"Perhaps two moons. I wasn't sure until I started to feel unwell." She shrugged and wrinkled up her nose at Efrin. "I was utterly miserable with Markas, so I hope this is a good sign of--"
"No." Meghianna laughed when her stepmother's mouth dropped open. "It is too soon to tell if it is a boy or a girl, but yes, you are most definitely with child."
She finished the first step of examining the expectant mother, releasing her hands so she could press her palms flat along the barely noticeable curve of Glyssani's belly. She had learned from her many teachers, and from dealing with delicate pregnancies, that touch-sensing was less dangerous to mother and child. Using the Threads to examine the body didn't allow for a gentle enough touch. Sometimes the flow of energy in the Threads, even held in the most skillful hands, upset the balance of new life, and early enough in a pregnancy could cause miscarriage.
"When did you first start falling ill?" She bit her lip in concentration and closed her eyes more to block out the worried expressions around her. Efrin stepped up on the other side of his wife's couch and held her hand. Meghianna almost told her father to release Glyssani, that his touch interfered with the sensing, but she knew the expectant mother needed that bit of strength and support.
"Just about the time Megassa returned from her grand parade," Efrin said, his voice sour enough Meghianna opened her eyes to stare at her father.
"Papa? What's wrong?"
"I think I prefer her risking her neck, covered with mud and bruises and sending the Encindi raiders fleeing in terror." He shared a rueful look with Glyssani.
"Megassa has decided she likes being a grand lady, concerned with clothes and jewelry and dancing," the queen said. "Lorkin showers her with gifts and praise, now that she is safely his, and is pleasantly jealous of the attention she is getting from all sorts of nobles who wouldn't give her a second glance before. She decorates herself for him and pretends she never picked up a sword or arrow and... if it weren't so extreme, it might be amusing and sweet." She sighed and pressed her hand over her belly, at the same moment Meghianna felt the surge of nausea, the fractional shifting of balance in her blood. "With all the fuss of Megassa returning, after being the guest at fourteen estates in the last five moons... I thought I had merely pushed myself too hard."
"You ignored your own discomfort too long," Efrin corrected, and pressed a kiss to her curled fingers.
"There is something wrong, but not with the child," Meghianna said, taking her hands off Glyssani's belly and standing. She fought the urge to wring her hands together, as if she could wipe something foul off her fingers. "I think... Perhaps all the visitors in the fortress brought some illness with them."
"A fine hosting gift," Mrillis said, nodding. "It should be simple enough to treat, with tonics to cleanse the blood and strengthen your flesh."
"Why can't you just--" Efrin gestured helplessly, mimicking the motions Meghianna and Mrillis both used when they manipulated the Threads. Even though the work was done all with their minds and spirits, it helped sometimes to move their hands, to reinforce the movements.
"The Threads are full of too much power, and it is too much effort to restrain them, to have the delicate touch that will not scald the baby," Glyssani said.
She laughed when Efrin's mouth dropped open in surprise. "My love, I have studied magic quite a bit, in the years since Timark's foolish prejudice was removed from Welcairn. I do have some small bit of imbrose, enough to sense danger--and that served me well enough, we all know." She sighed. "I thought, if by the grace of the Estall I did give you a child, I should know the heritage that might come to him, or her."
"I don't care if we have a boy or a girl, as long as neither of you are harmed," he vowed, and dropped down on the couch on the spot where Meghianna had sat.
Mrillis beckoned for Meghianna to follow him out of the room, leaving the two alone.
We must determine the illness before we can safely dose her, he thought to her as they hurried out of the living quarters area, to his workroom.
I can give her something that will strengthen her, while we search, she responded. Now Meghianna did rub her fingers together. There is something... unclean, nibbling at her. I don't like it.
Ah, then it grew just in the short time since I went down to greet you. I sensed something, but it was too weak and small, like a shadow that flickers out of view whenever you turn your head to see it.
You think it is not an illness?
I don't know what to think, and that worries me more than anything else about this situation. Mrillis sighed. I am grateful you are home now, Meggi. We need you. You are a healer, gifted by the Estall, and I am only a boy who has stood in the doorway of the healing hall and watched.
* * * *
Megassa invaded the workroom before the potion was halfway completed, interrupting the discussion over the possibilities of Glyssani's illness. A whirlwind of ornate gowns and scarves, jewels and perfume accompanied her. Megassa's hugs and exclamations of delight turned into teasing scolding for her sister, for not coming to see her immediately, the moment she rode through the gates.
"You were out riding and I was sick of riding," Meghianna retorted. "I wanted to wash and rest a while before I was fit to see anyone."
"Hah! I know you too well, Meggi." Megassa giggled and hugged her again. "You barely said hello to Papa and Glyssani, and then you immured yourself here with Lord Mrillis, working on some nasty potion. Or is it another attempt to see into the future?" She stepped over to the table holding the box of sand, coals, and the metal stand that held up the tiny cauldron of bubbling potion.
"I have never..." Meghianna sighed and gave in to the inevitable. Megassa was in high spirits, and the harder someone tried to have a serious conversation with her, the more she would refuse.
"Welcome home, sister," Lorkin said, emerging from the cluster of court ladies in all their finery. He wore dark brown and gold, with amber stones in his few ornaments; ring and wristband and browband.
At least he doesn't affect stark black and silver all the time, she remarked to Mrillis. Then I would think he was entirely posturing and trying to frighten everyone into submission.
That earned a snort from the enchanter, who continued with his work as if there were no intruders in his workroom.
"Come along with us. The real festivities can begin, now that you're here," Megassa retorted, and caught hold of her sister's hands, physically threatening to drag her from the room.
"Go on," Mrillis said, when Meghianna opened her mouth to protest and turned to him for support. "You have worked far too hard and long. You need some foolery."
"Foolery!" Megassa squeaked, earning giggles from her friends.
Meghianna decided in that moment, she might just hate Lorkin for turning her sister into a brainless flutter of scarves and jewels.
"Very well," she sighed, and nodded toward the doorway. "I suppose you're going to insist on dressing me and painting me. It won't do you any good."
"Nonsense. You don't like dressing up because you simply haven't found the right clothes to bring out your beauty." Megassa tucked her sister's arm through hers and gestured, so the gaggle of women parted to let them out the door.
"There is a reason every Queen of Snows has always dressed in silver and white, Megs." From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Lorkin's scowl before he smoothed it away.
So he didn't like being reminded of her position. Why? Meghianna thought of the few mutters of unrest in the court, the first suggestions that Lorkin and Megassa be named regents for their firstborn son, who would be named Efrin's heir. Did Lorkin perhaps think that Meghianna still had a claim to the Warhawk's throne, since she was the firstborn, and Efrin's only legitimate child?
I have been watching him and listening to all the whispers and gossip. Trust me, Mrillis said, when Meghianna sent a silent query to him, worried by that suspicion.
I trust you. I simply don't trust anyone who seems to enjoy the games of court politics. Especially someone wh
o could have an ulterior motive for making my sister fall in love with him. I won't have Megs hurt. I'll rip his soul from his body and consign him to an eternity of torment if he does that.
Make Megassa fall in love? How can anyone make that girl do anything?
The utter ridiculousness of the notion cut through the knot just starting to form in Meghianna's belly. She laughed, just as her laughing captors hauled her through the doorway to Megassa's quarters. That made it easier for her to give in to the inevitable. In a way, it was almost pleasant to sit still, with her eyes closed, and let someone else fuss with her hair and rub sweetly scented lotions into her skin and chatter about clothes and colors. She let them dress her like a rag doll, and slipped into a pleasantly tired haze.
With silver paint around her eyes and pale pink tinting her cheeks and lips, she had to grudgingly admit that maybe Megassa did know what she was doing. Efrin's call of panic, reaching down to the soul level, came while Meghianna stared at the frothy confection of silver beads and ribbons that bound her hair high on her head.
Her father's panic, aided by the star-metal in the marriage band he wore, cut through Meghianna's wonder. She felt an echo of Glyssani's pain, sharp like claws digging into her belly, also brought to her through her star-metal marriage band. Meghianna dropped the silver mirror, leaped to run, and nearly tripped over the flimsy silver and pale blue gossamer robe her sister had insisted would look becoming on her. She was right, of course, but Meghianna hated the draping skirts that insisted on tangling around her legs as she fled her sister's room.
Mrillis met her, coming from his workroom. She beat him through the door to her father's quarters by two steps.
Glyssani lay curled up in a shivering ball on the floor, only a dozen steps from the couch where Meghianna had seen her a few hours before. By the blue and amber gown she wore and the jewels decorating her hair, she had been preparing for Court dinner. Blood and some other dark liquid stained her skirts. Meghianna felt a fierce delight that was half a need to pay for her frivolity, knowing her fancy clothes would be ruined, too, as she went to her knees and wrapped her arms around the suffering woman. The stink of pain-filled sweat soaked into her clothes and stung her skin.
Poison, she called to Mrillis, as her healing gift brought her that certainty. No illness. Then she could spare no energy even for that communication, as she flung all her strength and concentration and force of will into healing Glyssani.
In only a few heartbeats, she knew it was too late. The baby, only a few moons formed, was dead. All that remained to her was to ease Glyssani's pain, purge her blood, and stop the bleeding that came from the wrenching in her violated womb.
Sleep, she sang to the deepest part of Glyssani's mind and spirit. Meghianna fought sobs, when she wanted so desperately to assure the woman her child was safe.
* * * *
Meghianna couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father cry. She didn't like it. Efrin was supposed to be the strong one who comforted and led others. He didn't collapse and cling and roar his anguish, but only sat on the edge of Glyssani's bed and held her hand while his shoulders shook and tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped from the edges of his beard. His quiet suffering only made the whole tragedy worse.
"Tell no one of this," he barked, when Meghianna and Mrillis had finished cleaning up the last of the spilled blood and soiled clothes, to take them away. "I won't have any of those vultures in Court gleeful at our loss."
"Yes, Papa," Meghianna whispered. "What about Megs?"
"Especially her." Efrin raised his head in response to her gasp. "She insists that Glyssani and I are too old to have children, and I think she wants to be my heir a little too much."
"Not her, Papa. Lorkin."
"They are one and the same now." He shook his head and gestured for them to go.
Meghianna swallowed down her hurt at the abrupt dismissal, and told herself it was only Efrin's deep pain and sorrow speaking. She shivered a little at the bitterness in her father's voice. Had she missed clear signs, and Megassa was indeed maneuvering to find a way to sit on their father's throne, despite all her years of saying she didn't want the crown? She had been so determined to avoid any man who saw her as a pathway to the throne--had she fallen under Lorkin's control and allowed herself to be made a tool?
"He is in pain," Mrillis said, after a long walk in silence to the laundry rooms, far on the other side of the fortress, to get rid of the dirty clothes. "Pain and grief blinds us, so we lash out at those who stand closest to us."
"Inflicting pain and venting anger is often the best medicine for a wounded soul."
"Perhaps." He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her against his side. Until he took some of her weight on him, Meghianna hadn't realized how her legs ached and her whole body shook with weariness. "You need your bed. You did well tonight."
"I did not. I could not save the baby," she rasped, her throat aching with the force of her words, and from weariness.
"She was already dead before you came into the room. Yes, she was. I examined her while you tended Glyssani. She was poisoned."
"Who would want to kill a child--no, no one knew of her yet. Papa and Glyssani kept it secret." She clutched at his sleeves when his face darkened and his gaze wouldn't meet hers, and she knew he had thought of something he didn't want to share with her. "What is it? What do you know?"
"This is a discussion best held in private, and I am too weary to speak through the Threads. Come." He tightened his arm around her and led her back up the flights of stairs, to his workroom. Meghianna kept silent, her mind racing, and she studied his face. Whatever he had thought of, it had dredged up old memories touched with pain.
They passed several servants, carrying trays of leftover food from dinner. A surge of anger stabbed Meghianna, burning from the back of her head down into her stomach. How could the Court feast while Glyssani and Efrin mourned their unborn child?
It didn't help her anger to remember that Mrillis had only told the servants that the queen was ill and Efrin chose to stay with her and eat in their quarters. No one missed them at the meal, because Megassa, as the bride, was the center of attention.
"Lad." Mrillis gestured with his free hand. "Bring enough food for two to my quarters. No, enough for four." He squeezed Meghianna a little closer. "The Estall knows, we've earned it."
"I don't think I could eat anything," she whispered.
"You'll be ravenous, the moment you put something in your mouth. What is the most important rule of using magic?"
"Never to force... Oh, yes. To take good care of the tools the Estall gave to us, which means tending the body and not neglecting its needs." She sighed. The pressure of tears she was too weary to shed made her head hurt.
They continued in silence the rest of the way to Mrillis' workroom, and she was grateful to sink into the first chair she saw. A tiny corner of her mind recognized the faded green tapestry cushion of the chair. This was her chair, the one she always sat in, from the time she was a little child and needed two cushions to see the top of the table and read the scrolls Mrillis set out for her lessons. There was some comfort in that unchanging aspect.
A faint shimmer of magic brushing against her imbrose told her Mrillis had sealed the room, so that no one could hear what was said. That helped rouse Meghianna from the exhaustion and sorrow dragging her down. She looked around for him, and saw him pouring wine, darker than blood, into two clay cups. Her gorge rose at the thought of the syrupy sweetness of that particular wine, even knowing it was used to hide the bitterness and texture of the healing powders she watched him put into the liquid. Meghianna waited until he stood before her, gently swirling the contents of the cups, before she raised her hand to take one.
The medicine didn't take effect until the third swallow hit her stomach.
"I am repaid for lack of sympathy," she muttered, and cleared her throat a few times when several clumps of un-dissolved powder insisted on sticking just at the rig
ht place to make her choke.
Chapter Fifteen
"Ah, yes." Mrillis' smile held more weariness than humor. "We do have a tendency to tell people that the cure is worse than the illness or the wound, as the Estall's way of reminding us to be more careful."
"What did Glyssani do to deserve to be poisoned?" Meghianna almost felt too weary to shake her head in confusion. She looked into the cup with one last swallow of dosed wine. Her attention caught on the wet stains on the skirts of her ridiculously fluttery, uncharacteristically delicate gown. At the back of her thoughts, she knew it was her mind's way of trying to fend off the shock of what had happened, distracting her with inconsequential concerns until she could grow some numbness around the concept.
"She is a woman who is still fertile, despite having a grown son, and she is married to the most powerful man in the World. For everyone who devoutly prays for a legitimate male heir, there is someone who will do whatever it takes to prevent that birth."
"But no one knew--"
"The poison is not to kill an unborn child, but to prevent conception." Mrillis watched her as she went utterly still and digested that bit of information. "When I was a boy, Afron Warhawk's queen was poisoned, gradually, to prevent conception. She had given Afron four children, and the youngest, a mere baby at the time, was the male heir. And all four children were killed by a storm guided and made deadly by blood magic. The poison was given in small doses, over a long period of time. By the time the truth was revealed, the damage had been done. The Warhawk's lady was unable to bear any more children. That is why Athrar was his uncle's heir. The good news, if there can be any this sad night, is that the poison has only recently been administered. It caused her to lose the babe, but did not render Glyssani infertile."
"Yet." Meghianna shuddered at the bitterness in her own voice. "So someone wants to prevent Glyssani from having children." She shook her head. "The question is, who would profit most from doing that? I refuse to believe my vision of Papa holding my newborn brother can be negated. Therefore, it is up to us to find out who the poisoner is and make sure it does not continue."
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 25