The Oracle's Queen (36 page)

“You were summoned more than once and given every chance to align yourself with the true queen,” Ki replied, keeping his temper in check.

She sniffed at that. “True queen! Ariani had no daughters.”

“She did and you have heard the tale of her changing, I'm sure.”

“Then it's necromancy. Are we to bow down to an overlord backed by dark magic like the Plenimarans do?”

“It wasn't dark magic …” Ki began, but she cut him off angrily.

“Half my kin were wizards, free wizards of Skala, boy, and powerful ones. They could not do such magic as you describe.”

Ki wasn't about to tell her that a hill witch had done the deed. “You have your choice,” he told her. “Go to Atyion with your children now, under safe conduct, or I will not hesitate to carry out my orders.”

“Won't you?” Alna took a long look at him. “No, I don't suppose you will. So be It. I was loyal to King Erius and I will not forsake his son.” With that she wheeled her horse and rode back to her own gates. Under the rules of parley he had no choice but to watch as they closed heavily after her.

Ki turned to find Lynx and Grannia watching him expectantly. “Grannia, you burn the village. Lynx, bring up the sappers and fire carriers. Show no mercy to anyone carrying a weapon. Those are your orders.”

T
amír's heart leaped at the sight of every herald.

At last the first came in, bearing greetings and apologies from Duke Zygas, now on his way to swear allegiance. He'd been the one most likely to hold out and she took it as a good omen. He and his family arrived a few days later by cart. Tamír received him sternly, but he was so fearful for his children and so earnest in his oath that she gladly upheld his title.

A few days later Jorvai's second herald brought word of another bloodless victory. Lord Erian had come out to surrender the moment Jorvai's force appeared over the horizon, apparently not knowing if it was to Korin or Tamír he was surrendering. Jorvai's letter was disdainful. “ ‘Keep this one well under your thumb. It's the cowardly dog that most often bites.' ”

But still no word from Ki. The nights were long, knowing the room next door was empty, and Brother had returned to trouble her dreams again.

At last, on the last day of Shemin, a herald arrived with word that Ki had been victorious and was close behind.

He arrived just after nightfall with his cavalry and came straight to the great hall, flanked by Grannia and Lynx. All three looked tired and grim, and their tabards still carried the dark stains of battle.

“Welcome back,” she said, trying to maintain her dignity before the court when all she really wanted was to jump off the dais and hug Ki. “What do you have to report?”

“Majesty, Lord Ynis surrendered and is on his way to you. Lady Alna refused.” Ki nodded to Lynx.

Lynx took a leather sack from under his cloak and opened it. Ki reached in and pulled out a woman's head by its bloodstained blond hair.

Tamír did not flinch at the sight of those slack lips and dull, milky eyes, but the sight saddened her. “Mount it on the battlements above the gate, near Solari's remains, with a sign giving her name and crime. Did you kill her, Ki?”

“No, Majesty, she died by her own hand on the fourth day of the siege. She killed her two daughters and her son as well, or had them killed. We found them lying together in her chamber.”

Tamír had no doubt that Ki would have done it himself if it had been necessary, but she was secretly relieved that he hadn't had to. In any case, Alna had spared her the trouble of an execution.

“Let the heralds carry the news to every town and holding,” she ordered. “Have the town criers spread the word. I have been merciful to those who gave me their loyalty. The traitor was not spared. Lord Kirothieus, you have my thanks, and the gratitude of the land. I hereby grant you all the lands of Lady Alna, in honor of your first victory under your own banner.”

She smiled to herself as Ki bowed again. There could be no murmuring about that. Such were the spoils of war.

Instead, it was Ki who complained, as soon as they sat together at the feast that night.

“You didn't have to do that,” he grumbled. “You've already saddled me with enough land and rents, as well as a title.”

“And now you have men-at-arms and riders of your own to draw on, the next time I need you,” Tamír replied happily. “No more taunts of ‘grass knight' for you, my lord.”

Ki folded his arms, acknowledging defeat. “Just so
long as you let me fight again, I suppose I can bear up under the strain.”

“Tell us about your first command!” Una urged. “And you, too, Lynx. How do you like being Ki's captain?”

“It's Ki's story to tell,” Lynx demurred modestly, but Tamír caught sight of his squire standing by the kitchen doorway, talking excitedly to Lorin and Hylia.

“I'll make him tell his part, don't worry.” Ki laughed. “He and Captain Grannia did me proud.”

“Maybe, but you were in the forefront, every step,” Lynx pointed out.

Tamír studied Ki's face as he went through the details. The keep had been a strong one, and prepared for a siege. Ki outlined the fight, using bits of bread and dishes to illustrate. He was modest in the telling, giving away much of the credit. He grew grim, though, when he finally came to the moment they'd found Alna and her kin.

“It was just as well,” Grannia put in from her place at the lower table. “More honor in that than being hanged for a traitor.”

“I wouldn't have harmed her children,” Tamír said sadly.

A
s Ki and the Companions accompanied her back to her room that night, she thought the looks he got from the various courtiers they met along the way were more respectful than they had been before. All the same, she was mindful of prying eyes as she invited him into her chamber.

They looked at each other for a moment. The weeks apart only seemed to have strengthened the awkwardness between them. Tamír sighed and gave him a hug, and he returned it, but it was brief and they quickly moved to the gaming table by the window.

“So, you're a blooded commander now,” she said, toying with a carved pawn. “How does it feel?”

Ki smiled as he ran a finger over the lines on the
board. “I didn't like fighting without you there, but otherwise?” He grinned at her, eyes warm again. “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry about Alna.”

Ki nodded sadly. “It wasn't a very pretty sight. The children's throats were cut. I wonder if the keep will be haunted now?”

“Probably, with those kinds of deaths.”

“Well, I don't mean to live there. You're not going to force me, are you?”

“No, I want you here,” she said, then cursed herself for blushing. “But now that you're back, with no fighting to do, won't you be bored?”

Ki took out his bag of bakshi stones. Rattling them in challenge, he said, “There are other kinds of fighting we can do here. And now I have gold of my own to wager.”

They played half a dozen games, not really caring who won or lost, and when they were done he rose to go. Fidgeting nervously with the stone bag, he said, “I meant what I said, about it not feeling right to be fighting without you.” He leaned down and gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek. Before she recovered, he was gone.

She sat for some time, fingers pressed to her cheek where his lips had touched, wondering what to think of it and trying not to give in to false hope.

N
iryn had spied Nalia peeking down from her balcony the night of the floggings and was pleased with how the spectacle had cowed her. She'd been very quiet since. Even Korin had remarked on it.

She'd still had some spirit when Korin first arrived. Her hatred and anger had been palpable, as well as her despair. Concerned, Niryn had gone so far as to bespell the balcony and windows to prevent her from leaping to her death.

Time and Korin's attentions had calmed her, and the sight of her husband's hard justice seemed to have dampened the last of her resistance. She was meek at table and during her evening strolls on the walls. Niryn was careful to make sure she passed the heads of the traitors displayed there. The only one missing was that of whoever had let Caliel and the others escape.

Korin, however, grew increasingly difficult to manage. Drink was taking its toll, and Alben and Urmanis were helpless to stop him. At his worst Korin was by turns restless and morose. The treachery of his Companions had hurt him deeply; Niryn had carefully nurtured that pain to his own ends. Several new gibbets had to be built outside the fortress walls. The bodies bloating there served as a good reminder for the rest.

What Niryn could not control, however, was the demand among Korin's allies for battle, which only grew stronger when spies brought word that Tobin had sent his army against some of the nobles who refused to recognize
his claim, and that his generals were having one success after another.

Korin's warlords were equally successful once the lead was slipped against a few minor nobles who opposed him. Some fought for the king's honor, but more were in it for the spoils. There was some grumbling over their shares of the lands and gold captured, but Korin had an army to pay and men to feed. Northern taxes flowed into Cirna, but without a royal treasury to draw from, Korin took the full royal share of all spoils.

Reading through the day's reports one evening in his chambers, Niryn saw a few familiar names. Lord Jorvai was with Tobin at Atyion, and the forces he'd left behind at his estate were no match for Duke Wethring and his army. The keep and town had been put to the torch and the fields burned.

Nevus currently had a smaller holding under siege. It was a miserable little keep in the hills called Rilmar, but Niryn smiled as he read the name of the old knight who held it: Marshal of the Roads, Sir Larenth.

“Dear me,” he smirked, showing the report to Moriel. “I do believe that's young Ki's family, isn't it?”

Moriel's gloating smile was poisonous. “Yes, my lord. King Erius granted him those very lands as a favor to Prince Tobin.”

“Well then, it's only right that the king's son should take them back.”

Earlier, Korin had given in to a momentary regret over that. “Father sent the Companions there to get us blooded against some bandits. Sir Larenth was a fine old fighter in his day and a good host in his way.”

“He was offered terms, Majesty, and he refused in the most colorful terms,” Master Porion assured him.

“You cannot afford to show them mercy, any more than you could those rebel Companions. False friends make the bitterest enemies,” Niryn reminded him.

All the same, Niryn caught a flicker of guilt in Korin's eyes and pursued it, winding his way into the young man's memory. There was shame there, some failure involving Rilmar. Niryn crooked hidden fingers into a spell, fanning the pain of the buried memory.

“You're right, of course,” Korin whispered, rubbing his eyes. “There can be no mercy for rebels, no matter what.” He summoned a herald. “Go to Lord Nevus. Tell him it is my will that he spare the girls who aren't trained to arms and the little children. Hang the rest.”

L
ook there,” Korin said as they strolled the walls later that evening, pointing up at the constellation just above the eastern horizon. “There's the Hunter. Summer's nearly gone and still I lurk here, tied down by the tide in a womb! By the Flame, it's as if I have no use but to get babies on a woman.”

“It's not for lack of trying, now is it?” Alben chuckled. “You're up there often enough. I hope for your sake she's not barren—”

“My lord!” Niryn made a sign against ill fortune. “It's said the women of her family kindle slowly, but that they bear healthy babes, and they tend to girls.”

Korin sighed. “I
must
face Tobin on the battlefield before the snow comes and defeat him once and for all!”

A little longer, my king
, thought Niryn. According to old Tomara, Nalia was having trouble keeping her breakfast down.

N
ews of Tamír's actions against the recalcitrant nobles spread quickly and heralds bearing conciliatory letters soon began to arrive from nobles up and down the coast. The powerful lords of the north and some of the west remained staunch in their support of Korin, however. Jorvai had been one of the few from that region to support her. According to Tamír's spies and Arkoniel's wizards, Korin was still stubbornly sitting at Cirna.

Tamír wasn't certain what to make of that. In his place, with superior forces, she'd have marched long since, yet there was still no sign of movement. Ki was of the opinion that Korin was scared to fight, but Tamír was certain there must be something else.

Whatever the case, they now found themselves in a period of relative peace and Imonus seized the opportunity once again to urge Tamír to go to Afra.

“It's time, Majesty. If nothing else, you must be seen honoring the Lightbearer as your ancestors always have.”

“He's right, you know,” said Illardi. “Every new queen has gone there and brought back a prophecy for the people.”

Tamír needed no convincing. She'd had her fill of court life, and if she couldn't fight a battle, then the prospect of a journey had its appeal.

On Imonus' advice, Tamír set the date for their departure for the first week of Lenthin. That would bring them to Afra during the moon's first waxing—a most fortuitous time, according to the priests.

There was no question of taking a large force. The
shrine lay high in the mountains west of Ylani, and was reached by a single, switchback road, which, according to Imonus and Iya, was barely wide enough in places for a single rider to pass.