THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (6 page)

"Gynefra, are you teaching my daughter trick riding?" he demanded, when he swung his
mount around to face the other riders.

"No, Majesty." The guard captain went pale also, but sat straight in her saddle and held
out her arms to take Megassa.

"Then someone had better start." Efrin turned Megassa around in the saddle to face him.
From her vantage point, Meghianna saw her sister stare at him, wide-eyed and pale, with
trembling lips. That was fear, she realized, and wondered how Megassa could ever fear their
father. "You did very well, for being so young. I wouldn't want you to break your pretty little
neck. Promise me, you'll be careful?"

"Yes, sir," Megassa whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" He shook his head. "I'm proud of you. That was very clever. I hear
you're a good bowman already. I'm glad you want to be a soldier. That is an important thing to
do. Someday, when you're grown, you will ride next to me in battle."

"I will?"

"I promise." Efrin let out a sigh that ended on a growl. "Megassa... we've started badly,
but I do want to be friends." He glanced at Meghianna, and something in her expression made
him laugh. "I am your father, and your sister loves you--"

"She does?" Megassa twisted around to look at Meghianna, her eyes wide with wonder,
and glistening with tears.

"Now I've gone and done it." He lifted her up and held her close for a brief hug. Then he
swung her over into Gynefra's waiting arms. "I've bungled it again. Mrillis--"

"I think it would be best if Meghianna and Gynefra explained things to Megassa,"
Mrillis said, his tone dry and tight, but a sparkle of laughter in his eyes. "Women are much better
with such things."

"Please do." Efrin shook his head. "I think we should finish our ride, and then we have a
delegation from Moerta arriving this morning, don't we?"

"Yes, Majesty, we do." Mrillis turned his head, met Meghianna's gaze, and winked. She
grinned back. When she looked at Megassa again, her sister watched her with a somber gaze, but
her tears had dried already.

"I think I would learn tricks better with a bigger horse," Megassa offered in a little
voice. "Please?"

"Start small," Gynefra said as she settled Megassa on the saddle behind her. "It's a
shorter distance to fall."

"I won't fall. I never fall," the little girl proclaimed, so much pride and certainty in her
voice, it earned a grin and laughter from Efrin and Mrillis both.

Megassa never fell, no matter how many hours she put into learning trick riding, first
with Gynefra, then with the Warhawk's couriers, who taught her to lean down from the saddle,
holding on with only her ankles, to pick up pieces of parchment lying on the ground. Meghianna
sometimes wished she didn't have quite so many lessons, so much to learn, so she could spend
time in the stables learning about taking care of horses and different styles of saddles and bridles,
too. Her mind sometimes wandered to Megassa and whatever her sister might be doing, during
those few special times she was allowed to sit in a quiet corner of the Warhawk's council room,
shielded from sight by Mrillis' magic, to listen and learn. The third time it happened, she
confessed it to her father and Mrillis, over dinner.

"Tragedy," Efrin said, shaking his head. His mouth curved down in disappointment, but
Meghianna couldn't miss the laughter in his eyes.

"You're making fun of me, Papa." She turned to Mrillis, who watched her with that
considering look on his face, eyes unfocused, head tipped to one side, lips pursed. "I don't know
what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong." Mrillis shook his head, blinked, and sat back in his chair.

"Nothing," Efrin agreed. "You're just... normal. I'm heartily bored quite often during
council sessions. I can't imagine how you manage to last an hour."

"I get a funny feeling in my stomach sometimes, when I get to watch Megassa practice,"
she admitted. "I wish I could ride like her. And I... it's not angry, really, but I don't like the
feeling I get when you watch her, Papa, and you cheer for her. Am I getting sick?"

"That, Princess, is jealousy," Mrillis said. "Or envy. That's a prettier sounding word.
You want something your sister has."

"That's not good, is it?"

"Well, it's a glimpse into how the rest of the world feels, sometimes," Efrin said with a
sigh. He studied his cup, turning it slowly around in his hands, keeping it level so the wine didn't
slop out. "I don't suppose it helps to tell you that I don't love you any less, now that your sister is
part of my life. I know it certainly didn't help between me and Cafral, when we were jealous of
each other."

"Do you think Megassa is jealous of me?" Meghianna dropped her spoon, startled by the
thought.

"Of course. But I think it is a good thing, if it is guided," Mrillis said. "She isn't jealous
of your father's love, because she knows she has it, too. She certainly isn't jealous of all your
lessons, though I notice she has applied herself more diligently to learning to read and write. I
think it is amusing what makes her most jealous is that you are older, even though it is only by a
few moons. That is something she can't fix, no matter how hard she works."

"Why would she want to be older?"

"Why didn't you mention that before?" Efrin said almost at the same time.

Meghianna didn't like the darkness that touched his eyes, or the way they narrowed, or
the hard lines that formed around his mouth, not quite hidden by his beard.

"Megassa has decided that if she were older, she would be the princess and Meghianna
would be the younger sister... and people would be kinder to her."

"If Megassa were the princess instead of me..." Meghianna gnawed on her lower lip for
a moment. "I would still be Queen of Snows. Lady Ceera chose me. But would Megassa be more
important to people? Would they be nicer to her?"

"People will be nicer to her now, I promise," Efrin said. He shoved his chair back and
got up so quickly, the chair rocked a little.

Meghianna held her breath as her father strode from the room. She didn't think he was
angry, but something had hurt him. She was afraid that, once again, she had spoken
wrongly.

"The boy is far too young for all this," Mrillis said, his voice rough, soft, so Meghianna
thought he spoke more to himself than to her.

"Lord Mrillis, I think there really is something wrong with me."

"I doubt that." He shook his head and smiled.

"It isn't just thinking about Megassa. Sometimes I see through her eyes."

"When?" His mouth went flat. He stood and moved around the table so he stood over
her. "Oh, little one, don't worry." He sat on the edge of the table, and all the hardness and
intensity that had settled on him like armor dropped away. "I'm not angry with you. No one is.
We should be used to all the surprises you keep dropping on us. Despite everything, we still
expect you to be an ordinary little girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, don't be." He rested his hand on the top of her head, then slid it down so he
cupped her cheek. "You are exactly what you need to be. It is the Estall's plan. You are being
formed for some great duty, a heavy burden, something that only you will be able to do. I think
your father sometimes grieves that you can't be ordinary."

"Then it's good that he has Megassa?"

"Hmm, perhaps. But I suspect Megassa isn't so ordinary, either. Tell me, when do you
see through her eyes? What things is she doing, what is she feeling, when that happens?"

"She's..." Meghianna sat back in her chair, frowning as she thought. "She's trying
something new in her lessons. Or someone has been nasty to her, and she wants to hit them, or
she's fighting not to cry."

"Intense emotions and thoughts. Of course." He sighed and she felt a pang when his
hand left her cheek. "It seems your sister does have some
imbrose.
Enough to let your
minds touch. I think your blood bond from both sides has created a way for her feelings and
impressions to slip past your mind-shields."

"That isn't good, is it? Maybe they aren't as strong as they should be?"

"You are six years old. You shouldn't even
need
mind-shields. The ones you
have are quite amazing, and quite strong and..." He sighed. "To be honest, my dear, we had
prayed to the Estall that Megassa would have no
imbrose
whatsoever. It would make
our lives easier."

"Why?"

"Prophecies and problems. And your great-uncle Endor is still too fresh in the memories
of too many people. They fear we are repeating the mistakes we made with him."

"Did you know him?"

"I did indeed. He was my closest friend for many years."

"Until he turned bad?"

"Until he turned bad."

Meghianna ached, deep in her chest, at the sad, introspective light in Mrillis' eyes. His
silvery hair and beard, kept trimmed short like a soldier, suddenly looked dull. He never looked
his age until now. For just a few heartbeats, he looked so tired, and suddenly too old, as if he
would turn to dust and blow away in another moment. That frightened her, so she scooted around
in her chair, to stand on the seat and fling her arms around him. Mrillis let out a broken laugh and
wrapped his arms tight around her.

"What was that for, little one?"

"I don't want you to ever go away," she said between gritted teeth, her voice muffled
against his shoulder.

"What makes you think I will?" He patted her head, then grasped her shoulders and
gently moved her back so they were eye-to-eye.

"I have dreams of a cave. A horrid place, all dark and wet and melting rock reaching
down to make a cage. And Threads wrap around you and keep you there. And nobody can find
you." She hiccupped from the force of the sobs she fought to keep back.

"Hmm, visions already at your age? Why not?" He smiled, but his mouth was
crooked.

"Promise me you won't go there? You won't ever go away? The white lady..."

Meghianna blinked and found herself sitting on her chair again, with Mrillis kneeling in
front of her, rubbing both her hands. She felt hollow inside, almost as if she had no bones or
blood and her stomach was no longer full of dinner.

"What happened?" she whispered, and her voice sounded like the wind blowing through
the chambers at the top of the Stronghold, where they were open to the sea.

"You had a Seeing," Efrin said, stepping into her field of vision. He scooped her up, to
cradle her against his chest. Meghianna gladly snuggled close to him, breathing deeply of the
comforting scents of leather and soap and the spices the fortress' housekeeper kept in his clothes
chest. She wondered how long she had been lost in the vision, that he had finished whatever
errand took him from the room and came back before the Seeing ended.

"Was it a long one?"

"Not particularly." Mrillis stood up slowly, moving like Scholar Lyri did when the cold
and damp made her joints ache. "It is draining when the Estall sends a Seeing. Your body is too
young for such things. It took you some time to recover."

"Scared a few years off of me," Efrin muttered. He jounced her a little, like he used to
do when she was much smaller. Meghianna grinned, too tired to laugh.

"What did I say?"

"You gave us a puzzle. As most Seeings do."

"Lord Mrillis?"

"A warning." He nodded absently and strode across the room to the table in the corner,
where wax slates and a stylus or two waited to be used. Mrillis leaned over the table, frowning in
concentration for a few moments before writing.

"Papa?" Meghianna didn't like the faint redness around his eyes that meant he had
fought tears.

"I suppose I must get used to this, sweetling, but I honestly wish you wouldn't frighten
me like you do."

"I'm sorry. I can't help it." She giggled, startled, when he kissed the tip of her nose.

"No, you can't help it at all." He sat down in her chair, holding her on his lap.
"Well?"

"A warning. For me, I believe." Mrillis held the slate closer to his face, as if he had
trouble reading what he had just written. "It seems that someday, I must beware she who is my
fondest dream. She who hates me most will imprison me. And she who fears me the most will
have the power to release me."

"I said that?" Meghianna shivered.

"In far more convoluted words, I fear." He forced another smile, which didn't make her
feel any better.

Mrillis tucked the slate inside his robe, in one of the many pockets. Meghianna thought
about the treats and treasures he had produced from those pockets, since her earliest memories,
and wondered when that slate would come out so she could study it. She knew better than to ask
tonight. Not with her father and Mrillis looking so somber. Besides, she felt too tired to study it.
For now, it was pleasant just to snuggle close to her father and let him take care of her.

A flicker of a dream peeped out from the dark closet of her memories. She saw Efrin
white-haired and bent, his hands crooked from age and hard use. He smiled at her and closed his
eyes, and slid down to lie on the ground. A moment later, it wasn't the ground, but a funeral pyre.
Meghianna swallowed down a sob. That scene wouldn't happen for many years, she knew. She
understood the dream warned that she wouldn't have her father with her forever, much as she
wanted it.

But Mrillis would always be there, unchanged from the way he was right that moment.
She knew that, with a certainty more solid than the bedrock of the Stronghold and the power of
the Threads that sang against the fingertips of her mind.

* * * *

Two nights later, Meghianna slipped from her bed to go to Mrillis' workroom, to pursue
the questions that had filled her head since that first Seeing came upon her. She wrapped herself
in Threads to make herself unseen, unheard, unfelt, just as Mrillis had done to hide them in the
corner of the council chamber, to listen to the lords and minor kings argue and plan with her
father. She supposed that if he knew she had seen just how he twisted the Threads into a
covering for them, he would have asked her not to do it until she was much older. Meghianna
reasoned that if she could do it without being taught formally, then she wouldn't hurt herself
trying to do it. Because she didn't have to try, didn't have to experiment. That, she had decided
from reading records of other Rey'kil students, had been where the damage occurred.