Lady Warhawk (6 page)

"I missed you--old meddler," Meghianna whispered, and leaned over in her chair to
grasp his shoulder and kiss his cheek. Mrillis slipped his arm around her shoulders. "The boys
will be strong, loyal Valors. I'm glad they have each other. Thrarin will be so lonely, otherwise,
when the truth comes out," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"What truth?" Thrarin asked, turning around to face them. He shrugged and held up his
hand. "I can hear much better, using this. What truth?"

"Besides the fact that you are actually her brother?" Mrillis said. He flinched when the
boy went perfectly still, and a tiny crease of frown appeared between his brows.

"Oh, that's right." Thrarin gave them a queasy smile. "I forgot."

"You were little when you came to live with us," Lycen offered. "I remember I beat up
on you when you wanted to call Mother by her name, and not Mother."

"I like being called Mother." Meghianna sighed, looking weary for just a moment. Soon,
she would take up the mantle of Queen of Snows once more, and Ianni the innkeeper would
vanish. Mrillis pitied her.

"There are many things you two will learn in the days to come," Meghianna said. "Much
has to do with magic, learning to use your
imbrose
, learning how much
imbrose
you have. And to be honest, we have lied over the years, for the sake of
protecting you." She glanced at Mrillis, questions in her eyes.

"Whatever you wish to tell them, my dear." He nodded and withdrew his arm. Staging
had always been important, and he suspected the boys would take the next revelation a little
easier if Meghianna wasn't leaning into the curve of his arm.

She slowly stood and braced herself with her hands on the table. Then she paused, eyes
widening a little, and inhaled sharply.

In that moment, Mrillis felt it--the sharp, discordant stirring in the Threads that he had
hoped never to hear or feel again.

Megassa, we are under attack!
Mrillis reached through the Threads to the little
room where he had stored his gear and brought his sword to him. "We are safer in larger
numbers."

Meghianna gestured for the boys to come to the table, and she reached for their hands.
The boys stiffened and gasped a little as she wrapped Threads around them for protection. They
hurried down the hallway to the other side of the inn. The door of Megassa's suite flew open
when Mrillis was still four steps away. He wrapped Threads around his sword, preparing it to
meet physical as well as magical attack.

Megassa stood with her back to an inner wall of the inn, legs spread for stability, two
star-metal rings glowing on each bared hand, and her boys tucked up behind her. The two older
boys had long knives in their hands and they stood straight and tall, ready for battle, only
betrayed by a little whiteness around their mouths, an extra widening of their eyes. They pressed
their littler brothers between them.

"I'm sorry," Meghianna said, as she stepped up next to Megassa and put Thrarin and
Lycen behind her, adding to the layers of defense. Mrillis put himself in front of them, facing the
outer wall of the inn, listening to the sour vibrations coming through the Threads. "I'm afraid this
is our fault."

"Our enemies would have to be half-dead, not to realize something was happening,"
Megassa said, nodding. She linked arms with her sister. "I should have thought, with all the noise
my boys were making. I've grown arrogant and soft."

"Our enemies are growing desperate and foolish," Mrillis said. "Who would want to
come up against six boys just learning to tap their
imbrose
?"

"Aunt Meggi, you're all white!" Garyn whispered, his voice amplified by the ringing of
magic tightening around them.

Mrillis glanced over his shoulder and saw the child was right. White light streamed out
from Meghianna as she gathered up all her power for the first time in years, weaving a protective
shield around the six boys, then another shield around herself and her sister that enclosed the
boys once again, then a third shield around Mrillis that encompassed them all again.

A nice trick, my dear,
Mrillis told her, and wrapped another layer of Threads
around the sword before pointing it at the spot where the enemy approached.
Where did you
pick that up?

Innkeepers learn all sorts of things to protect their supplies from vermin, or keep
them cold in the hot seasons.

"Vermin." He snorted, knowing she had chosen that word specifically for this situation.
We know you are there,
he called through the Threads.
Show yourself!

Darkness burst into the room, with flames that flickered at the edges of Meghianna's
outer shield and tried to wriggle through the Threads, sucking away all heat and light and air.
Mrillis laughed when the attack had as much effect as water splashing against a pot sealed with
wax. The intensity of the attack doubled, then doubled again. Meghianna's shields held firm.

Mrillis waited, testing the flow of the enemy's strength, following it back to its source.
With Meghianna holding their defense so capably, he could devote all his attention and strength
to the counterattack. He drew back the sword, physically and mentally, and drove it into the
darkest spot, the coldest core at the root of the smothering fire.

A foul stench of corruption exploded in his face, stinging ice thrusting through the
physical and mental air. Mrillis' knees buckled as the last burst of malevolence tried to suck
warmth from his flesh and mind. Then it was gone.

"Someone was very desperate," Megassa whispered in the ringing silence.

"Everything to lose, and everything to gain," Meghianna said, sounding breathless.

"Are you all right?" Mrillis sheathed his sword and turned, holding out a hand to both
women. And stopped short, stunned, and amused at the irony of the sudden transformation.

"A little out of practice, I think." She reached up to tuck a few sweaty strands of her hair
under her kerchief--and froze, grasping a gleaming white strand. Meghianna frowned comically,
looking down at her transformed clothes. "Oh...dear."

"You're all white, Aunt Meggi," Garyn said again.

"Mother?" Lycen caught hold of Meghianna's arm, half-turning her as he stepped out
from the knot of stunned, staring boys. "Are you all right?"

Her clothes had been partially bleached by her use of power, and all the dye had been
burned from her hair and brows. She glowed like a thin shield of alabaster put up against the
noontime sun.

"She's more than all right." Megassa took a staggering step toward the bench set under
the large window that looked out over the river. Gesturing, she opened her arms and her boys
obediently came to her, settling on the bench on either side of her.

She has them well trained. Amazing, considering how she didn't like obeying
anybody but Captain Gynefra and your father,
Mrillis remarked.

"I can hear you," Megassa said, her tone and mouth sour but amusement in her eyes.
"We might as well tell the whole story, since some of the masquerade is torn to shreds."

"True." Meghianna rubbed her face with her hands, letting out a weary sigh. Lycen
immediately snatched a chair from the other side of the room and brought it over to her. "Thank
you, dear." She sat, and took a few moments to nimbly braid up her hair again, getting it out of
her face.

"You're the Queen of Snows, aren't you?" Lok said, when the silence in the room lost
the last ringing of magic and moved a little closer to normal. "Mother said you were our Aunt
Meggi, and the Queen of Snows was her sister...and Meggi is short for Meghianna?"

"You have a very smart son," Mrillis said. He elected to lean against the wall, rather
than disturb the tableaux and get himself a chair. Thrarin and Lycen stood on either side of
Meghianna, each resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes, I am the Queen of Snows, Meghianna Warhawk, daughter of Efrin Warhawk and
Belissa, who was a lady of the Stronghold."

"Why were you running an inn in Quenlaque?" Lok asked. He frowned at Lycen, then at
Thrarin. "Are they our cousins, then?"

Meghianna sighed, and reached up to hold the boys' hands that rested on her shoulders.
"Here is where it gets complicated."

"I'm not your son, am I?" Lycen asked, his voice little more than a whisper, heavy with
the pain that stole all expression from his face.

"Yes, you are. I adopted you when my dear friends were killed. Megassa's sons are
indeed your cousins because you
are
my son." Meghianna turned and grasped both his
arms at the elbows, shaking him a little to emphasize what she said.

"But if I'm your..." Thrarin took three steps back, as if he would try to run. He slowly
shook his head, his gaze hooded, staring at an unseen spot in mid-air.

"Let the weaving come undone," Mrillis said, resting a hand on Thrarin's shoulder, and
the other hand on his forehead. The boy froze.

"Let the tapestry be done," Meghianna said. She stood and let go of Lycen to grasp
Thrarin's hand.

"Let the sundered mind be one," the boy whispered, shuddering. His knees folded, and
he nearly went to the floor before he caught himself and stood upright again, with Mrillis and
Meghianna's help. Ripples of rainbow light obscured his features as the woven spell came
undone. The confusion left his gaze, and the stern understanding of a warrior hardened his
face.

A little gasp of pain escaped Meghianna, but that was all the acknowledgement Mrillis
knew she would ever make, all the mourning she would be allowed, for the innocent innkeeper's
boy who had been destroyed by the emergence of Athrar Warhawk into his waking mind.

"Of course," Lycen said. He shook his head, and that crooked, painful grin of a boy who
wouldn't admit he'd been hurt twisted his face. Moving as if his joints ached, he went down on
one knee before Athrar. "My king."

"Not king yet. Not for a long time." Athrar's lips twitched and he swallowed hard. "Get
up, Lycen. You look stupid."

"Not until you take my vow."

"You've given it all your life, ever since you hauled me out of the street, my first day at
the inn. Remember?" He bent and grasped the older boy's wrists and yanked hard enough to pull
him off balance, so Lycen had to stand or fall.

"I'm sorry," Meghianna said, wrapping an arm around Lycen's shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" Lok said.

"I think I understand. How could you let him go this long without training?" Megassa
rose slowly and crossed the room, studying Athrar with her head slightly tipped to one side.
"Yes, in dreams. Do Papa and Glyssani know? About the training? Does he-- Do you know
anything of your parents?"

"We have met in dreams." Athrar shuddered. "I'm so tired of living in my dreams."

"The dreaming time is over," Mrillis said. "Lads, forgive us for confusing you." He
grasped Athrar's shoulders and turned him to face Megassa's four sons, with confusion wrinkling
their foreheads. "This is not Thrarin, but Athrar Warhawk, son of Efrin Warhawk, brother to
Meghianna Queen of Snows and your mother."

Total silence from the boys was more profound, in Mrillis' opinion, than any arguments
or questions. The silence grew and deepened and tightened until it became an almost audible,
deafening ringing. Until Athrar snapped it with a chuckle.

"I forgot to ask before ... Is Lycen my brother, or my nephew?"

"Brother. Always," Meghianna said, with a ragged chuckle. "And since you are so many
years ahead in your lessons, I expect you to take care of teaching him about his
imbrose
."

"It might keep all our boys out of trouble if Athrar would take on everyone's lessons as
we travel," Megassa said. She dropped to one knee in a graceful curtsey. "Welcome to your own,
brother Athrar. I do swear, my sons will be your most loyal followers."

* * * *

"We don't have much time, do we?" Megassa said, as she, Meghianna and Mrillis settled
at the little table in Meghianna's room.

They had left the six boys in Megassa's suite, ostensibly to begin their first lessons in
using
imbrose
. Mrillis wished he could be a bird at the window, to watch and listen as
the boys re-settled the order of dominance they had established in their journey. Knowing boys,
and how they would use blood ties for leverage, he suspected their first move would be to lock
out Lycen. Not physically. They were too smart to think they would get away with that. But he
suspected the four brothers would continually emphasize in small ways that they had a greater
claim on Athrar as nephews than Lycen did as an adopted brother. Putting Athrar in charge of
teaching the boys was a wise move--it would distract him with other concerns while he finished
combining his waking and dreaming identities into one person.

Mrillis looked forward to breaking the spell woven on Efrin and Glyssani, which
blocked their waking minds from remembering their dream visits with their son. Glyssani herself
had asked that the spell be woven, to prevent some small mistake on their part, discussing Athrar
where spying ears might hear, and spying eyes might discern that they weren't broken-hearted
over being deprived of their son. It would be a happy reunion.

Meghianna lifted the lid on her small leather trunk of clothes and dug through it, pulling
out a wax-sealed pot of dye. "This seems rather ... foolish, doesn't it? Thinking of this when
there is so much else to consider."

"Using magic just to re-dye your clothes and hair seems rather wasteful when we'll be
running for our lives soon," Megassa said.

"Better to dye it than to waste energy maintaining an illusion." She settled at the table
with them. "How much time do we have, until the enemy tries again?"

"We drained him--or them. And dealt a stunning blow. Whoever it is thought they were
coming after a handful of untried boys, making a lot of racket with untrained
imbrose
.
We couldn't have set a better trap if we had planned it."