ZYGRADON

by Michelle L. Levigne

  "Noveni fear." Breylon's quiet voice sent echoes through Mrillis and made him feel like a nasty child who had been caught playing nasty tricks. "They fear star-metal."

  "They are wise to fear it," Ceera said. "I propose we do what they want. We will take all the star-metal from Moerta, if it takes us years. We will form it into jewelry and weapons for Rey'kil use, so we no longer have need of Noveni help in the battle against the Encindi. Rey'kil will stay on Lygroes and Noveni on Moerta. When we have all the star-metal cleared from Moerta, no more will fall on Noveni land, because we star-metal attracts more star-metal, and because we will find a way to change the sky web so all star-metal is drawn to us. We will even find a way to take it from the bottom of the ocean, so the Noveni will never have a chance to gather it up and use it."

  "This division between our two people would not have pleased Le'esha," Breylon said.

  "Her death does not please me!" She shuddered and bowed her head, hiding her face in her hands. Mrillis went down on one knee next to her chair and wrapped his arm around her.

  "Master..." Mrillis wasn't sure what to say. He had grown up believing Le'esha and Breylon had the answer to everything. He still held that belief, even knowing it false.

  "Let us wait until spring, yes?" the High Scholar said. "Time to let the Noveni realize their errors and time to let the heat of our anger and grief cool a little. Who knows? The Noveni might be frightened enough by the sudden exit of Rey'kil from Moerta to teach them some manners and common sense."

  "They might apologize?" He snorted, bitterly amused at the idea of even one arrogant Noveni noble going down on his knees and acknowledging the harm their demands had done.

  "Perhaps," their teacher said. Breylon sounded more tired than ever. "Anything is possible, when the shock is painful enough. When we leave justice in the Estall's hands."

  "Justice," Ceera whispered through her hands. Her voice cracked. "Justice would demand we push all the Noveni through the tunnel to Moerta and sink every boat that approaches our shores, and let them suffer in the cesspit of their own making."

  "Perhaps," Breylon repeated. "Le'esha always believed in mercy, rather than justice. She was respected among the Noveni, and even loved by many of them. Her death is still echoing through their nobility. It is possible they might listen when Afron rebukes them for the harm they have caused. They might ask for our help from now on, instead of making demands. They might finally see our help as a gift, rather than service due them. Let the winter bring rest to us all. The world will look sweeter and kinder in the spring, for all sides involved."

  * * * *

  A delegation came from Moerta with the first ship of spring, but they went to the Warhawk for help, not to Wynystrys or the Stronghold. Athrar acted again as the bridge Mrillis had predicted he would be. The boy went home for the spring equinox festivities and returned to the Stronghold with a long letter from his uncle and a copy of the report from the Moerta delegation.

  Breylon came from Wynystrys to the Stronghold at Ceera's plea. He brought the leaders of the Rey'kil who were on Wynystrys at that time, and those who could come from the surrounding countryside in a day's time joined them. Ceera and Mrillis told no one what the letter or report contained until they convened the meeting.

  Ceera read to them of devastation wreaked by Rey'kil raiders on Noveni farms and villages and estates during the winter. Silence spread through the meeting hall, until Mrillis fancied the silence rang throughout Lygroes.

  On Ceera's command, Noveni had been denied use of the tunnel. She blushed now as she admitted letting her anger rule. They had no way to send news of what was happening on Moerta until they could send a ship, when the winter storms had finally calmed. The Rey'kil who left Moerta either didn't care or didn't know what those left behind had planned.

  Along with the report of vendettas launched against the Noveni by Rey'kil on Moerta, others brought news of attacks that took place on Lygroes. The attacks always came at night, or under cover of a storm, so no sentinels or watchmen could warn the Noveni farms or villages or merchant caravans.

  Aided by magic or simply propelled by fury, Rey'kil warriors swooped down on isolated Noveni and destroyed property. Barns full of supplies were set on fire, horses and cattle stolen or slaughtered, fences torn out of the ground, and anyone who tried to stop them was cruelly beaten or stabbed or became the targets of scores of arrows or burned with magic. Many warriors died. That was nearly understandable, but the reports showed that the attackers didn't spare the elderly or children, women or the unarmed.

  The demand was always the same, no matter where the raiders went, no matter how much damage they did: all Noveni were to return to Moerta and leave Lygroes to the Rey'kil alone.

  The attackers didn't care that the Noveni couldn't use the tunnel, and the seas were too dangerous to cross during the winter storms. The Rey'kil only wanted the Noveni gone and all ties severed. They didn't care how many innocents suffered. The Rey'kil still in Moerta wanted the Noveni to suffer. Whether on Moerta or Lygroes, each time infuriated Rey'kil struck, their war cry was Le'esha's name.

  "The name of the last Queen of Snows has become a curse word among the Noveni," Ceera said, breaking the long silence that followed the reading of the report. "For the sake of those innocents who have suffered, I must indeed fulfill the vow I made in grief and anger. The Noveni will not be safe until they have all returned to Moerta and Rey'kil live nowhere but Lygroes, and all the star-metal has been gathered up and brought to Lygroes."

  "With all the star-metal gathered here into our land," Endor said, his words slow, his gaze focused on some distant spot beyond his steepled fingers, "there will be a flood of power. What's to stop the vengeful from using their power over long distances?"

  "We will find a way," Mrillis said, speaking quickly. He prayed no one else heard the tiny intake of breath, Ceera's only concession to the shock of Endor's words.

  Their childhood friend was right. With the star-metal of two continents concentrated onto one, and the increased attraction for the starshowers that fell in the future, the Rey'kil would have all the power they could ever want. Some would use that abundance for evil.

  "Yes," she echoed. "We will find a way to watch those who refuse to forgive. We cannot allow the innocents to suffer for the stupidity and greed of a few. For now, though, we have one mission. The question I bring to the leaders of the Rey'kil is how we will accomplish it."

  She stood before them, calm and poised and regal, secure in her authority and training. Mrillis watched Ceera as she led the meeting, guided the discussion, and soothed hurt feelings before arguments began. Le'esha would have been proud of her.

  Le'esha would have known how the heavy weight of authority and responsibility caused Ceera bitter pain. Mrillis imagined their foster mother sitting in a shadowy corner of the room, watching them. What would she do?

  He knew that answer as if written on his heart. She would expect him to support Ceera, give her his strength and advice, and hold her when she wept in the cold gray hours before dawn.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ceera sent scouts throughout Moerta to find every grain of star-metal. They linked their minds to Ceera, and with Mrillis' strength, she drew those bits of star-metal to herself from leagues in every direction.

  All spring and summer, she traveled the tunnel from Lygroes to Moerta with Endor and Mrillis as her closest guards. Triska and Theana acted with her authority in the Stronghold and kept in close contact with her through the Threads. Whenever Ceera had gathered enough star-metal to become invisible and unreachable through the Threads, she went back through the tunnel, taking the lump of star-metal with her.

  Ceera used the first three lumps of star-metal to impregnate the stone lining of the tunnel and wove spells of protection and invisibility into it. Only the strongest of Rey'kil would ever be able to see and use the tunnel.

  "What are you going to do with star-metal when you can't put any more into the stone?" Endor as
ked her on the third trip, when they reached the Lygroes end of the tunnel.

  Ceera just shook her head and looked at him with such weary, sad eyes, Mrillis wanted to pound his childhood friend. For once, Endor didn't tease for an answer or to break her from her mood.

  When they returned to the Stronghold to rest, Ceera spent hours alone in contemplation and hours more speaking with the elderly, delicate little Star Mother who had come to the Stronghold after her retirement from active service.

  Whether it was the Star Mother's constant prayers on her behalf, or Ceera had simply thought long enough and hard enough, she found her answer. She called her friends, those she worked best with, and returned to Moerta.

  "I dreamed of Graddon," she announced on their return trip to Moerta, when their traveling party woke in the tunnel halfway through the journey.

  Endor snorted and went back to drawing up buckets of water. The deep basin collected water from the ocean that had seeped through solid rock, filtered and rendered sweet and pure in the process. Mrillis, however, saw a sparkle in her eyes that could have been the last white mist of a Seeing.

  "What did he tell you?" he asked. He held out to her a chunk of bread dripping with cherry preserves.

  Ceera laughed when she saw it, and her hand trembled when she took the food from him. Mrillis remembered a moment later that Graddon and Ceera had always retired to the kitchens in the Stronghold for muffins and preserves and mugs of hot, strong herbal tea after his lessons in metalworking. Images slammed through his mind, and he abruptly knew.

  Ceera's laughter died, and Mrillis guessed his expression gave away the conclusion he had reached.

  "He told me to reach into the fire." She gestured at their campfire, sitting in a depression in the rock. "I reached into the flames and pulled out a star. He gave me my hammer. When I struck the star... it became a bowl," she finished on a whisper.

  "It's time," he said.

  "Time for what?" Endor's voice cracked. He tried to smile, but his lips flattened. Mrillis wondered what bothered him.

  "Time for the vision that came when I was born."

  "No." Ceera shook her head, then took a big bite of the bread, smearing preserves across her lips. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "Just the beginning, not the whole. I looked for the sword in the bowl, and it was not there. But all the Threads came to the bowl and filled it with power, and all the power of the Threads were stored in the bowl. We need to gather so much star-metal on this trip, we will disappear even from the physical sight of people watching us a furlong away. We need enough star-metal to control all the star-metal that will ever come to the World."

  * * * *

  Ceera swore their companions to secrecy. She didn't want the Rey'kil Council to know what she planned. Whether she feared they would try to stop her or argue with her, or she feared sabotage from those who supported vengeance on the Noveni, Ceera wouldn't say. Mrillis knew better than to ask her, and he grew impatient with those in their group who kept asking him, as if he could look into her mind.

  "What happens if your bowl of magic incinerates us all?" Endor said, offering up his only protest during their evening meal four days later.

  In that time, Ceera had already brought in three pieces of star-metal; the smallest was the size of an acorn, the largest as big as both her thumbs put together.

  "Then the World will know better than to try such a thing in the future." Ceera shrugged and continued picking through her bowl of spicy grains.

  "How will they know?" Mrillis asked, pitching his voice low so only she could hear. Ceera glanced up from her meal and gave him that curious, flat little smile that had become her standard response to painful topics.

  "I have a book, woven of Threads and parchment," she said, after picking through her bowl a little longer and still not eating anything. She looked at the fire, but spoke loud enough everyone could hear. "I send my thoughts to it each night as I make my prayers, to record our actions, the things that happen to us, our discussions. If I die...it will go to Breylon, and I trust him to carry out my wishes and to share what we discovered so no one repeats my mistakes."

  "That's not what I meant," Endor grumbled.

  "Who will be Queen of Snows after you? I think that's what he meant," Loereen asked. The red-haired girl hardly ever spoke, and when she did, her companions had learned to listen because her questions and suggestions were always wise or provocative.

  Mrillis liked her, and felt sorry for her. Part of her habitual silence came from the fact that she was a half-blood, Noveni and Rey'kil. Her Rey'kil mother had died when she was a child and her nobleman father had taken up company with a band of Noveni who despised and feared the Rey'kil. Loereen was an outcast in her father's castle until she ran away to the Stronghold. Now, with the rising sentiment against the Noveni, she was again something of an outcast.

  What irritated him more than that injustice, however, was the fact that Endor, who was also a half-blood but accepted by the Rey'kil, did nothing to support the other half-bloods and make the purebloods accept them. Mrillis had tried talking to Endor, but his friend never seemed to understand. He never grew angry, only laughed, as if he thought Mrillis made a joke.

  "Who will be Queen of Snows?" Ceera nodded and bent her head over her bowl. "Triska is my best student. Theana knows I am considering her, and she will guide her if something happens to me before she is fully trained."

  "Triska?" Endor sat up straight from his lounging pose against a fallen long. "My baby sister, Triska?"

  "Yes." Ceera gave him her wintry little smile. That glint in her eyes wasn't from amusement. "Is there a problem with my choice?"

  "She's weak. Choose Nainan."

  "Nainan is cruel and arrogant and refuses to listen. Triska is kind and cares for others. Triska stops to think before she acts. Nainan would rather believe a lie than find out the truth. When she is proven wrong, she tries to put the blame on someone else. She always tries to punish those who resist her. Why would she make a good Queen of Snows?"

  "We will someday be at war against the Noveni," Endor said with a shrug and a grin. "Would you rather have a leader who lets our enemies sneak up on us while talking peace? Or one who will make sure all the spilled blood is Noveni blood?"

  "Triska is my choice."

  "She's certainly one who will serve. Then you think Nainan is the one who will abominate, among the three drops of blood?" he shot back.

  Ceera put down her bowl and slowly rose to her feet. Though there had been not even a whisper of breeze since they sat down to eat, now her long hair swirled around her and sparks crackled at the hem of her skirts and sleeves and at her fingertips.

  "Who told you of the prophecy of the Three Drops of Blood?" she whispered, and her voice reverberated through the campsite and Mrillis' chest.

  "My father found it when we were still with him. He laughed at it. He ordered me to be the one who triumphs, no matter how long I had to wait. He was certainly a bloody sword, wasn't he?" Endor shrugged again and laughed. "Do you really think I would lift one finger to help him? If you want to avoid the prophecy, make Nainan the heir to the Queen of Snows. Make her feel wanted and admired and she won't be your enemy any longer."

  He glanced at Loereen and nodded in salute to her. "We know what it's like when we're beaten for something we didn't do. Eventually, you believe the ones who tell you that you're evil and worthless and nothing but trouble, and you decide to make them right about everything they said."

  "Your words have wisdom, yes," Ceera said. She gazed long at Endor, until finally he had to turn his head and look away. "I have no intention of dying for a long, long time. Let's worry about other things, shall we?"

  "Mirroring," Mrillis whispered.

  True, she thought back to him. Endor and his sisters could be Three Drops of Blood--but not the ones who fulfill the greater prophecy. They will help to bring about the true Three Drops, however. Triska is my heir. Swear to protect her?

  Nothing will happen to
you. Mrillis caught up her hand when he thought no one was looking, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. You'll just have to protect your heir all by yourself.

  Ceera stuck her tongue out at him, but she smiled and there was real humor in her eyes for the first time in days.

  * * * *

  To keep their plan a secret from anyone who might try to stop them, either to protect them or harm them, Ceera decreed that they continue as normal. That meant, once they became invisible and unreachable, members of their party had to ride out as couriers and pass along messages and progress reports. Endor muttered and snarled when it was his turn to leave, until Mrillis reminded him that he also had to meet with the Rey'kil warriors hunting the rebels who still attacked innocent Noveni farms and villages.

  "I'm depending on you to help them," Ceera said, before Endor could find some argument against that duty. "You know this countryside better than they do, because you've spent so much time here."

  "I know." Endor's face softened and brightened under her smile, which in turn sent that twisting bit of jealousy through Mrillis' middle again. "I just have this vision of returning to our meeting place and finding you're gone."

  "If you hold to the schedule we've made and don't let anything or anyone delay you, what's to fear?" She handed him a rolled-up map drawn on hide. "Here is the route we will take. We won't travel west after the full moon. Then, no matter how much more star-metal I want to gather, we'll turn around and head back to the tunnel mouth and decide where to make the bowl."

  "Don't do it without me, Little Star." He brushed the edge of the map against her cheek in a gentle caress.