ZYGRADON (19 page)

The children sat quietly, listening as the adults discussed the starshower and
everything that had resulted. Mrillis felt some relief that he wasn't required to recite. He
was hungry and wanted to eat. He was relieved to see the visitors were only two men:
Warlord Lyon and Battlemaster Norum. Mrillis listened to Lyon's questions, curious to
see how the Warlord dealt with things beyond his experience and skill.

Lyon moved and observed the world like a wild animal, triply alert and
cunning. Mrillis decided he admired the Noveni nobleman warrior. He asked questions
that cut to the heart of the matter and didn't try to make himself sound wiser and more
insightful than he actually was. Mrillis had seen and heard other Noveni scholars and
emissaries try to do that, when meeting with Breylon or Le'esha.

"Do you think it was blood magic, lad?" Lyon raised his head and met Mrillis'
gaze.

"I've never seen or felt blood magic...so I don't know if that's what I felt." Mrillis
felt his heart pick up its pace. "I felt burning. It was... filthy. Worse than just dirt. Like
dead things had been heaped together. Full of poison."

"I smelled blood," Ceera said, her voice barely above a whisper. Under the
table, she reached for Mrillis' hand. He twined his fingers through hers to encourage her.
"Bad blood. Sick blood smells. Like when wounds rot."

"How would such a pretty maid know that smell?" Lyon tried to smile, but the
bleakness in his eyes told Mrillis the man didn't mock either of them.

"Ceera has a strong gift for healing, even so young," Le'esha said. "She comes
often to the healing rooms in the Stronghold, to comfort the ill and learn to heal. She has
seen death and suffering. And the gangrene of wounds gone bad. Yes, the children
touched the result of blood magic, when they fought the battle in the sky."

Lyon slammed his fist into the table, making goblets and bowls jump and rock.
No one flinched.

"Will we spend eternity fighting this evil? We are warriors, my brother and our
kin and our nobles, but we do not
live
to make war and spill blood. The
Encindi are brutes, but they are also women and children, and there must be some
innocents among them." He glanced around the table, fury and frustration making his
eyes bright. "Must we totally destroy an entire people, for the sake of peace?"

"There will not be peace, even if every Encindi were to die," Breylon said, his
voice quiet in the aftermath of the warrior's impassioned outcry. "Evil exists in every
heart, not just the Encindi. If we destroy them, then Noveni and Rey'kil will find reasons
to fight among themselves."

"Then what are we to do? Master High Scholar Breylon--Queen of Snows--my
brother relies on your guidance. How do we fight this evil magic that pulls star-metal
down on our heads?"

"The histories speculate that the Nameless One first turned to blood magic to
protect the World from star-metal," Scholar Tetherys offered. "We must beware the same
pitfall, to go beyond the tools and the laws the Estall has given us, for the sake of power
or riches or even greater knowledge. To do evil in the name of good turns everything
evil. Eventually. And the pity is that those who start down that slippery path don't even
realize they have fallen. In their hearts, they see themselves as good, as benefactors, as
martyrs."

"So we are to just suffer and work on rebuilding our defensive walls, instead of
taking weapons in our hands and going out to meet the enemy?" Lyon said.

Mrillis chafed against the knowledge that his destiny lay in magic and
scholarship. He wanted to pick up a sword, race out into the world and batter those
who devoured the innocent.

Then he thought of what he had done in the tower, when his anger manifested
in a burst of power. He could have knocked Nixtan, his former friend, from the steps,
perhaps to his death.

"The children are our future," Le'esha said. She rested a hand on Ceera's silver
head and lightly stroked the child's hair. "These children, acting in love and
innocence--"

"And ignorance," Mrillis grumbled. His words earned snorts and grins from most
of those at the table, and seemed to lighten the atmosphere.

"Sometimes knowledge can be dangerous, and those who leap into the void in
the name of love are those the Estall can use most effectively," she said, nodding. "These
children have shown us the way. We are happy to give you some good news for the
Warhawk. Even now, enchanters work to take the death aspect from star-metal, and
harvest its power to benefit Rey'kil and Noveni both. When we are sure of what we do,
we shall move west to Moerta, to take the poison from star-metal and give the land new
life, so the Noveni can reclaim their heritage."

The moon had risen to its zenith before Le'esha gestured for the children to
climb from their chairs and follow her. Mrillis was relieved, and partially jealous of
Ceera, whom Kathal carried because she was too sleepy to walk. His legs ached from his
headlong flight up the tower stairs. His eyes kept crossing from weariness. He hated these
signs of lingering weakness.

"All great endeavors have a price," Le'esha said, resting her hand on the boy's
shoulder as they crossed the empty, moonlit central square of the scholars' enclave. "You
have paid a heavy price for the things you did, but be grateful you did not pay the full
price, half-trained and unaccustomed to being a channel of power."

"I should have died, you mean?" Mrillis felt no shame when he stumbled and
she slid her arm around his shoulders to steady him. He didn't mind feeling small and
young then, and afraid.

"Nothing worth having is ever given freely. Someone always pays the price.
Better that you should pay the price for the things you value. The alternative is to take
them from others, forcing them to pay the price. Such actions poison all your treasures,
so that nothing will ever satisfy."

"Better a crust of bread in a peaceful cottage, than rich meats in a castle, with a
knife at your throat," the boy said with a crooked grin, echoing a proverb several
scholars on Wynystrys were fond of quoting.

"Exactly." She laughed softly and bent to brush a kiss against the top of his head.
"You're growing up too quickly, my lad. I am proud of you. As proud as if you came
from my own womb. Be sure, your parents watch from the Estall's Bliss, and they are
proud of you, too."

"How can I be proud of myself, when everything I do seems like an accident?"
he blurted.

"As long as you remember you are a tool in the Estall's hands, what does it
matter? There are no accidents when the Source of Life guides us." They walked together
in silence while the boy thought that through, until they reached the door of the cottage
where Le'esha and Ceera stayed.

"Lady..." Mrillis sighed and bowed his head. He knew he had to tell the Queen
of Snows what he had done, but now, after her words of praise, he felt ashamed.

They stayed outside while Kathal took Ceera inside. Le'esha remained silent as
he explained in halting words what had happened; Ceera running ahead, seeing through
her eyes, hearing Nixtan's threats, the anger that burst from him in a ball of blue power.
And how Ceera had linked with him and they had pushed the bully away from the edge
before he fell.

Le'esha thanked Kathal when the warrior came out of the hut, after putting
Ceera in her bed. Then the two waited until they were totally alone again in the
moonlight and shadows.

"I think..." She sighed. "I think there is great wisdom in having boys raised by
men, after a certain point. Part of me wishes to hold you, terrified at the harm you could
have done. Another part wishes to swat your bottom, as if you were half your age and
screaming nasty threats. But you were never a vile, willful child, were you? Did you
enjoy feeling the power leap to your command? Were you glad to have the strength, the
ability to do great harm to your enemy?"

He wanted to say no, but Mrillis knew better than to lie to Le'esha. Not
because she was Queen of Snows and could see into his thoughts and his heart and his
dreams. Because she had raised him, dried his tears, praised his stumbling steps and she
cried over him and sat with him when he was ill.

"I liked it. And I hated Nixtan. Because he used to be my friend. That just makes
all his nasty tricks even worse. And it frightened me. But only a little," he admitted,
ending on a sigh.

"If Nixtan had fallen, could you and Ceera have caught him?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

"Always let that be your guide, when you want to use the power that has come
on you. If you cannot use it to heal the harm you might cause, then do not use it in
attack." She sighed and caught his chin in her long-fingered hand, tipping his head up so
their gazes met. "Except to save lives, when there is no other recourse. Never hesitate to
save lives, my dear one. That is the reason the Estall gives skill with swords to some, and
healing to others, and the reason he gave
imbrose
to the Rey'kil. To protect
life. At all costs."

"Yes, Lady."

"Tonight has been too long and tiring." She caressed his cheek before stepping
past him into the cottage. "Good night, my lad. Go to bed and sweet dreaming to you.
Master Breylon will speak with you tomorrow on this. You are in his charge, after all."
She offered a smile before she moved from moonlight to darkness. "He will likely add
more lessons to your day. Only a fool leaves a knife lying about, separated from its
sheath and unused."

"Because foolish children will cut their fingers in their ignorance," Mrillis
whispered, finishing the proverb. He sighed, then a crooked smile lit his face as he turned
to leave. "Good night, Lady."

His footsteps were light as he hurried down the narrow paths to his own
quarters, despite his weariness and aching head. He wouldn't be forbidden to use the
new power that had come to him, and he wasn't in trouble. Not exactly.

And maybe--just maybe--Nixtan and his bully friends would finally leave him
and Endor alone.

"They'll just pick on other boys even smaller than us," Endor told him the next
morning, after Mrillis related what they discussed during the dinner with Lyon, and
Le'esha's words afterwards.

"Oh. I didn't think about that." Mrillis sighed.

This was the backlash that Master Ayleron constantly warned his students
about. He was a cynical, gnarled, surprisingly young man who taught the skills to be
hunters, spies and scouts, to travel on solitary missions or act as bodyguards. Master
Ayleron constantly warned that for every action, there was always a reaction, in direct
proportion to the strength of what had been done. For every sweet, there was a sour.
For every rescue, the enemy reacted with another attack. Because Mrillis, Endor and
Ceera could now be reasonably sure of freedom from Nixtan's nastiness, that meant
younger, more vulnerable boys on the island would receive more nasty tricks and
bullying.

"Make sure Nixtan knows we won't let him beat on the little ones," his friend
continued. "Pound him hard with your
imbrose
, just once, and stop him from
being a bully."

"That would make me a bully."

"No it wouldn't!"

"Nixtan can't touch his
imbrose
yet. If I use it on him, it's as bad as him
picking on someone half his size." Mrillis rubbed at his temples. Maybe he hadn't slept
away his headache after all. He would have a lot of questions for Master Breylon when
the High Scholar finally sent for him.

* * * *

Mrillis was grateful that Endor seemed to like Ceera. His friend had an amazing
skill in woodcarving but rarely gave his creations as gifts to anyone. The day after the
tower incident, Endor carved two birds for Ceera, so lifelike they made her laugh with
delight. Mrillis was glad.

However, he found he didn't like it when Ceera smiled for Endor and laughed
at his partially barbed comments. He especially didn't like it when his friend put an arm
around the girl or tousled her hair or shared sweets with her. Mrillis didn't understand
why such friendliness should bother him. He only knew it did.

His quandary didn't last long, because Le'esha and Ceera left Wynystrys to
return to the Stronghold only two days later. Mrillis thought life would return to normal
on the island, and he was partially right. Because of his new lessons, with boys older than
him, he had less time for fun and less time to spend with Endor. His red-haired friend
grew quiet and seemed to spend more time alone than ever. Mrillis tried to make it up
to him by sharing his lessons in tapping the power of the Threads, but it was hard when
Endor could neither see nor touch the Threads yet, and couldn't visualize what Mrillis
told him.

Nixtan attended the classes, but none of the other boys who had confronted
Ceera, Mrillis and Endor that day in the tower were present. Mrillis thought long and
hard about all the reasons why. If they were being punished, forbidden to take the
classes, then why wasn't Nixtan being punished?

Totally by accident, Mrillis glanced at Nixtan when he worked with the
Threads, and his augmented sight showed him a glowing core of blue magic residing
deep in the older boy. Mrillis studied the other bullies with the same altered sight, and
didn't see that shimmering power, like the light from a banked fire. Did that mean Nixtan
was closer to discovering his
imbrose
than his friends? That gave him much to
think about.

Another thing to think about was how much nicer Nixtan was when Endor and
the other older boys weren't there. Mrillis didn't know if he and Nixtan would ever be
friends again, but he thought maybe there was some hope they wouldn't always be
enemies, either.

Lessons became more interesting, because the scholars focused all their history
lessons, theory and discipline exercises on what the enchanters hoped to do with the
next starshower. Despite all their preparation and the teams of sentinels studying the sky
at all hours of the day and night, their theories remained only theories. Though there
were two more starshowers that spring, both fell far out into the Northern Sea, beyond
any known land masses. No one had yet devised a way to manipulate the sky web to
reach across vast distances to catch the star-metal. They would have to wait until next
spring.