"Us." He nodded, and though he didn't smile, some small bit of pleasure gleamed in his eyes. "We do make a good team, don't we?"
"Who would want to prevent Papa from having a son?"
"The question is, who would have a chance at sitting on the Warhawk's throne if there was no heir?" Mrillis sighed and gestured at the long worktable by the window, covered with messenger pouches and scrolls and wax tablets full of kingdom business. "Because the Warhawk's line has a tendency to have only one or two children in each generation, there are many offshoots who have weak but equal claims. However, those claims can gain strength if the right factions among the Council of Lords and the various minor kings decide to champion a claimant. King Markas even has a growing crowd willing to support him as Efrin's heir."
"But he's only a stepson, not a blood relative at all."
"Haven't you been paying attention to the rumors all these years?" He shook his head, making a tsking sound. "Your love of scholarship holds you too strongly in the past, my dear. To serve our world, you must pay attention to the present, as well."
"Oh, drat." Meghianna made a sour face. "Those silly rumors that Papa seduced Glyssani while Timark was on the plain, fighting invading forces? Those are still around, I suppose."
"And rumors that he is actually Markas' father, and used the tunnel below the sea for many discrete and short visits to Glyssani over the years."
"We never should have reminded the Noveni that the tunnel exists."
"The sad truth is that those who oppose the Warhawk will believe anything, no matter how ridiculous and salacious, if it will serve to undermine his authority and reputation, and give them a chance of gaining power."
"So we have many who have a claim to the throne, and many scheming allies to those claimants, who hope to curry favor with the future Warhawk by removing obstacles. No matter who gets hurt." She shook her head. "I loathe politics."
* * * *
The next morning, when Efrin was finally willing to leave Glyssani's side, Mrillis and Meghianna met with him in private, to give him what they discovered and what they suspected. Mrillis ached for Efrin, pale, with dark smears of sleeplessness under his eyes, and a flat, determined hardness to his mouth. He sat stiff and still in his chair at his worktable, uncharacteristically clear of papers and scrolls and tablets. They sat before him like petitioners presenting a defense for someone facing judgment.
"Our minds follow the same trail," the Warhawk said, when they finished. "I have spent half the night listing my enemies and those who might want to steal the throne. We could spend moons, even years asking questions and investigating quietly, discretely, and all the while my Glyssani will be endangered. I say we should take a lesson from history and assume everyone is an enemy. Show no mercy, no matter how much love and loyalty there appears to be between us, because appearances are deceiving."
"Papa--" Meghianna reached for his hand and froze, visibly hurt, when he jerked free of her comforting touch.
"No. I can't afford to be cautious. This is a time for swords, not for diplomats, Meggi. I am asking you as Warhawk to Queen of Snows." He swallowed hard. "I am ordering you, father to daughter. Use the spell Master Breylon rediscovered, to search into the depths of the mind and soul. I want answers quickly. I don't care who is hurt."
"You should," Mrillis said quietly, meeting Efrin's red-rimmed glare with one of his own. "Such action will paint you as a tyrant, a man ruled by his heart."
"And a man who takes quick, decisive action, putting justice and the safety of the innocent above all else. Even ties of blood and love," Meghianna said. A hint of tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes, and she looked more pale than usual, but she nodded approval and her voice was steady. "Megassa and Markas are at the top of your tally of enemies, aren't they, Papa?"
"Lorkin," Efrin growled. "But as I said before, Megassa and Lorkin are one and the same now. If she is her mother's daughter."
"Blood can be overcome, Papa. My mother and grandmother are proof of that."
"True, but--"
"How hard would it be to believe that I might have caused Glyssani's miscarriage, that I want you to have no sons, that I wish to absorb the Warhawk's throne into the power of the Stronghold? You know there are many Rey'kil who want nothing more than to force all Noveni off of Lygroes' soil, permanently. What you do not know is that there are some, those who stay in the Wayhauk Mountains and other, more desolate places, who refuse to have anything to do with Noveni at all. They wish to destroy Noveni just as thoroughly as the Encindi. What if I am allied with them, Papa?"
Mrillis waited just long enough for the horror of Meghianna's words to drive all color from Efrin's face, and for the dawning realization to paralyze him and wash the aching fury from his eyes. Then Mrillis tipped his head back and laughed, the sound forced and cold, echoing from the stone ceiling.
"You know the idiocy of such a notion," he said, and clapped his hands twice, startling both father and daughter. "Think, lad!" It pleased him when Efrin blinked and his lips twitched as if he might smile at the incongruity of the old address.
"All right. I see your point. I will be careful and use reason, not emotion." Efrin sighed, leaned back in his chair, and scrubbed his face with both hands. His mouth trembled when he tried to smile, and he shook his head as he looked his daughter over, head to toe. "When did you grow up, Meggi? When did you become so wise and strong you can save me?"
"Papa, don't despair. You and Glyssani will have a son, your heir. I have seen it. Braenlicach will burn for him. Hold that image in your mind, whatever you do now. Nothing can prevent my brother from being born, but what you do now can determine if he has a strong kingdom, or a brittle one, on the day he takes your crown." Meghianna slid from her chair and stepped around the table, to kneel and hold both her father's hands. A single tear dripped from each eye, and Mrillis ached with pride in her.
* * * *
Meghianna called herself a dozen names for coward when Efrin convened a formal court two days later. She stood to the left of her father's throne, and Mrillis stood on the right, both of them resting their hands on the arch of the high carved back, in symbol of the support of Wynystrys, the Rey'kil, and the Stronghold. All three wore unrelieved black. As she stood and watched the courtiers file in and fall silent at the sight of Efrin waiting for them, dressed so soberly, she wondered how long it would take the Court as a whole to realize the Warhawk was in mourning.
Megassa and Lorkin were among the last to arrive, with Megassa walking arm-in-arm with Markas. Meghianna refused to believe the possibility that either one could have struck at Glyssani, but the sight of them together, laughing, tightened something inside her so she could barely breathe.
"Papa?" Megassa inhaled sharply, and her voice echoed as the last few talking stragglers fell silent. "What's wrong?" She broke away from Markas and Lorkin and hurried to the few short steps leading up to the dais.
"Formal court is now convened," Mrillis called, using magic to project his voice so it echoed off the stone floor and wooden beams and the tapestries lining the walls. "For justice, for blood and death and innocence, a court of inquiry is now called." He snapped up one wrist, and dark blue sparks danced along his fingertips before flying to close the four doors and the four shuttered windows. Meghianna thought perhaps a third of the three hundred or so people in the room flinched at the sharp thuds of wood and metal on stone.
"Death?" Megassa went pale and her glance snapped to the side where Glyssani's chair was noticeably empty. "No!"
"No, indeed," Efrin said, rising. The black hood of the cloak he wore fell around his face, framing the pallor of his skin, highlighting the silver streaking his beard. "My queen lives, but the poison given to her by someone now present ripped our child from her womb."
"A child?" She swayed, stumbling backward off the single step she had climbed. "Meggi?"
"Our sister goes before us into the Estall's Bliss," Meghianna said. She watched her sister, but kept her perc
eptions open for other reactions of those in the crowd.
"Our sister." Megassa nodded and knuckled the first gleam of tears from her eyes. "Papa? You said poison?"
"Majesty," Lorkin said, stepping up to slide an arm around her waist and support her. "You said one of us present poisoned your queen? How could you believe such a thing?"
"Everyone called into this room either has a hope, however faint, to sit on the Warhawk's throne, or they strongly support a claimant." Efrin nodded, his mouth going flat and grim, when mutters rippled through the gathered crowd.
"Then Megassa and I stand accused?" Lorkin let out a bark of bitter laughter.
"Everyone with a touch of Warhawk's blood, or those whom rumors say carry the Warhawk's blood, no matter how many generations back or what side of the blanket they were born on," Meghianna said. She stepped forward from her place and walked up to the edge of the dais. "Even I may stand accused, though why I should want to soil myself with the filth of politics and in-fighting and prejudices, I cannot conceive." She bit back a sour laugh when hisses and whispers responded to her criticism of the Court.
"Why would anyone accuse the Queen of Snows of killing her sister?" Lord Parcef said, laughter in his voice.
Meghianna had enough unpleasant experiences encountering the bitter Noveni lord to know he wasn't amused. He treated everything as foolery and a waste of his time, so that even his allies were unsure where he stood on any matter--until he struck. Someone he had seemingly vowed undying friendship to in the morning could find himself accused of treachery by nightfall, with evidence that he himself had given to Lord Parcef.
"Unless perhaps you could consider another daughter of your father as a rival for the throne?" the man continued after a moment, when ripples of laughter and more whispers flowed through the crowd.
"Which throne?" Mrillis said. "The Queen of Snows has no throne, and she does not want that of the Warhawk. There is such a thing as loyalty, my lord. You might have heard of it."
More laughter rang out, a little stronger, but died when Parcef turned his oak-brown head slightly to look on either side of him. Meghianna felt sorry for the people who were foolish enough to delude themselves that if they curried his favor, he would never turn against them.
Lord Parcef openly supported King Markas as the Warhawk's heir, and even though he denounced the rumors that Markas was Efrin's son, and not the son of Markas the Elder, she was sure the rumors had their origination with him.
"The poison used against Queen Glyssani was to prevent conception. Given by someone who would stand as a rival to any child she would bear for Efrin," Mrillis said. "It was given recently, and killed the child in her womb. Fortunately, she was not rendered sterile by the miscarriage. Be sure, we have wards woven around her now to prevent such an attempt in the future, and spells are at work even now to follow the trail of the poison and who gave it to her."
"I promise mercy to the one who confesses, rather than waiting to have the evidence thrown in your face," Efrin said, his voice cold. He looked directly at Megassa as he spoke--though he could have been looking at Lorkin, since the two stood together, with her safe in the curve of her betrothed's arm. Meghianna trembled to see the cold anger and certainty in her father's face. What did he know about Megassa that she had missed?
Megassa and Lorkin, Meghianna noticed, didn't react to Mrillis' promise that magic would eventually sniff out the trail of the poison and poisoner, like a hunting dog. Did that prove they were innocent--or merely foolishly confident that they had covered their trail with magic? Despite his claims otherwise, did Lorkin possess some imbrose after all?
Lady Eliorin, the historian of the Council of Lords, stepped forward with a scroll and read off the names of everyone who had some claim to the Warhawk's throne, even if they had to go back five generations to make the connection by blood. She read off each person's pedigree and the supposed claim, and then the list of known supporters. Meghianna had helped assemble the list, and it still shocked her to know how many could stand accused. She watched Markas, who flushed darkly and clenched his fists when his name was read, and then the reasons for his alleged claim.
"If I may, Majesty?" He stepped forward and bowed low to Efrin. "No one told me of my mother's loss, only that she was ill and unwilling to see anyone. How could you leave me in the dark and deny me the right to comfort her? The child is my sister--only half-sister," he added, turning to glare at the whispering courtiers behind him. "Everyone will testify I wear my father's face, so how could anyone dream that I would ever hope to claim you as my father? I am proud to be your step-son, and that is more than enough for me."
"I don't question your loyalty, King Markas," Efrin said. "But the hopes and dreams of others who wish me harm make you suspect only by the fact that you exist and that gives them some hope. We have a test for all the accused, to clear their names or pronounce them guilty. When the list is finished."
Markas nodded, looking relieved but still grave, and bowed again. He stepped to the side of the dais and put his back to it, looking out on the gathered people, in the pose of a guard. Meghianna appreciated his visible statement of support for Efrin. She hoped that Markas would be cleared first, so he could go visit his mother and comfort her. Efrin hadn't liked giving the order that no one on the list could go near Glyssani, because he knew it included her son.
Megassa and Lorkin were last on the list. She let out a cry and started toward the dais again, but Lorkin held her back.
"Papa, how could you think such a thing? Haven't I proved over and over that I have defied my bad blood, just as my sister did?" She pointed a trembling hand at Meghianna. "Whatever this test is, let me take it first, to prove to everyone that I am innocent!"
"She has imbrose," Lord Parcef spat. "She has more magic in her blood than any of us have been allowed to guess, and that makes her immune to whatever test you would throw on us. Let her be tested by the mind-sifting spell that High Scholar Breylon brought from the oldest records. The test that killed two of the traitors who attacked the forgers of the Zygradon."
He shouldn't know such things, Meghianna thought to Mrillis.
I don't like it that he has such knowledge--it means he looked for it, he responded.
"My sister's magic has been bound since she was a child, by her own request," Meghianna said. "Do you doubt the word and the skill and the wisdom of the scholars of Wynystrys?"
The argument bounced around the hall, different people arguing for Megassa to be tested in the most severe manner, and others arguing against it. Then some members of each side changed their minds, arguing and making counter-arguments until the ceiling and walls rang with the cacophony. Meghianna stepped forward three times to intervene, to gesture for silence, even force it with magic if necessary, but each time Mrillis caught her arm and stopped her. She tried to understand why he let the voices grow louder, the accusations crueler, until the court divided into small knots of claimants with their supporters around them and faces grew more agitated. She looked at her father, and it hurt her to see Efrin sitting still, staring into nothingness, his grief and anger making him look ten years older than he had only a few days before.
The only time the Warhawk's face changed was when he looked at Megassa. Then, confusion filtered through the pain and loss. Meghianna could understand that confusion. She didn't want to believe her sister could be so cruel, so selfish, to poison Glyssani to prevent her conceiving a male heir. Megassa had said for years she didn't want the throne, didn't want the responsibility and having to endure Court and courtiers. And most especially, she didn't want the throne and all the liars and flatterers who would try to win the throne through marrying her.
Meghianna caught her breath when she looked at Lorkin and wondered, yet again, if he had changed her sister so thoroughly that Megassa would commit treason for love of him. Megassa had wanted a great, strong, passionate love. Had she found it? Was love like that worth the price she had paid?
"Enough!" Megassa shriek
ed, and leaped up the few steps to stand on the dais and glare down at her opponents and accusers. She spread her arms and sparks leaped off her fingertips, angry red and bright, like flames that threatened to ignite the tapestries they hit before they died. "I will take your wretched test!"
"No." Lorkin stomped up the steps and caught hold of her hand, tugging hard so he nearly pulled her down the steps with him again. "I won't let you demean yourself that way."
"I'm not afraid." She whirled free of his grasp and stomped up to stand in front of Efrin's throne. "Do you really think I would do such a thing, Papa? Don't you have any faith in me?"
"I have faith in you," Efrin said slowly, standing, so he towered over her. The starkness of his expression made her back up several steps. "But I also have too much faith in the magic that bound your mother and your grandmother, making them the tools of the Nameless One even after his death."
"If he's dead at all," Lorkin snapped. "Warhawk, she is your daughter! How can you treat her this way?"
"If she is innocent--"
"If. If. If!" Megassa flung her hands up as her words ended on a shriek. She swung down, slapping Efrin hard enough to make him take a step backwards.
Valors leaped up onto the dais, hands extended--to grasp either Efrin or Megassa, Meghianna couldn't be sure. All that was clear to her was the sudden gasp of shock that rocked the entire hall and silenced the crowd of infuriated courtiers. Mrillis shouted, his voice reverberating from the walls and among the Threads, so his words were indistinguishable. Magic flared, freezing everyone, except for him, Efrin, and Meghianna.
"The truth!" he snapped. "I will have the truth from all of you!" The Threads grew visible, neatly wrapped around every courtier and Valor, their colors tinged by the emotions of those they held prisoner, their lights dimmed or flaring to match the purity of the souls.
Meghianna marveled at how closely she had guessed the spirits of most of the courtiers, and how far from the truth she was in judging others. Then she shuddered at how easily she could be distracted from the enormity of what Mrillis had done. Or perhaps her mind shied away from it because it was so drastic and extreme a step to take.
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 26