THREE DROPS OF BLOOD (24 page)

While he listened and noted ideas that might have potential use later, when they were
fleshed out and cleansed of difficulties, he thought about those fence posts, as Meghianna
referred to Timark's caches of star-metal. Mrillis was pleased that their enemy had not hidden his
entire hoard of poisoned star-metal in the tower. Stealing it out from under his very feet might be
nicely dramatic and teach all rebels and traitors a much-needed lesson, but that tactic had the
potential for destroying the entire tower. Killing Glyssani, if she was indeed in Tantagar, would
defeat the purpose of their mission. And admittedly, there would be more satisfaction for the
soldiers and loyal kings and nobles if Timark lived to be punished, instead of being reduced to
char and vapor, without time to even realize that he had brought his own destruction on
himself.

She's there,
Meghianna called, when the army had been three hours on the road
and the eastern boundary of Welcairn lay before them.

Show me.
Mrillis raised his hand to signal a halt, and to command silence.

He fought a surge of mixed exasperation, pride and worry, when he detected
immediately the image Meghianna shared with him happened right that moment. He hadn't
warned her
not
to take her troop so close to Tantagar, because he thought she had the
common sense to stay away.

Your sister is a bad influence on you, I think.

His grumbled comment earned a breathless little laugh from her.

Please, do you honestly expect me to stay back where it's boring and safe, when I
know I can be of help? Besides, I'm the only one strong enough to measure the worth of Timark's
forces. All his men gathered together, focusing their
imbrose
on one point, couldn't
penetrate the shield of Threads I have around us. And from what we've seen in the last four
hours, they don't have the intelligence to work together, even if he beat them bloody to
accomplish it. Show Papa what we see?

Let nature take its course, child.

I'm not hurrying anything. But I want him to see the tower and think about the
approach before he gets here. If there's a beautiful lady in danger to draw him on, what harm is
there?

Mrillis sighed and climbed down out of his saddle. Efrin joined him a moment
later.

"From Meghianna." He closed his eyes as he spread his hands, palms up, and caught
three Threads between mental and physical fingers to create a slate on which to draw the
image.

A flat plain of dust and stone, perhaps two bowshots in depth, ranged out from the tower
of Tantagar, carved out of the warped overgrowth of plant life that filled the valley, in perfect
proportion to the dimensions of the six-sided, squat edifice of raw stone. Nothing grew there, and
Mrillis speculated that whoever had created the safe tunnel through the poisoned wilderness
maintained the clear area as well, with the spell woven and anchored in the very stones.

Ah, you see it, too,
Megassa said.
Won't it be fun to grab hold of those
anchored Threads and simply yank the stones apart?

"Fun for whom?" Efrin muttered, when Mrillis repeated the young woman's words. He
snorted, and Mrillis imagined the proud smile he wore.

Then a gasp ending in a sigh escaped the king, and Mrillis knew he had seen the queen
of Welcairn, standing on the top of one of the six parapets of the tower, her hair unbound and
tossed by the grit-filled wind. She made a striking picture indeed.

Meghianna stood close enough, in her Thread-shrouded hiding place, to see the proud,
determined, weary expression on Glyssani's face.

Matchmaker,
he scolded her.

What does Papa think of her?

He has to love her immediately. She's beautiful and sensible and I swear she must
have given Timark that black eye we saw,
Megassa added. Her entrance into the
communication only confirmed Mrillis' sense of her presence close by her sister. It comforted
him to know she was there, if Meghianna needed any physical protection.

Your father is more interested in the structure of the tower and the military
challenges,
Mrillis retorted. He opened his eyes and saw Efrin's mouth drop open just
enough to be noticeable. No, he had been proven wrong. The king was definitely more interested
in the woman he had come to rescue.

Mrillis sighed. He remembered well the sensation of being pole-axed that now gripped
Efrin. He had felt the same way when it finally hit his conscious mind that he was in love with
Ceera. It didn't matter that he had known her all his life. When a man finally realized he had seen
the one woman he was made to partner with, it stunned him.

Estall, bless them.

The unit commanders gathered around and studied the tower and the ground
surrounding it, making suggestions in undertones for how to cross the open ground without being
mowed down by the ranks of archers waiting in multiple levels all around the tower. Whoever
designed it had definitely thought long and hard about defense, to the point of being on the
offensive. Perhaps that was the whole reason for building the tower in Tantagar--to stand against
those who came after the tower's master in retribution and justice. Even with the gathered power
of the Warhawk to support them.

Mrillis glanced over at Efrin again. To his relief--and it amused him to realize he felt
relief--the king frowned even more deeply and walked slowly around the image that sprang from
the foundation of Threads, studying it just like his commanders did.

Have I become a sour old man, unwilling to let others enjoy love and life, simply
because I have lost my Ceera?
That thought so amused him, he almost didn't mind the
headache from the effort of maintaining the illusion.

"We have seen enough, I think," Efrin said. "We will need your strength for other, more
important tasks." He nodded for Mrillis to dispel the image.

"As much as it will do us any good," Commander Nostra muttered.

"How is young Markas holding up in all this?" Efrin asked, once they were back in the
saddle.

Mrillis noted the king urged his horse along a little faster than before. He doubted it was
eagerness for battle that drove him, now.

"Your daughters have grown quite fond of the boy, and admire him. They say he's
sensible and has a sense of humor."

"He has to have one," someone remarked from behind him, "to endure being made to
look like a girl."

"How many of you would endure it for the sake of safely escaping, quickly, to rescue
someone else?" Efrin shot back, amused. "The boy will make a fine king. He understands that
sacrifice means more than just enduring battle wounds. He must have an extraordinary mother, to
be such an outstanding lad. Especially with Timark undoubtedly trying to ruin him as heir."

Most definitely, Efrin had fallen in love, and didn't even realize it yet. Mrillis knew the
king would argue vehemently with him if he mentioned his observation. After all, what man in
his forties fell in love after only one glance at a woman? Even if she was his soul-mate, the other
half of his life music, who would believe it?

You two will keep quiet about Glyssani until your father speaks of her,
Mrillis
warned the sisters.

Of course.
Meghianna sounded faintly insulted.

He decided that was better than her being amused by his precautions.

* * * *

Meghianna, Megassa, Pirkin and Ynessa rode out to meet the approaching army at the
head of a desolate ravine of scrub and broken stone, to guide them down the tunnel that would
take them safely into the heart of Tantagar. Mrillis speculated for a moment that his grandson
had brought his sweetheart to meet him, then scolded himself for such idle fantasies. Pirkin
simply didn't want to leave Ynessa alone. He allowed himself to study Ynessa as he rode the last
dozen steps toward the waiting four.

She met his gaze with curiosity, rather than fear, and only blushed when Pirkin took
hold of her hand and leaned close to murmur something.

Yes, definitely, Mrillis approved of this girl for his grandson. Her strong dose of Rey'kil
blood gave him something to think about later, when this crisis in Welcairn was over. What kind
of children would they produce, and would those children be allowed, or even encouraged, to
pursue their Rey'kil heritage?

Then the tattered, uneven weaving of the tunnel walls caught all his attention. While
Pirkin and Megassa reported to Efrin and the commanders, Mrillis went with Meghianna to the
tunnel mouth to study the construction. He reached out with physical and mental hands to touch
the Threads, and flinched at the slight burning sensation of uneven power flow. Someone had
fought with the Threads to force them into this configuration, instead of coaxing them and
singing them into cooperation. This person, though clever and brilliantly creative, hadn't had the
right training--or perhaps had had no training at all.

"I think I can widen it so we can have twenty men riding abreast," Meghianna said. "I
haven't dared attempt anything other than studying it, in case someone is tied to the Threads to
watch for meddling."

"Or simply for warning that another part of the construction is failing," Mrillis offered
absently, most of his attention on the arch of Threads that shifted faintly, the colors a muted,
dirty rainbow in his mind's eye. He imagined the Threads were semi-sentient here, enraged at
being forced to do what they might have done willingly in other circumstances. He imagined
them constantly pushing against the will of the weaver, trying to flatten down to the ground.

"Promise me something?" he said, when he finally tore his attention away from the
fascinating construction.

"What?"

"Stop expecting me to approve your choices, like a tutor. You are quite capable, and
prove yourself time and again. I worry that we stunted you somehow, to doubt your wisdom." He
grinned when she rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"Kindly remember I am only nineteen. I have a right to some flighty years of self-doubt,
don't I?"

"When have you ever doubted yourself?" Efrin retorted, coming over to join them.
"Well done, my darling." He laughed, weariness in the sound, and enfolded Meghianna in a
hearty embrace, picking her up off the ground and swinging her around half a turn, as he used to
do when she was a child.

Mrillis saw Ynessa's and Pirkin's eyes widen at this sign of playful affection between
father and daughter--no, he corrected himself--between Warhawk and Queen of Snows.

"Well done, both of you," the king continued, and held out a hand to beckon Megassa
closer. "What father could be more proud of his children?" He looped an arm around his younger
daughter's waist, drawing her close.

"They are no longer children, Majesty," Mrillis said, earning laughter from all
three.

"True. Well, let us see what trouble we can cause for Timark, before we take his regency
away from him and put it in more worthy and honorable hands, shall we?" He rubbed his hands
in eagerness and glanced in the general direction of the doorway of the tunnel. His smile faded as
he unsheathed Braenlicach and grasped it tightly in both hands. The star-metal sword glowed a
deep blue, with red streaks on the outer edges of the corona, revealing the presence of twisted
magic.

Now the Warhawk could see the tunnel. The narrowing of his eyes and the deepening
frown revealed that, although Efrin hadn't studied magic as his daughters had, he understood
enough to know the tunnel was warped, forced and stolen from the Threads rather than coaxed
and formed naturally, and therefore dangerous to those who would attempt to travel down it.

"Prince Pirkin, have you entered this construct?" The Warhawk didn't glance at the
young Valor as he spoke, but continued to study it. The flicking of his eyes from side to side, the
clenching of his jaw showed him visibly working through the different plans he and Mrillis and
his commanders had discussed once Meghianna revealed the tunnel's existence to them. Theories
were one thing, but reality and working with it was something else altogether.

"Yes, Majesty." Pirkin stepped forward, still holding Ynessa's hand. "It makes my skin
crawl and burn if I come within arm's reach of either wall. It sucks at our bodies as well as our
souls. If not for the Queen of Snows, we would be drained by the thing. I think that is partly why
it exists."

"Of course." Mrillis nearly clapped his hands in approval. He nodded in salute to his
grandson, which drew a blush to the young man's cheeks. "We had wondered what device
Timark and his enchanters used to drain the power from the star-metal they had gathered. It feeds
itself, growing stronger, yet more infected and warped, as it drains more energy. No one thought
to put any boundaries on it, so it draws power from everything. All the monsters conceived in
this poisoned land have enough magic in their blood to warn them away, to preserve their
lives."

"Can you turn it against itself?" Megassa offered. "Like that basic healing spell we
learned at the beginning of our training--take the spell that supports poison, and steal its energy,
to use for defense against the very thing attacking you."

"I can see I should have taken Valor training, instead of merely helping with some
aspects of it," Meghianna said, nodding.

The crooked smile she shared with her sister comforted Mrillis with the assurance that
they worked together in all things. Meghianna didn't lead all the time, simply because she was
the elder and more powerful. Sometimes he worried that Megassa would have some seed of
resentment, waiting to be nurtured by a strong disappointment and hurt, to turn into a malignant
growth like the trees and plants of this poisoned land.

Mrillis and Meghianna took over at this point, taking the small contingent of Valors who
had accompanied Efrin away from the rest of the army, and organizing them into a defensive
wall that would allow the two enchanters to work their spells. Mrillis chose the task of
unraveling the tunnel while Meghianna became the re-weaver, making the construct what it
should have been from the beginning. The Valors would walk behind and before them, sensing
malevolent magic and guarding against any physical attack. Then, when the tunnel had been
remade, Efrin and his army would enter after them.