THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (18 page)

"Oh, more than willing. For the sake of my good neighbor, whom I rarely see, I might
add." Pirkin's expression brightened, with a mischievous quirk to one corner of his mouth. "And
no one will wonder why I am there, because I have an interest in Ynessa, one of Glyssani's
ladies."

"Why do you rarely see Glyssani?" she had to ask. There had been something in Pirkin's
voice that made her think he knew more and wasn't sure whether to speak it.

"According to Timark--"

"Who is rarely to be trusted," Megassa inserted.

"Indeed, now I think I must encourage Father to re-think everything we have ever heard
from our neighbor. But according to Timark, Glyssani is fragile and not in the best of health. He
worries incessantly for her. He claims that she puts on a brave front and depends on magic
charms and potions from the Stronghold. And then he very indiscreetly admits he does not place
much trust in such things."

"The nerve!" Megassa exclaimed.

"Indeed." Meghianna could think of a dozen reasons why someone would have reason to
doubt the efficacy of the healing potions and powders that came from the Stronghold. The most
likely being that Timark was anti-Rey'kil, and his reasons had nothing to do with the potions
themselves. She wouldn't be surprised to learn that the potions reputed to come from the
Stronghold came from elsewhere, and were deliberately tainted, to harm the reputations of the
healers who supposedly produced them. And deepen the chasm of distrust between Noveni and
Rey'ki.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Pirkin said slowly, "as Markas grows closer to his majority, if
Timark doesn't make some effort to entirely wean Glyssani from her supposed dependence on
magic, and she suddenly has a full restoration of health."

"Or she dies and he blames magic," Meghianna murmured.

"He can't rule without her. The people won't accept him as king. He's too far from the
direct line. There are others with stronger and older claims, if anything happened to Markas.
There are dozens of witnesses who will testify that Markas the Elder named Glyssani to be
regent for their son if anything happened to him, and only two documents that say he wanted his
distant cousin to rule with her. And those documents appeared more than a moon after his death
fighting Encindi."

"Encindi who were suspiciously well-armed and organized?" Megassa asked in a
too-sweet, innocent voice.

"I think Timark needs killing," Pirkin said.

"That is up to the Warhawk's council," Meghianna said. "One question--should we send
riders ahead to let Timark and Queen Glyssani know we are coming, or surprise them?"

"I think Glyssani will enjoy surprise visitors," her sister said slowly, her expression
turning into that determined, somehow frightening, fierce smile that made her look so much like
Efrin. "Who knows? She might be in the best health of her life if she doesn't know we're
coming."

* * * *

Someone had seen their party as they rode up the long trade road between Goarlotte and
Welcairn. The Warhawk's banner flew to the right of the main gate of Welcairn Castle, and the
drakags flag of Welcairn on the left. Meghianna noted the emblem for the kingdom and
wondered if it could be taken as a warning or omen. Drakags were a product of star-metal
poisoning. They had been established so many centuries as a species, she feared the purification
of the landscape would not encourage them to die out. The vicious lizards had poisoned talons
and acid venom in their teeth, and the larger ones, taller than men when they were on all fours,
could spit acid that ignited if it traveled long enough in the air. Their tails had razor-sharp scales,
and they had been known to slash through the toughest leg armor and break bones if they had
enough room to maneuver and sweep their tails at their enemies.

She remembered some of her more depressing political lessons, how the poisoning of
the land through the increasing levels of star-metal had led to a splintering of the united kingdom
of the Noveni, and many minor nobles had established themselves as kings in their own rights,
owing no allegiance or support to anyone else.
Every kingdom for itself, and let all others
perish,
had been the unspoken motto of some lands. Welcairn was among them. Welcairn
had swallowed up every kingdom smaller and weaker than it, refusing to take anything less than
total subservience in exchange for assistance in battling the twin disasters of magic-spawned
monsters and decreasing amounts of safe, livable land.

When Maxin Warhawk had united the Noveni in the battle against the Encindi, he had
been wise enough not to insist the minor kings give up their authority, but acknowledged them as
his equals, only retaining the right to call up warriors for the battles against the Encindi threat.
He was such a capable warrior and leader, it was seen as an honor to serve him and to be
considered a comrade-in-arms, rather than an onerous obligation.

Meghianna wondered now if the sensible leaders of Welcairn had run their course, and
the bad blood would take ascendancy again, through Timark--who only held his rank and
position in the royal family because of the generosity of King Markas' grandfather. He had been
uncle to Timark's promiscuous, drunkard mother, who hadn't even been able to name his father.
Meghianna wondered if anyone had ever stepped forward to claim Timark as his son--and if
Timark had welcomed the man who spawned him, or had him killed.

Queen Glyssani, dressed in dusty lavender, stood at the head of a large party of servants
in the deep purple and black livery of Welcairn. A gangly, brown-haired boy stood at her side.
Both smiled and looked perfectly healthy and strong. Meghianna noticed no man standing with
them to welcome the castle's visitors. She made a wager with herself that Timark was far enough
away from the castle that he hadn't received word of her party's approach in time to return and
greet them. So that begged the question of how long she and her sister and Pirkin had to
determine the true situation in Welcairn.

"Welcome, Queen of Snows Meghianna. Welcome, Princess Megassa Warhawk.
Welcome, Prince Pirkin of Goarlotte." Queen Glyssani swept them a deep curtsey, so the end of
her long, pale gold braid and the multi-colored ribbons twined into it trailed across the flagstones
of the gateway. "Welcairn is honored and blessed to play host to you."

"Lady?" Prince Markas stepped up and offered his hand to Meghianna to help her down
from her saddle. His nose was too big for his face, and she feared he would not grow into it. His
mouth was too generous, and crooked, but his smile was genuine and warm and gave his uneven
features a handsome sense of character. Meghianna prayed he would live up to the promise of
generosity and kindness in his face.

If he was allowed to grow up at all.

She shivered as her sense for trouble, of reading people and the very atmosphere of a
place, told her that all was not well here in Welcairn. For just a moment, she saw a dark haze of
portent and threat enclosing the boy.

"Thank you, Highness. We are delighted to be welcomed so warmly to Welcairn. We
are on the yearly harvest of star-metal, and will not intrude on your hospitality long at all."

"Oh, please do intrude, Lady," the boy blurted. His fair skin turned bright red, but he
grinned, and his mother chuckled.

"It is no intrusion, Lady." Glyssani gestured to include them, as well as their traveling
party. "Please, be welcome." She held out her hand in greeting to Meghianna.

Chords resounded through Meghianna at the first touch of the woman's hand.
Braenlicach blazed in her mind's eye, and from the other side of the sea, she heard men cry out in
the Warhawk's throne room as the star-metal sword filled the room with light. Meghianna would
have laughed, but the images that spun through her mind, and the darkness that enfolded her like
a suffocating blanket, tore the sound from her throat.

"Meggi? Meggi! I swear, if you don't open your eyes soon, I'm going to call on Lord
Mrillis."

Megassa's voice thrummed through the single, bright white Thread that cut through the
darkness and pulled Meghianna out of the hazy pit of her vision.

"He contacted me when Braenlicach flared, positive you had done something. I told him
you were tired and you fainted, but everything was all right. Don't make me a liar. I'll call him
right now if you don't open your eyes." Her sister sounded more than a little frantic. "I know he
can hear me, no matter how far away I am or how weak my grip on the Threads. You don't want
me to tell him you're sick or something attacked you here, any more than you want Papa to drop
everything and come racing through the sea tunnel to rescue you."

"That might be good," Meghianna whispered, and opened her eyes. She had to smile at
how weak her voice sounded.

"Thank the Estall." Her sister dropped down on the side of the bed and hugged her,
nearly smothering her with her exuberance.

Meghianna gasped, partly laughter, and raised one hand to rub her eyes. She looked
around the room. From the tapestries on the walls and the gleam of the wood furnishings, she
guessed they had either been put in the king's room, or the very best guest chamber in the entire
castle.

"What did you say to Queen Glyssani?"

"I said you were weak and tired from the journey and from sending the latest star-metal
lump home to the Stronghold. I also thought to tell them that we had come here specifically so
you could rest without people seeing you and worrying that something was wrong, that being so
drained was a normal part of the harvesting."

"Very clever."

"I thought so." Megassa preened for a moment, then her smirk crumpled back to worry.
"What happened?"

"A vision."

"Oh, I figured that out easily enough. Anybody with the slightest bit of
imbrose,
no matter how muted, could have heard the chimes all the way to the sea." She
got up and stepped over to a table laden with wine and fruit and cakes.

"Braenlicach woke when I touched Glyssani's hand."

"I knew--oh, specifically her? That could be trouble." Megassa poured wine for both of
them and selected a cake dripping with honey and dark with raisins to give her.

"My eternal thanks," Meghianna mumbled as she took too large a bite of the cake. Her
stomach shrieked and stabbed her, punishment for neglecting it after the draining of the vision.
"No, I don't think," she said thickly through the mouthful, and then swallowed it, "that this
particular outcry from the sword is trouble at all. I think I've found Papa's true love."

"What?" She looked as if she was about to burst out laughing, but the sound caught in
her throat. She took up a handful of early lavendar berries and settled down on the foot of the bed
again, poised for a long talk, just like they had done as children.

"I saw Glyssani sitting on Papa's lap, laughing with him, and the light in Papa's eyes..."
Meghianna shook her head, swallowing hard to fight down the surge of envy and hopelessness
that threatened to smother her as effectively as the vision had. "If anyone ever looks at me like
Papa looked at her, I will move the roots of the land and the sky-web itself to ensure that we may
always be together."

"So I guess that was Braenlicach giving its approval?" She chewed for a few seconds,
eyes half-closed in deep thought. "Did the vision show you anything about the trouble Papa
suspects, that brought us here in the first place?"

"Death hovers over Markas, waiting to take his throne. There is magic already woven
around Glyssani. Soft, subtle magic. Thinner than spider silk, taking years to grow strong around
her." She shivered, so her sister leaned across the length of the bed to clasp her hand. "There are
years yet until the magic is so strong and deeply rooted in her that she will never break
free."

"Seven years, I'll wager," Megassa said, her voice tightening. "The years left until her
son's majority, when he can claim the throne. When she is free of her vow and Timark can
pressure her to marry him."

"Or not pressure her at all. Simply crook his finger and have her comply," she said,
nodding as she caught what her sister meant.

"And then when the prince is safely crowned king and the bride is safely bedded--"
Megassa slapped her hands together. "Disaster. The new king is tragically dead in a very obvious
accident, but praise the Estall for his blessings, the new bride is with child, and what is more
logical than to make the dead king's half-brother his heir?"

"I think it is time we did something about that magic web, and then spin some magic of
our own to protect Markas." Meghianna sipped her wine, closing her eyes as fragments of her
vision returned to her. She had indeed seen Markas crowned and sitting on a throne, and all the
people around him rejoicing. Then a moment later, the young king lay on his funeral bier,
waiting for the pyre to be lit around him. She saw Glyssani holding a child, pale and still
grieving, and Timark of Welcairn sat on the throne and gloated over the child. Then a moment
later, Glyssani glowed with joy and health, and handed a rosy, struggling infant to Efrin, to hold
out for all the Court of the Warhawk to see and cheer.

Glyssani was destined to be the Warhawk's queen, his true love, and mother of his heir.
But as Mrillis and her other teachers had taught her, Meghianna knew that nothing seen in a
vision was set in stone. The fact that she saw glimpses of two possible futures warned her that
she and her sister stood at the watershed moment. The most insignificant step they took could
have disastrous or wonderful consequences for the future and the lives of their hosts and their
father, and they might never know until the moment had passed.

"I honestly don't want to have to call on Papa about this," Megassa said with a grim
smile. "He sent us to assess the situation without anyone being suspicious."

"Speaking of suspicious..." She smiled as a thought came to her. Perhaps the Estall had
put the idea into her mind? She was willing to believe in such things. "Remember what Pirkin
told us, about all the rumors that Glyssani is so frequently ill? Who is the premier healer in the
entire World?"