Lady Warhawk (12 page)

"I welcome home my son, my heir, Athrar Warhawk. Let any who deny the testimony of
Braenlicach come forward and challenge his right to stand here today."

Mrillis turned to study the assembled Court. He held his breath and felt Meghianna
tensing, poised for the first hint of anger or attack.

"The Estall bless Athrar Warhawk!" Lycen shouted, his voice cracking as he went down
on one knee. The stern anger of a man three times his age hardened his face, as he visibly
challenged everyone around him to follow his lead.

In moments, shouts of acclamation echoed off the ceiling and walls and made the stones
of the floor tremble. Mrillis released his breath, but not his vigilance.

* * * *

That girl can't possibly be so stupid, can she?
Meghianna thought to Mrillis,
startling him from his thoughts halfway through the feast that threatened to last until dawn.

What girl?
He turned his attention from the knot of men a dozen steps away, by
the doors leading out of the feasting hall, who watched King Markas a little too intently for his
taste. They were cronies of Lord Parcef, who had once promoted the false belief that Markas was
Efrin's illegitimate son, and wanted to put him on the Warhawk's throne.

Mrillis turned to Meghianna, who sat next to him at the high table, and followed the
direction of her gaze. For a moment, he thought she stared at Markas also, then realized the angle
of her gaze stopped several steps short of the table where the royal family of Welcairn sat.
Indreseen stood with a knot of girls, all daughters of high-ranking nobility. To all appearances,
she ignored Athrar--while all the girls around her simpered and fluttered the edges of their veils
to catch his attention.

The question isn't whether Indreseen thinks her tactic is working,
he said,
glancing sideways at Meghianna.
The question is whether Athrar is so besotted with her that
it works.

Do you think anyone else has noticed?
Meghianna pressed her hands against
the armrests of her chair, as if she would get up from the high table and confront the girl right
that moment.

Peace, my dear. Remember, they're still children, and at that awful age where they
want to do everything you tell them not to. Especially girls.

I was never like that at that age. I don't want an idiot paired with my son.
She
shook her head and offered Mrillis a wry smile.
My brother,
she corrected.
It's
harder than I thought, trying to remember I have no more say in his life.

You will always have some say in his life. Let's hope he doesn't focus his rebellious
stage on you. I wouldn't have you hurt. Especially when Lycen will go through it soon
enough.

Lycen will be too busy warding off bullies and toadies to go through a nasty,
rebellious stage.

Now there speaks a true doting mother.
He patted her hand, resting on the arm
of her chair, and muffled a chuckle.

I do not dote!
Meghianna glanced to her other side and her expression softened
visibly when her gaze landed on the two boys talking together, and as far as Mrillis could tell,
totally oblivious of the gaggle of girls trying to get their attention.
Do I dote, you
think?

Lycen filled up an empty hole in your soul. You loved him for his parents' sake, and
because he was a crying, orphaned baby. Then you loved him simply for him, and because he
was yours. You've poured your life into making him a good, strong, honorable, wise man. He can
stand proudly beside Athrar and before Efrin, and never make you ashamed.

Do you think I did all that for my own sense of pride?
Meghianna sounded
more dismayed and thoughtful than angry, and Mrillis patted her hand again.

You, my dear, are like every good mother. You stopped thinking of yourself a long time
ago, if you ever did. It's going to be torment for you to let go and let him take the gamble that
comes with being a man. He chuckled.
Besides, did you ever think that all those girls might
be flirting with Lycen, rather than his brother?

That ninny Indreseen has been simpering over Athrar since before she knew he was
Athrar. Maybe I should have a talk with Glyssani, to warn her.

Glyssani has raised one son already, and quite well, under similar trying
circumstances,
Mrillis reminded her.
I wouldn't be surprised if she asks to have a talk
with you, first.

I hope so.

"Mother?" Lycen leaned toward Meghianna now, and Athrar turned with him. "How
much longer do we have to stay?"

"Tired?" Meghianna asked.

"Bored. If we have to sit and put up with all those fancy-dressed junk merchants
flattering Athrar and all those silly girls and their mothers eyeing him like he's a holiday cake,
we're going to be sick." Lycen grinned and wrapped an arm around Athrar's shoulders. The
younger boy tried to look pitiful and beleaguered, which just made Mrillis laugh. He glanced at
Meghianna and saw one corner of her mouth twitch as she fought valiantly against a smile.

"Besides," Athrar added, "Father gave us two horses before the feast, and we'd rather go
riding than sit here. There's nothing to do but eat."

"I've never met a boy yet who didn't enjoy the prospect of being able to eat all he
wanted. What happened to your hollow legs?" Mrillis asked.

"The food is too fancy," Lycen said. "If we stay here much longer, there's going to be
dancing. Please don't make us dance."

You are safe for another year, at least, my dear,
Mrillis thought to Meghianna.
She scowled, merriment in her eyes, and slapped his arm.

"Let them," Efrin said, leaning forward in his chair so he could look across the boys. "I'd
certainly escape to go riding, if I could." He chuckled and tousled Athrar's hair. "Although, I
must warn you, in a few years, you'll be begging for the dancing music to start sooner, rather
than trying to avoid it."

Both boys' faces twisted in horror. That look faded quickly in their delight at being
allowed to leave. Two Valors who had stood in the shadows of the curtains on Mrillis' side of the
dais followed the boys as they hurried through the hidden doorway. A moment later, Lycen
darted back into the feasting hall, to the other end of the table, where Megassa and her sons sat,
and beckoned the four boys to join them. Mrillis nodded, pleased.

"Playing politics already, without even knowing it?" Efrin said, gesturing at the backs of
the boys as they hurried away. He beckoned, and Meghianna and Mrillis moved over to take the
boys' seats.

"I tried to bring up the boys to be more concerned about others' feelings than how things
look," Meghianna said. "I imagine even if Lycen disliked all of them, he would still invite them,
simply because he knows how miserable they have to be."

"In torment," Megassa said, leaning past Glyssani. She, too, had moved over to take an
abandoned seat. Garyn had been sitting next to Glyssani. Mrillis had thought that a wise tactical
move. The youngest of Megassa's sons was a natural charmer, constantly chattering and making
amusing observations. "Only Lok has any tolerance or appreciation for feasts just yet. The other
three would much rather be in the nursery at this time of the night, playing with wooden soldiers
or their toy swords and shields." She chuckled, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mrillis caught his breath, seeing, just for a moment, a faded echo of Endor's amused
face. Was he the only one who glimpsed him in Megassa, and wondered if the old rumors were
true, and he had fathered Trevissa on his own sister, perpetuating the controlling spell created by
the Nameless One, their father? Was it possible that the Nameless One still lived, hiding in
timeless sleep like Graddon? Could Megassa carry some undetected, quiescent seed that would
someday awaken and make her a weapon of the enemy?

Some still claimed that Endor and his sisters should have been destroyed when the
Nameless One's fortress on Flintan had been overrun, rather than being shown mercy because
they were innocent children. Mrillis wondered how many people in the future would condemn
him and Efrin for allowing Megassa to live. How many would praise Trevissa, who in her
madness had tried to kill her day-old daughter?

"I can guess what you're thinking," Efrin said, reaching across Meghianna to tap Mrillis'
hand, resting on the table. "This is a time for rejoicing. Leave your worries and prophecies for
the council. Morning and serious thoughts will come far too soon."

"Not soon enough," Megassa said. "Indreseen is in tears now that Athrar has left. I adore
the girl, but I'm afraid she's decided that since she saw him first, Athrar is hers."

"What?" Glyssani stared, first at Megassa, then turned her head to the spot where the
girls had been giggling and fluttering. They had disbanded, and Indreseen had gone back to the
table where Markas and his family sat.

Mrillis looked, and sure enough, the girl huddled in her chair, her head bowed. From
this distance, Mrillis couldn't tell if she cried. The last thing he wanted to see was a silly girl
weeping over a boy who was too young for a beard, let alone a sweetheart.

"What do you know about the girl?" Glyssani said after a moment. "Markas likes her,
but you can't trust a man to see clearly when it comes to girls trying to act like women."

"Excuse me?" Efrin said. "You raised a son, my dear, and I raised two girls. I should
think I have a good idea of how a woman's mind works."

"No, Papa," Meghianna said, laughing with Megassa. "You have no idea. We just let
you think you do."

Glyssani joined them, and Mrillis relaxed. If anyone else had brought up concern over
Indreseen, he would have expected Megassa to valiantly champion her protégé.
Of course, if she was worried about Indreseen's attachment to Athrar, then maybe there was
indeed something to worry about.

"I'll have a talk with Markas and Lyriel in the morning," Glyssani said. "It's not too soon
to start thinking about finding a match for our son."

Efrin choked, and nearly fumbled the cup of wine he had been about to put to his lips.
"Why would you want to marry him off so soon?"

"I've yet to meet a man who was eager to solidify an arranged marriage," Glyssani
retorted, leaning closer to rest her hand on his arm. "If we betroth Athrar and Indreseen, it will
protect our son from matchmakers and political schemers, and he'll immediately lose interest in
the girl. He won't want to get married until he's at least in his twenties. If not later."

"Mother--" Meghianna began, her eyes widening with alarm. Mrillis could almost feel
her pulse double in speed in panic.

"Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't allow such a thing to happen if I wasn't thoroughly satisfied
that she's good enough for Athrar. You have to admit, it's rather amusing to think of squelching
the hopes and plans of all those matchmaking lords and minor kings. We could fill up the council
sessions for moons debating the merits of all the candidates."

"Thank you so much, my dear. As if we need more controversy," Efrin said, his face
sour, but amusement sparkling in his eyes.

The five at the table muffled their laughter. Mrillis took careful note of the concerned
looks exchanged by the various scheming nobles who stayed too close to the royal family's table,
trying to eavesdrop. He sincerely hoped they had heard just enough to make them panic, but not
enough to give them a weapon to use in the next council session.

* * * *

Meghianna felt the stirring in the Threads that she had been waiting for. Pirkin's family
had gone back to the wreckage of Goarlotte Castle to see about the people of the villages
beholden to Goarlotte. Efrin had given orders that any help the people of Goarlotte needed, it
would be given from the Warhawk's treasury, and Pirkin and his family were to come to the
fortress to live, until the castle could be rebuilt. They had finally arrived. Meghianna had set a
spell to alert her to Pirkin's presence, so she could make the first meeting easier for Mrillis.

He had taken the death of little Ynfara especially hard. She knew about his vision, of
Ynessa and Pirkin's daughter growing into a woman and handing him a doll that was his
Emrillian reborn. Meghianna had silently raged, demanding some understanding from the Estall.
She understood that not all visions were promises, only possibilities, and nothing of the future
was solid and set in stone and metal. Still, she thought it inexcusably cruel. Mrillis had suffered
and lost so much in the services of Lygroes and the Estall and the Warhawk throne. Couldn't he
have some little joy and hope in his life?

She excused herself from the table, leaving Mrillis and Efrin deep in conversation, and
hurried out to the gates. She passed Athrar and Lycen and Megassa's sons near the stables,
examining the warhorses Efrin had given her two boys, talking about putting the horses through
their paces. She was pleased to see that Lycen let the two youngest boys ride his horse.

Meghianna reached the gates just as the sentinel at the top of the tower called challenge
to the newcomers. It struck her as ominous that the gates were shut. When she was a child, there
had been long periods of peace when the main gate had stood open day and night.

What kind of a world will you inherit, Athrar?
she wondered, and shivered at a
chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

She had thought often about the vision she had so many years ago, of Efrin white-haired
and battle-scarred and bent. It had shocked her painfully last night to realize Efrin looked like
that long ago vision. How much time did her father have left before the Estall called him away to
his reward and rest? How much time would Athrar have to earn acceptance from the nobility and
prove himself the true heir, before he had to take up Braenlicach and lead in defending the
land?