Lady Warhawk, page 24
part #4 of Zygradon Chronicles Series
He sighed and let his head lay back against the cushion. "You said the sky-web was thickening, didn't you?"
"Yes, we did," Mrillis said slowly. He glanced at Meghianna, and she had the same confused expression he felt sure touched his face. Why had Athrar changed the subject like that?
"I think the only way we will have peace someday is to give the purebloods exactly what they want. Thicken the sky-web that protects Lygroes into a protective shield around the whole continent, just like around the Vale of Bo'Lantier. Shut Noveni out, shut Rey'kil in. Impenetrable separation. And never the twain shall meet." He rubbed his eyes with his fists, for a moment a little boy again despite his beard and the lines marking the flesh around his eyes.
"It might come to that," Meghianna murmured. "But not now. Be patient, little brother." She smiled when Athrar opened his eyes and shot her a scowl that didn't fool anyone.
* * * *
The incident of the burned hand, as that disastrous evening came to be called, resulted in a new campaign among the Noveni kings. Those who demanded that star-metal belonged to all people were silenced--sometimes forcibly. The new belief was that there was no such thing as tamed star-metal. Kings and nobles who had disclaimed reliance on star-metal 'discovered' hidden hoards of it in their treasuries, and brought it out to send to the Stronghold. Some were intimidated into clearing their treasuries of the metal. Some had their treasuries pillaged of star-metal. Healers were attacked and robbed of the star-metal jewelry that brought out their healing imbrose. Those who resisted were battered and even killed.
The hoards of star-metal were carted off in wagons and put on ships. The honorable kings, who simply wanted the tainted metal out of Moerta, sent the shiploads to Lygroes. Others stopped the ships halfway across the sea and dumped it overboard.
"Think of the waste!" Athrar raged, when those reports reached Quenlaque.
The fact that it took more than a year for the news to go from whispers to verified fact and reach the Warhawk's Council bothered Mrillis more than the waste.
"What worries me," Lycen said slowly, "is what sort of change that makes in Moerta. People who had imbrose, who relied on it for taming animals, healing, controlling the wildfires in the plains--they won't have that magic anymore. Think of the damage when an emergency arises and they have no magical help."
"You can be sure no one thought of that," Ector said sourly. He scratched his gray beard and slumped a little in the chair he had finally been persuaded to take, after years of standing at attention at the door of the council chamber.
"No," Meghianna said, her eyes dark with somber thoughts. "Someone did think of it. What better way to weaken your prey than to first remove their magic, so they cannot resist you?"
"Those who speak loudest against magic might just depend on it most," Athrar said, nodding. "So, who is the most likely enemy, plotting to take away all magic in Moerta, until he is the only one possessing it?"
"Who else?" Mrillis said, and sighed. "Lok and Mykil. We should have suspected them, when they joined the Noveni purebloods. They enjoyed having imbrose far too much to throw it away for the sake of politics. They've likely been playing their allies for fools all this time."
"Playing us for fools, which is worse," Ector said. "Lady, should we contact your sister?"
"Megassa? Whatever for?" Meghianna looked like she might laugh, mostly startled by the suggestion.
Mrillis felt a shiver of worry and premonition of trouble race up his back. It had been several years since anyone had thought seriously about Megassa and Edrout, living in seclusion and safety--and perhaps too much silence--far away in the northern sea. How old was Edrout now? Seven years old? Every year, Rey'kil scholars went to the island to examine the boy and make sure he had no taint of blood magic, and no imbrose. Megassa had become the center of island life, healer and teacher and a mother figure to everyone. She didn't ask about the outside world, except to make sure her younger two sons were well, that Meghianna and her family were happy and thriving, and to ask for more scrolls to study.
"If I were those two rotters, I would try to get that boy back under my control--or take him out of the running altogether. If they can bring up those old lies, claiming the boy is the Warhawk's son, they can use him as a tool. They can bring up the old sympathy angle--Megassa was wronged, she should be the true heir, and her sons after her. They can use all the lies told about your family whatever way they want." Ector shrugged. "That's what I would do, anyway."
"Then we take the weapon before they can grasp it," Athrar said. "Send for Megassa and...the boy."
"Bringing him here might support the rumors," Mrillis said. There was no need to say which rumors he referred to.
* * * *
"I think," Megassa said slowly, her face cold and unreadable, "it is time to unbind my imbrose."
"Lady?" Ector looked back and forth between Meghianna and Megassa.
They were alone in Megassa's sitting room, in the highest tower of the keep on the island of Orknay. She had been too quiet while they explained why Athrar had sent to bring her and Edrout out of their protective isolation.
Meghianna decided her first mistake had been announcing the reason for their visit downstairs, in the main room of the Keep. Edrout, far too thin and tall for his age, had gone white, then let out a howl that would have frightened a drakag. Then he grabbed onto Megassa's arm and insisted that he didn't want to leave the island. It had taken the combined efforts of the seneschal and the head groom, bribing the boy with an offer of a ride on his favorite horse, to quiet him and get him to let go of Megassa's arm and leave. Then she had suggested, far too quietly, that they take their discussion upstairs to her private room.
Meghianna watched her sister as they explained the current situation, the possible threat from her two oldest sons, the need Athrar felt to protect her and the boy from being used as pawns by the rebellion, or perhaps being killed and their deaths put on his head.
"Yes," Megassa said, finally taking her gaze off the stone floor of her tower room. A mirthless smile strained her pale lips. She had lost weight during her years of exile, so her cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. Her gauntness made her look lovely and delicate and tragic. "It is indeed time to unbind my imbrose. I only started to wonder what fun it might have been, to work with you and learn everything I could do, when my boys were learning to use their imbrose. And now I find it is necessary to protect my Edrout." She shook her head, loosening a few strands of silver that fell around her face in soft curls, adding to the tragic beauty.
"After being crippled all these years..." Meghianna shrugged. "I'm not sure that there will be anything more for you, if we do unbind your imbrose."
"Well, I suppose we need to talk with Master Deyral and those who know better, but I want a weapon to protect Edrout, if nothing else," Megassa said. A little color returned to her cheeks. "I suppose Athrar realizes that taking us out of here makes us pawns for his side of the battle, just as much as Lok and Mykil want to use me?"
"He knows, Princess," Ector said, "but he's concerned for your safety just as much as keeping you out of those rotters' hands."
The corners of her mouth curved up a little more. Then she sighed and got up to walk to her balcony that looked out over the harbor of the rocky, fierce island of Orknay. "I think I will miss this place, the peace, the safety, the lovely, loyal people. What shall I do, without all of them to look after?"
* * * *
A delegation arrived from Moerta the same day Meghianna and Megassa's ship arrived in Quenlaque. Meghianna left Ilianora and Glyssani to fuss over Megassa and Edrout and settle them, while she hurried to change her clothes and reach the throne room. The delegation hadn't given one clue as to the purpose of their mission, but from the heavy feeling in the atmosphere, the hard determination on the delegates' faces, they had come to make demands, not requests.
It gave her some encouragement to take her seat next to Athrar as the delegation walked toward the throne, and see the hesitation in a few steps, the widening of a few sets of eyes, the flattening of a few mouths in very obvious consternation.
So, they heard you were gone from Quenlaque, and thought they could sneak in here and bully the boy into giving them what they wanted, Mrillis observed.
With you here watching out for him? Bad planning on their part, she retorted.
Excuse me, but I am quite capable of saying no without your support, Athrar said. He sat forward on the throne enough that they could see his somber face, the twitching of the corners of his mouth, without having to turn in their own chairs.
Meghianna was grateful they could confer in their minds. The Warhawk and his closest advisors had no fear of enemies reading their signals to each other during formal court sessions. Their enemies who hated magic were prone to forget about communication through the Threads.
So, what do they want to demand of me, what's so desperate they don't want the Queen of Snows standing against them? Athrar mused.
The delegation reached the edge of the dais and made their bows.
"Warhawk, we thank you for granting us the privilege of speaking before you and before the court," King Megrant said, and punctuated his opening statement with another bow. He clutched a scroll in his hand, but didn't refer to it. Meghianna considered it a bad sign when the speaker didn't refer to his written documents. It meant he had thought so long and hard about the matter he knew it by heart--or he planned to deviate from the agreed-upon dialogue of his allies. Either way, she anticipated an unpleasant hour with these people.
Athrar went through the formalities of welcoming the delegation, neatly sidestepping the fancy words that, with the right advocate to twist them, could commit him to giving the delegates whatever they wanted.
"We have found the way to destroy the Encindi threat, and cleanse the world of the threat of star-metal once and for all," Megrant said, smug satisfaction making his voice rich.
Star-metal hasn't been a threat for decades, Athrar said, except in the minds of those who can't use it. "What is this plan?" he said aloud.
What horrified Meghianna more than the plan was the smugness, the assurance of the delegates that the Warhawk would accede to their so-called reasonable and logical plan.
They proposed to eradicate the Encindi by destroying the southern portion of Lygroes. After gathering every last bit of star-metal, whether tamed or raw, they planned to dump it all onto the Encindi-held territory. Based on the knowledge that had built up over generations, they believed the resulting overflow of power from such a massive amount of star-metal collected in one place would incinerate the Encindi and cause southern Lygroes to fall into the sea. Two dangers to the world would be destroyed in one strike.
"We will need Braenlicach, of course, to help us locate all the star-metal that was foolishly tossed into the sea by the less enlightened," Megrant concluded, gesturing casually at the sword at Athrar's side.
"You?" Athrar's smile turned cold and flat as he approached the edge of the dais. The delegates on either side of Megrant took a step back. "How do you propose wielding Braenlicach in this task, when you are not of the Warhawk's bloodline? Ah, I just realized your cornerstone in this plan. Which of my traitorous nephews believes that because he is Efrin's grandson, Braenlicach will accept him and not burn him to a cinder?"
Silence met his words. Meghianna was pleased to see a few uneasy glances among the delegates. Good. They weren't all complete fools.
"What arrogance makes you think I would willingly give Braenlicach into anyone's hand, even assuming it would not destroy him? What foolishness has made you so conveniently forget that many Encindi possess imbrose, too? If we somehow manage to cover the Encindi-held territory from shore to shore with star-metal, what assurance do we have that the Encindi won't turn around and use it against us?"
More silence. More glances. Meghianna wondered if anyone had brought up that argument against the plan, and had been shouted down--or if someone used magic to blind them to the flaws in the plan.
"We have a trigger for the entire spell that will incinerate the Encindi before they can act against us," Megrant said, his voice as stiff as his posture.
"Do you? What is it? Not Braenlicach."
Athrar stepped up to the edge of the dais, so the toes of his boots poked over the edge. "Where is this trigger? It must be a massive amount of star-metal. Or do you have the most powerful enchanters in the world on your side, and they have agreed to work with you?"
He turned to his right and to his left, looking first at Mrillis and then Meghianna. "No, they are still with me, and if they had agreed with you, they would have had the honor to tell me long before this. So they are not your proposed triggers. What is it?"
"The Zygradon," someone said from the knot of supporters standing behind Megrant.
"The Zygradon is still lost, hidden where my daughter put it just before her death," Mrillis said, his voice and face calm. "If someone had found it and raised it from its hiding place, I would have felt their hands on the bowl and heard the Threads chime at the disturbance, and I would know its exact location. No, you do not have the Zygradon."
"The sword is bound to the bowl," Megrant said, and earned a little respect from Meghianna by taking a step closer to the dais. "The sword will reveal the location of the bowl, we are very sure. With the Zygradon, we can put all the star-metal in the entire world where we want, and make the star-metal destroy all Encindi, once and for all."
"All Encindi? Even the ones who have been living in peace with us for so many years, who fight alongside us and serve as Valors?" Meghianna said.
From their hesitation, she knew some in the group hadn't considered that conundrum.
"If we strike at the main body of the Encindi, those left alive will feel duty-bound to avenge them. At the very least, their loyalty to us will be torn, because we have killed their blood-kin. Do you remember the days after Queen of Snows Lady Le'esha died?"
"The Rey'kil blamed the Noveni for her death. Do you remember how all Noveni tasted the wrath of the Rey'kil rebels?" she continued. "People who had lived in peace here on Lygroes for generations were counted as the enemies, just because they were Noveni, not because of anything they had done.
"Would you bring that back? The Encindi who live at peace among us possess imbrose. They know what it is like to touch the Threads and feel the unity of minds around the world. They have magic at their fingertips. Do you think they will willingly give up that magic to create a weapon to destroy their relatives? Do you think they will peacefully surrender this weapon into your hands, and trust that they will be allowed to live in peace and not counted as enemies?"
She stood, and the entire delegation stepped backwards. "I will make a bargain with you, King Megrant. If you can find the Zygradon, without the help of Braenlicach or the Stronghold or Wynystrys, then I will give you all the star-metal stored in the Stronghold to shape your weapon. But let us not talk of destroying a third of Lygroes until you have taken that first, key step. Are we agreed?" she said, meeting Athrar's and Mrillis' gazes.
"Agreed," Mrillis said, bowing to her.
Athrar drew Braenlicach, earning gasps from several in the court. Her brother saluted her with the sword, rested his hand on the bare blade, and sealed his agreement to the plan.
From the sour, dark expressions on the faces of the delegation, Meghianna knew they were too aware of how difficult it would be for men who didn't have imbrose, who didn't trust star-metal, to find the bowl that bound all the Threads of the world together. She hoped they would be so busy in their quest that they would have no time to cause more trouble for Athrar. She hoped they all died in their quest, either of old age or injury, she didn't care. Sometimes, even the Queen of Snows was allowed to indulge in fury.
* * * *
Mother? Ilianora's voice startled Meghianna awake, just a short time after she had gone to bed that late winter evening. Please, Mother, we need your help.
The hint of tears in Ilianora's mental voice roused Meghianna out of bed before the words registered in her mind. What's wrong?
Lycen. He's sleepwalking again, and this time I can't get him back to bed. I'm afraid he's going to leave--he's breaking down the door!
Meghianna threw a cloak over her nightdress and ran barefoot down the long passageways to the wing of the castle where the Valors with families lived. She was relieved to see Ilianora had exaggerated, but only just. Lycen staggered down the hallway, clad in nothing but his sleeping shorts. The door of their suite hung open and the air rang slightly with the use of imbrose. Meghianna decided her daughter-by-law had used her own imbrose to hold the door closed. Ilianora likely had a horrid headache from the battle.
What do you mean, 'again'? She sent a soothing touch through the Threads, as she waited for Lycen to pass her. He walked with his shoulders hunched, legs stiff, eyes half-closed and focused on some point in the air far in front of him.
He's been sleepwalking for nearly a moon. Not every night, but I've been up with Garad and nightmares enough times to be worried.
Nightmares? It could be spells wrapped around all of you, but the touch is heavy enough to disturb Garad and... Never mind. I'm calling for help. You close that door and hold it closed until I call you. I'll take care of Lycen.
Meghianna roused Mrillis. She called Athrar, and found him out riding in the moonlight. She smiled when she saw Ynfara's laughing face in her brother's mind.
Well, it's about time the two of you acted like sweethearts.
Good timing, Mrillis commented as he joined her in the hallway and they followed Lycen, cloaking themselves to be invisible and silent, and doubly watchful for a spell that might make Lycen turn on them at any moment.
Hardly good timing, Meghianna retorted as they followed Lycen up the stairs. They followed him down the hallway lined with the small rooms assigned to unmarried noble daughters in the service of Queen Glyssani. Lycen will respond to Athrar when he won't respond to me.
