THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (19 page)

"Ah, yes, the remarkably talented, young, strong Queen of Snows. Who, by the
blessings of the Estall," her sister said with a grin as she leaped to her feet and bowed, "just
happens to be here in Welcairn to offer her services." She snorted. "After you recover from the
strain of your journey of course. I'm sorry, Meggi. I thought that story would help us."

"It still does." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and took the precaution of
putting down the cup of wine before she tried to stand. Meghianna didn't doubt she had fully
recovered from the shock of the vision, but there was no harm in being careful.

"Better?" Megassa stepped up to offer her hand, but her sister waved her away.

"Fully recovered." She picked up the wine cup and drained it. "Megs, don't say anything
to anyone about Glyssani being Papa's true love. Most especially not to Papa. Visions have a
way of turning nasty if people try to help them along. That's why most prophecies are spoken in
such oblique ways, to warn us but not give us much time to try to affect them, one way or the
other."

"That's not very friendly."

"No, but it does force us to live as the Estall requires--by faith, and not by our own
wisdom and strength." She laughed and brushed her hair out of her face. "Now, how much time
have we lost from our lovely visit with our gracious hosts?"

Megassa laughed, clearly understanding what her sister intended. They would play the
royal ladies to the hilt, stunning Welcairn's nobles, impressing and dazzling them until they
couldn't think straight, and make them think the Warhawk's daughters cared more about dresses
and parties and royal status than anything else. Meghianna had learned long ago that the
small-minded and grasping preferred to think the worst about everyone around them, especially those
of higher rank and responsibility. Those who wanted to see them as social creatures would never
trip over the contradiction of a highly trained warrior and an enchantress under all their fancy
clothes and manners and paint.

* * * *

Ynessa, Pirkin's sweetheart, arrived less than twenty minutes later, with a handful of
Glyssani's ladies to help the two sisters prepare for dinner. Meghianna exclaimed over the bath
of hot, scented water, and had to fight to scowl rather than laugh when Megassa, with mischief in
her eyes, regaled the maids on the marvels of luxury in the Stronghold, starting with springs of
water that were eternally hot, no need to heat water for washing or bathing. She let the ladies
pamper her, and listened to her sister tell one fantastic tale after another about the wonders of the
deepest, most closely guarded treasure of the Rey'kil. Considering that Megassa had never
visited the Stronghold, Meghianna thought she did a marvelous job of mixing truth with blatant
fantasizing. She returned again and again to the dangers of the Lake of Ice that guarded the
entrance to the Stronghold, the bodies of enemies trapped forever in rotting agony, giving
warning to all who would try to storm the magical defenses. True, there were skeletons scattered
here and there along the pebbly shore, but they were kept hidden in fog and mist so that the
inhabitants of the Stronghold never saw them. Those who came to accost the Queen of Snows
and her ladies with evil intent encountered every one as if they followed a map to each spot.

Meghianna made a mental note to check the archives and learn which of her
predecessors had thought of that particularly useful and practical bit of magic, and how she had
kept it strong through so many centuries. She might need to use such an enchantment in the
future.

"Are you well, Lady?" Ynessa asked, resting a hand on Meghianna's shoulder when she
shivered at that chance thought.

"I...sense star-metal that needs harvesting. My burden is a strong sense of duty," she
added, forcing a smile despite the ripple of reaction among the ladies attending her and
Megassa.

That was definitely fear darkening a few faces, widening eyes, making several tremble.
Didn't it occur to them that any star-metal in their kingdom had to be far away, or else nothing
wholesome and strong could grow near their castle? Welcairn had been taking the longest to be
thoroughly cleansed from the poisoning, simply because it was one of the largest kingdoms on
Moerta. Its unwieldy size had also allowed it to thrive during the centuries of devastation from
star-showers, giving its people enough clean land for growing their crops, and raising their herds
and families. Other kingdoms had withered up and died because there simply wasn't anywhere to
live that wasn't overrun with warped plants and animals that had turned into monsters because of
star-metal's influence.

She thanked Ynessa when the young woman finished braiding her hair with ribbons, and
grasped her hand to keep her from walking away immediately. Warmth spread through her at the
contact, and she saw Pirkin and Ynessa laughing together, a baby in her arms and three boys of
widely varying ages wrestling and playing at their feet. Meghianna wondered, just for a moment,
if her prolonged exposure to the star-metal as she refined it and gathered it to send home to the
Stronghold had made her more sensitive. Or was this simply the Estall's plan for her, to suffer
multiple visions in a short time? Certainly this vision fading from her eyes was a pleasant one,
and no strain at all.

"Lady?" Ynessa whispered, leaning closer. "Your eyes--"

"I have Seen... yes, you and your sweetheart will be very happy together. A joyous
marriage, and fruitful." Meghianna laughed when the young woman blushed.

"Do I have your blessing, then?"

"What do you need my blessing for?"

"I am half Rey'kil, an orphan, and only by the grace of Queen Glyssani am I given any
rank or protection. If anyone knew of my heritage..." Ynessa glanced over her shoulder at the
other ladies.

Welcairn was poisoned with more than raw star-metal, Meghianna decided.

"Does Pirkin know?" she whispered. It pained her to realize she had no idea how the
young Valor felt about magic, and such strong magic potential, in others. He had come to terms
with his own
imbrose
, relieved that he had not inherited his mother's and grandparents'
great strength. She feared that despite the things he had been taught, the acclaim and acceptance
he had received, he would always have a distrust of magic, and especially the Rey'kil half of his
heritage.

"He knows, and he sympathizes with me. He understands." Ynessa glanced over her
shoulder at the other ladies. None of them appeared interested in their conversation.

Meghianna wondered how many of them were more than a little relieved not to have to
attend her? Then again, the glamour that surrounded Megassa, princess and Valor, had to be far
more attractive than the mystique and power of the Queen of Snows. She reached up to touch her
braids. In the last year, the white had grown even more predominant. She feared by the time she
passed her twenty-first birthday, her hair would be pure white.

"What makes you smile so, Lady?"

"My hair." She giggled when Ynessa shook her head and frowned, confused. "I just
remembered a passage in Lady Ceera's journal, how her sweetheart teased her that her hair,
which had been silver in childhood and turned snowy white as she grew in her power, had a
tendency to glow in the dark."

"Who would say such a cruel thing?"

"Not cruel. Loving. Laughing." She sighed, longing for love that didn't seem to be part
of her destiny. "It is a mark of great power, and some say the Estall's blessing, for a Rey'kil
enchanter's hair to be pure white and to glow with light. Lord Mrillis adored Lady Ceera, and his
words were spoken with love." She sighed again. "Love allows you to find humor in nearly
everything, I suppose."

"Ah. I understand." Ynessa's eyes sparkled, and Meghianna suspected she remembered a
few incidents with Pirkin.

"Marry him as soon as you are able," she told her. "You will have many long years
together, and your souls are made to create glorious music to please the Estall, but only if
merged together. Don't delay your happiness any longer than necessary."

"Music to please the Estall," Ynessa whispered, and a touch of pink graced her
cheeks.

A knock on the door sent one of Megassa's attendants running to answer it, and halted
the chatter in the room. The girl, who had dark chestnut curls escaping her cap, frowned as she
crossed the room to Meghianna and curtseyed.

"Regent Timark's apologies, Lady, but he regrets to inform you that Queen Glyssani has
fallen ill again, and will be unable to entertain you tonight."

"Again?" Meghianna glanced at Megassa, and her sister stood, brushing aside the ladies
who continued to braid her hair and paint her face. Part of her
imbrose
talent that
remained through the binding magic was an ability to project emotions and augment her
appearance. Her warrior aspect enfolded her now, adding height to her appearance, breadth to
her shoulders, and an overall darkening of her aspect.

"I am sure Queen Glyssani is only temporarily indisposed," Meghianna said, holding her
sister's gaze. "No need for alarm or to suspect ill of anything or anyone."

Megassa nodded and made a visible effort to calm and relax. She sat down, but the four
ladies attending her didn't hurry to resume their tasks of decorating her.

"Please convey my respects to Regent Timark. I would be honored to tend to Queen
Glyssani. The healing talents are the greatest treasures of the Queen of Snows, and the highest
purpose of the Stronghold. It is only right that I employ my gifts from the Estall to her
benefit."

"Oh, thank you, Lady." The ladies maid curtseyed again. "But I doubt Regent Timark
will..." She swallowed, suddenly nervous and pale. "He will not permit it. He does not like
employing magic anywhere within Welcairn's boundaries."

"Magic is employed all day long. How does this kingdom even exist, except through the
use of magic to cleanse and heal it?"

"He will not be pleased or willing to allow you to see her."

When Meghianna went down to the great hall to speak with him, Regent Timark was all
unctuous smiles and words so overwhelmingly pleasant, they seemed to drip perfumed oil. He
couldn't hide his distaste for Meghianna when she approached him and repeated her insistence
that she must help tend Queen Glyssani. His fear and dislike for her--and something else, some
sense of secrets and desperation--shone clear in his eyes. It made the wide smile in his fleshy
face and his booming, cheerful voice into a travesty, a twisted mockery of something once
wholesome and strong.

"Forgive my bluntness," he said, shaking his head, when she insisted for the third time
that the queen could be in no more skilled hands for healing. Meghianna noticed he didn't even
bother with titles and polite address this time. "Welcairn has no trust in magic, and no liking for
it. You may depend on it to keep the breath in your body. We in this kingdom are strong enough
to take care of ourselves with the wisdom and skills the Estall gave us, and no weakening
reliance on unnatural things."

"Unnatural? When the Estall gave us
imbrose
, implanted it in our very blood
and bones?" She nearly laughed aloud at his illogical assertion.

"Take away star-metal and the power it produces, and what happens? No magic.
Star-metal is poison. As soon as it's all gone, no more magic. There'll be no difference between
Rey'kil and Noveni any longer. Then we'll see who is the stronger and wiser, won't we?"

"As long as the World remains, star-metal will continue to fall on our land and seas,"
she responded with a sense of calm that amazed her. She wanted to slap him hard. Maybe
knocking him to the floor or against the wall would wake him up, crack something open so some
common sense could get through his thick, stubborn skull. Yet something rose up from deep
inside to restrain her, making her stand taller, putting a quiet assurance in her voice that echoed
off the ceiling despite the softness of her words.

"And the Estall made the Rey'kil to gather it up and keep it from damaging the rest of
us. Just because you feed off poison doesn't make you better than the rest of us." His nostrils
flared, his eyes widened, and dark color flushed his cheeks for a moment.

She nearly smiled at his momentary discomfort. He had realized just what he had let
slip. A wise man didn't let his enemies know what he thought of them, because it gave them
warning. Meghianna wouldn't exactly call Timark wise, but he was clever, a schemer, and
grasping. That made him dangerous.

"You must excuse me, Lady. I didn't not mean those words as they came out. It was not
my intent to insult." He managed a strained, crooked smile, and bowed to her.

No,
she agreed,
you had no intent of revealing your mind and heart. I am
well warned now. And so is my father.

"I have been out in the field for many days, ensuring the safety of my kingdom. To
return home and find my dear Glyssani stricken once again, it is enough to push any man into
misleading statements."

"I understand completely, Lord Timark." Meghianna gave him a shallow curtsey,
certainly more signal of honor than he deserved, and excused herself.

He calls Welcairn his kingdom. I don't like it that he refers to her as his dear
Glyssani. Especially in light of my vision. Megs, be ready for a council of war!
she called
through the Threads.

Meghianna shooed the few remaining ladies from their suite when she returned. She
paced several times up and down the length of the front room, gathering her thoughts before she
related to her sister her encounter with Lord Timark.

"Convenient that she fell ill when he returned," Megassa remarked.

"Maybe he suspects our other reasons for coming here?"

"If he's smart, he should be very worried that we have the authority to spirit Glyssani
and Markas away to safety." She dropped heavily onto the edge of her bed and shook her head.
"That's not good. We don't want a smart enemy. Well, what do you think we should do now?
Storm the castle ourselves, or call for reinforcements?"