Mrillis caught up handfuls of stray Threads that collected around the joined minds and concentrated imbrose, like fluff from a spindle. He twined it together with his mind, and wrapped it around Triska in a flicker of thought. Her eyes widened and sparked fury the second the discord lost its grip on Nainan. Instead of following the thick Thread that Mrillis used to manipulate and create the shield, and follow it to him, she looked at Athrar.
Interesting.
That told him several things. First, Triska wasn't nearly as sensitive to the flows and currents of power in the Threads as she claimed, or as others believed. And she expected trouble specifically from Athrar.
Or perhaps she simply hated Athrar and wanted to blame him for interference even if she had no reason? Her reaction reminded Mrillis of the early days of Endor's stay on Wynystrys, when he was the half-blood boy's only friend. Whenever anything went wrong on the island, Endor was immediately blamed, whether he had been in the vicinity or not. Merely because he was half-Encindi, and his father was the Nameless One.
Mrillis knew the tone of Triska's magic, and it did not match the evil magic that had attacked Athrar last night. She was not the enemy, and neither was she a good choice for Queen's Heir if she continued in this path. He prayed Triska would grow up in the heat and forging of the sword, as the original fourteen had matured in the crucible of the Zygradon's forging.
Ceera raised her hands and the shield of power enclosing the star-metal faded. The underground chamber filled with blue-white radiance. Mrillis shielded his eyes and turned his attention back to feeding the power to Ceera, holding the woven Threads together, and spared only a fragment of his attention to Triska, to block any action she might take. He would have to wait until later to decide if her interference was deliberate or merely a symptom of her immature, undisciplined mind and soul.
Ceera had grown adept after years of forging star-metal, so that it only took a few blows with the hammer made of Threads to render the star-metal near-liquid and purify it for use. The lump twisted in mid-air, bathing the members of the circle with a flickering, dancing rainbow. It spun, like a spindle, and a long, flat ribbon flowed out from the mass, to congeal almost immediately, as if the cooler air drained off all the excess heat.
Sing, Ceera called, and the harmony among them turned into song, spun from their minds. She reached out and grasped Athrar's hand, guiding him as a thin Thread flowed from his middle finger and joined in the forging work she did. The song that filled the chamber echoed of wars and battles, death and victory, innocence defended and soil soaked with blood, broken bodies and triumphant victors, mercy to fallen enemies and hard-won peace and safety.
Bound to your blood, Ceera whispered, so that only Mrillis and Athrar heard her. A single drop lifted from the tip of each of Athrar's fingers and formed a soft haze that wrapped around the blade that formed on the glossy black stone anvil in the center of the circle.
Let the ages condemn us, Mrillis thought, and grinned in defiance of the arrogant ones who still protested that a Noveni should have nothing to do with such a potent weapon.
The blood sizzled and bonded with the metal, drawn to it by the imbrose latent in Athrar's flesh. Mrillis sighed in relief and glanced over at Ceera. She opened her eyes long enough to return his smile, then closed her eyes and threw herself into the remainder of the task.
"No," Triska whispered, her voice loud in the humming silence. It clashed against the subliminal music that rang off the star-metal embedded walls of the chamber.
Hush, Mrillis commanded, and wrapped more Threads around her, binding her mouth shut. Her eyes flew open and she glared at him, with all the hate he had imagined the Nameless One had thrown at him from the day he had been born.
You have no right!
To protect the making of the sword? I have a duty to sacrifice my very life to ensure it is done right and well and that no one interferes. Least of all you.
I didn't do anything!
Your hatred of your sister interfered with the song.
No. Not me. Her. She's always causing trouble.
The discord stopped when I bound you. The discord that wrapped around her didn't come from her, but from you.
I didn't mean to, she whimpered, and shrank down into herself. Tears spilled from under her closed eyelids. Please. I'm sorry. I was wrong. Let me back into the song!
Is your jealousy fully under control?
Yes! I didn't realize what I was doing. Please, someone, hear me! Make him let go of me. Audible sobs escaped her tightly closed lips.
For half a heartbeat, Mrillis fully expected Endor to launch himself between them, to either tease Triska for her error, or bully Mrillis into removing the bonds around her magic. But nothing happened.
No one can hear you, he growled. Be still. Calm yourself, and I will let you re-enter the song.
Gasping, fighting her whimpers, Triska pulled herself upright again. She wiped at her face and visibly forced relaxation into her limbs.
Come, Ceera said. There is no reason to be jealous of your sister. You will find love when the right time comes. She reached out with a flicker of thought and helped Mrillis unbind the Threads forming a shimmering cage around Triska.
The song that wrapped around Ceera went sour as a single Thread of pale yellow shot out from Triska and merged with the dome of power. Everyone physically winced. Mrillis braced himself to cut Triska off again, but she gasped and clenched her fists and concentrated, and a heartbeat later the song resumed its multi-note harmony and purity. It swelled and the chord grew, doubling and tripling, until the blade itself rang and harmonies chimed from the star-metal embedded in the walls.
"It is done," Ceera whispered, and the song ended as softly as a soap bubble bursting.
Mrillis reached for her and she laughed as he took all her weight into his arms. He shuddered, feeling as if she had drained away part of herself in the effort and had gone hollow. A strong breeze down the tunnel might lift her up and whirl her away out of his reach.
Soft sighs and whispers of wonder and astonishment and satisfaction rippled through the group as they opened their eyes and saw what they had helped to make.
The sword shimmered with a sharp, blue-gray radiance, not brilliant but hard, like the slate-blue metal itself. Threads shifted through the spectrum, wrapped around the haft. Long, double-edged, heavy, it had an innate grace that made Mrillis wince at the thought of it being used to hack flesh and break bones and stab. Blood would never stick to this blade. The bearer would never need to clean it. In a thousand years, it would gleam just as softly, with just as much power and threat.
"Hail, Braenlicach, protector of life, bearer of death, source of hope and terror," Nainan whispered, and slowly sank to her knees. Her eyes were white with a Seeing and Nixtan muffled a raw cry of fear for her as he caught her and kept her from collapsing on the rocky floor.
"The Estall has spoken," Ceera said, nodding. "Braenlicach it is named." She tipped her head to rest on Mrillis' shoulder and smiled in triumph and weariness. "The blood of many of us shall be proudly represented when at last the hands for which this sword is fitted wield it, and the days of true peace and the fulfillment of prophecy come at last upon us."
* * * *
Mrillis listened and watched, and knew the moment Triska sidled close to Endor on the journey back through the tunnel. For some reason, she refused to communicate through the Threads when she complained to her brother. Ceera had noticed that tendency first and remarked on it. Mrillis had agreed with her, reasoning that Triska showed her immaturity, her sense of persecution, when she wouldn't trust communication through the Threads. Her face twisted in bitterness, pouting like a child one-fourth her age as she whispered to her brother, constantly looking around to ensure no one of their group paid attention to her as she spoke.
On his part, Endor's face stayed impassive, almost grave. Not a flicker of emotion showed even in his eyes or a twitch of muscle on his face. That strength of discipline did not g
ive Mrillis the comfort it should have. He would have preferred Endor blurt his anger and challenge them for what they had done to his younger sister right there and then.
We are warned, Ceera responded, when he showed her what he had seen.
She has been warned. How long until you take all away from her?
She has already lost much, and is not even aware. Did I harm her, choosing her for her position?
You gave her choices, and she continues to make the wrong ones. The Queen of Snows must consider the good of the many before her own good, whenever there is a conflict between the two. Mrillis sighed and set about planning how he would stage the encounter with Endor, whenever the time came.
* * * *
"Did Triska tell you that her lack of discipline threatened the harmony?" Mrillis snapped when Endor followed him and Ceera into the topmost room in the tower of Bo'Lantier, where Emrillian had stayed, sleeping under a protective spell. He felt a short, bitter burst of triumph when Endor rocked back on his heels and the anger blossoming on his face cracked in surprise.
His triumph tasted bitter, however. "I know when Triska whined to you on the journey back. Maybe you should hear the full story before you scold us about how we've been bullying your baby sister."
"It's ridiculous, claming she's jealous of Nainan."
"I know what I saw, and I know what happened when I caged her imbrose." Mrillis held out his hands, palms up, in the old gesture of offering to share his memories with Endor. It hurt him, adding to the sour taste in his mind and soul, when Endor hesitated.
"Triska joined in at the last, when she had her emotions under control," Ceera said. She kept her voice soft, to avoid awakening Emrillian.
The necessity of leaving their daughter in the tower, to avoid exposing her to the raw power of the star-metal during the forging of the sword, had been the hardest part of the task for Mrillis and Ceera. She hadn't awakened the little girl yet, because they knew Endor had been following them, but she had picked up the child the moment they entered the room and banished the spell.
"That's all that really matters, I suppose," Endor said. He offered a ragged, hollow chuckle, and pulled his hands back, breaking contact before Mrillis could share his memories of the making of the sword. "She's bound to the sword, not cut off from it like she is to the Zygradon."
"The sword and the Zygradon are bound together. Triska is a part of the bowl, though distantly. Someday, when she has gained discipline, Triska should be able to see the bowl and touch it," Ceera said. "As will you. The...omission has been repaired."
"Good." Endor nodded, his old, cocky grin lighting his face again. "That's good." He nodded again, then shrugged. "I guess I should have a talk with Triska. She was so upset, she forgot a few important things."
"Perhaps you should." Mrillis waited until Endor left the room, then finally settled down on the padded bench, to wrap his arm around Ceera. "As long as he has such a strong influence on his sister..."
"She is not fully fit to be Queen of Snows," Ceera finished for him. She sighed. "At this point, I fear Triska never will be. What could she have become if I had not altered her life by choosing her?"
"I'm sure our Lady would tell us that you didn't harm her, any more than using a clay pot reveals its flaws and weaknesses."
"Then we should be careful that she doesn't shatter and break. Someone is always hurt when a clay pot breaks unexpectedly," she whispered, and lifted her sleeping daughter to brush a kiss across the soft little forehead.
Chapter Ten
Nainan and Nixtan were married that winter, despite Endor's protests that few friends could come to her wedding because the snow halted travel. His concern that his sister have as lavish a ceremony as Ceera and Mrillis rang false, and few were surprised when Endor did not arrive in time for the festivities. A heavy snowfall and an unprovoked attack by Encindi on a Noveni village near the coast were his excuse. The only one who showed any disappointment at his absence was Triska, but she gave up on her sulks in the excitement of being her sister's attendant.
The winter passed uneventfully, like the peaceful winters Mrillis remembered from his childhood. He and Ceera gladly devoted themselves to long hours playing with Emrillian, and there was a bitter sweetness to her rapid growth, learning to walk and talk with what seemed to them uncanny speed. Their daughter's progress from infant to toddler reminded them of the too-swift passage of time. Despite the longevity promised to them as Rey'kil and through their strong imbrose, Ceera and Mrillis agreed that every moment should be treasured and savored, not wasted and allowed to flutter away like blades of grass or leaves on the wind.
Athrar married Ygerna that spring, to no one's surprise. A few minor kings protested that he never took the time to even meet their eligible daughters, much less consider them. Several minor princes and chieftains on Moerta protested, saying they had a better right to claim her as wife because she was from Moerta and owed her allegiance to so-called 'pure' Noveni. They conveniently ignored the fact that Ygerna had imbrose, and only had to look back two generations to find Rey'kil relatives.
"It's happening already, isn't it?" Athrar said, in a private breakfast just three days after the ceremony. Only he and Ygerna, his parents, Mrillis and Ceera met together on the rooftop garden of the Warhawk's fortress.
"The splintering of our two races?" Mrillis glanced at Ygerna and was pleased to see no flicker of confusion. She understood where her new husband's mind focused, and likely shared his thoughts. That boded well for their marriage and reign. "Yes, unfortunately. With the Encindi threat so effectively muted, but spread out into a constant nuisance like a cloud of gnats, thanks to the destruction of Flintan...well, Moerta sees itself as slowly becoming separate again. And extremely put upon by the raids from Encindi raiders and the villages they keep trying to establish. They're too proud to ask for Rey'kil help, and irritated at having to handle the nuisance of the Encindi on their own. They believe they don't need Rey'kil and the Rey'kil don't need them."
"And their Warhawk is a traitor, because he has imbrose and carries a sword of star-metal," Lyon added sourly.
"As long as there are Encindi to invade our lands, and until we have proof the Nameless One is dead and his legacy destroyed, our two races will always need each other," Ceera said with a decisive nod.
"We are kin, after all," Ygerna added, her voice soft. She blushed when Athrar caught up her hand and kissed her palm in front of everyone.
Oh, yes, I am more pleased with this girl every time I see her, Ceera commented silently. She is exactly right for our boy.
You sound like a matchmaking old granny, Mrillis retorted. He choked a moment later when she stomped his foot under the table, while giving him a sweet smile and fluttering her eyelashes at him.
That morning marked the start of several long, blissful years of peace and laughter, spotted with undercurrents of tension that made sure they never forgot that enemies lurked in the shadows, waiting for their chance to attack. Rumors of rebels with magic whispered through the court and among the Rey'kil nobles, but rarely were spoken in the council sessions held in the Stronghold or on Wynystrys.
The Encindi moved farther inland, into the mountain wastes where Noveni and Rey'kil didn't care to live or travel. Some Encindi proved themselves peaceful and willing to live by the laws of the land, and were allowed to settle into fishing villages along the coast. Athrar and his council of lords did not like the existence of those villages, considering them staging points for Encindi attacks, but if the lords of those territories where the Encindi lived supported their presence, there was little the High King could truly do except to protest. No one wanted war between Noveni territorial kings.
Triska settled down and became the sweet girl she had been before she was chosen as heir. Ceera speculated that she had been right, and the effects of being bound to Braenlicach, and through it to the Zygradon, had a good influence on her. Endor led his select group of Valors and warriors into the mountains, where they devote
d themselves to fighting Encindi and rooting out all signs of blood magic. Mrillis privately believed Endor wanted solid proof that the Nameless One was truly dead, and to prove himself above all suspicion by being the one to destroy his own father.
Athrar and Ygerna's first son, Cafral, was born three years to the day after their ceremony. Their friends teased them about taking so long and they responded with smiles and laughter. Mrillis, however, wondered if there had been some sort of interference that kept them from conceiving. He knew Ceera had consulted with Queen Ygerna several times in those intervening years, because the young woman was concerned that she hadn't become pregnant immediately. Ceera had never been able to determine the cause, and Mrillis hoped now that it had been merely a matter of timing and not poison or inimical magic that no one had been able to detect.
Nainan fell ill just before the naming ceremony for the boy, and Ceera spent several hours with her, tending to her and examining her to determine what could have caused the illness. She admitted to Mrillis that she felt some guilt, because after Nainan and Nixtan were assigned to Athrar and Ygerna as their aides and guards, she had not kept in touch with the young woman as she intended. In some ways, Ceera and Nainan had grown even closer than she was now with Triska, and closer than Nainan was with her own sister.
To Ceera's relief and Nainan's delight, it was no illness, but the beginning of what promised to be a wearying pregnancy. Nixtan's reaction was a topic of amusement for moons afterward. He was delirious and terrified and giddy in turns, and Mrillis felt old watching him. He had vague memories of his own reaction when Ceera announced she carried Emrillian, and wondered how he could have lost that joy and wonder so quickly.
Nainan was in no danger. The pregnancy only promised to be exhausting, not damaging to her in any way. She and Nixtan gladly accepted Athrar and Ygerna's insistent invitation to stay at the Warhawk's fortress and have the baby there, and to consider it their home.
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