ZYGRADON (25 page)

It was Athrar, who, with his natural curiosity and innocence and sense of
security with his teacher, asked the question that changed the world.

"It's metal, isn't it?" Athrar said, looking at a map of all the vales on
Lygroes.

Making the map was part of his lessons. Mrillis had brought the boy to the
Stronghold to study with Theana, who had a talent for seeing the entire landscape
through the Threads. He and the boy, Theana and Ceera had settled down to their
lessons in one of the empty upper level rooms. Two years' worth of settlers leaving the
Stronghold to go to Moerta had emptied out rooms for the first time in decades.

Winter had enclosed them and the winds howled with a special ferocity that
made the four glad to be indoors and together. Mrillis would turn twenty-two soon,
Ceera was twenty, and Athrar was twelve. Endor had declined to come home from
Moerta for the winter, and Mrillis wondered at the reason. There were two possibilities.
Endor didn't like the Noveni prince, and it was a certainty Athrar would be at the
Stronghold if Endor visited. Also, Ceera's father had gone to Moerta to investigate the
efforts of the settlers and those who traveled into the worst of the poisoned land to
study it. Mrillis suspected Endor had chosen to stay on Moerta, holding to his duty, to
impress the man.

"Metal?" Theana muttered, frowning as she reached with a blob of tree gum to
rub out a line of colored wax on the map.

"Star-metal. It's metal isn't it?" The boy looked at the three adults with wide,
innocent brown eyes.

"I suppose so," Ceera finally said. A grin caught up one side of her mouth. "Do
you know, no one has ever gotten close enough to it to test it. Our ancestors certainly
knew more about it, and they said it was metal, so it must be."

"If you take enough of the poison magic out of it, can't you use it like metal?"
the boy persisted. "You know--put it on an anvil and make things out of it?"

"Make things," Mrillis said slowly. For a moment, it felt like the entire
Stronghold turned around him and he hung in space. He met Ceera's gaze and her grin
widened.

"Magic things," she whispered. "Star-metal is our source of magic. What if we
could make things out of it, carry it with us, use it to enhance our strength?"

"This is why Graddon had you learn about metal," Theana said, her tone sour
but excitement sparkling in her eyes. "Seers. You can't trust them! Why didn't he just say
from the start that you would work star-metal like iron?"

"Because who would have believed him?" Mrillis said. He rested a hand on
Athrar's shoulder and grinned at the boy. "We've been raised to believe star-metal is
death. Besides, Graddon didn't understand half his visions until they had already come to
pass. Seers only record what they see. It's for others to decipher the promises and
warnings. It's for the young--"he gave the prince an affectionate shake, "--to see what the
rest of us had right under our noses and never understood."

"The young?" Ceera pretended to be insulted, but Athrar's laughter and proud
grin were infectious, and she laughed with the rest. "Are we so ancient we aren't any use
any longer?"

"Look at what the two of you did when you were this one's age," Theana said.
"It's the Estall's justice and sense of humor, to have the answers shoved in our faces by the
ones we're supposed to be teaching." She put down her wax stick and rubbed her hands
on her skirts. "I think I'll go wake the kitchen. If I know our Lady, this will turn into a
long, noisy conference with half the island visiting us. We'll need to start cooking
now."

She bustled out of the room. Ceera picked up her wax stick, turned over a scrap
of parchment Athrar had been using to practice his drawing, and started writing on the
back.

"What's that?" the boy asked, and came to lean against the table next to
her.

"If we can work star-metal and turn it into things we can carry with us..." Ceera
paused to study what looked like a list, frowned, scratched out one line, and resumed
writing. "We should make things that are easy to carry and wear."

"Rings?" Athrar held out his hand, displaying the silver heir's ring with the
Warhawk engraved on the flat top.

"And cloak pins. Belt buckles. Necklaces," Mrillis said. "Hair clips. Wristguards,
for archers. Imagine a Rey'kil archer using star-metal to make his arrows fly faster and
straighter."

"Could you make a sword out of it?" the boy asked.

"Hmm. Maybe someday." Ceera paused and raised her gaze from the list. "It
would take an enormous amount of metal, and we just don't find that much star-metal
in one place. A piece as big as my fist is strong enough to poison several leagues of land
on Moerta. Do you understand?" She lifted her gaze from meeting the boys' eyes and
looked at Mrillis.

I dreamed once that you gave me a sword made of stars,
he thought
to her.

Someday, perhaps. I haven't even figured out if I can work tiny bits of
star-metal. Let's do this slowly, shall we?
Despite her cautious tone, Ceera's eyes sparkled
with anticipation.

It struck him that being the acknowledged heir to the Queen of Snows, learning
her future duties and authority, didn't satisfy Ceera's hunger for challenges any more than
traveling back and forth to Wynystrys had satisfied him. Mrillis vowed he would give his
life to protect her, if this challenge proved to be too much.

* * * *

Making sure Athrar was safely settled with tutors and boys his own age for
companions, while Mrillis and Ceera pursued their experiment, was the easiest part of
the whole venture. The boy pouted only a little, when he learned he couldn't
accompany his teachers, or even listen to the discussion of the leaders of the Rey'kil. He
seemed satisfied when Ceera promised she would tell him everything, and let him see the
very first thing she made of star-metal--if it was at all possible. Mrillis wondered if the
young heir to the Noveni throne really was satisfied with the promise, or if Athrar had
plans to spy and overhear and somehow get himself included, just as Mrillis and Ceera
had done when they were his age. Looking back, Mrillis shuddered at the worries he had
inflicted on his guardians and silently apologized to them all.

As Mrillis feared, when the leaders of the Rey'kil heard what Ceera proposed to
do, they had only one objection.

"You are Le'esha's heir." Master Prothis finally put into words what two dozen
scholars and enchanters from the Stronghold and Wynystrys had circled for nearly an
hour.

Really?
Ceera thought to Mrillis.
I never noticed.
She kept
her face calm, not even a sparkle of her usual mischief in her eyes. Through the tension in
the air between them, Mrillis knew how much she wanted to let rip a sarcastic,
disrespectful answer.

"Years of training have been invested in you. Training, yes, that makes you the
most logical one to attempt this project," the scholar continued. "But do we, do
you
, have the right to risk all that? What if we are wrong? What if treating
star-metal like ordinary metal causes some dangerous reaction?"

"What if it evaporates you and half the Stronghold? I think that's what Prothis
means," Ayleron said.

"I don't intend to come closer than a quarter of a league to any star-metal until
it's been worked," Ceera said. "I intend to manipulate it like you would any raw ore,
heating and purifying and hammering it, until it's been... tamed. And all from a very safe
distance, using the Threads as my hands and my tools. In the prescribed method, as I was
taught by my masters. This is the purpose for which Graddon had me trained by the best
artisans among us."

"If it vaporizes, we will simply have more energy released into the Threads,"
Mrillis said, taking up the explanation. He sensed how hard it was for her to keep a
serene expression and calm voice. Why was it, as they grew older, the authorities over
them seemed to treat them more like children, rather than less?

"Hmmph, yes," Tetherys said, "but that's star-metal we can ill afford to lose from
the vales. Why not take your experiments to Moerta where they have more star-metal
than they could ever want?"

"We intend to," Le'esha said, standing and effectively drawing all attention off
her two protégés. "Once we are certain it can even be done, Ceera will
then go to Moerta. I'm sure the Noveni will be delighted to have her remove star-metal
from their land. And, since no one is living on that land, it won't matter if some of her
experiments grow rather... violent." A tiny sparkle in her eyes, a tiny twitch of her lips,
were all the indication that she was anything but calm and confident in the entire
proposal.

Mrillis knew better. The Queen of Snows had questioned him and Ceera for
hours after they had come to her with the idea spawned by Athrar's innocent question.
She had been reluctant. Her love for them made her cautious, made her battle with the
utter necessity of what they proposed. Her position as their mother meant more than
any lesser considerations, such as Ceera's long years of training as her heir and the effort
of replacing her if anything should go wrong. Le'esha had spent hours theorizing with
them, then more hours contacting the Rey'kil settlers on Moerta through the Threads.
She looked directly into their memories, to study the reactions of the star-metal when
different methods of attack were used on it.

Then, when she was convinced, she added her voice to theirs when they
approached High Scholar Breylon. It took just as long for Breylon to argue with them
and study the facts and possibilities. He stood solidly with Le'esha when she presented
the proposal to the gathered scholars and enchanters.

If the Queen of Snows and the High Scholar were convinced it was not only
possible, but logical and necessary to treat star-metal as metal and turn it into something
useful, Mrillis wondered why anyone doubted.

In the end, after two days of debate and objections and alternate proposals, the
gathered leaders of the Rey'kil agreed to the experiment. It took another full day to
decide which vale on Lygroes would serve Ceera's purposes.

* * * *

"What we need to do," Ceera said, as they rode to the Vale of Phoedellas, "is to
isolate the star-metal from the Threads so it can't regain its power. We'll drain the power
remaining in it, reducing it to simple metal. Then, when I've finished working it, we
release it back into contact with the Threads."

"Oh, yes, of course. Simple." Mrillis didn't look at her, but he heard her sigh. He
knew the way she rolled her eyes in exasperation, the tilt of her head as she stared at
him. He also knew she debated with herself whether to laugh or be disgusted by his
sarcasm.

Despite all his confident words, now that he and Ceera took the first steps in
her proposed plan to tame and use star-metal, Mrillis was terrified.

For Ceera.

He wasn't worried about himself. He feared for her, in close contact with the
star-metal. She would be the one who would suffer, who might have all her magic
burned out of her or go mad, or even die, if something went wrong.

If she died, he would die with her. Mrillis knew he would lay down his life,
sacrifice his
imbrose
, mind and body, to protect Ceera. But would it be
enough? What if everything he put between her and destruction wasn't enough? Would
he know he had failed, before he was burned from existence? Would he know that she
would die with him?

Somehow, it wasn't much comfort to imagine being joined to Ceera in
death.

The two rode alone. They didn't need anyone else physically present to help
with this first step. A dozen masters and enchanters with the finest control and deepest
strength would stand watch, in contact with the Threads, to offer advice and their
support. They would witness the attempt so that if something went wrong, the mistakes
could be avoided in the future. Mrillis and Ceera, however, had determined that they
needed to be within the vale's boundaries to be sure of their control over the
star-metal.

If need be, they would weave a cage of Threads around the vale to control the
outburst of power if something went wrong. The power would circulate back in on itself,
rather than flooding out along the Threads and scorching the landscape outside the
vale.

The once-peaceful landscape inside the valley, and those who wove and held
closed the cage...no one could be sure of their fate.

"Do you remember when Baenrax built that stone walkway across the river in
the southern canyon? Where the best raspberries grow?" Ceera said after nearly ten
minutes of riding in silence.

The thickening forest felt and sounded quieter, the closer they rode to the
valley that had become the Vale of Phoedellas, as if all the trees and birds and other
creatures knew what would happen soon.

Mrillis finally let himself look at her. A smile still curved the corners of her
mouth. Good; she had decided to be amused by his sarcasm. That said good things about
her spirits.

"I remember he built a dam so he could dig down to the bedrock under the
sand and pebbles of the riverbed." He nodded, freezing in mid-nod as understanding cut
through his thoughts. "And when the water started to overflow, some of the other
guardsmen dug channels, to take the water back to the river, but further down from the
bridge. Yes."

"Can you do it?"

"It will be like convincing the power that the star-metal isn't there...like making
it invisible. Convincing the power it doesn't want to go there." He grinned as ideas
started to bounce through the mental image. "I can use the star-metal's own power to
build the channels to drain the overflow away. Like a man helping the ones robbing
him."

"And Endor said you wouldn't be any help at all." Ceera shook her head and
twisted her face into a sorrowful mask. "He wanted me to wait until he came home, so
he could help me."