Lady Warhawk (32 page)

"Patience, my dear. All in the Estall's timing."

* * * *

Only a few days later, the Court met for an evening of dancing to welcome a delegation
of Moertan kings. Everyone was in what Efrin had always referred to as military
extravagance--their most elegant clothes, wearing their most elaborately decorated weapons. Mrillis had
advised against such a display, since the Moertan kings who had come to the Warhawk's court
for the yearly conclave over the Encindi problem included the kings who had tried to split from
the Warhawk's alliance. Athrar had agreed that such a display of weaponry in the same room as
wine flowing freely, young women of noble blood to be impressed, and enemies to be
intimidated did not make for a healthy combination. However, even the Warhawk was helpless
against the dictates of fashion. So Athrar appeared with Braenlicach at his side.

A determined young lady approached Athrar and announced that she intended to win his
heart and become his bride. Her words were met with laughter and scornful looks from other
nobly born hopeful brides. According to witnesses, she had already drunk four goblets of wine
that evening, and the moon hadn't risen high enough to be seen through the upper windows of the
great hall. Athrar took one step to move away from her. The angry maiden announced loudly that
she would prove she was the most worthy bride for the Warhawk.

"And consider that she revealed she wanted the Warhawk, the throne, and not the man,"
Mrillis said, when he and Meghianna and Athrar discussed the incident later.

She stepped up to Athrar, smiling and sweating nervously. She followed when he took
another step backwards, and reached for the pommel of Braenlicach.

Athrar shouted, "No!" and grabbed at her hand, just as she made contact.

The sword erupted in a brilliant blast of white light that instantly turned red. The girl
screamed and was flung a dozen paces away, and the smell of blood and charred flesh and
scorched cloth filled the air. Meghianna took charge of the girl's healing, and no one protested,
even though her father and brother were known for disdaining all magic, even in healing.

"She will keep her hand, but she will not be able to use it," Meghianna reported when
the three met. "Luckily, her father can employ servants for every task she will need done, until
she can learn to use her other hand to tend herself." She shook her head. "Silly, impetuous, stupid
girl. And equally stupid father. He put her up to it. That girl doesn't have the courage to try
anything like that."

"Yes, but you know they'll use that as a weapon against Rey'kil and against magic, and
against the throne," Athrar said, and dropped heavily into the nearest chair. "The pressure on me
to find a suitable bride and marry and produce an heir... It's enough to make me fear as soon as
my bride is pregnant, I'll die of some mysterious means and my heir will be whisked away into
hiding, to be raised 'properly' by the vicious pureblood nobles across the sea."

He sighed and let his head lay back against the cushion. "You said the sky-web was
thickening, didn't you?"

"Yes, we did," Mrillis said slowly. He glanced at Meghianna, and she had the same
confused expression he felt sure touched his face. Why had Athrar changed the subject like
that?

"I think the only way we will have peace someday is to give the purebloods exactly what
they want. Thicken the sky-web that protects Lygroes into a protective shield around the whole
continent, just like around the Vale of Bo'Lantier. Shut Noveni out, shut Rey'kil in. Impenetrable
separation. And never the twain shall meet." He rubbed his eyes with his fists, for a moment a
little boy again despite his beard and the lines marking the flesh around his eyes.

"It might come to that," Meghianna murmured. "But not now. Be patient, little brother."
She smiled when Athrar opened his eyes and shot her a scowl that didn't fool anyone.

* * * *

The incident of the burned hand, as that disastrous evening came to be called, resulted in
a new campaign among the Noveni kings. Those who demanded that star-metal belonged to all
people were silenced--sometimes forcibly. The new belief was that there was no such thing as
tamed star-metal. Kings and nobles who had disclaimed reliance on star-metal 'discovered'
hidden hoards of it in their treasuries, and brought it out to send to the Stronghold. Some were
intimidated into clearing their treasuries of the metal. Some had their treasuries pillaged of
star-metal. Healers were attacked and robbed of the star-metal jewelry that brought out their healing
imbrose
. Those who resisted were battered and even killed.

The hoards of star-metal were carted off in wagons and put on ships. The honorable
kings, who simply wanted the tainted metal out of Moerta, sent the shiploads to Lygroes. Others
stopped the ships halfway across the sea and dumped it overboard.

"Think of the waste!" Athrar raged, when those reports reached Quenlaque.

The fact that it took more than a year for the news to go from whispers to verified fact
and reach the Warhawk's Council bothered Mrillis more than the waste.

"What worries me," Lycen said slowly, "is what sort of change that makes in Moerta.
People who had
imbrose
, who relied on it for taming animals, healing, controlling the
wildfires in the plains--they won't have that magic anymore. Think of the damage when an
emergency arises and they have no magical help."

"You can be sure no one thought of that," Ector said sourly. He scratched his gray beard
and slumped a little in the chair he had finally been persuaded to take, after years of standing at
attention at the door of the council chamber.

"No," Meghianna said, her eyes dark with somber thoughts. "Someone did think of it.
What better way to weaken your prey than to first remove their magic, so they cannot resist
you?"

"Those who speak loudest against magic might just depend on it most," Athrar said,
nodding. "So, who is the most likely enemy, plotting to take away all magic in Moerta, until he is
the only one possessing it?"

"Who else?" Mrillis said, and sighed. "Lok and Mykil. We should have suspected them,
when they joined the Noveni purebloods. They enjoyed having
imbrose
far too much to
throw it away for the sake of politics. They've likely been playing their allies for fools all this
time."

"Playing us for fools, which is worse," Ector said. "Lady, should we contact your
sister?"

"Megassa? Whatever for?" Meghianna looked like she might laugh, mostly startled by
the suggestion.

Mrillis felt a shiver of worry and premonition of trouble race up his back. It had been
several years since anyone had thought seriously about Megassa and Edrout, living in seclusion
and safety--and perhaps too much silence--far away in the northern sea. How old was Edrout
now? Seven years old? Every year, Rey'kil scholars went to the island to examine the boy and
make sure he had no taint of blood magic, and no
imbrose
. Megassa had become the
center of island life, healer and teacher and a mother figure to everyone. She didn't ask about the
outside world, except to make sure her younger two sons were well, that Meghianna and her
family were happy and thriving, and to ask for more scrolls to study.

"If I were those two rotters, I would try to get that boy back under my control--or take
him out of the running altogether. If they can bring up those old lies, claiming the boy is the
Warhawk's son, they can use him as a tool. They can bring up the old sympathy angle--Megassa
was wronged, she should be the true heir, and her sons after her. They can use all the lies told
about your family whatever way they want." Ector shrugged. "That's what I would do,
anyway."

"Then we take the weapon before they can grasp it," Athrar said. "Send for Megassa
and...the boy."

"Bringing him here might support the rumors," Mrillis said. There was no need to say
which rumors he referred to.

* * * *

"I think," Megassa said slowly, her face cold and unreadable, "it is time to unbind my
imbrose
."

"Lady?" Ector looked back and forth between Meghianna and Megassa.

They were alone in Megassa's sitting room, in the highest tower of the keep on the
island of Orknay. She had been too quiet while they explained why Athrar had sent to bring her
and Edrout out of their protective isolation.

Meghianna decided her first mistake had been announcing the reason for their visit
downstairs, in the main room of the Keep. Edrout, far too thin and tall for his age, had gone
white, then let out a howl that would have frightened a drakag. Then he grabbed onto Megassa's
arm and insisted that he didn't want to leave the island. It had taken the combined efforts of the
seneschal and the head groom, bribing the boy with an offer of a ride on his favorite horse, to
quiet him and get him to let go of Megassa's arm and leave. Then she had suggested, far too
quietly, that they take their discussion upstairs to her private room.

Meghianna watched her sister as they explained the current situation, the possible threat
from her two oldest sons, the need Athrar felt to protect her and the boy from being used as
pawns by the rebellion, or perhaps being killed and their deaths put on his head.

"Yes," Megassa said, finally taking her gaze off the stone floor of her tower room. A
mirthless smile strained her pale lips. She had lost weight during her years of exile, so her
cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. Her gauntness made her look lovely and delicate and tragic.
"It is indeed time to unbind my
imbrose
. I only started to wonder what fun it might have
been, to work with you and learn everything I could do, when my boys were learning to use their
imbrose
. And now I find it is necessary to protect my Edrout." She shook her head,
loosening a few strands of silver that fell around her face in soft curls, adding to the tragic
beauty.

"After being crippled all these years..." Meghianna shrugged. "I'm not sure that there
will be anything more for you, if we do unbind your
imbrose
."

"Well, I suppose we need to talk with Master Deyral and those who know better, but I
want a weapon to protect Edrout, if nothing else," Megassa said. A little color returned to her
cheeks. "I suppose Athrar realizes that taking us out of here makes us pawns for his side of the
battle, just as much as Lok and Mykil want to use me?"

"He knows, Princess," Ector said, "but he's concerned for your safety just as much as
keeping you out of those rotters' hands."

The corners of her mouth curved up a little more. Then she sighed and got up to walk to
her balcony that looked out over the harbor of the rocky, fierce island of Orknay. "I think I will
miss this place, the peace, the safety, the lovely, loyal people. What shall I do, without all of
them to look after?"

* * * *

A delegation arrived from Moerta the same day Meghianna and Megassa's ship arrived
in Quenlaque. Meghianna left Ilianora and Glyssani to fuss over Megassa and Edrout and settle
them, while she hurried to change her clothes and reach the throne room. The delegation hadn't
given one clue as to the purpose of their mission, but from the heavy feeling in the atmosphere,
the hard determination on the delegates' faces, they had come to make demands, not
requests.

It gave her some encouragement to take her seat next to Athrar as the delegation walked
toward the throne, and see the hesitation in a few steps, the widening of a few sets of eyes, the
flattening of a few mouths in very obvious consternation.

So, they heard you were gone from Quenlaque, and thought they could sneak in here
and bully the boy into giving them what they wanted,
Mrillis observed.

With you here watching out for him? Bad planning on their part,
she
retorted.

Excuse me, but I am quite capable of saying no without your support,
Athrar
said. He sat forward on the throne enough that they could see his somber face, the twitching of
the corners of his mouth, without having to turn in their own chairs.

Meghianna was grateful they could confer in their minds. The Warhawk and his closest
advisors had no fear of enemies reading their signals to each other during formal court sessions.
Their enemies who hated magic were prone to forget about communication through the
Threads.

So, what do they want to demand of me, what's so desperate they don't want the
Queen of Snows standing against them?
Athrar mused.

The delegation reached the edge of the dais and made their bows.

"Warhawk, we thank you for granting us the privilege of speaking before you and before
the court," King Megrant said, and punctuated his opening statement with another bow. He
clutched a scroll in his hand, but didn't refer to it. Meghianna considered it a bad sign when the
speaker didn't refer to his written documents. It meant he had thought so long and hard about the
matter he knew it by heart--or he planned to deviate from the agreed-upon dialogue of his allies.
Either way, she anticipated an unpleasant hour with these people.

Athrar went through the formalities of welcoming the delegation, neatly sidestepping the
fancy words that, with the right advocate to twist them, could commit him to giving the delegates
whatever they wanted.

"We have found the way to destroy the Encindi threat, and cleanse the world of the
threat of star-metal once and for all," Megrant said, smug satisfaction making his voice rich.

Star-metal hasn't been a threat for decades,
Athrar said,
except in the
minds of those who can't use it.
"What is this plan?" he said aloud.

What horrified Meghianna more than the plan was the smugness, the assurance of the
delegates that the Warhawk would accede to their so-called reasonable and logical plan.

They proposed to eradicate the Encindi by destroying the southern portion of Lygroes.
After gathering every last bit of star-metal, whether tamed or raw, they planned to dump it all
onto the Encindi-held territory. Based on the knowledge that had built up over generations, they
believed the resulting overflow of power from such a massive amount of star-metal collected in
one place would incinerate the Encindi and cause southern Lygroes to fall into the sea. Two
dangers to the world would be destroyed in one strike.