Lady Warhawk (23 page)

"Please, Lady, why would you fear I wouldn't like you?" Ilianora asked, shaking her
head.

"And that is another thing." Meghianna rested her hand on Ilianora's, to stop her from
tossing the counter sticks on the table. They sat on the floor around a low, round table, playing a
game that consisted of moving small multi-colored blocks around a board, turning the blocks
over to create solid patches of colors. "I can't wait until you're able to call me Mother." She
squeezed the girl's hand, delighted when Ilianora blushed.

Lycen choked, earning giggles from both women.

"Is something wrong?" Meghianna asked, amused by how her son's cheeks darkened.
"Do you need something to drink?"

"Mother... No, it's ridiculous." Lycen shook his head and reached for the counter sticks
Ilianora had dropped on the table, to take his turn.

"What is ridiculous?"

"I think he was going to accuse you of spying on us." Ilianora giggled again, unusual for
the girl, who was usually so quiet. "We had a wager between us, to see how long it would take
before we couldn't keep the secret. And before someone noticed."

Eyes sparkling, she stretched out her arm and tugged back her sleeve, to uncover the
elaborately engraved band of star-metal set with chips of blue and green and red stones. The
thick band was made for a man, and had been pushed up Ilianora's slim arm past her elbow,
where it stayed securely out of sight. Meghianna had made it long ago, during one quiet, studious
winter before she was fully invested in her duties as Queen of Snows. It had been an indulgence
in fancy, too much a part of her to give away without much thought. It had stayed safe in her
quarters in the Stronghold, until she gave it to Lycen two years ago.

"Mother?" Lycen reached over to grasp her arm when she sat and stared, realizing what
the gift to Ilianora meant. "Are you all right?"

"I am more than all right, my dears. I am delighted. And relieved. And proud that you
made such a wise choice. And I am so happy that I will soon have a daughter." She laughed,
blinking away tears, when Lycen groaned and leaned over from his side of the table to wrap his
arms around her in a rough hug.

The wedding took place a moon after the midwinter festivities, timed so the inhabitants
of Quenlaque Castle had something to look forward to, when the dreary, long days of winter
weighed their spirits down again. It would also give Lycen and Ilianora time to have a wedding
trip before he returned to Quenlaque to begin planning campaigns and strategies for the war that
would resume in the spring.

As a wedding present, Meghianna took Ilianora and Lycen to the hidden entrance of the
tunnel that led from the shore of Lygroes to the Stronghold. She bound the two of them to the
magic that guarded the tunnel, so they could always find it, and the tunnel would let them in and
give them access to the Stronghold. Now they would have a place of safe retreat and
privacy.

Meghianna didn't go with them to the Stronghold. The magic that brought the place to
life would activate for Lycen, and all their needs would be taken care of. She went to the
Warhawk's fortress to stay with Efrin and Glyssani, responding to that inner, quiet voice of
warning. The time she had left with her father was running out, with no more hope of
replenishment, like a broken hourglass.

The end came with the first signs of spring, when rain came more often than snow, and
the mornings brightened a little earlier. Lycen and Ilianora's wedding journey was almost over,
and they planned to come visit the fortress before returning to Quenlaque. Athrar was expected
for a visit and everyone was in good spirits, anticipating a family meeting. Rumors were that
Indreseen's winter illness was the first sign of pregnancy. Efrin and Glyssani looked forward to
hearing confirmation of the news from Athrar--and Meghianna looked forward to some time
without the girl's presence. She and Glyssani and Efrin spent a cozy, pleasant evening together,
talking and playing a riddle game, until Efrin grew too tired to continue. Meghianna hugged her
father and kissed him goodnight, and couldn't repress a shiver. She turned to Glyssani, and saw
understanding and premonition in her stepmother's eyes.

"Athrar won't get here in time," Glyssani whispered, then followed Efrin to their
room.

Meghianna didn't go to bed, but sat up in the common room, holding onto the echoes of
their pleasant evening together. She was ready when Glyssani sent for her in the morning, with
the news that Efrin had died.

* * * *

"Mother... I think we have a problem," Lycen said, approaching Meghianna at the tower
window that looked out over Quenlaque harbor.

"Which noble is it now?" She sighed and wrapped her arms a little tighter around
herself. It seemed to Meghianna that the entire world mourned the death of Efrin Warhawk.
Nearly a moon now since his lavish funeral, and the snow refused to finish melting away, the
gray of dusk hovered in the sky at all times of the day, and the sea birds stayed on the shore,
giving their harsh, muted cries instead of squabbling and mating and flying over the water.
Sometimes she fancied her own grief held the world in gray mourning, and it would always be
this way.

Lycen sighed, and created a bubble of
imbrose
around them to keep them from
being overheard. "It's Indreseen."

"I suppose she thinks it's time to put off mourning, that we've grieved long enough. I'm
rather pleased she's held on this long without whining."

"No. And someone should have worried about that sooner." Her son shook his head.
"She and Athrar have argued again. When don't they argue?" he added with a snort.
"She's...flirting with me. To punish Athrar. Or maybe to punish Ilianora. Who knows?"

When Ilianora announced her pregnancy eight days ago, Indreseen had collapsed in
tears. She complained that the crowning of Athrar as Warhawk--and her crowning as queen--had
to wait until the two moons of mourning were over. She complained that Quenlaque was filled
with soldiers and Valors preparing for war. She complained that it rained all day.

"To punish us all," she said, nodding, as the idea came clearer in her mind. "I don't
doubt half the old harridans of the Court are tormenting her with their well-meaning condolences
over her barrenness."

"She wants to hold Braenlicach," Lycen said.

"Impossible." Meghianna mentally and physically shrugged off the lassitude that had
shrouded her for too many days. She headed for the doorway and the stairs down out of the
tower, dissolving the bubble of privacy. Lycen linked his arm with hers, though she certainly
didn't need the support to descend the winding stairs. Meghianna appreciated the contact.

Indreseen believes she isn't fully accepted as Athrar's wife, because Braenlicach
won't accept her,
Lycen continued.

Braenlicach won't let anyone not of the Warhawk's bloodline hold it. What is so
hard to understand about that?
Lately, Indreseen's grasp of common sense seemed slippery.
The time had come to stop excusing the girl's behavior by blaming the pressures of her
position.

She flirts with me constantly, and Athrar is too caught up in his duties to notice.
Which is probably why she's doing it--to get him to notice,
Lycen added.
Nora thinks it's
silly, but I'm worried that if it keeps up, she won't think it's silly anymore.

Meghianna stopped short when a flicker of an image, an impression of choking fear
wrapped in guilt pierced her son's control over his emotions.

You think Indreseen will hurt Ilianora?

She's a selfish, willful brat who has been sweet and generous because she always
gets what she wants. We've never seen Indreseen foiled and frustrated until now. She pushes me
a little harder every time I see her. Holds my hand, leans against me, does things...

Do you remember those girls in the tavern three streets to the west, when we were
boys?
Grimness touched his eyes when Meghianna indicated she remembered the tavern
thinly disguising a brothel.
I think of those girls when Indreseen tries to be alone with
me.

I need to talk to my sister. It's high time she used her influence to put a leash on that
girl.
Meghianna continued down the stairs at twice the pace.
Mrillis!
she called.
We have trouble.

Of course we do,
the enchanter responded, just before she and Lycen reached
the bottom of the stairs that opened out into the central courtyard.
Blood magic is at work. I
haven't seen or felt anything like this since that last great battle with the Nameless One.
A
wave of weariness and grim resolve came through the Threads.
I fear he has awakened fully,
at last. Pray the Estall this is not the final battle for the fate of the World.

* * * *

"We must take Indreseen back to Welcairn," Megassa announced, coming into Athrar's
workroom. She laughed when Athrar, Mrillis and Meghianna froze, startled at her unannounced
entrance, intruding on their council of war.

"Why?" Athrar finally asked, after glancing at the other two.

"Well, first because all the fighting seems to be concentrated here in Lygroes. I've heard
too many Valors speculating that this war will be over control of star-metal, not land." She
settled in the fourth seat that had been vacated by Lycen not twenty minutes before, when he'd
gone to check with a team of Valors heading out on a scouting mission. "Getting her entirely off
the continent will make her feel more secure. Half her flightiness is pure nerves. And I
recommend you don't send Ilianora with her. Indreseen's deathly jealous of her, now that she's
pregnant."

"I wouldn't send Nora over the sea anyway," Meghianna said. "I would rather she stay in
the Stronghold during her pregnancy. I might just re-open the Stronghold, to take the wives and
daughters of Valors, to protect them..."

"My men would be grateful," Athrar said.

"And it would ensure that silly girl can't keep chasing Lycen to punish you for
something you can't control," Megassa said, her voice soft, her gaze uneasy.

"Ah. So someone else has noticed." He met Meghianna's gaze with a mirthless smile.
"Lycen said he had talked with you, and you were thinking up a plan, but he wanted me to know
right away, in case any accusations arose before we could fix the problem."

"I'm sorry," Meghianna whispered. "We didn't want to hurt you."

"Do you know what really set off all our squabbles?" He leaned back in his chair,
tipping his head against the top bar, and closed his eyes. "When Lycen gave Nora that star-metal
cuff as a betrothal gift. She thinks she should have more star-metal, because she's my
queen."

"She thinks with enough star-metal, she will finally show some
imbrose
,"
Megassa said. "She imagines all the Valors pity her or make fun of her. If we take her to Moerta,
where most of the people there don't possess star-metal except as decorations, where very few
people have
imbrose
--"

"Because the ones who do are here on Lygroes, at war," Athrar said. "That's something
else she doesn't understand--gifts bring responsibilities."

"She'll feel more accepted and honored." Megassa reached across the table to rest her
hand on Athrar's hand. "She truly does love you, but it frustrates her to feel she is failing you.
She isn't pregnant, she has no
imbrose
, and she's terrified of being used against you in
this war."

"So her solution is to try to seduce my brother, who is happily married, to make me
jealous? If I was a more violent man, I might strike out at her, rather than him. Did she think of
that?" Athrar only sounded weary, and his sad, wry little smile wrung Meghianna's heart. He was
far too young to carry the Warhawk crown, with the added weight of the war rising up all around
him, much less the temper tantrums of a child bride.

I wonder if it's any consolation that the silly girl does love him,
she thought to
Mrillis.

Separation might do them both good,
the enchanter responded.
On the other
hand, it might destroy them both, and our world with them.

"Be assured, brother, I will watch over Indreseen," Megassa said. "Separation will be
good for both of you. She will get lonely and realize what a fool she's been, and when you come
to fetch her home again, all will be well. Maybe better than before. Who knows?"

"Who knows?" Athrar nodded. He looked over the piles of reports and messenger
pouches spread across his table, and the map painted on the wall, then he slowly stood. "It's late.
We've been working all day. I think I will go talk to my wife about our plan, and we will resume
our work in the morning." He shrugged. "We all need some sleep, don't we?"

"We do indeed, lad." Mrillis stayed seated, and Meghianna followed his example. They
watched Megassa leave with Athrar. The enchanter sighed. "What do you see, Meggi?"

"Nothing." Meghianna felt strangely relieved that no vision had come to her in the wake
of Megassa's revelations. "Nothing except that my grandson will be born in the Stronghold."

"Grandson." He grinned. "That is not 'nothing.' That is hope and a promise for us
all."

* * * *

Mrillis joined the scholars of Wynystrys in seeking the center of the magic that spread a
web of destruction and sickness and malevolence across Lygroes. Everywhere they turned,
Encindi and rebel Rey'kil forces had a connection to power that fed them strength and protection,
both physical and magical. The Valors with each troop of soldiers spent their time and energy
warding off magical attacks, so the soldiers could battle their counterparts.

The fear that the Nameless One had returned grew into a certainty.

Meghianna brought Rey'kil women and children and the wives of all the Valors to the
Stronghold, re-opened all the levels, and put all the sons who were blocked by the guarding
spells into the stone village.