ZYGRADON (13 page)

"No," Mrillis said with a grudging, weary sigh. "Not all of it. I just wish things
could be simple."

"When the time comes and you stand on the knife's edge, boy, it will seem very
simple." Tathal clapped Mrillis heavily on the shoulder. "And the hardest thing you'll ever
do. So you must train and hone the weapons the Estall gave you."

"Enough gloom and questions," Breylon said, raising his hand to stop Mrillis
when the boy opened his mouth to ask more questions. "We need food and a good
night of sleep. Do we want Lady Le'esha to scold us because you're skinny from
starvation and blurry-headed from lack of sleep?" He scowled at Mrillis, earning snorts of
laughter from the twins. The boy's stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over
their merriment, and soon all four laughed together.

* * * *

Le'esha met them when the four walked through the Mist Gates into the
Stronghold. She rested her hands on Mrillis' shoulders and looked long into the boy's
eyes before kissing his forehead in greeting. He watched her greet the High Scholar and
the two warriors, and something struck him as odd. Of course Le'esha knew they were
coming. The boys who had gone back to the Stronghold through the tunnel from
Wynystrys had brought a message from the High Scholar, and Breylon had spoken to her
through the Threads. Still, it seemed to Mrillis that some unspoken communication
passed between the Queen of Snows and the High Scholar.

Gut instinct told him they would talk about something important. Something
they couldn't risk discussing through the Threads, in case someone strong enough could
overhear. Mrillis decided this was a good time to use the bubble in the rock.

Ceera hadn't been waiting when they arrived. All the children were busy with
chores or lessons at this time of day. That suited him, except he would have welcomed
Ceera's company when he listened to the discussion in Le'esha's office. He endured the
hugs and tousled hair greetings from the Stronghold's ladies and gladly let them take
Breylon and the twins to their guest rooms. They talked of feeding the men and bringing
hot water so they could wash, which meant Mrillis had time to get ready.

He hurried to his dormitory room, relieved to see no one was there, either sick
or enjoying some free time. His usual bed waited, tucked into the corner. He stowed his
belongings on the shelves carved into the wall above his bed and snatched up clean
clothes that had been waiting since he left in the spring. He hurried to the bathing
room.

Mrillis didn't soak in the largest tub, even though he had the room all to himself
for the first time in memory. He silently grumbled that he couldn't enjoy a long soak in
the steaming, herb-infused water. He washed quickly and thoroughly, reasoning that if
he was caught spying, Le'esha wouldn't be too angry with him because he was clean.
Mrillis had learned that the more small rules he kept, the less angry adults would be
when he broke a big one. Besides, he liked being clean and warm.

The only things he liked more were having a full stomach and satisfying his
curiosity.

Mrillis detoured through the kitchens and snatched up a handful of dried fruit
from one of the massive barrels lining the pantry storeroom. He was disappointed to
find that the meat pies weren't out of the oven yet. There was no one in the passageway
when he reached the crevice, and no one had removed the ladder tucked away in the
shadows. As he crawled down the narrow tunnel, he shivered more from excitement
than the unaccustomed cool in the air. Living on Wynystrys all spring and summer had
accustomed him to warm water and balmy breezes. He had forgotten until he came
home that the Stronghold was always cool and shadowed where the Queen of Snow's
magic didn't bring light and warmth.

"Whispering Vale?" Le'esha said, the first words Mrillis heard when she and
Breylon came into the room. "Why is he worried? Why bring the prophecy up
now?"

Chairs scraped on the floor. Mrillis heard soft, high-pitched sounds, the thuds
and rings of pitcher, plates and goblets being moved. Even though Breylon had probably
eaten in the common room, Mrillis guessed Le'esha had brought him to her office to
have their discussion over the sweets that followed the meal. Mrillis thought he had
smelled spiced apples when he cut through the kitchen and guessed they were eating the
apples, served over thick slabs of honeybread and drinking the sweet, spiced wine
Le'esha favored.

Thinking about food made his stomach rumble. He curled up tight to try to
muffle the sound--the curved stone surface that brought him the sounds in the adjoining
room could just as easily conduct sound to let people know a spy listened. Mrillis
scowled at his forgetfulness and gnawed on the dried fruit he had brought with
him.

"Our boy has proven the theory that the strength behind our magic comes from
the star-metal," Breylon said.

A metal cup chimed, as if Le'esha had dropped it or brought it down hard on
the table. Silence rang through the room. Mrillis couldn't imagine Le'esha being shocked
into stillness.

He soon wished he had stayed in his room, as they discussed his dreams and his
painful experience with another overflow of power through his mind and body.

"We shouldn't have worried about the Nameless One trying to kill him," Le'esha
said. Her voice sounded rich with repressed laughter. "He'll murder himself with his
escapades. Ah, me, and to think I mourned because I had no children. How do birth
parents stand the burden of worrying their hair white and being proud enough to fly, all
at the same time?"

"The Estall gives us the strength." Breylon chuckled. "Our boy discovered the
Threads and deciphered their function, just from watching me. It's unnerving, my dear,
knowing that fertile, knife-sharp mind and those big, dark eyes are constantly watching,
learning and seeing deeply. My only comfort is that he doesn't realize half the time what
he's doing."

"And the other half?"

"I'm learning humility. I will be written of in
The Book of Stars and
Beginnings
as merely the teacher of Mrillis."

"Learn fear, my friend. If we fail in our duties, Mrillis will destroy the world and
not have enough soul left to care."

Mrillis shivered. They made him sound like the Nameless One, who would have
destroyed his own children for the sake of power. He devoured the foundations of the
Encindi land, slaughtered his own people and indulged in blood magic, and was never
satisfied. Mrillis didn't want to be remembered for such crimes. He knew Le'esha's vision
on the night of his birth marked him for important things, but he hadn't really cared.
Now, he felt afraid and a little sick. What if he made an enormous mistake and didn't
realize it? What if he chose the wrong life path and nobody realized it until too
late?

"So he sees the Threads. He followed them to the star-metal and scorched
himself. I fear, the more we caution him to go slowly, the faster he will go. Not to be
stubborn or to defy us, but just because that's the way he is," Le'esha continued.

"We have to slow him somehow. Or frighten some caution into him. Too much
power, too soon, untrained, and he'll be like a drunkard locked into the wine
storehouse. He could kill himself and half the world and not realize it."

"I warned you, didn't I? He always seems leagues ahead of his age-mates, and
sometimes his teachers. The boy is a wonder. A gift from the Estall. If only he didn't have
such a treacherous path to follow, all his long, long life."

"Hmm, yes. A much longer life if he doesn't make a habit of eavesdropping. Eh,
boy?" Breylon rapped sharply on the thin curtain of stone between him and Mrillis' ear.
The mineral chimed and rang, vibrating sharply up through his head.

"Do you like hearing others talk about you?" Le'esha added, her voice just as
close, just as clear through the stone.

"No, Lady." Mrillis groaned, aching from the reverberations through the stone
bowl.

"Come here, immediately."

"Yes, Lady."

Breylon handed Mrillis a cup of wine, with powdered herbs floating on top,
when the boy pushed the door open and stepped into Le'esha's office. As soon as he
stepped inside, the door clicked shut with a hard bang. Mrillis' fingertips tingled slightly
and a high, sweet note like wind chimes rang in his head. This was the feel and sound of
Le'esha's
imbrose
, then. He muttered thanks and took the cup and drank. The
ache in his head faded, soothed by the medicine.

"We likely would have sent for you, anyway," Le'esha said. She gestured for
Mrillis to come sit in the chair next to her at the table. She waited until he was seated,
then picked up a scroll that had been lying half-unrolled, in a nest of cloth. "Graddon has
had visions and insists that we study one of his most disturbing and cryptic
prophecies."

"What do you know about the prophecies that come from Whispering Vale?"
Breylon asked. He settled back in his chair, elbows braced on the intricately carved arms,
and cradled his wine cup in his interlaced fingers.

"There's always mirroring," Mrillis answered slowly, after agonizing moments
wracking his brains for an answer.

"Anyone who listened to Master Prothis lecture could give me that answer." He
wrinkled up his nose in scorn. "What does that mean?"

"Master Graddon always sees two futures. Soon, and far distant." Mrillis sat up a
little straighter, trying to see around Le'esha without appearing to, so he could look at
the scroll. Was there something about
him
in there? "He always sees and speaks
with double meanings. Ordinary things will be echoed by magical things. He wrote
about an oak that fell in a storm, and everyone thought he only meant the Oak of
Granyia. Twelve years later, the Tower of the Oak was destroyed when its escarpment
fell into the sea, during a storm that lasted four days."

"He does have a good memory," Le'esha said, nodding. She gave Mrillis a
sideways glance, and winked.

"Do you think maybe the mirrored person in the prophecy is me?" Mrillis
blurted, while the sudden, shocking theory still chased around inside his head.

"Not this time." Breylon held out his hands and Le'esha handed him the scroll.
"There are illustrations drawn all around the prophecy, which is itself very short." He
frowned and bent his head over the words, as if he had a hard time reading them. Mrillis
knew that couldn't be--High Scholar Breylon had probably been studying the scroll since
Graddon sent it to him. He probably knew it by heart.

"Before the ending of all things worthwhile and strong, there will be three
drops of blood born to the bloody sword," he read aloud slowly, as if it took effort to
pronounce the words. "The daughters shall walk in light and be strong, but the son shall
overstep them. One shall serve and one abominate and one will triumph. One will sleep
and one shall wait and one shall suffer. They shall do so forever, and yet even to forever
there is an ending. The blood drawn from the third shall open the doors and smooth the
road and waken the sleeper. Protect the strong and vigilant, so that the three drops of
blood may come. Though you look for the abomination, you will not find her until she
has destroyed innocence. Keep her hand from taking the blood drawn from the blood,
or all is lost."

"Blood." Mrillis shuddered. He gladly took the mug of warmed, spiced cider
Le'esha gave him, and drank quickly, washing away the bad taste that came into his
mouth. "Blood could mean the Nameless One, couldn't it?"

"Three drops of blood--three children. It speaks of two daughters and a son."
Le'esha nodded. "The girls are quiet, obedient, ordinary girls, but...." She shrugged
eloquently. "They are still small. There is no telling what evil their father has hidden in
their hearts, like seeds waiting in rich soil, to bloom overnight into something beautiful
and poisonous."

"What about Endor?" the boy demanded. "It sounds like he'll do good things,
doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does." Breylon handed the scroll back to Le'esha. "I have a very
important job for you." He waited until the boy sat up straighter, giving all his attention.
"The fate of nations can sometimes rest on one small thing, and we never know what it is
until the crucial moment has passed. Therefore, this could be the most important thing
you will ever do. When you return to Wynystrys, continue to be Endor's friend."

Ceera was sick. Mrillis felt a strange twisting of relief and worry when he heard
the eight-year-old was in bed with a fever and cough that left her weak and breathless.
He had feared Ceera was angry with him, because she didn't come running to greet him
when he returned to the Stronghold.

He found the silver-haired child curled up in her bed with a lamp perched
precariously on the edge of the bedside table, reading a scroll. Mrillis leaned against the
doorframe, watching, caught between laughter and his worry.

Ceera had learned to read as quickly as he had. Maybe quicker, because he
taught her as soon as he discovered the treasures of stories and learning in the scrolls.
Ceera without a scroll in her hand, trying to sneak off to read, was an unusual sight. He
was comforted to see her cramming more histories into her little head.

The unusual brightness of her eyes, her hair plastered to her skull with sweat,
dark smears under her eyes and dabs of fever flush in her pale cheeks made him worry.
Mrillis knew Ceera and Le'esha wouldn't thank him if he showed worry or fear for the
child. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes and whispered a prayer for guidance from the
Estall. Then he pasted a smile on his face, opened his eyes and stepped into the
room.

"Teach me that trick?" he said, and slouched across the room, to slump down
into the chair next to the bed.

"What trick?" Ceera smiled, slipped the marking ribbon into the scroll and rolled
it closed. Mrillis noticed that her little hands shook when she put the scroll aside, as if it
was too heavy for her. When could a scroll ever be too heavy for her?