Lady Warhawk (27 page)

She had little time to ponder a puzzle that wouldn't reveal its solution until the prophecy
had been half-fulfilled. Meghianna had a student again, and she enjoyed the challenge as much
as she enjoyed having people living in the Stronghold once more.

Ynfara understood her lessons in magic and history and making the medicines the
Stronghold was famous for were all to protect her against further magical attack. She applied
herself with all the seriousness and diligence any teacher could want. Meghianna was proud of
her student, yet she felt dissatisfied, because the girl did not bring to her lessons the same
sparkling joy she found in the rest of her waking hours. Outside the study room, Ynfara was a
delight. She found pleasure in learning to play the many musical instruments stored in the
Stronghold, or exploring the multiple levels and rooms and passageways, climbing the high cliffs
overlooking the sea and making friends with the many birds nesting there.

The five of them could have been very happy there, a small, quiet community, except
for the girl's fear of Mrillis. As the moons went by, she overcame her distaste for and distrust in
magic, but her fear of Mrillis remained strong, a chill that formed a cloud around her whenever
she had to spend any prolonged time in her grandfather's company.

Mrillis saw how his presence distressed Ynfara, and took to avoiding her unless the
other three adults were there to act as a buffer. Meghianna ached for him, and wished she could
bridge the painful barrier.

The moons passed happily and quickly as Ynfara grew more confident in her ability
both to sense
imbrose
at work, and to control her own. Meghianna didn't realize how
much time had passed until Lycen contacted her through the Threads to say he and Ilianora and
Garad were coming to the Stronghold for the Midwinter festival and solstice.

Won't Athrar need you in Court?
she said, after expressing her delight at the
news. Meghianna's arms ached to hold her grandson.

There won't be any celebrations. I wouldn't be surprised if he cancels all winter
festivities forevermore,
her son said after a pause.
Mother, didn't anyone send you the
news?

Obviously not. What news?

Athrar should have...
Lycen sighed.
Indreseen is dead. In
childbirth.

No one is blaming Athrar, are they?
was the first question that came to
mind.

No. Not directly, anyway. There are dozens stupid enough to think arranging for
her to die would earn them his favor. And as many who would do it just to give their own
daughters or sisters a chance at becoming the Warhawk's queen.

You think he still loves her, despite how she betrayed him?

No, I don't think so. I think he doubted their love before the war, and her infidelity
was the deathblow. Most of his pain is from feeling like a fool.

Bring him with you. And Glyssani. Athrar can't come into-- No, wait. He can. Not
far, but far enough that we can be quite merry.

Mother?

There are always back doors through any spell, especially one that contradicts the
purpose of the Stronghold. Athrar is wounded in spirit, and anyone who is wounded may enter
the healing hall. We will turn the healing hall into our festival hall and be quite
comfortable.

Are you sure you weren't reading my thoughts?

Go where I'm not invited?
She laughed at the suggestion.

Because I was wishing there was a way we could bring Athrar with us. He's... It's
the whispering in court that's the worst. He's too young for all this, on top of the news of the
boy.

What boy?
Meghianna felt her stomach tighten in dread.

Indreseen's son. Aunt Megassa named him Edrout, and she's adopted him. There's
no one to challenge her.
Lycen sighed loudly, so the sound reverberated through the
Threads.
Some say she's gone a little mad, isolated with Indreseen all this time. Some say she
blames Athrar. I'm glad she's staying in Welcairn. Markas can have her.

Estall protect us.
Meghianna felt a sick sensation, as if she had already lived
through something like this multiple times before.
Bring Athrar. We will make merry this
midwinter, but we must prepare for the future, also.

* * * *

Despite all she had gone through, Ynfara was still very much a child at heart.
Meghianna realized that if she taught Ynfara to make magic a game, the girl overcame her
ingrained aversion to exploring her
imbrose
faster. The task of decorating the
passageways and common rooms of the Stronghold with magic lights, of making paintings on
the walls and scenes depicted in tapestries come to life, amused the girl.

Several times, Meghianna rose from her bed, feeling a stirring among the Threads, and
found Ynfara standing in the main room, barefoot on the stone floor, in her nightgown. The girl
stared at her favorite tapestry depicting a sailing ship and all sorts of fanciful sea creatures, trying
to make the waves dance and the fish leap.

Meghianna wondered, as the days passed in merriment, if perhaps Athrar had something
to do with the girl's tripled interest in her magical talent. His
imbrose
was nearly on a
level with Ynfara's, and he was properly impressed when she learned to do something new.

Lycen and Ilianora treated Ynfara as a little sister, teasing her and including her in
games, subtly urging her to learn more about the Stronghold by including her when they sat
down for long sessions studying in the archives. Ilianora found such fascination with the ancient
records that Ynfara had to read along and listen to discussions, or else leave.

"The girl has a highly competitive nature," Meghianna decided, discussing her
discoveries with Mrillis late one night, when everyone else had retired. "Whatever everyone else
finds fascinating, she wants to keep up with them, and do better, if she can. It makes me shudder
to imagine what sort of cruel games her grandmother played with her heart and mind, to keep her
under her thumb."

"Competitive, yes," Mrillis said. His gaze was pensive and distant, seeing something
beyond the fire pit of the common room. "But the world is opening for her, like a flower,
revealing new colors and wondrous scents the further in she goes. There is so much more to life.
I am afraid she will grow drunk with all her discoveries before we are through here."

"Good. She needs some levity in her life."

Meghianna recalled her words the next day, which was the solstice. Everyone gathered
in the healing hall. Athrar was still in one of the smaller chambers, which had been set aside for
his office, most likely studying the latest courier pouch brought to the Stronghold.

Nearly a dozen young women who had been born in the Stronghold had been recruited
to act as couriers and come up the tunnel to the Stronghold, to deliver pouches and packages.
Athrar joked that because they could not intrude on him, the entire World had decided to
inundate him with information and queries and requests for judgment. He also joked that he
should replace his inner circle of Valors with the fearless young women who thought nothing of
traveling the tunnel that compressed distance and time.

When he took too long leaving his work to join them, Ynfara slipped into Athrar's office
while he was too distracted to notice her. With her
imbrose,
she stuffed all the papers
and scrolls and tablets into boxes and messenger pouches, turning everything into a muddled
mess and making it impossible for Athrar to finish his work.

He let out a roar that startled Meghianna, mostly because she couldn't decide if he were
laughing or furious. Then Ynfara squealed and fled the room with Athrar close on her heels. She
dodged and ran and leaped around and over furniture in the long room, nearly upsetting the
trestle table set up with their feast, to evade him. Athrar finally caught up with her when she
slipped, her shoe skidding on bare, worn smooth stone. He grabbed her around the waist and
swung her around and still roaring, threatened to heave her out into the snow for her
mischief.

"Look at her," Ynessa whispered, clutching at Meghianna's sleeve.

"No, listen to her," Ilianora said, her voice rich with laughter.

Ynfara's face was red, tears streaming from her eyes, and a river of giggles poured from
her, growing louder with every second as Athrar swung her around again and stomped across the
room to the doorway. It led down and out onto a snowy balcony overlooking the Northern Sea,
and a long series of stairs that let visitors by ship come into the Stronghold.

Ynfara laughed so much and so hard, she couldn't get her breath. She didn't resist, didn't
even wriggle much in Athrar's grasp as he shifted his grip so she hung in one of his arms while
he reached with his free hand.

"Thrar, don't." Lycen strolled across the floor, holding out a hand.

"You should see what she did to all my work!" Athrar growled, and shook the girl,
wringing another burst of giggles from her.

"It's solstice. Time for fun, not work. She's got the right idea, even if she is a miserable
brat who deserves to be dunked a dozen times in the sea."

"No!" Ynfara squealed, grinning, and kicked her feet. "Papa! Save me!" Followed by
more giggles.

"I'm sorry, Majesty, but that is my little girl," Pirkin said. "Please don't make me fight
you for her."

"Fight? Over this scrap of mischief?" Athrar switched Ynfara to his other arm,
pretending to let her slip as he swung her around so her feet flew out parallel with the floor. She
squealed, clutched at him, and nearly choked on her laughter. He shook her once. "Are you
sorry?"

Ynfara shook her head. She wriggled and held out her arms to Pirkin, who crossed the
room to them, grinning wider than Meghianna had seen him do in perhaps years.

"Please, Majesty, I beg you, as one of your most loyal Valors and subject kings."

"Oh, Estall spare me. I would like to forget I'm High King on this night of all nights,"
Athrar growled. He turned Ynfara around so she faced him. Gripping her shoulders, he held her
out at arm's length and at eye level. "I'm only releasing you from punishment because of your
father, hear me, little Lady Trouble? Next time you torment me, you won't get away so
easily."

Ynfara stuck her tongue out at him. Athrar froze for a single heartbeat, stunned at the
audacity. Then he roared laughter and flung her into her father's arms. Shaking his head, he
stomped over to the table where sweets had been laid out, and scooped up a cup of ice mixed
with crushed fruit and honey.

While everyone was still laughing, Glyssani picked up a lute and settled down to play
some winter festival songs. Soon the merry scuffle was put behind them as the company sat
down to sing and play guessing games.

Later, Meghianna realized that the scuffle between Ynfara and Athrar had not been
forgotten. She went through the hall one last time after the company had gone to bed, to make
sure all had been cleaned up and the fires in the three covered fire pits in the room had been
properly banked for the night. She saw a light seeping under the door of Athrar's office, and
eased the door open, expecting to have to scold her brother for staying up working so late.
Meghianna found Ynfara hard at work. She sorted through the various messenger bags with her
hands, while three piles of papers seemed to be sorting themselves out. She knew better than to
startle the girl, and waited until Ynfara sensed her presence and turned around.

"Most impressive, Princess Ynfara. I see you have learned a most important
lesson."

"Don't anger the High King, especially when it's something this important." Ynfara
sighed, smiling wearily. "Yes, Papa told me. He didn't lecture, but he was very serious."

"That, too. But I was referring to the lesson of never doing anything that you can't undo.
I'm sure Athrar will be very grateful when he comes in to work in the morning and finds you put
everything back in order."

"I think I am." She shrugged. "I can follow the tracks of some of the Threads, when I
originally did it. And I mostly just put things in the closest messenger bag, so that helps in
sorting out the piles, but... He was only pretending to be furious, wasn't he?"

"Entirely playing. I think you gave him a wonderful gift, by teasing him as you
did."

"Really?" Ynfara let Meghianna lead her out of the room. She looked back and doused
the lantern with a flicker of
imbrose
. "What was that?"

"You treated him as an ordinary person. My brother is very young to be High King. That
seems to be a curse on our family, that authority and duty fall too early on our shoulders. But
Athrar desperately needs friends who see him as just Athrar. Who can tease him and yell at him
without always tempering their actions and words by the fact that he is the High King. If you
were to continue to be just friends with him, he would be grateful. And so would I."

Ynfara nodded, her brow furrowing in deep thought, as they walked in silence down the
passageways to the quarters where she and her parents stayed. When Meghianna bade her good
night, she pushed the door open, then paused. "Lady?"

"Yes, child?"

"Do you think... Maybe someday...he'll see me as more than a troublemaker?"

"The Estall put women on this world specifically to cause trouble for men, and remind
them that they are not half as wise and brave and strong as they believe they are." Meghianna
waited until a grin lit the girl's face. "Besides, I'm very sure your father and mother want you to
stay a little girl as long as possible. Far too soon, you'll have Valors and nobles courting you.
Don't grow up too fast."

"Courting." The smile fell off the girl's face, replaced by something that was partially
dismay, partially thoughtfulness. "Do you think...the High King would want to court me?"