THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (20 page)

"Definitely we should let Papa know what has happened. Lord Mrillis felt Braenlicach
react, and he knows I will report as soon as I know what is really happening here. I am sure he
will be listening." A little laugh escaped her. "Even though it is halfway to morning in
Lygroes."

"If you have the power to live forever, I suppose you don't really need sleep, do you?"
her sister mused.

"What?" Meghianna paused in settling herself to be comfortable for what promised to be
a long communication through the Threads.

"Well, that's what everyone says. He's tied directly to the Zygradon, and rumors are that
as long as the bowl of magic exists, Mrillis will never die. That sounds lovely, until you stop and
think how horrid it must be to see everyone around you get old and weak and ill and die, while
you just go on and on." Megassa made a sour face. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"So am I." Meghianna tried to push that image to the back of her mind so it wouldn't
intrude when she contacted Mrillis through the Threads. She took a few deep breaths, made sure
she was comfortable, then closed her eyes and reached with mental hands for the Threads.

It was an odd experience she didn't want to repeat, carrying on a conversation among
four people when only two could communicate directly. Mrillis went to wake Efrin and inform
him of what had happened, as soon as Meghianna gave him a clear mental picture of the
situation. Her father asked Mrillis questions, which he passed on. When they included Megassa
into the conversation, Meghianna didn't have to speak to her sister, but the effort of bringing her
into the conversation and holding the Threads open so she could speak and hear strained
her.

Efrin promised he would call on Lord Goaran, a cousin of dead King Markas who was
fifth in line for the throne, and whom everyone had expected to be named co-regent with
Glyssani. He spent all his time in Lygroes, and openly admitted it was because he and Timark
did not work well together. Efrin did not dare move against Welcairn without the blessing and
cooperation of other members of the royal family. He thanked his daughters for the work they
had done so far, and asked them to do whatever they felt necessary to ensure the safety of Queen
Glyssani and her son.

"We should have thought of that," Megassa said, when the conversation ended. She
flopped backwards on her bed, visibly drained by the effort of communicating through the
Threads. "The poor boy. All ignored through this. I wonder if Timark has made any move
against him. We have to find his rooms and wrap a good warning and protecting spell around
him."

"It's not that easy." Meghianna shook her head, amused despite the situation, because of
her sister's continuing insistence that spells were easy to create and could do anything necessary.
Magic was not all-powerful and all-curing, as the uneducated preferred to believe.

"You don't have to," a boy's voice said, coming from the tapestry at the head of
Meghianna's bed.

The thick material shuddered and rippled, accompanied by the sound of wood grating on
stone. Meghianna climbed up on her bed, walked to the head and yanked the tapestry from
behind the ornately carved headboard, in time to see a heavy wooden panel slide up into the thick
stonework of the wall. Cleverly designed pins kept it up and out of the way, so Markas could
climb through. She stood back and let him clamber over the headboard.

"Oh, no..." Megassa groaned. "It's our fault."

"What is?" She jumped down from the bed and waited for the boy to join her on the
floor.

"That panel. There are tunnels in the walls, aren't there?"

"Everywhere. We used to be attacked by the Encindi every few years, when my father
was a boy. Farnal, the seneschal, taught me all about them when I was little." Markas nodded,
and rubbed at the grime smearing his face.

"What do you wager that some of Timark's people know about the passages, too, and
spied on us and heard us talking?"

"Oh." Meghianna sat down again, momentarily overwhelmed by the flood of guilt. They
hadn't been cautious in their words, so used to the privacy and security they enjoyed in the
Warhawk's fortress and among their loyal people. It had never occurred to her that someone
would distrust and expect the worst, and set others to spy and eavesdrop. "I'm sorry, Highness.
Our father sent us here to determine if you and your mother were in danger, and here we've only
added to it."

"Do you think all her illnesses are caused by Timark?" Megassa said.

"Mother is hardly ever ill. She only pretends it when she knows Timark tries to make
her sick to control her." Markas nodded for emphasis. "She has enough
imbrose
to sense
poisons and when something isn't right in her food. He came into her room and offered her a cup
of wine and when she refused it, he got angry. He sent all her women away and they argued. She
was worried that something would happen, so she told me to hide, and I saw and heard
everything." The boy wrapped his arms around himself, trembling with mixed rage and fear. "He
forced her to drink it, and then he carried her away." He swallowed hard. "She's not even in the
castle anymore."

"You will not leave our side," Megassa said, leaping to her feet. She wrapped an arm
around the boy's shoulders, giving him a comradely hug, as the women warriors who raised her
did.

"We will protect you. And we will rescue your mother. I swear it on the honor of the
Stronghold and on the authority of the Warhawk's throne," Meghianna added.

"He's taken her away. And I think I know where. To Tantagar." The boy rubbed at his
eyes, smearing them with more grime from the passageways he had probably been lurking in for
hours now. "It's in land that's still poisoned. He uses it for people who cause him trouble. People
who go there... when they get out, they never say what happened, and some even say he did
nothing to them. But I think just going through there and staying alone in the tower all
surrounded by monsters, that has to be bad enough."

"Don't worry," Megassa said. "The Warhawk will send warriors to rescue your mother
and get rid of Timark once and for all."

"That will take moons, just crossing the sea and getting here." Despite his words, the
boy's face brightened with hope.

"No, it will not take moons. There is the tunnel under the sea. We are just past the
half-moon. If the soldiers are ready in two days, they will be here at Welcairn Castle at the full moon,
and on their way to Tantagar."

"What tunnel?" Markas asked.

"What do you mean, what tunnel?" Megassa laughed.

"Megs... most people don't know about the tunnel because we don't allow anyone to use
it except for Stronghold business. You remember when we first started across Moerta, you
thought it was so funny that everyone assumed we sailed here, when we actually came through
the tunnel. After what happened to Le'esha, Queen of Snows..." Meghianna sighed. This loss of
knowledge was another sign of the rot growing deep in Moerta, sundering the partnership
between Rey'kil and Noveni that had been bought with blood and pain and generations of hard
work.

How much of the unreasoning Noveni prejudice against Rey'kil could be blamed on the
Rey'kil holding grudges, and how much could be blamed on the Encindi danger? Mrillis was
right when he told her, years ago, that the Encindi were easier to handle and the partnership
between Rey'kil and Noveni more peaceful back when the Encindi had their own land to retreat
to when they were beaten. With the destruction of Flintan decades ago, the Encindi had nowhere
to go except deeper into enemy territory. Desperation, and nowhere to go but forward, gave them
a ferocity and stubbornness that made them hard to destroy. The Noveni blamed the Rey'kil for
the continuing drain on resources and the inability to dispose of their centuries-old enemy once
and for all. The Rey'kil loathed the Noveni's constant whining and the obligation to work with
people who didn't respect them, for the sake of everyone's safety and welfare. The old grumbling
and attacks on Noveni homesteads on Lygroes that had occurred in the days of Mrillis' youth had
resumed, to force all Noveni to flee Lygroes and leave the continent entirely to the Rey'kil.

Meghianna and Mrillis shared a fear that when the last Noveni finally fled to Moerta and
there were no one but Rey'kil and Encindi living on Lygroes, all communication and connection
between the two continents would sever. No matter how the Encindi continued to attack the
Noveni continent, Rey'kil would refuse to honor the alliance any longer. And use magic to seek
out and destroy every Encindi, whether friend or foe.

Megassa explained the existence of the tunnel between the continents and the magic that
maintained it and compressed time, so that a voyage of half a moon on the surface only took two
days on foot. Markas was suitably impressed. His request to go see the tunnel, and travel to meet
the Warhawk's forces, struck the sisters silent.

"We do have to get him out of the castle as soon as possible, don't we?" Megassa said,
turning to her sister.

"Timark's bullies are probably looking for me right now, tearing apart every room. The
ones who know about the passages in the walls are probably on their way here," the boy added.
His expression was so hopeful, so eager for an adventure, Meghianna had to laugh.

"Very well, my lord prince, I think it is time to show you many different levels of magic,
all at once." She stood up and gestured at the wall pegs where extra dresses had been hung to air
and smooth out the wrinkles that invariably came from traveling in packs for days at a time.
"You will have to wear a dress--"

"A dress?" the boy squawked.

"You don't think they'd let a servant
boy
leave with us, do you?" Megassa said,
her nose wrinkling with scorn. "If I were searching for a runaway, the first place I'd look is
among the servants, and anyone trying to leave the castle."

"I'll look mightily silly in a dress," Markas protested.

"Not with a good layer of magic wrapped around you to change your appearance."

"Then what do you need me to wear a dress for?"

"This is your first lesson in magic," Meghianna said, and held out her hand, drawing the
dresses across the room to her. She snorted, muffling more laughter, when the boy's eyes
widened at the sight of the dresses flying across the room seemingly under their own power.
"Whenever possible,
don't
use magic. Save it for things you can't otherwise do with
your hands and creativity. Magic has limits. The sea might seem endless, but if you drain enough
of it away, you will eventually find yourself with nothing but sand and dead fish."

"Oh. Of course." The boy frowned and his eyes unfocused. Meghianna guessed he was
still trying to fully comprehend the idea that magic wasn't a bottomless well. She took advantage
of his distraction to hold several dresses up to him. Fortunately, Markas was nearly the right
height, being in the middle of the usual growth spurt for boys his age. She chose the dress, and
Megassa persuaded the boy to peel off his tunic and vest and boots and put on their spare
undergarments.

"I didn't realize woman had to wear so many clothes," the boy grumbled as they fussed
with ties and lacing and petticoats. "No wonder you wear trousers when you travel."

"I'm sure you'll start to appreciate the effect of a good layer of petticoats in a few years,"
Megassa assured him, as she finished lacing up the back of the borrowed dress. Over Markas'
head, she crossed her eyes at her sister. Meghianna had to turn away to hide her expression as
she fought not to laugh aloud.

With magic, she lightened Markas' hair and lengthened it so it flowed in a riot of curls
over his shoulders and down his back, then fitted a maid's cap over his head. She had to take
several deep breaths and remind herself this was not for fun, but to save the boy's life. Still, she
could hardly keep her hands steady, either physical or mental, as she wove the Threads around
the boy to alter his appearance and give him a girl's curves and change the shape of his face to
soften it, widen and sharpen his cheekbones, diminish his nose and give it a perky tilt, and paint
an illusion of softness and dainty color to cover up a tan and a strong jaw.

"I'm sure you'll be delighted to know you have the beginnings of a beard," she
murmured, as she stood back and surveyed her handiwork.

"Really?" Markas raised his hand to stroke his chin. "I thought so, but I was afraid to tell
anyone." He frowned. "I don't feel it."

"What good is an illusion if someone can touch you and feel the difference?" She
nodded, pleased. "I suppose this is what your sister would have looked like, if your mother had
ever given you one."

The boy approached the mirror sitting on the dressing table with some trepidation. His
mouth dropped open and he went pale, then blushed. Megassa burst out laughing and fell
backwards onto the bed, clutching her stomach, when the boy went back a second and third time
to examine his reflection. To Meghianna's relief, a grin cracked the boy's face and he laughed
with them.

A tapping on the door shocked them all to silence. When Meghianna called out, Ynessa
answered. She hurried into the room almost before the door opened wide enough to admit
her.

"Lady, I'm sorry, but I thought I should warn--" She stopped short at the sight of
Markas, greatly altered, standing there in a green dress. "Do I know you?"

"This is Mara, who just started working in the castle a few days ago," Meghianna said.
"She's from a village on the far southern border of Welcairn."

"No, Lady, she is not." Ynessa shook her head. "We don't have time to worry about such
things. Do you trust this girl?"

"With our lives," Megassa hurried to say. "What's wrong?"

"I overheard Lord Timark give instructions to lock up the castle and let no one out, and
to drug your wine at dinner so you wouldn't try to leave or cause him trouble. Then he rode
away, and I swear I heard one of his men say he was going to Tantagar."