Lady Warhawk (7 page)

"But we didn't intend to set a trap at all," Megassa said. A tiny snort of laughter escaped
her. "Oh, it feels so strange to say 'we' again, discussing magic and magical attacks. Strange, but
nice." She patted Meghianna's hand, and her strained smile faded. "Lorkin doesn't really like
magic. He understands that our boys have it, through me, and he's rather proud of the idea that
they all could be Valors, but... We knew this day would come, when we dedicated ourselves to
protecting Athrar. Exposure to magic and enchanters rather does lead to danger and working
spells and awakening talents that some in the Court would rather leave sleeping."

"Too right." Mrillis thought of Trevissa, for the first time in years, and wondered if her
growing periods of lucidity would let her appreciate the fine, mature, intelligent woman her
daughter had grown into.

"If you attacked your enemy, expecting him to be unprepared, and found him with more
allies than you thought... What would you expect him to do next?" Meghianna said slowly.

"If I thought that my target was still an untrained boy, defended by others, I would
expect them all to run to shelter, to the strongest allies," he said.

Megassa nodded agreement.

"Then we need to do the exact opposite," Meghianna said.

"Common sense would say to run to the Warhawk and surround Athrar with trained
Valors. The exact opposite is--" Megassa nodded. "We're only half a day's ride from the Tower
of Bo'Lantier and the tunnel under the sea."

"Half a night's ride." Mrillis stood. "You prepare the boys to leave before moonrise.
Leave me to lie to the innkeeper and the boat captain." He planned the spell of illusion he would
weave, as he left the room and headed out on his errand.

* * * *

The hardest task, Meghianna realized, was still to be faced. She and Megassa opened the
door to her sister's suite. To her relief, she found Lycen right next to Athrar, in the middle of the
boys. A flicker of pride battled with her concern as she sensed the strength and steadiness of his
imbrose
, only a few hours after he had touched his first piece of star-metal.

Over the years of peace and hiding, she had gnawed on the problems she would face
when Athrar's true identity was revealed. Meghianna could only imagine the questions and
uncertainties Lycen faced right this moment, not only learning he was someone else's son, but
that his brother, whom he looked out for and sometimes led into mischief, was born to be his lord
and master. Every boy in Lygroes dreamed of becoming a Valor, serving the Warhawk and
seeing Braenlicach blazing in glory in battle. Meghianna could only try to imagine how Lycen
would feel, seeing that sword in his brother's hands.

Megassa's boys leaped up from their lessons as the two women came into the room.
Lycen and Athrar stayed sitting on the floor as the four brothers gathered around their mother
and blurted all the things they had learned already. Wry amusement gleamed in Athrar's eyes.
Lycen studied the ring on his finger. The very lack of expression on his face told Meghianna
more than any rage or confusion might have revealed.

"I promised you would be Valors someday," Megassa said, gesturing for silence.
"Listen! This is very important. Yes, I will send a message to your father, telling him how all of
you have
imbrose,
but we cannot tell anyone about..." She gestured helplessly at
Athrar.

"We should still address Athrar as Thrarin. Until he stands before our father and takes
Braenlicach in his hand to prove his identity, he is still my son and Lycen's little brother,"
Meghianna said slowly. She felt a few knots of tension loosen when her son raised his head and
met her eyes and she didn't see the accusations and anger she had feared. "However, it's useless
to try to hide this any longer." She gestured at her white hair and white clothes. "You boys have
permission to call me Aunt Meggi in public now. So that means Thrarin is your cousin, just like
Lycen has always been your cousin. Is that understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, Aunt Meggi" rang through the room.

"Here is what we have decided." Megassa settled down on the bench. "Your first duty as
Valors in training is to guard the Warhawk's heir. We are going on a trip tonight, after everyone
else is asleep here at the inn. You are being entrusted with a wonderful secret."

I don't know how much of a secret it is,
Meghianna remarked, as she beckoned
for her two boys to come with her.
Anyone who knows the history of Papa and Glyssani
knows about the tunnel under the sea.

Yes, but you haven't been listening to the tales told by traveling minstrels and
traders,
her sister retorted, as her boys spilled dozens of questions all at once.
Supposedly the tunnel is not anchored to anything and moves about just as the island of
Wynystrys does. And it will only open for whoever wields Braenlicach, for the Queen of Snows,
the High Scholar, and Mrillis.

"I think we should see about dinner," Meghianna said, as the three of them stepped out
into the hallway. She gladly shut the door, muffling the sounds of the boys' voices.
We need
a cloaking spell, Megs, so people don't overhear us. Mrillis took care of it when we were
plotting, but
--

Oh, do let me. It's been so long since I needed to do anything like this.
Amusement flickered through her sister's voice.

My thanks.
Meghianna rested a hand on each boy's shoulder as they walked
silently down the hallway, and crossed the inn to their room. She took a deep breath.
Here is
another lesson, and I think you are strong enough for it,
she said into their minds. She was
amused to feel Lycen and Athrar both flinch at the sound of her voice in their minds.
You
aren't strong enough yet to hold conversations by yourselves through the Threads, but you can
do it if I am linked with you. This will help us keep things quiet and secure. Not like your
cousins.

Am I really their cousin?
Lycen asked.

You are my son, so that makes Megassa's boys your cousins. I suppose it's a shock,
to have your family grow so much in just a few hours.

But I'm not really your son. Not born to you. And Thrarin isn't really my brother. I
knew that. I remember when he came to live with us, but he's been my brother and--
Lycen
started to twist his shoulder out of her reach, but Meghianna gripped it harder.

Lysette and Syndal might have given you life, but they entrusted you to my care when
they died,
Meghianna said, adding punctuation to her words by pushing the door of their
room open with a mental shove.
But I raised you. I fed you and wiped your tears and
watched you through nightmares and cheered when you learned to ride. You are my son in all
the ways that matter.

Yes, but he won't be Queen of Snows when you're gone,
Athrar offered.

Lycen stopped short so that Meghianna, who walked behind both boys, ran into him.
They nearly fell against the table. For three long seconds, they stared at each other, then Lycen
sputtered. Tears gleamed in his eyes, but laughter twisted his face. Meghianna blinked away her
own tears as she wrapped her arms around him. Athrar shut the door, so no one passing in the
hall could see.

I'm sorry. So very sorry you had to find out this way. Lycen, don't ever, ever doubt
for a moment that you are my son, and I thank the Estall every day that I had the gift of being
your mother. I had quite despaired of ever being anyone's mother, you know.

You aren't that old,
Lycen retorted. He settled down on the edge of the closest
chair when she released him.
Is it this easy, talking in our minds, for everyone?

No, and it just shows how strong you are in imbrose,
Athrar said.
Of course
Meggi isn't old. She was only...twenty-seven, twenty-eight when I was born.

How do you know everything?
A wail lingered at the back of Lycen's mental
voice.

Brace yourself. I can show you, but it might give you a headache.
Athrar held
out his hands, and without hesitation, Lycen put his hands into his grip.

Meghianna stepped back, mentally and physically, and watched as Athrar put a packet
of images, thoughts, impressions and memories into Lycen's mind. She flinched with her son as
the packet expanded. She smothered a wry smile when Lycen rubbed at his temples.

You could have trained me in dreams, too,
her son said after a moment.
Then I could be ready to guard Thrarin. Athrar,
he corrected.

True. But do you have any idea how much energy it takes, and how much sleep
Mrillis and I lost, teaching one boy in his dreams? Training two would have been too much for
even us.

"Mrillis?" Lycen whispered. He looked at the door, as if he expected it to burst open.
That old man is Mrillis?

Indeed, and he has been just as eager to meet you and work with you as with Athrar.
He knew your birth parents, and I'm sure he has stories to tell you about them that I don't know.
Meghianna felt cheered to see the eagerness in Lycen's eyes.

She knew her son well enough to know there would be stormy hours and times of
questioning ahead. It couldn't be easy for a boy's entire world to be yanked out from under him,
to have everything he thought he knew turn out to be a lie. She hoped her assurance that he was
still her son would provide enough stability to weather everything they would go through in the
coming moons.

* * * *

Mrillis watched Lycen as their party loaded up their horses and rode out in the darkness,
their movements muffled into shadows, every sound wrapped in magically enhanced silence. He
had grown to like the boy, seen through Meghianna's eyes, and he sympathized, sensing the
turmoil that hid behind that somber mask of concentration. The other boys, even Athrar, found
their nighttime flight an adventure, and Mrillis approved their high spirits. Lycen, however, had
too much else on his mind and heart to enjoy the romp. Mrillis made it a point to ride next to the
boy, once they had left the inn behind, and the river was just a flicker of light glimmering under
the rising moon.

"I always hated being left out of things, when I was your age," Mrillis said.

"I'm not left out. The others are falling asleep already." Lycen managed a flicker of a
smile, and gestured over his shoulder at Megassa's four boys, already drooping in their saddles.
Athrar and Ector rode at the head of their party, with Meghianna between them. Megassa rode
with her boys--to keep them under control, she had said earlier, earning groans and grins from all
four--and the horses with their drastically reduced baggage rode at the rear.

"I'm thinking more about the secrets your mother and Athrar kept from you all these
years." He approved the thoughtful frown and slow nod, as the boy digested his words. "I don't
suppose it will help much to consider that leaving you in the dark helped protect your
brother."

"How?" Some doubt strained the boy's voice, but Mrillis sensed more eagerness for
understanding than hurt in the single plaintive word.

"We made the teaching spell with a safety catch, to let the whole thing unravel in an
emergency. If our enemies found you and your brother while your mother wasn't nearby to
protect you, Athrar would have remembered who he was and would have been able to draw on
the protection spells we wove around him. But your
not
knowing anything would have
prolonged the deception. You would still have treated him as your brother, and anyone who
touched your thoughts would have seen Thrarin, not Athrar."

"Is that what a castle wall feels like, when it's hit by catapult rocks?"

Mrillis laughed, muffling the sound with his hand. He was gratified to see a twist in the
left side of the boy's mouth, all the smile he was capable of at the moment.

"Lad, I'm glad to finally meet you. I've watched you grow up, through your mother's
eyes. I see both your parents in you, and that is gratifying, because they were both good
friends."

"Mother said you could tell me about them."

"Your father was one of the first Valors. His father-- You are tied to the Zygradon and to
Braenlicach through your grandfather. He helped to forge the bowl and the sword."

"Really?"

Mrillis chuckled at the eagerness and new energy in the boy's face, his posture, his
voice.

"You carry a proud heritage, and a heavy duty from the Estall. There aren't many of us
left who helped make the bowl and sword. Some were killed before they could have children.
Some of our children were killed young, by the same enemy we have battled for
generations."

The boy nodded. "The Nameless One."

"My grandson, Pirkin, his sons and daughter, you, Meghianna, a few dozen others, are
all that are left. Either your generation or perhaps your children will be called on to find the
Zygradon. Our world can't be fully healed until the bowl is found."

"That will be a great adventure," he murmured.

"I have a heavy duty to put on you, before you earn your spurs as a Valor." Mrillis
waited a moment, to put emphasis on his words. "Watch over your mother."

"But she's the Queen of Snows. She doesn't need anyone to protect her." There was only
confusion in the boy's voice, no resentment, and that reassured Mrillis.

"I'm not talking about battle. I'm talking about her heart. For a woman to lose a child...
Athrar has taken Thrarin away from her. Athrar is her brother, but Thrarin was her son. You're
all she has left now. She's wounded, though she's the last to recognize it. She needs you now
desperately. Keep reminding her that she isn't alone, and she hasn't lost you."

"She'll go back to the Stronghold now, won't she?" the boy said after a few minutes of
thoughtful silence.

"Eventually."

"I can't go with her."

"Who says that?" He chuckled when Lycen glared at him. Mrillis had dreaded seeing
any awe from the boy, when it finally sunk in exactly who rode next to him now, talking in the
night quiet.