The Oracle's Queen (45 page)

Korin's army was spread out on both sides of the fortress, a vast sea of tents and corrals. She could see runners fanning out, and men emerging from tents in their wake. She listened for a moment, trying to make out the chanted words. When she did, she felt a stab of pique.

“To Ero? Is that all this means to him?” She went back to her needlework.

Not long after, however, she heard Korin's familiar step on the tower stair.

He burst in, and for the first time since she'd met him, his dark eyes were alight with genuine joy. Tomara came in behind him and gave Nalia a happy wink over his shoulder.

“Is it true?” he asked, staring as if he'd never seen her before. “You carry my child?”

Our child!
Nalia thought, but she smiled demurely and pressed a hand to her still-flat belly. “I do, my lord. By all the signs, I'm nearly two months gone. The child will be born in the spring.”

“Oh, that's wondrous news!” Korin fell to his knees at her feet and put his hand over hers. “The drysians will watch over you. You'll want for nothing. You have only to ask and it's yours!”

Nalia stared down at him in amazement. He'd never spoken to her like this before—like she really was his wife. “Thank you, my lord. I would like more than anything to have more freedom. I'm so confined here. Couldn't I have a proper room down in the fortress?”

He nearly balked at that, but she'd chosen her moment well. “Of course. You'll have the brightest, most cheerful room in this benighted place. I'll have painters in to decorate it to your taste, and new tapestries—Oh, and I brought you this.”

He took a silken pouch from his sleeve and laid it in her lap. Nalia untied the silk drawstring and a long strand
of lustrous sea pearls cascaded out into her lap. “Thank you, my lord. They've very pretty!”

“They're said to bring luck to pregnant women and to keep the child safe in the waters of the womb. Wear them for me, won't you?”

A shadow fell across Nalia's heart as she dutifully put on the necklace. The pearls were beautiful, with a lovely pink luster, but the necklace was a talisman, not an ornament. “I will wear them, as you say, my lord. Thank you.”

Korin smiled at her again. “My first wife craved plums and salted fish when she was pregnant. Have you had any urges? Can I send for anything special that you don't have?”

“Only more room to walk around,” Nalia said, pressing her advantage.

“You shall have it, as soon as a room is prepared.” He took her hands in his. “You won't always be shut up in this dreary place, I promise you. I march on Prince Tobin soon, to reclaim my city and my land. Our children will play in the gardens of the Palatine.”

Ero! Nalia had always longed to go there, but Niryn would never hear of it. To see a great city at last, to be consort there … “That will be very nice, my lord.”

“Have you swung the ring yet?”

“No, we thought you'd want to see, Majesty,” Tomara lied, giving Nalia another wink. Of course they had, the moment Tomara had guessed that she'd kindled.

Pretending ignorance, Nalia lay back in her chair and handed Tomara the ring Korin had given her on their wedding day. Tomara took a length of red thread from her apron pocket and hung the ring on it, then dangled it over Nalia's lap. After a moment the ring began to move in tiny circles. These early motions meant nothing. If the midwife were a proper dowser, the ring would begin to swing back and forth for a boy child, or go in greater circles for a girl.

The ring made wide circles over her belly, just as it had the first time.

“A daughter for sure, Majesty,” Tomara assured him.

“A girl. A little queen! That's good.” His smile faltered a little as he placed the ring back on her finger.

He's worried that she'll look like me
. Nalia pushed the hurtful thought away and squeezed his hand. She couldn't blame him, she supposed. Perhaps the child would favor him instead. His coloring would make for a pretty girl.

Korin surprised her again, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Perhaps you can forgive me the difficult beginning we've had? With a child, and the throne secure, I will try to be a better husband to you. I swear by Dalna.”

She had no words to describe how his kindness affected her, so she kissed his hand. “I will be a good mother to our children, my lord.”

Perhaps
, she thought,
I can come to love him, after all
.

K
i hadn't been sorry to leave Afra. Far from helping Tamír, the Oracle seemed to have left her more troubled than ever. She was very quiet as they set out, and the treacherous going required too much attention for long conversations. Still, Ki sensed the deep sadness she carried.

He knew he couldn't lay all the blame on the Oracle. He'd failed her badly in his own clumsy way and left them both wounded. Wrapped alone in his blankets each night, he dreamed of their disastrous kisses and woke feeling tired and guilty.

On those rare occasions when his dream self managed to enjoy the kiss, he woke feeling even more confused. On those mornings, as he watched her washing her face in a stream and combing out her hair, he wished more than ever that things had stayed the same between them as when they were children together. There had been no shadow, no doubt between them. He could look at Tobin or touch him without all this turmoil inside. He didn't doubt the love between them, but it wasn't the kind of love Tamír wanted or deserved.

He kept all this locked away in his heart, knowing that she needed him strong and clearheaded, not moping around like some poetry-reading courtier. Despite his best efforts, the others had heard enough that night in the guesthouse to make them worry. No one asked Ki anything directly, but he often caught them watching him and Tamír.

*  *  *

A
rkoniel was nearly as much a mystery as Tamír. No doubt he was still unhappy about Iya's banishment, yet he and Tamír seemed on closer terms than they had been in months. He rode beside her every day, talking of his wizards and their magic, and of the new capital Tamír was planning. She'd mentioned her dreams of a place on the western coast to Ki before, but something in her visions at Afra had caught her imagination and Arkoniel seemed eager to foster such plans, despite the obvious impediments.

Ki didn't care about the difficulties. He only knew that the sadness left her eyes when she spoke of it, planning ways to make it a grander place than Ero. She got the same look she used to while working on some new design for a ring or breastplate. She was always happiest when planning a new creation.

Arkoniel had traveled a great deal, and spoke of sewers and drainage as readily as he talked of magic. Saruel told her of Aurënfaie cities, and the innovations they used for ventilation and heat. The 'faie seemed particularly good at anything related to bathing. They devoted whole chambers to it, with channels for heated water and special raised tile floors that could be heated from underneath. Some of the larger houses had bathing pools large enough for a whole crowd to linger in. Apparently business was even conducted there.

“It sounds like your people spend more time bathing than anything else,” Una noted with a grin.

“More than Skalans, certainly,” Saruel replied wryly. “It's not only hygienic, but good for the spirit. When taken together with massage and the proper herbs, it is very healing, as well. In my experience, the 'faie not only smell better, but are a healthier people.”

Nikides chuckled at that. “Are you saying that we stink?”

“I am merely stating a fact. When you come to build this new city of yours, Tamír, you might find it beneficial
to provide proper bathing facilities for all, not only for your privileged classes. Send your builders to Bôkthersa to learn their methods. They are particularly good at such things.”

“I wouldn't mind going there myself, if all of them look like that Solun and his cousin!” Una murmured, and more than one among the Companions nodded.

“Ah, yes.” Saruel smiled. “Even among the 'faie, they are considered particularly beautiful.”

“I'll have to make a point of visiting there,” Tamír said with a little smile. “To learn of the baths, of course.”

That earned an outright laugh from everyone. Everyone except Ki. He'd seen how interested she'd been in the handsome Aurënfaie. He'd tried to ignore it at the time, but to hear her joke of it, like this with all the others sent a fresh twinge of jealousy through him. He shook it off, but for the first time, he had to confront the fact that she must marry someone, and soon. He tried to imagine that and couldn't. All he could think of was the way she'd looked at Solun, and how it had made Ki want to drive the fellow and his pretty face from the room.

And yet I can't even kiss her?
he thought in disgust
. What right do I have to be jealous?

He had little to offer on the subject of architecture or hypocausts, but found his own imagination caught by the thought of seeing a new city take shape, especially one guided by Tamír's creative mind. She was already thinking about gardens and fountains, as well as defenses. A western capital made military sense, if they could overcome the trade route problem.

“There must be a way to make a good road through the mountains,” he mused aloud as they made camp beside a river in the foothills their third day out. “I suppose it depends on where the city actually is, but there are roads already. I heard Corruth talking about the route they took to Afra. They sailed across from Gedre, but rode the rest of the way.”

“There are several, but not ones suited to trade,” Saruel replied. “And the passes are only open for a few months of the year. The Retha'noi still control some of the better ones, too, and do not welcome outsiders, 'faie or Tír. Anyone with goods to sell must go by boat. There are pirates on both seas: Zengati in the Osiat and brigands of all sorts among the islands of the Inner Sea. And, of course, the clans on the southern coast must go by way of the strait below Riga, a somewhat risky passage in the best of weather. But it's still safer than the overland route.”

“It's no better for Skalan trade,” said Tamír. “I don't suppose it would do to have a capital entirely isolated from the rest of the country.”

Even as she said it, though, Ki could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that she was seeing it anyway, from the fancy sewer channels all the way up to the tall towers of Arkoniel's house of wizards.

“It would be shorter and safer to go around to the north, if the isthmus wasn't in the way,” he noted.

“Well, until someone finds a way to move that, I'm afraid we're stuck with a long sail or bad roads.” Laughing, Tamír turned to Arkoniel. “What do you say? Can your Third Orëska solve that problem for me with your magic?”

To Ki's surprise, and everyone else's, Arkoniel just looked rather thoughtful for a moment, then replied, “It's certainly worth considering.”

T
amír was aware of how Ki was suffering, but there was nothing she could do to help him, or herself. As the days passed and they put the high mountains behind them, she tried to turn her thoughts to other things, but her nights were haunted.

“Where is your mother, Tamír?”

The Oracle's question had chilled her in that dark cavern, and those words followed her, stained even darker by what Iya had confessed. The Oracle had offered Tamír
nothing but silence, yet in that silence she'd sensed expectation.

So, as she and her small entourage neared the crossroads that led to Alestun, she made up her mind. She had to screw her courage, reminding herself that no one but Arkoniel and Ki knew the shameful secret of Brother's death, or the angry presence in the tower.

“I want to stop at the keep for the night,” she announced as they came in sight of the river road turn.

Tharin raised an eyebrow at that, and Ki gave her a questioning look but no one else seemed more than mildly surprised. “It's not far out of our way, and it will be better than an inn or sleeping in the open,” she went on, making light of it.

“A day or two difference shouldn't matter,” said Arkoniel. “It's nearly a year since you've visited there.”

“I can't wait to see Nari's face when we ride over the bridge!” Ki exclaimed. “And you know Cook will make a fuss over not having enough food prepared.”

The thought of something as familiar as being scolded by her old cook warmed Tamír, driving away some of her unease over the true task before her. Grinning, she replied, “Probably, but the surprise will be worth a cold supper. Come on, let's go give them a start!”

She and Ki kicked their horses into a gallop, laughing over their shoulders as the others lagged behind. Tharin soon caught up and there was no mistaking the challenge in his grin. The three of them led the pack, racing each other up the road and thundering by laden carts and startled villagers as they reached the meadows surrounding Alestun.

Tamír looked across the fields to the walled hamlet, standing on a bend of the river. She'd thought it was a city, the first time her father brought her to see it. It wasn't a completely happy memory; she'd foolishly tried to choose a doll for her name day treat, rather than a proper boy's toy, and her father been shamed before the whole
marketplace. She understood better now why he'd reacted the way he did, but the memory still made her cringe after all these years.

She shook her head, letting the wind in her face scour away the bad feelings. He'd given her Gosie, her first horse that day, as well, and Tharin had given her that first wooden practice sword. All her early memories were like that, a mix of darkness and light, but the darkness always seemed so much greater.
Black makes white. Foul makes pure. Evil creates greatness
, the Oracle had said. That summed up her life.