THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (35 page)

"Blood can be overcome, Papa. My mother and grandmother are proof of that."

"True, but--"

"How hard would it be to believe that I might have caused Glyssani's miscarriage, that I
want you to have no sons, that I wish to absorb the Warhawk's throne into the power of the
Stronghold? You know there are many Rey'kil who want nothing more than to force all Noveni
off of Lygroes' soil, permanently. What you do not know is that there are some, those who stay
in the Wayhauk Mountains and other, more desolate places, who refuse to have anything to do
with Noveni at all. They wish to destroy Noveni just as thoroughly as the Encindi. What if I am
allied with them, Papa?"

Mrillis waited just long enough for the horror of Meghianna's words to drive all color
from Efrin's face, and for the dawning realization to paralyze him and wash the aching fury from
his eyes. Then Mrillis tipped his head back and laughed, the sound forced and cold, echoing from
the stone ceiling.

"You know the idiocy of such a notion," he said, and clapped his hands twice, startling
both father and daughter. "Think, lad!" It pleased him when Efrin blinked and his lips twitched
as if he might smile at the incongruity of the old address.

"All right. I see your point. I will be careful and use reason, not emotion." Efrin sighed,
leaned back in his chair, and scrubbed his face with both hands. His mouth trembled when he
tried to smile, and he shook his head as he looked his daughter over, head to toe. "When did you
grow up, Meggi? When did you become so wise and strong you can save me?"

"Papa, don't despair. You and Glyssani
will
have a son, your heir. I have seen it.
Braenlicach will burn for him. Hold that image in your mind, whatever you do now. Nothing can
prevent my brother from being born, but what you do now can determine if he has a strong
kingdom, or a brittle one, on the day he takes your crown." Meghianna slid from her chair and
stepped around the table, to kneel and hold both her father's hands. A single tear dripped from
each eye, and Mrillis ached with pride in her.

* * * *

Meghianna called herself a dozen names for coward when Efrin convened a formal court
two days later. She stood to the left of her father's throne, and Mrillis stood on the right, both of
them resting their hands on the arch of the high carved back, in symbol of the support of
Wynystrys, the Rey'kil, and the Stronghold. All three wore unrelieved black. As she stood and
watched the courtiers file in and fall silent at the sight of Efrin waiting for them, dressed so
soberly, she wondered how long it would take the Court as a whole to realize the Warhawk was
in mourning.

Megassa and Lorkin were among the last to arrive, with Megassa walking arm-in-arm
with Markas. Meghianna refused to believe the possibility that either one could have struck at
Glyssani, but the sight of them together, laughing, tightened something inside her so she could
barely breathe.

"Papa?" Megassa inhaled sharply, and her voice echoed as the last few talking stragglers
fell silent. "What's wrong?" She broke away from Markas and Lorkin and hurried to the few
short steps leading up to the dais.

"Formal court is now convened," Mrillis called, using magic to project his voice so it
echoed off the stone floor and wooden beams and the tapestries lining the walls. "For justice, for
blood and death and innocence, a court of inquiry is now called." He snapped up one wrist, and
dark blue sparks danced along his fingertips before flying to close the four doors and the four
shuttered windows. Meghianna thought perhaps a third of the three hundred or so people in the
room flinched at the sharp thuds of wood and metal on stone.

"Death?" Megassa went pale and her glance snapped to the side where Glyssani's chair
was noticeably empty. "No!"

"No, indeed," Efrin said, rising. The black hood of the cloak he wore fell around his
face, framing the pallor of his skin, highlighting the silver streaking his beard. "My queen lives,
but the poison given to her by someone now present ripped our child from her womb."

"A child?" She swayed, stumbling backward off the single step she had climbed.
"Meggi?"

"Our sister goes before us into the Estall's Bliss," Meghianna said. She watched her
sister, but kept her perceptions open for other reactions of those in the crowd.

"Our sister." Megassa nodded and knuckled the first gleam of tears from her eyes.
"Papa? You said poison?"

"Majesty," Lorkin said, stepping up to slide an arm around her waist and support her.
"You said one of us present poisoned your queen? How could you believe such a thing?"

"Everyone called into this room either has a hope, however faint, to sit on the
Warhawk's throne, or they strongly support a claimant." Efrin nodded, his mouth going flat and
grim, when mutters rippled through the gathered crowd.

"Then Megassa and I stand accused?" Lorkin let out a bark of bitter laughter.

"Everyone with a touch of Warhawk's blood, or those whom rumors say carry the
Warhawk's blood, no matter how many generations back or what side of the blanket they were
born on," Meghianna said. She stepped forward from her place and walked up to the edge of the
dais. "Even I may stand accused, though why I should want to soil myself with the filth of
politics and in-fighting and prejudices, I cannot conceive." She bit back a sour laugh when hisses
and whispers responded to her criticism of the Court.

"Why would anyone accuse the Queen of Snows of killing her sister?" Lord Parcef said,
laughter in his voice.

Meghianna had enough unpleasant experiences encountering the bitter Noveni lord to
know he wasn't amused. He treated everything as foolery and a waste of his time, so that even
his allies were unsure where he stood on any matter--until he struck. Someone he had seemingly
vowed undying friendship to in the morning could find himself accused of treachery by nightfall,
with evidence that he himself had given to Lord Parcef.

"Unless perhaps you could consider another daughter of your father as a rival for the
throne?" the man continued after a moment, when ripples of laughter and more whispers flowed
through the crowd.

"Which throne?" Mrillis said. "The Queen of Snows has no throne, and she does not
want that of the Warhawk. There is such a thing as loyalty, my lord. You might have heard of
it."

More laughter rang out, a little stronger, but died when Parcef turned his oak-brown
head slightly to look on either side of him. Meghianna felt sorry for the people who were foolish
enough to delude themselves that if they curried his favor, he would never turn against
them.

Lord Parcef openly supported King Markas as the Warhawk's heir, and even though he
denounced the rumors that Markas was Efrin's son, and not the son of Markas the Elder, she was
sure the rumors had their origination with him.

"The poison used against Queen Glyssani was to prevent conception. Given by someone
who would stand as a rival to any child she would bear for Efrin," Mrillis said. "It was given
recently, and killed the child in her womb. Fortunately, she was not rendered sterile by the
miscarriage. Be sure, we have wards woven around her now to prevent such an attempt in the
future, and spells are at work even now to follow the trail of the poison and who gave it to
her."

"I promise mercy to the one who confesses, rather than waiting to have the evidence
thrown in your face," Efrin said, his voice cold. He looked directly at Megassa as he
spoke--though he could have been looking at Lorkin, since the two stood together, with her safe in the
curve of her betrothed's arm. Meghianna trembled to see the cold anger and certainty in her
father's face. What did he know about Megassa that she had missed?

Megassa and Lorkin, Meghianna noticed, didn't react to Mrillis' promise that magic
would eventually sniff out the trail of the poison and poisoner, like a hunting dog. Did that prove
they were innocent--or merely foolishly confident that they had covered their trail with magic?
Despite his claims otherwise, did Lorkin possess some
imbrose
after all?

Lady Eliorin, the historian of the Council of Lords, stepped forward with a scroll and
read off the names of everyone who had some claim to the Warhawk's throne, even if they had to
go back five generations to make the connection by blood. She read off each person's pedigree
and the supposed claim, and then the list of known supporters. Meghianna had helped assemble
the list, and it still shocked her to know how many could stand accused. She watched Markas,
who flushed darkly and clenched his fists when his name was read, and then the reasons for his
alleged claim.

"If I may, Majesty?" He stepped forward and bowed low to Efrin. "No one told me of
my mother's loss, only that she was ill and unwilling to see anyone. How could you leave me in
the dark and deny me the right to comfort her? The child is my sister--only half-sister," he added,
turning to glare at the whispering courtiers behind him. "Everyone will testify I wear my father's
face, so how could anyone dream that I would ever hope to claim you as my father? I am proud
to be your step-son, and that is more than enough for me."

"I don't question your loyalty, King Markas," Efrin said. "But the hopes and dreams of
others who wish me harm make you suspect only by the fact that you exist and that gives them
some hope. We have a test for all the accused, to clear their names or pronounce them guilty.
When the list is finished."

Markas nodded, looking relieved but still grave, and bowed again. He stepped to the
side of the dais and put his back to it, looking out on the gathered people, in the pose of a guard.
Meghianna appreciated his visible statement of support for Efrin. She hoped that Markas would
be cleared first, so he could go visit his mother and comfort her. Efrin hadn't liked giving the
order that no one on the list could go near Glyssani, because he knew it included her son.

Megassa and Lorkin were last on the list. She let out a cry and started toward the dais
again, but Lorkin held her back.

"Papa, how could you think such a thing? Haven't I proved over and over that I have
defied my bad blood, just as my sister did?" She pointed a trembling hand at Meghianna.
"Whatever this test is, let me take it first, to prove to everyone that I am innocent!"

"She has
imbrose
," Lord Parcef spat. "She has more magic in her blood than
any of us have been allowed to guess, and that makes her immune to whatever test you would
throw on us. Let her be tested by the mind-sifting spell that High Scholar Breylon brought from
the oldest records. The test that killed two of the traitors who attacked the forgers of the
Zygradon."

He shouldn't know such things
, Meghianna thought to Mrillis.

I don't like it that he has such knowledge--it means he looked for it,
he
responded.

"My sister's magic has been bound since she was a child, by her own request,"
Meghianna said. "Do you doubt the word and the skill and the wisdom of the scholars of
Wynystrys?"

The argument bounced around the hall, different people arguing for Megassa to be
tested in the most severe manner, and others arguing against it. Then some members of each side
changed their minds, arguing and making counter-arguments until the ceiling and walls rang with
the cacophony. Meghianna stepped forward three times to intervene, to gesture for silence, even
force it with magic if necessary, but each time Mrillis caught her arm and stopped her. She tried
to understand why he let the voices grow louder, the accusations crueler, until the court divided
into small knots of claimants with their supporters around them and faces grew more agitated.
She looked at her father, and it hurt her to see Efrin sitting still, staring into nothingness, his grief
and anger making him look ten years older than he had only a few days before.

The only time the Warhawk's face changed was when he looked at Megassa. Then,
confusion filtered through the pain and loss. Meghianna could understand that confusion. She
didn't want to believe her sister could be so cruel, so selfish, to poison Glyssani to prevent her
conceiving a male heir. Megassa had said for years she didn't want the throne, didn't want the
responsibility and having to endure Court and courtiers. And most especially, she didn't want the
throne and all the liars and flatterers who would try to win the throne through marrying her.

Meghianna caught her breath when she looked at Lorkin and wondered, yet again, if he
had changed her sister so thoroughly that Megassa would commit treason for love of him.
Megassa had wanted a great, strong, passionate love. Had she found it? Was love like that worth
the price she had paid?

"Enough!" Megassa shrieked, and leaped up the few steps to stand on the dais and glare
down at her opponents and accusers. She spread her arms and sparks leaped off her fingertips,
angry red and bright, like flames that threatened to ignite the tapestries they hit before they died.
"I will take your wretched test!"

"No." Lorkin stomped up the steps and caught hold of her hand, tugging hard so he
nearly pulled her down the steps with him again. "I won't let you demean yourself that
way."

"I'm not afraid." She whirled free of his grasp and stomped up to stand in front of Efrin's
throne. "Do you really think I would do such a thing, Papa? Don't you have any faith in
me?"

"I have faith in you," Efrin said slowly, standing, so he towered over her. The starkness
of his expression made her back up several steps. "But I also have too much faith in the magic
that bound your mother and your grandmother, making them the tools of the Nameless One even
after his death."

"If he's dead at all," Lorkin snapped. "Warhawk, she is your daughter! How can you
treat her this way?"

"If she is innocent--"

"If. If. If!" Megassa flung her hands up as her words ended on a shriek. She swung
down, slapping Efrin hard enough to make him take a step backwards.