while she finished this harvesting journey, even though her reasons for coming to Moerta had originally been a ruse. She asked him to share with her his memories of those early years, when he and Ceera and the original forgers of the Zygradon had walked in ignorance and faith and risked everything to protect the World. So Mrillis stayed, relieved to ride away with just Meghianna and her original four Valor guards, to gather and purify raw star-metal, and to remember. It surprised him to realize that the memories no longer ached. Even the mundane, sometimes tedious, routine of the harvesting held sweetness.
He took to calling up memories and displaying them in the light of sunset and the settling dust of the day, as their traveling party made camp. Mrillis found he enjoyed making his memories visible so others could share them. He could sometimes give himself the gift of illusion, just for a few minutes at a time, that Ceera and Emrillian were right there in front of him, laughing and chatting together, making camp, playing games with stones and strings. He had called up a memory of the very last harvest they shared as a family, just before Emrillian married Pyris, the evening Pirkin came to join them at their camp.
The young Valor rode up to their camp in silence.
The effort of calling up the memory and casting the spell that would let the events play out in soft colors and silence distracted Mrillis enough that he didn't realize his grandson stood on the edge of the camp. He sensed a new presence, but chose not to look away as he watched Emrillian dance around the fire, trailing streamers of multicolored light from her fingertips while Ceera played her flute. It was made of crystal an
d star-metal--he had forgotten that detail for so many years--and produced light as well as music as it was played. The song ended, the spill of birds and sparkles and flowers from the flute died away, and Emrillian went to her knees, laughing and flushed and breathless.
"Can you make her speak?" Pirkin asked, his voice rough. He stared at the illusion of Emrillian as it faded away into shadows and firelight. The aching hunger grew visible in his face as the gleam of tears filled his eyes.
"She speaks in your heart, if you're willing to listen," Mrillis said after a long, strained moment, when he could barely draw a breath, let along force words out.
"Why didn't you fight for me?"
He flinched when Meghianna got up from her place on a log pulled up by the fire, and gestured for the other Valors to follow her. "Fight to take you from your father, you mean? Or fight to come visit Goarlotte as an unwelcome, uncomfortable guest for a few days at a time each year?"
"I don't know." Pirkin cursed and kicked at a piece of firewood and stomped away a few steps. "I know you said he loved her, but how could he completely cut off all memory of her like he did?"
"How do you know he did? Just because he doesn't speak of her--most likely out of respect for your stepmother--doesn't mean Pyris has forgotten your mother." Mrillis settled on the log seat Meghianna had vacated, and when he gestured for Pirkin to join him, his grandson did so without hesitation.
"What if I had fought to possess you? What good would it have done us? The Warhawk throne was unsteady at that point, and the Encindi threat had doubled, tripled, encouraged by the wholesale slaughter of Athrar's family. I found healing in fighting. Escape, too. When you work hard all day so you drop into your blankets as if dead every night, you don't remember your dreams.
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 21