THREE DROPS OF BLOOD by Michelle L. Levigne

shot forward along one blue Thread thicker than the trunk of a
century-old oak. Mrillis rode forward into the center of that Thread, using it as the guide to his
path. Mist kept pace with his horse. Meghianna sat still, her mouth clamped tightly shut, eyes
wide, little gloved fists digging into her saddle. Sparks of blue and white magic danced along the
wisps of hair that slid free of her hood.
    Four steps brought them out, onto the pebbly, sloping shore of Wynystrys. Mrillis turned
his horse to the right, clearing the opening for the others. As soon as the tail of the last Valor's
horse emerged from the shimmering wall of magic, the thick blue Thread vanished and the door
closed with another burst of white light.
    Meghianna let out a loud, gasping sigh that ended with a giggle. She slid down from the
saddle, eliciting a cry of warning from Nalla. Her nursemaid stifled the sound when the child
didn't move more than two steps away from Mist, but stayed in place, stamping her feet and
waving her hands in the air a few times.
    "It itches and tickles," she proclaimed, two bright spots of excitement in her cheeks.
    "Ah, and that shows great sensitivity to the currents and power used by the Estall to hold
our World together," Deyral said. He smiled, bowing his shaggy, hooded head to her when she
jerked and turned quickly to face him. He seemed to emerge from the pile of driftwood kept on
the shore as a signal fire, just as it had been done in Mrillis' childhood, though there was
certainly no need for it any longer. If he hadn't been looking for the High Scholar to be waiting
for them, and if he hadn't known the man's propensity for stillness and hiding in plain sight,
Mrillis might have missed him.
    Up to your old tricks? Mrillis asked.
    There is no trickery involved. I'm an old man who happens to dress in colors that
match the landscape, and when I sit perfectly still, no one notices me, his friend retorted,
laughing in his mental voice. "Welcome, Princess Meghianna, Princess Megassa." Deyral bowed
to both girls. His warm smile widened. "Nalla, my dear. It is wonderful to see you again. How
long has it been?"
    Meghianna let out a squeal when Deyral stepped forward, caught both of Nalla's hands
in his own, and tugged her forward to press a quick kiss against her lips.
    "Not long enough, you old rascal," Nalla spluttered. Then she surprised Mrillis as much
as Meghianna by giggling and blushing.
    "I suppose your dear nurse neglected to mention that we courted for quite a few years
when we were young."
    "No," Meghianna managed to say, though her mouth seemed to want to hang open
rather than force the words.
    "Young and foolish," Nalla said. She shook her head, eyes snapping with amusement
despite the scowl she tried--and failed--to form on her lips. "Well, I hope you've made
arrangements--"
    "Three Drops of Blood," a woman said, her voice shaking with effort.
    Trevissa staggered out of the grove of trees a good twenty paces from the water's edge.
Her hair had gone silvery-white from the force of the power that flowed through her during her
times of Seeing. Her clothes were clean, but ragged, and Mrillis suspected she had walked
through a patch of brambles to reach the shore. She hunched over, arms wrapped around her ribs
as if the effort of breathing pained her. Barefoot, she didn't react to the layer of splintered shells
and pebbles she walked over as she approached their traveling party.
    "Behold, two drops of blood stand here, and the third waits for the fullness of time. Pity
she who produced the one who shall abominate. Pity she who produced the one who shall wait.
Pity she who has yet to produce the one who shall suffer." Trevissa's knees folded and she settled
down onto the pebbly shore, bracing herself on her shaking arms, palms pressed flat to the
ground.
    "Clear as mud, as always," Deyral said on a sigh. His actions were gentle, despite his
slightly exasperated tone, as he knelt next to Trevissa and wrapped an arm around