ZYGRADON (31 page)

Breylon came from Wynystrys to the Stronghold at Ceera's plea. He brought
the leaders of the Rey'kil who were on Wynystrys at that time, and those who could
come from the surrounding countryside in a day's time joined them. Ceera and Mrillis
told no one what the letter or report contained until they convened the meeting.

Ceera read to them of devastation wreaked by Rey'kil raiders on Noveni farms
and villages and estates during the winter. Silence spread through the meeting hall, until
Mrillis fancied the silence rang throughout Lygroes.

On Ceera's command, Noveni had been denied use of the tunnel. She blushed
now as she admitted letting her anger rule. They had no way to send news of what was
happening on Moerta until they could send a ship, when the winter storms had finally
calmed. The Rey'kil who left Moerta either didn't care or didn't know what those left
behind had planned.

Along with the report of vendettas launched against the Noveni by Rey'kil on
Moerta, others brought news of attacks that took place on Lygroes. The attacks always
came at night, or under cover of a storm, so no sentinels or watchmen could warn the
Noveni farms or villages or merchant caravans.

Aided by magic or simply propelled by fury, Rey'kil warriors swooped down
on isolated Noveni and destroyed property. Barns full of supplies were set on fire, horses
and cattle stolen or slaughtered, fences torn out of the ground, and anyone who tried to
stop them was cruelly beaten or stabbed or became the targets of scores of arrows or
burned with magic. Many warriors died. That was nearly understandable, but the reports
showed that the attackers didn't spare the elderly or children, women or the
unarmed.

The demand was always the same, no matter where the raiders went, no
matter how much damage they did: all Noveni were to return to Moerta and leave
Lygroes to the Rey'kil alone.

The attackers didn't care that the Noveni couldn't use the tunnel, and the seas
were too dangerous to cross during the winter storms. The Rey'kil only wanted the
Noveni gone and all ties severed. They didn't care how many innocents suffered. The
Rey'kil still in Moerta wanted the Noveni to suffer. Whether on Moerta or Lygroes, each
time infuriated Rey'kil struck, their war cry was Le'esha's name.

"The name of the last Queen of Snows has become a curse word among the
Noveni," Ceera said, breaking the long silence that followed the reading of the report.
"For the sake of those innocents who have suffered, I must indeed fulfill the vow I made
in grief and anger. The Noveni will not be safe until they have all returned to Moerta
and Rey'kil live nowhere but Lygroes, and all the star-metal has been gathered up and
brought to Lygroes."

"With all the star-metal gathered here into our land," Endor said, his words
slow, his gaze focused on some distant spot beyond his steepled fingers, "there will be a
flood of power. What's to stop the vengeful from using their power over long
distances?"

"We will find a way," Mrillis said, speaking quickly. He prayed no one else
heard the tiny intake of breath, Ceera's only concession to the shock of Endor's
words.

Their childhood friend was right. With the star-metal of two continents
concentrated onto one, and the increased attraction for the starshowers that fell in the
future, the Rey'kil would have all the power they could ever want. Some would use that
abundance for evil.

"Yes," she echoed. "We will find a way to watch those who refuse to forgive.
We cannot allow the innocents to suffer for the stupidity and greed of a few. For now,
though, we have one mission. The question I bring to the leaders of the Rey'kil is how
we will accomplish it."

She stood before them, calm and poised and regal, secure in her authority and
training. Mrillis watched Ceera as she led the meeting, guided the discussion, and soothed
hurt feelings before arguments began. Le'esha would have been proud of her.

Le'esha would have known how the heavy weight of authority and
responsibility caused Ceera bitter pain. Mrillis imagined their foster mother sitting in a
shadowy corner of the room, watching them. What would she do?

He knew that answer as if written on his heart. She would expect him to
support Ceera, give her his strength and advice, and hold her when she wept in the cold
gray hours before dawn.

Ceera sent scouts throughout Moerta to find every grain of star-metal. They
linked their minds to Ceera, and with Mrillis' strength, she drew those bits of star-metal
to herself from leagues in every direction.

All spring and summer, she traveled the tunnel from Lygroes to Moerta with
Endor and Mrillis as her closest guards. Triska and Theana acted with her authority in the
Stronghold and kept in close contact with her through the Threads. Whenever Ceera had
gathered enough star-metal to become invisible and unreachable through the Threads,
she went back through the tunnel, taking the lump of star-metal with her.

Ceera used the first three lumps of star-metal to impregnate the stone lining of
the tunnel and wove spells of protection and invisibility into it. Only the strongest of
Rey'kil would ever be able to see and use the tunnel.

"What are you going to do with star-metal when you can't put any more into
the stone?" Endor asked her on the third trip, when they reached the Lygroes end of the
tunnel.

Ceera just shook her head and looked at him with such weary, sad eyes, Mrillis
wanted to pound his childhood friend. For once, Endor didn't tease for an answer or to
break her from her mood.

When they returned to the Stronghold to rest, Ceera spent hours alone in
contemplation and hours more speaking with the elderly, delicate little Star Mother who
had come to the Stronghold after her retirement from active service.

Whether it was the Star Mother's constant prayers on her behalf, or Ceera had
simply thought long enough and hard enough, she found her answer. She called her
friends, those she worked best with, and returned to Moerta.

"I dreamed of Graddon," she announced on their return trip to Moerta, when
their traveling party woke in the tunnel halfway through the journey.

Endor snorted and went back to drawing up buckets of water. The deep basin
collected water from the ocean that had seeped through solid rock, filtered and rendered
sweet and pure in the process. Mrillis, however, saw a sparkle in her eyes that could have
been the last white mist of a Seeing.

"What did he tell you?" he asked. He held out to her a chunk of bread dripping
with cherry preserves.

Ceera laughed when she saw it, and her hand trembled when she took the food
from him. Mrillis remembered a moment later that Graddon and Ceera had always
retired to the kitchens in the Stronghold for muffins and preserves and mugs of hot,
strong herbal tea after his lessons in metalworking. Images slammed through his mind,
and he abruptly
knew
.

Ceera's laughter died, and Mrillis guessed his expression gave away the
conclusion he had reached.

"He told me to reach into the fire." She gestured at their campfire, sitting in a
depression in the rock. "I reached into the flames and pulled out a star. He gave me my
hammer. When I struck the star... it became a bowl," she finished on a whisper.

"It's time," he said.

"Time for what?" Endor's voice cracked. He tried to smile, but his lips flattened.
Mrillis wondered what bothered him.

"Time for the vision that came when I was born."

"No." Ceera shook her head, then took a big bite of the bread, smearing
preserves across her lips. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "Just the beginning, not the
whole. I looked for the sword in the bowl, and it was not there. But all the Threads
came to the bowl and filled it with power, and all the power of the Threads were stored
in the bowl. We need to gather so much star-metal on this trip, we will disappear even
from the physical sight of people watching us a furlong away. We need enough
star-metal to control all the star-metal that will ever come to the World."

* * * *

Ceera swore their companions to secrecy. She didn't want the Rey'kil Council to
know what she planned. Whether she feared they would try to stop her or argue with
her, or she feared sabotage from those who supported vengeance on the Noveni, Ceera
wouldn't say. Mrillis knew better than to ask her, and he grew impatient with those in
their group who kept asking him, as if he could look into her mind.

"What happens if your bowl of magic incinerates us all?" Endor said, offering up
his only protest during their evening meal four days later.

In that time, Ceera had already brought in three pieces of star-metal; the
smallest was the size of an acorn, the largest as big as both her thumbs put
together.

"Then the World will know better than to try such a thing in the future." Ceera
shrugged and continued picking through her bowl of spicy grains.

"How will they know?" Mrillis asked, pitching his voice low so only she could
hear. Ceera glanced up from her meal and gave him that curious, flat little smile that had
become her standard response to painful topics.

"I have a book, woven of Threads and parchment," she said, after picking
through her bowl a little longer and still not eating anything. She looked at the fire, but
spoke loud enough everyone could hear. "I send my thoughts to it each night as I make
my prayers, to record our actions, the things that happen to us, our discussions. If I
die...it will go to Breylon, and I trust him to carry out my wishes and to share what we
discovered so no one repeats my mistakes."

"That's not what I meant," Endor grumbled.

"Who will be Queen of Snows after you? I think that's what he meant," Loereen
asked. The red-haired girl hardly ever spoke, and when she did, her companions had
learned to listen because her questions and suggestions were always wise or
provocative.

Mrillis liked her, and felt sorry for her. Part of her habitual silence came from
the fact that she was a half-blood, Noveni and Rey'kil. Her Rey'kil mother had died
when she was a child and her nobleman father had taken up company with a band of
Noveni who despised and feared the Rey'kil. Loereen was an outcast in her father's castle
until she ran away to the Stronghold. Now, with the rising sentiment against the Noveni,
she was again something of an outcast.

What irritated him more than that injustice, however, was the fact that Endor,
who was also a half-blood but accepted by the Rey'kil, did nothing to support the other
half-bloods and make the purebloods accept them. Mrillis had tried talking to Endor, but
his friend never seemed to understand. He never grew angry, only laughed, as if he
thought Mrillis made a joke.

"Who will be Queen of Snows?" Ceera nodded and bent her head over her
bowl. "Triska is my best student. Theana knows I am considering her, and she will guide
her if something happens to me before she is fully trained."

"Triska?" Endor sat up straight from his lounging pose against a fallen long. "My
baby sister, Triska?"

"Yes." Ceera gave him her wintry little smile. That glint in her eyes wasn't from
amusement. "Is there a problem with my choice?"

"She's weak. Choose Nainan."

"Nainan is cruel and arrogant and refuses to listen. Triska is kind and cares for
others. Triska stops to think before she acts. Nainan would rather believe a lie than find
out the truth. When she is proven wrong, she tries to put the blame on someone else.
She always tries to punish those who resist her. Why would she make a good Queen of
Snows?"

"We will someday be at war against the Noveni," Endor said with a shrug and a
grin. "Would you rather have a leader who lets our enemies sneak up on us while talking
peace? Or one who will make sure all the spilled blood is Noveni blood?"

"Triska is my choice."

"She's certainly one who will serve. Then you think Nainan is the one who will
abominate, among the three drops of blood?" he shot back.

Ceera put down her bowl and slowly rose to her feet. Though there had been
not even a whisper of breeze since they sat down to eat, now her long hair swirled
around her and sparks crackled at the hem of her skirts and sleeves and at her
fingertips.

"Who told you of the prophecy of the Three Drops of Blood?" she whispered,
and her voice reverberated through the campsite and Mrillis' chest.

"My father found it when we were still with him. He laughed at it. He ordered
me to be the one who triumphs, no matter how long I had to wait. He was certainly a
bloody sword, wasn't he?" Endor shrugged again and laughed. "Do you really think I
would lift one finger to help him? If you want to avoid the prophecy, make Nainan the
heir to the Queen of Snows. Make her feel wanted and admired and she won't be your
enemy any longer."

He glanced at Loereen and nodded in salute to her. "We know what it's like
when we're beaten for something we didn't do. Eventually, you believe the ones who
tell you that you're evil and worthless and nothing but trouble, and you decide to make
them right about everything they said."

"Your words have wisdom, yes," Ceera said. She gazed long at Endor, until
finally he had to turn his head and look away. "I have no intention of dying for a long,
long time. Let's worry about other things, shall we?"

"Mirroring," Mrillis whispered.

True,
she thought back to him.
Endor and his sisters could be
Three Drops of Blood--but not the ones who fulfill the greater prophecy. They will help
to bring about the true Three Drops, however. Triska is my heir. Swear to protect
her?

Nothing will happen to you.
Mrillis caught up her hand when he
thought no one was looking, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
You'll just have to
protect your heir all by yourself.

Ceera stuck her tongue out at him, but she smiled and there was real humor in
her eyes for the first time in days.