ZYGRADON (27 page)

After long debate, the leaders of the Rey'kil found only one answer to the
dilemma. Mrillis and Ceera would have to travel to Moerta and focus all their efforts and
experimentation on the heavy concentration of star-metal in that land. They were
delighted. Endor shouted with glee so loudly when they told him the news, the Threads
reverberated long afterward.

Then the Noveni nobles heard what Ceera and Mrillis had learned to do.

"I am truly sorry, my friends. You have been open and honest with me and my
Council, to avoid accusations of prejudice and lies and plotting against the Noveni."
Afron Warhawk sighed and looked around the wide meeting hall in the highest levels of
the Stronghold.

Though it had only been a few months since Mrillis had seen the king, the
change in the man had shocked him. The Warhawk looked years older. Mrillis wondered
if the uneasy peace took a harder toll on the warrior king than years of conflict had ever
done. He recalled the few times the leaders of the Rey'kil had been locked in
disagreement, how both sides of the question had fought to stay civil and not decay into
cruel words and argument. Mrillis wondered if the Noveni Council was more a problem
to Afron Warhawk than a help, and they were the cause of the high king's
weariness.

"The nobles have spoken, and the Council of Lords will march on the
Stronghold and on Wynystrys to make their demands if I do not speak to you," the
Warhawk continued. He nodded to Le'esha and Breylon. "You have always been
gracious, and it irks me to have arrogant fools decide they can order you to come stand
before me in the judgment hall of my fortress." A wintry smile broke the stiffness of his
beard, which now showed more gray than gold. "They were none too pleased with me
when I told them I would come here to make my request of you."

"Some of our people have chosen to forget that you are our hosts and allies,"
Lyon added from his place at his brother's left hand.

"And friends who could squash us like insects if we forget our manners," Athrar
added from his place at Queen Elysion's right hand. His voice was thick with the surliness
that only adolescent boys could attain.

Mrillis grinned. Knowing Athrar and how the boy disliked the arrogance
displayed by many members of the Council, he could imagine how the demands of those
nobles stuck in the boy's throat. He was glad he had forged bonds of friendship with the
royal family, even unknowing, so long ago.

"Fortunately for all Noveni, the Rey'kil never forget their manners or history. If
only our people could be so wise," the Warhawk said, nodding. "The meat of the matter
is this: the Noveni nation wants all star-metal removed from Moerta."

"You must be joking!" Haster blurted. He turned to Breylon and Le'esha. "I
swear, I did not know what those ingrates planned, or I would have told them myself
how impossible it is."

"I tried to tell them," Lyon said. "I read to them the meticulous reports Mrillis
and Ceera made, to impress on them how much work goes into the removing and
refining of just barely enough star-metal for a bauble." He gestured at the bracelet which
softly glowed, silver-blue, on Le'esha's wrist. "I told them they were ingrates. I reminded
them that Rey'kil live among our people on Moerta to draw away the poison.

"That is no longer enough for them--they want the source, the root removed.
And, they seem to think they are most reasonable that they do not expect it all removed
within a single season, but over time. Perhaps the space of ten years."

"Make it thirty years, and you still would not have all the star-metal gone from
Moerta," Mrillis said, almost choking on the effort not to roar the anger burning in his
chest. These were his friends, after all, and they had come to the Stronghold in an effort
to dilute the insult of the Noveni demand.

"Actually..." Ceera looked around the gathering of Rey'kil leaders, and blushed
enough to be visible. "It might not be as hard as we at first thought. I have noticed a
certain... magnetic quality to raw star-metal. Conceivably, if I gathered a large enough
mass together after it was refined, but before I made it into something--"

"It would draw other pieces of star-metal to it, as the boundaries of its influence
expanded," Breylon said, nodding. "But my dear child, that would require weakening the
cage maintained around the star-metal, to allow it enough power to draw more raw ore
to itself. That could be dangerous."

"Everything we have done is dangerous. Going against the Nameless One is
dangerous, even when he has been quiet so long," Master Prothis offered from his seat in
a shadowy corner. "What worries me, and has worried many, is that the heir to the
Queen of Snows takes these risks."

"She is capable. She is cautious. She is perhaps the only one with the necessary
skill and strength and soul-knowledge to accomplish such strange and new tasks," Le'esha
said. "Ceera is my daughter, though she did not come from my womb. Do you think I
would put her in jeopardy if I did not have total faith in her skill, strength, wisdom and
discretion?" She rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and steepled her fingers so the
tips of her index fingers just touched her chin.

"Even if I had a small, niggling doubt, I would still allow her to attempt this feat
because I know Mrillis will always watch over her, guard and guide her. I have come to
believe the Estall made Ceera for this destiny, and the Estall formed Mrillis to be her
guardian, guide and shield. He has the strength to stop her, and she will listen to his
advice when she will listen to no one else. I trust him, because he is my son, though he
carries none of my blood."

She looked back and forth between the two young people as she spoke, and
her eyes glistened with proud tears that didn't well up or fall. Mrillis stood, took a step
forward, and bowed deeply to her. Ceera pressed both her hands over her trembling,
smiling mouth and closed her eyes. Two silver tears trickled down her cheeks.

The scholars, enchanters, the Warhawk and Lyon argued, trying to find a way
around the demands of the frightened and thankless Noveni. Mrillis sat beside Ceera and
listened. It amazed and amused him a little to realize he felt no anger toward the nation
that would never be satisfied no matter what the Rey'kil did for them. If anything, he felt
only weariness.

Outside the Stronghold, the last of the winter winds blasted the ancient stone
walls. Though the Northern Sea tossed, white with foam and ice, spring hovered nearby,
poised to flow across the land. Soon, he and Ceera would walk down the restored
tunnel from the Stronghold to Wynystrys, climb on board the first ship to cross the sea
that season, and go to Moerta to battle star-metal. Just as he had always dreamed.

Yet, they would not destroy star-metal and release its power into the Threads
that connected and fed the
imbrose
of every Rey'kil. They would battle like a
horseman battled a spirited horse, not to destroy and dominate but to form it into a
willing ally. They would make it into tools to serve the Rey'kil. That was nothing he had
ever dreamed, until now.

"There. You see?" Ceera gestured at the lump of star-metal hovering in the air
three man-heights above their heads.

The lump was the size of a warrior's helmet, and had taken all summer to
gather, from star-metal dust, chips the size of flower seeds and pebbles smaller than the
nail on her smallest finger. Mrillis looked up at the silver-blue, shimmering lump that
slowly tumbled as if moving downhill, and he felt nothing but weary pride. He wriggled
his fingers, manipulating the Threads that held the lump aloft. It rose a handspan higher.
He shared a grin with Ceera. Behind him, Endor snorted, amused.

The magnetic properties of the star-metal had first caused trouble when it was
one-fourth the size it was now. They usually left the lump on the ground when they
made camp each night. One night, however, a pebble came streaking through the air,
trailing silver-blue radiance and smoke, drawn by the star-metal lump. It had shot
through
the cart that held their supplies--fortunately, not through one of the
members of their party.

Mrillis still felt sick, thinking of the damage a piece of unrefined star-metal could
do to a body as it passed through, faster than an arrow could fly, and gaining speed with
every league it traveled.

From that time on, he, Ceera and Endor took it in turns to share their strength
and keep the star-metal aloft. The only damage done by flying bits and pieces now was
to trees and any careless birds that got in the way.

They had also discovered many surprising benefits in gathering the star-metal
this way. Making it come to them reduced the need for hunting parties of Rey'kil
spreading across the countryside. The intense heat generated by the speed of the
fragments as they traveled, and the impact when they merged with the growing mass of
star-metal, did most of the purifying.

Ceera would still have to pound it flat and fold it, working it like twisting
sweets. She would still need to create hundreds of layers like a smith did when he formed
a fine, strong sword for battle. Such layers and strength were needed to hold the magic.
Such work, without having to spend hours on purifying, was easy for Ceera. She even
claimed she enjoyed it.

From time to time, blue sparks shot out of the lump, showing when star-metal
dust impacted against it. This part of the land was especially thick with the dust, so that
for the last three days there had been a continuous shower of blue sparks. With the
phenomenon came that particular tingling in the air that meant unsteady waves of
power tried to break through the basket cage of woven Threads that imprisoned the
lump and its untamed power.

"Amazing," Fiora, the headwoman in this part of the country, murmured.

She rocked back on her heels, eyes narrowing as she studied the slowly
tumbling lump over their heads. Even Noveni could see the blue radiance. It lit her face
and made her bloodshot eyes sparkle. She dug her work-roughened hands into the belt
of her trousers and nodded.

"I don't care what anyone else says," she said as she lowered her gaze back to
the party of twenty Rey'kil. "What you're doing is a gift from the Estall and we'll owe
you through ten generations."

"What does everyone else say?" Endor asked.

Mrillis groaned. Leave it to Endor to look for the negative in a compliment.
Fiora was the first territorial leader who hadn't set guards around them from the moment
their party crossed the boundary lines. She was the first to speak to them directly, instead
of sending servants and intermediaries, as if she thought the Rey'kil would infect her with
some dreaded disease. She had invited them to her estate and replenished their supplies
before they could ask. She didn't demand they show her the papers signed by the
Warhawk and sealed with his crest ring, validating their presence, their identities and
their need for supplies and guides.

"You know, young sir." Fiora nodded her gray head and grinned at him. "There
are some who think the Noveni are the Estall's favorites, the Rey'kil were made to serve
us, and the Encindi were put here for us to sharpen our swords on. I know better." She
glanced up at the lump of star-metal again. "My folk have been checking all the land
you've passed through. It's greening up nicely, almost before their eyes. The animals are
moving back in already. The beasts and birds know when the Estall blesses us, even when
silly mortals won't trust.

"When my grandfather ruled, we had fifty farms and bred the fastest, most
beautiful horses you ever did see. But every time a piece of star-metal hit--you could see
it glow as it fell across the horizon--the poisoned land just got bigger. And it got bigger
faster. My healthy land is just barely enough to feed the twenty families still beholden to
me. Our breeding barns have stood empty since my childhood."

"My father used to weep whenever he had to kill a misshapen newborn foal. I
learned to see the deaths as a mercy. My sword is weary of draining blood in mercy
deaths. That's going to change, thanks to you. The glory is returning to Moerta." She
nodded sharply. "If you're not taking ship back to Lygroes before the fall storms, I'd be
honored to have you winter with me and mine."

"We would be honored," Ceera said, with a nodding bow of respect to the
woman. "Our plans haven't been finalized yet."

Mrillis met her glance and rolled his eyes in amused exasperation. He knew she
wanted to go home and spend the winter sharing all their adventures and theories with
Le'esha. They weren't sure if they could go home to Lygroes because the Rey'kil council
couldn't decide what they should do with the star-metal they had gathered.

The lump of star-metal couldn't be put into storage for the winter. The Noveni
wouldn't be able to do anything with the lump, but neither could they fully protect it
from rebel Rey'kil. Neither could such a large, magnetic, active lump of star-metal travel
by ship. Because of the star-metal littering the sea floor, traveling by ship could be highly
dangerous. Mrillis had awakened from one nightmare already, of sand-fine pieces of
star-metal drilling hundreds of holes in the bottom of their ship as the multitudes of pieces
tried to join with the growing lump.

One proposal was to have Ceera make jewelry for the Rey'kil leaders and send
the star-metal home in such small quantities it wouldn't attract raw ore. Ceera, Mrillis
and Endor were sure they could maintain the basket cage around the lump, cutting it off
from all other star-metal, for the length of the voyage. However, those who hadn't spent
months working with the raw ore weren't ready to accept the word of youths, even if
one was heir to the Queen of Snows.

Breylon and Le'esha had sent word they were working on a solution for the
dilemma--but gave no details.