THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (14 page)

"My father esteems King Pyris above all his other allies in Moerta," Meghianna said,
raising a hand to stop Pirkin when he opened his mouth to, most likely, discourage his friend
from questioning her. "Are you familiar with the dark events surrounding the naming of Efrin
Warhawk as High King?"

"Somewhat," Borys said, after a pause in which he and Pirkin exchanged questioning
frowns.

Meghianna had to struggle not to laugh at having stumped these two. True, Pirkin had
been just a baby and Borys was perhaps a toddler when the royal family was slaughtered by
Endor, son of the Nameless One. She chose to be amused that she, who hadn't even been
conceived at the time, knew more than they did. The alternative to laughter was to weep. Was
vital history deliberately forgotten, just because arrogant fools refused to admit the mistakes of
their fathers? Those who did not learn from history's mistakes, her teachers had told her too
many times to count, repeated those mistakes, to their everlasting sorrow.

"Traitors brought illness into the Stronghold and raised the protective spells so that those
who would bring healing to the dying were kept out. Lord Mrillis raced across the width of
Lygroes to reach the Stronghold and break those barriers. Only he could do it, because of all the
enchanters in the land, he was the only one outside the Stronghold who had been born there. He
got there and tore down the barriers, damaging the traitor, Endor, most severely."

"What does that have to do with the crowning of the Warhawk?" Borys said, when she
paused to take a breath. He didn't sound quite as belligerent as before.

"At that time, my mother, Belissa, was betrothed to Cafral, my father's older brother and
heir to the throne. She and Emrillian, daughter of Ceera, Queen of Snows, and all the children of
the forgers of the Zygradon, raced to hide the bowl of magic from traitors and the enemies of
Lygroes. Emrillian hid the bowl, but Endor struck her down and killed her. The shock of her
death, and the last desperate attempt to save her daughter's life killed Lady Ceera, who lay on the
brink of death from the illness that decimated the Stronghold. Lord Mrillis set out on a
vengeance quest when the ashes of his wife and daughter's burial pyres were barely cool, risking
his life to end the evil that threatened to destroy our land."

Meghianna watched Pirkin as she spoke. He didn't react to anything, except that his
frown deepened a little more, mostly in interest. She wondered why he had never heard any of
this before. What did his father fear so greatly, to keep the identity of his birth-mother and her
family secret from his son?

"When Lord Mrillis was away, hunting his enemy, traitors struck the Warhawk's fortress
while everyone still grieved for Ceera and Emrillian. King Pyris was chief of the Valors at that
time, and he sensed the evil magic stirring before anyone else did. He roused the Valors and led
the warriors who kept all the nobles of our land from being slaughtered like so many helpless
birds. King Pyris knew Mrillis had vanished in search of Endor, and he kept everyone else in the
kingdom from panicking when Braenlicach vanished in a blaze of light, leaping to the hand that
had helped forge it, so that Mrillis was at last able to destroy our land's greatest enemy.

"King Pyris stood with Efrin Warhawk and protected him when fools wanted to panic
and take the disappearance of Braenlicach as a sign that the son of Athrar Warhawk was
unworthy to rule. King Pyris gave wisdom and strength to my father when he was nearly blind
with grief and loss from the deaths of his parents, grandparents, and brother. For that,"
Meghianna said, dropping into a low curtsey before Pirkin, "the Warhawk's family owes much to
the bloodline of Pyris, King of Goarlotte, and acknowledges his bloodline as most noble and
royal of all who dwell in Moerta. No matter how small his kingdom may be," she added,
standing up, one corner of her mouth curving up.

"I stand corrected, Lady." Borys bowed, and Pirkin echoed him with only a moment of
hesitation.

One set of hands clapping startled the three. Meghianna's cheeks burned before she was
conscious of her father standing just out of her field of vision. Efrin's smile was crooked, and she
couldn't interpret the bright, sharp light in his eyes.

"Thank you for teaching us all a valuable lesson, Lady," her father said. "I can see we
have been mightily negligent in teaching history to the next generation." He cocked his head to
one side, his eyes narrowing. "Or is it only the nobles of Moerta who have ignored the battles
and sorrows of our recent past?"

"I heard a little of these events, Majesty," Pirkin said, "but not the whole story.
Everything was told to me in fragments, not the entire picture."

"I think we must mend that lack. Lord Rondell?" He beckoned for the retired head of the
Valors, who stood close enough he must have overhead something of the conversation.

"Majesty?" Lord Rondell bowed to the four. "I heartily agree. With Lord Mrillis'
permission, I will change the schedule of our young Valors' training to include some time each
day in the library, discussing history."

"Will you be included in our lessons, Lady?" Borys said.

Something about his smile struck her as wrong. Not forced, but not at all pleasant,
either. Surely Megassa had to be wrong, and this young Valor didn't intend to court her.
Meghianna fought down a swelling of panic that wanted to squeeze her lungs. Just because she
was ready to take on all the duties and authority of Queen of Snows did not mean she was ready
for courtship and marriage.

How she wished Nalla had come from the Stronghold this year with her. What had made
her think she didn't need her beloved nursemaid riding at her side any longer? Nalla would give
her priceless advice on how to deal with the strange, unfathomable creatures disguised as
civilized young men.

* * * *

"I heard them talking in their courtyard," Megassa announced, after circling the practice
field three times, standing on her horse's back.

This afternoon, six days after that fateful Council meeting, the sisters had decided to
dress alike, from their blue tunics and brown trousers, down to the same gold-dyed leather
thongs binding their hair. They found if they tightly braided their hair and wrapped it in
matching kerchiefs, most of the white in Meghianna's hair was hidden. People who didn't know
them very well couldn't tell them apart while they sat still and didn't say much. Megassa walked
with enviable grace, but she walked with a purposeful stride, a warrior even when she fluttered
with ribbons and scarves, or gleamed with jewels.

"Who?" Meghianna asked, though she knew quite well who her sister referred to.

It seemed Megassa talked of nothing but the young Valors. Granted, most of her
conversation centered around what arrogant fools they were, and how sad that the most
handsome and graceful ones were the worst of the lot in terms of pride. Meghianna didn't need to
be suddenly infatuated with boys to know that the more her sister disparaged them, the more they
fascinated her.

"Borys and Pirkin and their little circle. Poor Pirkin. He didn't even know his father was
a Valor. Where did he think he got his
imbrose
from, if he didn't know his father had
some?" Megassa shook her head, very nearly upsetting her balance. She snapped out a command
and vaulted off her horse's back as it cantered up next to the wall where Meghianna perched.

Megassa turned a somersault and landed lightly on her feet. She grinned and executed a
flamboyant bow as her sister clapped at her acrobatics. Then a moment later, her face sobered
and she shook her head.

"I think it's sad that they've kept such secrets from him. There are quite enough people
who know who his mother and grandmother were, and you just know the wrong people will find
out that he doesn't know the truth. They'll tell him in the worst possible way, at the worst
possible time, and just destroy him. It isn't fair. He'll be so hurt, and he's the nicest one of the
entire crop of trainees this year."

"What I think is the worst of the whole situation is that he's going to blame Lord Mrillis,
and you can see Lord Mrillis would like nothing better than to be called Grandfather, and see
something besides awe in Pirkin's eyes." Meghianna sighed and picked at a bit of moss speckling
the stone of the wall next to her. Megassa clambered up next to her, and they looked out over the
practice field.

"Why doesn't his father want anyone to know Lady Emrillian was Pirkin's mother? I
should think he'd be proud. She was a great enchantress in her own right, but to be the daughter
of Ceera, Queen of Snows and Lord Mrillis, to be tied to the Zygradon--Oh. Do you think Pirkin
is tied to the Zygradon, too?"

"Probably. But if he doesn't use his
imbrose
very much, it could be stunted. He
might as well be the son of that Noveni twit, and not Lady Emrillian."

"Meggi!" Megassa's eyes widened and she chortled. "I've never heard you say anything
like that."

"The things I've heard about Pirkin's stepmother... Some people say King Pyris wasn't
ashamed of his
imbrose
or his marriage to Lady Emrillian until he married Queen
Lynzette and came under her influence. I've heard her entire family hates Rey'kil. They don't
want to ever come to Lygroes, and are very proud that they can look back twenty generations and
find no Rey'kil among their ancestors." Meghianna shuddered, surprised at the bitter taste in her
mouth from speaking such words. She had heard far worse things about the queen of Goarlotte
and her Noveni pure-blood family. Enough to make her wonder if Pirkin had been tormented by
his relatives when his
imbrose
manifested and he was tapped for Valor training. She
pitied him.

"I know I didn't want to be an enchanter, and I'm glad my
imbrose
was stunted,
but to live without any magic at all is just--" Megassa stopped, a frown twisting her mouth. She
turned to look behind them, nearly falling off the wall. "Do you hear that?"

Meghianna opened her mouth to say she heard nothing, when she did hear a thudding
noise. As one, the sisters swung their legs over the wall to the other side, putting their backs to
the practice field, and slid down off the wall together. Following their ears and Megassa's
imbrose
-enhanced tracking skills, they hurried to a building made of sod, temporary
housing for the weapons and equipment to be used in training the new Valors to use their magic
skills. The building was dug into the side of the shallow hill that stood between the practice field
and the Warhawk's fortress, wide and long enough for several dozen people to sit inside
comfortably for lessons, and to make an impromptu wrestling arena when the occasion
warranted.

Stopping in the open doorway, Meghianna doubted this was a planned wrestling match.
For one thing, Pirkin seemed to be fighting three opponents at the same time, while his friends
stood in a loose ring around the combatants, shouting encouragement or jeering, depending on
whom they addressed.

"Enough!" she snapped, and raised her hands to grab hold of Threads to snare the
combatants and pull them apart.

"Oh, let me," Megassa said, and snapped her hands forward, flinging out bright flashes
of light that shoved the four tussling boys apart, sending them sprawling onto their backs.

"Impressive." Meghianna muffled a giggle and curtsied to her sister.

"Thank you, my lady." Megassa mirrored the curtsy, and then turned back to the knot of
young Valors, who all had turned to stare at the two of them. "What are you fighting about? And
don't waste our time by saying it was nothing. You all look guilty and quite childish."

As one, everyone turned to Pirkin, who got up on his knees and wiped blood and tears
off his face with his sleeve.

"I beg you, as Queen of Snows, tell me it isn't true," he growled.

"Oh... dear." Meghianna glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, the wall where she
and Megassa had been sitting, discussing Pirkin's family history in ordinary voices, was quite
close enough for anyone sitting inside this building to have heard most of the words, if not
all.

"Enough playacting," Timot snapped as he picked himself up off the dirt floor where
Megassa's slap of magic had tossed him. "You obviously knew we were listening--"

"If we had known anyone was nearby and could hear us, we would have stopped. And
you should have told us you could hear us. Listening in on a private conversation is quite rude,
and see where it leads you," Megassa said, gesturing around at the sweaty, bruised, bloody
Valors.

No one stood anywhere near Pirkin, leaving an empty circle nearly a horse length in
radius all around him. It broke Meghianna's heart.

"You knew we were listening, and said those things deliberately, to divide us." Timot
spat into the dirt between them.

"Are you calling us liars?" Meghianna said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Shock
awakened something inside her, letting her see all the tangled, vibrating Threads running through
the building and the people there, without willing it. It would be so simple a thing, to yank on a
few Threads and throttle everyone who had fought with Pirkin, who stared at her and Megassa
with contempt and fear.

That fear stopped her, chilling her anger.

"Liars. More than liars."

"What can be more than liars?" Megassa laughed, the sound cruel and brittle. It cut off
with a feeling like shattering ice in the air, when Timot and two of his friends took steps toward
her, their hands going to the knives at their belts.

"Enough!" Captain Gynefra roared, stomping into the shelter. The Threads blazed bright
at her touch, straightening to snap into walls separating the four combatants before anyone could
make another move. "You, and you." She gestured around the room at each person who showed
signs of battle. "Come with me. The rest of you, to your quarters. You will sit on your beds,
saying nothing, doing nothing but stare straight ahead. I will know if you try to communicate
with each other, if you do anything, if you stray from my commands by even a finger's width.
Go!"