The Oracle's Queen (50 page)

“I think perhaps you and Lord Ki might wish to see them alone first. There's someone else with them.”

“Who?” she asked, already at the door.

The other Companions were waiting outside. Lytia glanced their way, then said softly, “I'll tell you on the way upstairs.”

Puzzled, Tamír nodded. “Ki, you come with me. The rest of you wait here.”

Lytia led the way to another corridor on the far side of the tower. Pausing a moment, she whispered, “The
stranger with them? Well, he's apparently one of the hill folk, Majesty. Lord Lutha claims he's a witch.”

“A witch?” Tamír exchanged a startled look with Ki.

“That's why I thought you should come up without too many other eyes,” Lytia hastened to explain. “Please forgive me if I've done wrong letting such a creature in, but the others wouldn't be parted from him. I had to put them all under guard. Fortunately they came in at night, and only a few of the servants and guards saw them. None of them will talk. I have their oaths on it until you've had your say.”

“Does this man admit to being a witch?” asked Tamír.

“Oh yes. He makes no secret of it. He was dreadfully filthy when they first arrived—well, they all were, poor lads—and he strikes me as a simpleminded fellow, but the others vouched for him and claim he helped them. They've been cruelly used.”

“By whom?”

“They wouldn't say.”

Four armed men were on guard outside the guest room, and old Vornus and Lyan were sitting on a bench just across from the door, wands across their knees, as if expecting trouble at any moment. They stood and bowed as she approached.

“Can you tell me what's going on?” Tamír asked them.

“We've been keeping watch on your unusual guest,” Vornus replied. “Thus far he's behaved himself.”

“We've felt no magic from him at all,” Lyan added, tucking her wand up her sleeve. “Your people seem terrified, but I've sensed no harm in him.”

“Thank you for your vigilance. Please continue to keep watch for now.”

The guards stepped aside, and Tamír knocked at the door.

It swung open and there stood Lutha, barefoot and dressed in a long shirt over a pair of breeches. He was thin and pale, and his braids had been cut off, but the look on
his face as he recognized Tamír was almost comical. Across the room, Caliel lay on his stomach on a large bed, with Barieus hunched over in a chair beside him. Both stared at her as if they'd seen a ghost.

Lutha gasped. “By the Four! Tobin?”

“It's Tamír, now,” Ki told him.

A tense pause followed, then Lutha broke into a tearful grin. “So it's true! Bilairy's balls, we've been hearing rumors ever since we left Ero, but Korin wouldn't believe it.” He wiped at his eyes. “I don't know what to say, except that I'm damn glad to see you both alive!”

“What happened to you?”

“Come in first and let the others see you properly.”

He led the way to the bed, and Tamír noted how stiffly he moved, as if in pain.

Caliel pushed himself up with a grimace as she and Ki approached. Barieus rose slowly and gave her an uncertain smile, wonder and confusion warring in his eyes.

“Yes, it's Tobin,” Ki assured him. “But she's Queen Tamír now.”

Barieus looked from Tamír to Ki. “Have you two been fighting? Tamír—your chin? Ki, what happened to your cheek?”

“I fell, and Ki was bitten by a dragon. We both were, actually.”

“A dragon?”

“Just a small one,” Ki told him.

Lutha laughed. “We've missed a lot, it seems.”

It was good to see him smile, but the way they all held themselves, together with Lytia's comment, sent a pang of foreboding through her. All three were missing their braids.

“How?” Caliel asked, staring at her in consternation. His handsome face was mottled with fading bruises, and his eyes were haunted.

With a sigh, Tamír quickly sketched out the details of the change and watched their eyes go wide.

“I know it sounds like something out of a bard's tale, but I saw her change with my own eyes, right here in Atyion, along with about a thousand other people,” Ki told them.

“Now, tell me what happened to you three,” Tamír urged.

Lutha and Barieus turned their backs and lifted their shirts. Caliel hesitated, then slowly did the same.

“Bilairy's balls!” gasped Ki.

Barieus' and Lutha's backs were crosshatched with half-healed lash marks, but Caliel must have been whipped raw. His skin was a mass of scabs and angry red scar tissue from neck to waist.

Tamír's throat went dry. “Korin?”

Lutha lowered his shirt and helped Caliel pull his back down. All of them looked ashamed as Lutha haltingly told Tamír of their time at Cirna and how her letter to Korin had been received.

“We'd only had the word of Niryn's spies about you, and we didn't trust them,” Caliel explained. “I wanted to go see for myself, but Korin said no.”

“And you went anyway,” Tamír said.

Caliel nodded.

“Niryn had his spies watching us,” Lutha said bitterly. “You remember Moriel, who wanted Ki's place as your squire so badly?”

“The Toad? Of course,” muttered Ki. “Don't tell me he's still with Korin?”

“He's Niryn's hound now, and he watched every move we made for his master,” Caliel said.

“Oh, my friends!” Tamír whispered, deeply touched by their faith in her. “So, what do you say, now that you've seen me?”

Caliel regarded her for a moment, and that haunted look returned. “Well, you don't seem mad. I'm still trying to figure out the rest of it.” He looked to Ki. “I don't suppose you'd go along with this if it was necromancy?”

“No necromancy. Retha'noi binding,” a low, amused voice broke in.

Tamír had been so alarmed by the condition of her friends that she'd forgotten all about the hill witch. As he rose from a pallet in the corner and came forward, she saw that he was dressed more like a Skalan peasant farmer, but there was no mistaking what he was.

“This is Mahti,” said Lutha. “Before you get angry, you should know that he's the reason we got here at all.”

“I'm not angry,” Tamír murmured, studying the man with interest. He was small and dark like Lhel, with the same olive skin and long, black curls in wild disarray around his shoulders, and the same rough, stained bare feet. He wore a necklace and bracelets strung with animal teeth, and held a long, elaborately decorated horn of some sort.

He came closer and smiled broadly at her. “Lhel tell me come to you, girl who was boy. You know Lhel, yes?”

“Yes. When did you last see her?”

“Night before today. She says you come.”

Ki frowned and stepped closer to Tamír. “That's not possible.”

Mahti eyed Tamír knowingly. “
You
know dead not stop coming if they want. She tell me of your noro'shesh, too. You have eyes that see.”

“He's talking ghosts?” muttered Barieus. “He never said anything about that to us. He just kept claiming he'd seen us in a vision or something and that he was supposed to come with us.”

“You be scared.” Mahti chuckled, then pointed to Tamír. “She not be scared.”

“How did you first meet her?” Tamír asked.

“She come in vision. Dead when I know her.”

“He never said anything about anyone named Lhel, either. Who is she?” asked Lutha.

“It's all right. I think I understand.”

The witch nodded sadly. “Lhel is loving you. She tells all the time for me to come to you.”

“Her ghost told you, you mean?” Ki asked.

Mahti nodded. “Her mari come to me when I make dream with oo'lu.”

“That's what he calls that horn of his,” said Barieus. “He does magic with it, like a wizard.”

“Korin sent trackers and a wizard after us, but Mahti played that horn and not one of them saw us, though we were standing in plain sight in the road,” Lutha explained.

“He's a good healer with it and his herbs, too. Good as a drysian,” added Barieus. “And he knew a shortcut way through the mountains, too.”

“I wouldn't have lived to get here if it wasn't for him,” said Caliel. “Whatever else you might say of him, he took good care of us.”

“Thank you for helping my friends, Mahti,” Tamír said, holding out her hand. “I know how dangerous it is for you to come this far into our lands.”

Mahti touched her hand lightly and chuckled again. “No danger for me. Mother Shek'met protect and Lhel be guide.”

“Even so, I'll make certain you have safe passage back to your hills.”

“I come to you, girl who was boy. I come to help.”

“Help me do what?”

“I help as Lhel help. Maybe with your noro'shesh? That one still no sleep.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“What's he talking about?” asked Lutha.

Tamír shook her head wearily. “I suppose I'd better tell you everything.”

She pulled a chair up by the bed, and Ki and Lutha sat carefully on the edge of the bed beside Caliel. As she told them what she knew, Mahti hunkered down on the floor and listened intently, his brow furrowed as he tried to follow her words.

“Your brother was killed so you could take his form?” Caliel said when she'd finished. “Isn't that necromancy?”

Mahti shook his head vehemently. “Lhel make mistake making baby die. Not should have—” He paused, searching for the word, then took a deep breath, pointing at his chest. “Lhel tells you this?”

“Lhel never told me how he died. I only heard the truth a few days ago, from some wizards who were there.”

“Iya?” asked Caliel.

“Yes.”

“Not breath.
First
breath. Brings mari into—” Mahti hesitated again, then pinched the skin on the back of his hand.

“Into the body?” asked Ki, touching his chest.

“Body? Yes. No breath in body, no life. No mari to be make like him. Bad thing. No breath for body, mari have no home.”

“Mari must mean spirit,” mused Ki.

“I mean no offense, Tob—Tamír, but perhaps he doesn't understand what necromancy is,” Caliel warned. “Who else controls ghosts and demons, but a necromancer?”

“No necromancy!” Mahti insisted indignantly. “You Skalan, you no understand Retha'noi!” He held up the horn again. “No necromancy. Good magic. Help you, yes?”

“Yes,” Caliel admitted.

“Why would he help us if he's evil, Cal?” Lutha insisted, and it sounded to Tamír like they'd had this debate before. “Tamír, couldn't that friend of yours, Mistress Iya, tell if he's that sort or not?”

“Iya isn't with me anymore, but I have others to advise me. Ki, send for Arkoniel. He knows more about Mahti's people than anyone else.”

Caliel waited until Ki was gone, then said, “I should tell you, Tamír, that I am not here by my own will. When I tried to come to you before, it was to parley on Korin's behalf. He's my friend and my liege. The oath I swore to him
as a Companion is one I won't break. I don't mean you any harm, but I won't dishonor myself by accepting your hospitality under false pretenses. I'm no spy, but I'm no turncoat, either.”

“No, you're a damn fool!” Lutha growled. “Korin's the one who's mad. You saw it as clearly as I did, even before he had you flogged half to death.” He turned to Tamír, eyes flashing with outrage. “He was going to hang us all! You can call me traitor if you want, but I'm here because I think Korin's wrong. I loved him, too, but he broke his oath to us and to Skala when he let himself become the puppet of a creature like Niryn. I can't dishonor my father's name any longer, serving in such a court.”

“He's bespelled,” Caliel muttered, resting his face in his hands.

Ki returned and settled on the bed again, looking at Caliel with concern.

“He's got Korin seeing traitors in every shadow,” Lutha went on. “All anyone has to do is disagree with him and they're likely to end up at the end of a rope.”

“How did you get away?” asked Ki.

“It was your spy, Tamír. A fellow calling himself Eyoli? I don't know how he managed it, but he got us out.”

“He's a wizard,” Ki told him.

“I thought it might be something like that.”

“How is it in Cirna now?” Tamír asked.

“There's grumbling among the ranks. Some don't hold with Niryn's ways. Others are losing patience with Korin just sulking there in Cirna. He's sent some forces to put down nobles who've taken your side, but his generals want him to come after you.”

“He is,” Tamír told him. “I just had word of it.”

Caliel looked up at that. “With respect, I don't want to be here for this. I'm sorry, Tamír. I can't be party to any talk against Korin. I—I should go back. Sakor knows, I don't want to fight against you, but my place is there.”

“He'll hang you, sure as I'm sitting here!” Lutha exclaimed.
“For hell's sake, we didn't drag you all the way here for you to just turn around and go looking for your death!” He turned to Tamír and Ki. “This is what he's been like. He won't listen to reason!”

“You should have left me, then,” Caliel snapped.

“Maybe we should have!”

“Please, don't fight!” Tamír reached out and took Caliel's hand. He was trembling with emotion. “You're in no condition to go anywhere. Rest here until you're stronger. Honor the laws of hospitality, and I'll still call you friend.”

“Of course. I give you my oath.”

She turned to the witch, who'd been watching all this with evident interest. “And you. Will you swear by your great Mother to do no harm in my house, to any of my people?”

Mahti gripped his horn in both hands. “By the full moon of Mother Shek'met, and by the mari of Lhel, I come only to help you. I do no harm.”