The Oracle's Queen (32 page)

“Close the doors!” Nalia begged, pulling the pillows around her ears. She could still hear the sounds of the whip and the cries that drifted up.

Tomara closed the balcony door and all the shutters, then returned to sponge Nalia's temples with rosewater.
“Poor dear, you shouldn't see such things. You're too tender for such sights.”

“Those were the king's Companions!” Nalia gasped. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“There, there. You mustn't spare any tears for traitors, my dove,” Tomara soothed. “If that's the worst that happens to them, then King Korin is a more merciful ruler than his grandmother or father ever were. Queen Agnalain would have had them drawn and quartered.”

“Then it's true?” Korin's friends had turned against him. She could still almost feel sorry for him, knowing how deeply such betrayal cut, but it frightened her to see what he was capable of. “Tomara, go down among the guards and see what you can learn.”

All too pleased to be sent gossiping again, Tomara hurried off.

Nalia lay back among the pillows, anxious for news. When Tomara did not immediately return, curiosity won out and she went to the window overlooking the courtyard again, and cracked the shutters open.

Lord Caliel hung there now. His back was already bloody and the man wielding the whip was still beating him. At once repelled and fascinated, Nalia began to count the strokes. She reached thirty-one before the flogging was done.

As she watched, Nalia had a revelation. If this was how Korin served his dearest friend, what might he do to her if he ever discovered how, deep in her heart, she now loathed him?

M
ahti had walked all night and all day without stopping. He chewed dried snakeroot berries and sang softly under his breath, a tuneless chant that kept fatigue and hunger at bay. By the time he stopped he could see the huge water of his vision shining in the distance, the Sunrise Sea. He stopped, gazing at it in wonder. In the days before the coming of the pale-skinned lowlanders,
before his people had been driven back to become mountain dwellers, the Retha'noi had traveled between the two seas and worshipped the Mother. There were sacred places on this lost coast. He wondered if anyone was left to tend them.

He ate a little of the food he'd taken from a house he'd passed, slept for a while in the shelter of an abandoned shed, then walked on, drawn by the shimmer of the sea.

There were no forests here to protect him, only open fields and the scattered houses of lowlanders. In the darkness he saw clusters of light in the distance that marked a town and kept well away from that place.

The Mother's voice pulled him on until he reached a lowlander's road. It shone pale in the moonlight and he paused at the edge of it as if it were a swift river that would carry him away if he stepped too carelessly into it. His witch marks tingled and itched again and his eyes closed, but his feet moved. He let them, trusting in Mother Shek'met, whose pale, comforting face looked down on him from the clear night sky. Her light was like cool springwater, soothing his aching legs and parched lips.

He walked on the road for a long time, the dusty packed earth strange under his feet. No deer had walked here, only horses, and their marks gave him nothing. He walked until something hard pressed into the arch of his foot, making him stumble.

He stooped down, surprised by the glint of gold in the hoofprint he'd just stepped in. It was a ring. He'd seen such ornaments on the hands of lowlanders before. This one was damaged, bent in on itself and flattened.

Perhaps a horse stepped on it
, he thought. As he turned the bit of metal over in his hand, he saw that part of it was made to look like a bird.

Lhel appeared ahead of him in the road, waving for him to follow.
Hurry
, she whispered on the night breeze.
Hurry, or you will be too late
.

In the distance the road divided like a river around a rock. One way went along the cliffs to the east. The other way was narrower, and headed toward the dark shape of a forest. Lhel gestured in that direction and he was glad. It would be good to be among trees again.

C
aliel and Barieus fell silent as the night dragged on.

Lutha didn't know if they were asleep or not and didn't have the heart to disturb them.

Pain was a good distraction, or perhaps he really was brave, for he couldn't muster much fear. Perhaps that would come later, when he was climbing the gibbet? He tried to picture his own head on a pike, beside those already rotting on the battlements, but felt nothing but a numb disinterest. When he imagined the others dead, though, especially Barieus, it broke his heart.

He had no idea how close dawn was when he heard a laugh and the murmur of voices, then a soft thud against the door. He lay very still, like a rabbit frozen in front of a fox.

A moment later he heard the grating of the door bar. Fear found him then, as the door swung open with a small creak of hinges.

It was still dark outside and the guards had no torches. Lutha could make out nothing more than the indistinct outline of a smallish figure standing there.

“Who is it?” Lutha demanded, throat so dry he could scarcely get the words out.

“A friend.” Lutha didn't recognize the whispered voice, but it sounded like a young man. “Get up, all of you. Hurry!”

Lutha struggled painfully to his knees. There was a faint rattle, then the sudden brightness of a small, shuttered lantern. A fair-haired young man stood holding it, and a bundle of clothing.

“Hurry, put this on,” he urged, shaking out his bundle and handing them each a shirt and plain cloak. He looked down at Caliel and gasped. Caliel hadn't stirred. His back was black with dried blood and raw wounds.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Lutha whispered, gingerly pulling on the shirt.

“A friend of the queen's,” the young man replied impatiently. “She'd be very unhappy if you died. Please, hurry before someone comes.”

“Caliel, wake up,” Lutha urged softly, shaking him by the foot.

Caliel groaned. Barely conscious, he was too weak and disoriented to stand by himself. With the stranger's help, Lutha and Barieus got him on his feet. His skin was hot and dry, and he let out another ragged groan when the stranger draped the cloak around him. “What—What's happening?”

“I'm getting you out of here before Korin hangs three more good men,” the stranger told him. He shuttered the lantern again and opened the door a crack to peer out. “Clear. Go now. The guard is about to change.”

“No, can't!” Caliel muttered, confused. “Won't desert—”

Lutha tightened his grip around him. “Please, Cal, don't fight us. We're helping you.”

Between the three of them they managed to get him out the door. The yard lay in shadow, the torch by the door extinguished, but Lutha could make out two prone forms on the ground. He wondered how this slight young man had overpowered them, and if one of them was the man who'd spoken kindly to him before. He hoped not.

Keeping to the shadows and avoiding the guards stationed at the main gate, they made it to a small postern gate on the west side of the wall. Another guard lay dead or unconscious there.

“There was no way to get horses for you, so you'll have to get him away on foot as well as you can. Take the path along the cliffs and stay clear of the encampments. If
you hear anyone coming after you, you can hide—or jump.”

Lutha was less shocked by the advice than he might have been a few days ago. “At least tell me your name.”

The fellow hesitated, and then whispered, “I'm Eyoli. Please tell Tamír that I'm still here, and will get word out as soon as I can. Go on now, hurry! Steal horses if you can find them, but get from here before the sun comes up.”

With that, Eyoli all but shoved them through the postern and closed the door after them before Lutha thought to thank him.

The outer walls reached almost to the cliffs. A narrow strip of grassy, uneven land lay below, and in the starlight a well-worn goat path showed in a pale line, winding away between the rocks and hummocks. Not far away lay the outer watch fires of the southern encampment. Lutha squinted around in the darkness, praying they didn't meet anyone on this trail so late at night. They were in no shape to run or fight.

They had to all but carry Caliel—not an easy task. He wasn't heavy, but he was taller than either of them and half-dead on his feet. Lutha could feel the warmth of blood soaking through the cloak under his arm and running down his own back as the effort pulled the lash cuts open again. By sheer determination, they managed it; but Lutha scarcely dared breathe, expecting an outcry from above or the angry hiss of arrows.

But luck was with them, it seemed. They got away from the keep and met no one on the trail. Carefully skirting the outlying tents, they followed it for a mile or so, resting often as their strength threatened to give out and Caliel drifted in and out of consciousness. When they were past the last of the pickets, they cut across to the road leading into the small forest in the distance.

Lutha was in terrible pain and had had no water in nearly a day. He felt increasingly light-headed as they went along, and Barieus was in no better condition.

“What are we going to do?” Barieus whispered, voice filled with pain and fear. The trees still seemed very far away and the first hint of dawn was visible on the eastern horizon.

“To Tobin,” Caliel rasped, lurching deliriously along between them. “We must—we have to find out—”

“Yes.” This would mark them as traitors for sure, but their lives weren't worth a lead sester if Korin caught them.
Ah well, he can only hang us once
.

Still, he found himself looking across Caliel's shoulder at Barieus. They'd known each other since birth. If anything more happened to Barieus because of him—

Barieus caught him looking and rasped out, “Don't say it. I go where you go.”

Lutha grinned to hide his own relief. Atyion was a very long way off. He wasn't certain they could even make it to the forest ahead.

There were no steadings or villages on this stretch of the isthmus, nowhere to steal a horse. As dawn slowly lit the sky, they struggled on, and finally managed to get Caliel into the cover of the trees as the first bright edge of the sun appeared over the sea. A narrow dirt road wound away into the dark wood. Brambles and cane berry bushes lined the road, too thick to get through. For now at least they had to keep to the road.

The birds woke around them and sang to welcome the new day, their calls mingling with the sigh of a freshening breeze through the leaves overhead.

They didn't hear the sound of horses until the riders were quite close.

“They're right behind us!” Barieus moaned, staggering and nearly dropping Cal as he looked back over his shoulder.

Despair overwhelmed Lutha. They couldn't escape, except by hiding, and if the riders were from the keep, they were probably being guided by the same wizardry that had found Cal so quickly.

“Leave me. Run for it,” Caliel mumbled, struggling weakly in their grasp.

“We won't leave you.” Lutha looked in vain for some sort of cover.

“Don't be stupid!” Caliel groaned, sinking to the ground.

They could hear the jingle of harness clearly now, and the staccato beat of hooves. “Bilairy's balls, there's at least a score,” Barieus said.

“Help me get him off the road,” Lutha ordered, trying to drag Caliel's limp body into the brambles.

“Too late!” Barieus moaned.

The sound of the horses was louder, drowning out the early birdsong. They could see the glint of metal through the trees.

Suddenly they were startled by the strangest sound they'd ever heard. It was close by and seemed to come from all sides at once. To Lutha it sounded like the combination of a bullfrog's croak and a heron's call, but blended and drawn out in a weird pulsing drone.

He and Barieus closed in to protect Caliel from this new threat. The sound grew louder, rising and falling, and making the hair on the backs of their necks stand up.

The horsemen rounded the bend and came on hard in a pack. There was a wizard in the front rank, his white robe unmistakable. Lutha and Barieus tried to drag Caliel into a bramble brake, but it was so thick they couldn't get through. Huddled there, thorns piercing painfully through the backs of their cloaks, Lutha crouched over Caliel.

The riders thundered past, some of them so close Lutha could have reached out and touched their boots. Not one of them spared a glance for the ragged fugitives watching incredulously as they all but rode them down.

The weird drone went on until the last rider had disappeared around another bend and the last jingle of harness had faded in the distance, then stopped as abruptly as it
had begun. In its wake Lutha could hear the cries of the gulls and the hammering of a lone woodpecker.

Caliel was awake again, and shuddering with exhaustion. His wounds had opened; dark patches of blood and sweat stuck the coarse material to his back.

“What in the name of all the Four just happened?” whispered Barieus.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Lutha muttered.

A moment later they all heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the forest beyond the bramble brake. Whoever it was made no attempt at stealth. Along with the loud, careless snapping of twigs underfoot, the traveler was whistling.

A moment later a dark little man appeared out of the brambles in the road behind them. He had a small sack strung over one shoulder and was dressed in the long, belted tunic and ragged leggings of a peasant farmer. He didn't appear to be armed, apart from a long sheath knife at his belt and the odd-looking staff he carried over his other shoulder. It was about a yard and a half long, and covered with all sorts of designs. It seemed overly ornate for a weapon and too thick for a quarterstaff.