THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (17 page)

When Pirkin requested assignment as a traveling auditor and judge on Moerta, rather
than staying on Lygroes in the Warhawk's Court, no one was surprised. Meghianna suspected
she would never see Pirkin again unless she traveled to Moerta, to participate in the yearly
gleaning of star-metal to purify more of the poisoned land.

* * * *

"Queen Glyssani of Welcairn," Mrillis said, picking up a sealed message packet from
Efrin's desk.

"What about her?" Efrin turned away from the window looking out over Meghianna's
garden.

Meghianna had come to the fortress for a brief visit, and she and Megassa had taken
themselves off on a tour of the grounds immediately after breakfast. Right now, they sat in her
garden, talking and laughing, filling the air with music that pleased both men. Technically, the
courtyard below his workroom window was no longer Meghianna's garden, since at age nineteen
she no longer spent her springs and summers at the fortress. Years of habit would keep it her
sanctuary for a long time to come, however. That pleased her father.

"They're not our little girls anymore," Mrillis said with an indulgent smile.

"Hmm, no they aren't, but it's good to see them laughing and chattering like old times."
He sighed, seemed about to go back to the window, then dropped heavily into his chair. "What
about Welcairn?"

"Queen Glyssani has sent you a message. Most likely another polite explanation why
she and her son cannot come to Court this year, either."

"How old is Markas, now?"

"Fourteen. Markas the Elder was a good friend and ally. From all reports, he would be
very proud of his son."

"At least he died knowing he had a son," Efrin murmured, his gaze focused elsewhere
for a few heartbeats. Then he sighed, blinked, and held out his hand for the packet. A flick of the
tip of his knife peeled the wax seal away and he unfolded the outer layer.

"What is it?" Mrillis said, when the king frowned after only a few moments of
reading.

"She doesn't name him, which was wise, if she is right..." Efrin shook his head, glanced
over the message again, then handed the parchment strip to Mrillis. "Markas and I had a private
name for his overly officious, self-righteous bore of a cousin."

Mrillis snorted. "Nectar pot?" He nodded and dropped into the chair facing Efrin's
worktable. He agreed that the euphemism for a daintily decorated chamber pot, fit for a fine
lady's inner chambers, suited Timark of Welcairn most appropriately. Outwardly lovely,
well-spoken and well-mannered, yet foul on the inside.

He glanced over the suspiciously brief message Queen Glyssani had sent. She expressed
her desire to come to Court to present her son to his father's dearest friend, and prayed the Estall
that if a particularly troublesome nectar pot constrained her to remain in Welcairn yet again,
perhaps the Warhawk would care to pay a visit instead. The words 'yet again,' had extra ink on
them, as if the writer had penned them several times, for emphasis. Considering that Timark had
been named co-regent at Markas' death, when his wife was deathly ill from birthing their
stillborn second child, Glyssani's perpetual absence from Court took on new significance.

"Do you think she's being kept prisoner, but in such subtle ways she can't make official
complaint to me? Timark had an unnatural gift for diplomacy and saying three different things
with the same words. We all knew he meant the most vicious interpretation of any innocuous
remark, but
proving
what he meant was the hard part." Efrin drummed his fingers on the
tabletop. "Timark has said for years that Markas is not a healthy lad. 'Not nearly as healthy as his
father,' is the phrase he uses, year after year, when I inquire about the welfare of mother and son.
His health could be easily manipulated, and if his regent holds the key to continued good
health..."

"Glyssani obviously believes either her son is in danger, or she can at last request help,
if you are witness to her situation."

"I can't simply go haring off across the sea without good reason. That would raise
Timark's suspicions immediately. Especially if he knows Glyssani sent me a message. Especially
if he couldn't intercept it." He stroked his beard, eyes hooded as he thought.

The sound of his daughters' laughter floated through the open window. Mrillis nearly
stood up as the first glimmer of an idea entered his mind. He sat still, letting the idea unfold
without interfering. Hadn't Megassa been complaining just a few days ago, before she learned
her sister was coming for a visit, that there was nothing to do, no adventure, no excitement? He
and Efrin had teased her that she should allow herself to get comfortable with her spurs of full
Valor status before she set off to save the entire World.

Wouldn't this be an adventure Megassa would enjoy? And who would suspect the
Warhawk's daughter of coming as a spy if she traveled throughout Moerta on her father's behalf?
Every minor kingdom that hosted her would preen with the honor. And Megassa could add
another dozen minor princes and nobles to the collection of adoring, broken-hearted men who
tried to win her and fell woefully short of her requirements.

"You've thought of something," Efrin said. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
"Something fiendishly clever, judging by that smile."

"Megassa wanted an adventure," Mrillis said, and waited for comprehension.

"Send her to Welcairn to challenge Timark to battle? She'd win without a doubt, but I
don't think killing the scoundrel is the answer."

"Not battle. Though she'd enjoy it, wouldn't she?" Now it was his turn to chuckle. "No, I
was thinking of sending her more as a spy. From all reports, from what I remember when I last
spoke with her, Glyssani is clever enough to realize why she came. She will get word to
Megassa, to pass on to you, if she needed help, don't you think?"

"The adventure Megs was whining for. Yes. Perfect fit." He nodded, stroking his beard
as he thought. "Timark is enough of an idiot, he would naturally assume her status as Valor was
honorary, as my daughter, rather than genuine, and discount her authority as judge. If he's as
scheming and arrogant as I suspect, he might just try to seduce her and make a claim to the
Warhawk throne." A bark of laughter escaped him. "I have a better idea. Send both my girls
together. Everyone will quake in fear of the Queen of Snows, if they don't fall over themselves in
their eagerness to claim her as a friend and ally. No matter what happens, my girls together can
handle it." His face fell. "But how to explain Meggi being on Moerta at all? I can't send her in a
good will gesture, like I can Megs."

"Harvesting star-metal," Mrillis said. "How long has it been since the Queen of Snows
allowed herself to take up such a mundane, boring task?"

"But I've always wanted to go," Meghianna said, when they proposed the idea to the
sisters over a private dinner that evening. "I never thought I could justify spending three entire
moons away from the Stronghold. It sounds like a gloriously tedious journey, and plenty of
freedom from all the officious boors while I'm out in the forests and fields."

"What am I to do while you're gathering up star-metal dust?" Megassa said. Her eyes
sparkled, making a lie of her whining tone and words.

"Hunting all sorts of strange, twisted creatures damaged by the influence of star-metal in
the air and soil and water," Efrin said. "Your uncle Cafral and I had quite a good time of it, the
few times we could go over to Moerta and run free."

"Sounds lovely. I'm up for it. And playing spy. And rescuing Queen Glyssani from that
pestilent co-regent. I've heard stories about him." She shuddered. "Banrax is from Welcairn,
Papa, and he told me Timark pressures Glyssani at least once a year to marry him. She vowed
before five Star Mothers, back when Markas was just a toddler, that she would not marry until
her son was old enough to take his father's throne. Then she made Timark swear that if the boy
died before he reached his majority, no matter what the cause, he would travel to the ends of the
World to find the murderer. He can't make claim to the throne if he's on the other side of the
world, can he?"

"Hmm." Efrin narrowed his eyes at his younger daughter. "Why do I feel you know
more about what's happening on Moerta than I do?"

"Gossip, Papa," Meghianna said. "Unfortunately, all gossip has a large percentage of
truth in it. Two of my newest students are from Welcairn, and they say the co-regent is
universally disliked. There would be outright rebellion if he ever claimed the throne. He needs
Glyssani, because everyone loves her. If he truly is threatening her son's life and keeping her
prisoner in her own kingdom, I would insist on helping to rescue her."

* * * *

Meghianna chafed against the necessity of the subterfuge she and Megassa had to
establish. How could they determine the truth of Queen Glyssani's situation if their reasons for
visiting the kingdom were suspicious? She found it amusing that the need to examine every
action and word kept her from enjoying the adventure of traveling through the untamed regions
of Moerta to harvest the fragments of star-metal that remained in the land.

When she remembered that the previous Queen of Snows, Ceera, had started the
harvesting and purification of Moerta so many decades ago, when her predecessor was close to
her age, Meghianna wondered if the second continent of her world would ever be totally
cleansed. With every bit of star-metal the harvesters brought back to Lygroes, the sky-web grew
stronger, and attracted more of the dangerous material to one central spot, rather than letting it
rain down uncontrolled. However, dust and fragments smaller than pebbles did manage to reach
Moerta and the seas. It might be decades yet before every fragment of star-metal was gathered
and refined and controlled. Only one-third of all star-metal harvested and refined each year was
allowed to be made into rings and bracelets and chains, for Valors to wear to enhance their
imbrose.
The rest stayed in the Stronghold, the amount increasing with the years.
According to the theory Mrillis and Ceera and their teachers had proposed so many decades ago,
someday the magnetic property of the star-metal would grow strong enough that all star-metal
that rained down on their world would be drawn to the Stronghold. There would be no more need
to travel to gather it up. From there, all star-metal in the World could be controlled and the
World would be safe.

Until then, Meghianna decided she would grant herself a moon of freedom every spring,
when she could justify leaving the Stronghold, and travel through the tunnel between Lygroes
and Moerta. She would wander where no nobles would fawn on her and no uneducated,
prejudiced fools would speak false friendship and either hate or fear her because she was Rey'kil.
She enjoyed wearing trousers, riding astride, and sleeping under the stars on clear, dry nights. It
amused her and pleased her that this was Megassa's area of expertise, and that her sister found so
much enjoyment in handling all the mundane details of traveling; finding trails through the
wilderness, detecting water, and ensuring the star-metal harvesters were protected from strange,
warped animals and unfriendly settlers. Megassa blossomed under the responsibility of
leadership. When she went a step too far and acted as if she were a decade older than her sister,
all Meghianna had to do was meekly curtsey and say "Yes, my elder sister," to earn peels of
laughter, embarrassed blushes, and a relaxing of her attitude. For a day or two.

The laughter didn't ring out quite as often as the days turned into half a moon before
they could justify leaving the larger party of harvesters and turning their smaller group's path
through the kingdom of Welcairn. Meghianna said a prayer of thanks to the Estall that a large
patch of untamed, poisoned land lay on the southernmost edge of Welcairn, near its border with
Goarlotte. She and Megassa and their escort of four Valors called on King Pyris as they passed
through. He and Queen Lynzette were suspiciously missing from the castle, but Pirkin greeted
them with a warmth that Meghianna knew to be genuine, and offered to escort them to their next
destination. She listened to her sense of people's true souls, and when they stopped for the noon
meal along the way, confided in him the true mission that brought her and Megassa to Moerta.
Then she asked for his thoughts on the situation.

"Now that makes a great deal of sense," the young Valor said, nodding.

"What have you heard about Welcairn and its regents?" Megassa said.

"Just what you've already told me--the queen is beloved, and the late king's cousin is to
be avoided except in matters of warfare." Pirkin's eyes narrowed and his mouth flattened.
Meghianna guessed his thoughts weren't pleasant, and whatever he had heard before had taken
on new significance, thanks to her questions. "It is odd that there seems to be more trouble with
Encindi in Welcairn than in all the surrounding kingdoms. As if, despite the reported battles, they
prefer settling here more than anywhere else."

"Why?" Megassa leaned back against the tree that provided shade for their conversation.
"There is also a larger concentration of star-metal poisoning Welcairn than any other kingdom,
because of all the ravines and valleys and cliffs that make travel and searching so difficult. The
Encindi aren't stupid, and they have to know what causes the poisoning in the land. They should
be avoiding it, not flocking to it."

"Unless someone is encouraging them to stay," Meghianna guessed.

"And to pretend to lose battles," Pirkin said, nodding. "Or perhaps not fight battles at all,
just pretend to."

"Timark is clever, I grant you that. He gives the impression that his knowledge and
expertise is needed," Megassa said. "How do we prove the battles are false and he lives a
lie?"

"We need to determine what is real and what is false for ourselves, first," Meghianna
said. "We will need more than your escort for this, if you are willing."