The Oracle's Queen (54 page)

“The way small in places. In other, hard walking up.”

“The Retha'noi don't use horses. They carry everything on their backs,” Arkoniel told her.

“Then we must do the same, and hope the 'faie arrive in good time.” Tamír frowned down at the map for a moment, then looked up at her lords. “What do you advise?”

“I'd say rely on men-at-arms and archers, for the greater bulk of your force, Majesty,” Kyman replied. “You'll want horses for reconnoitering, but the fewer we have to find forage for on the way, the better.”

“You could also use what ships you have at Ero,” Illardi suggested.

“They wouldn't reach us in time to do much good.
Keep them here and use them to defend Atyion and Ero. Illardi, you'll oversee the ships. Jorvai, Kyman, Nyanis: you are my marshals.”

They spent the rest of the day forming their plans. Lytia's inventories were encouraging; even accounting for the provisioning of Tamír's army, it would still leave enough that it would take Korin months to starve them out. Two companies would remain in the garrison; two thousand foot and five hundred horse would go with Tharin. The rest, nearly ten thousand of the best foot, archers, and one hundred cavalry, would take the mountain route with Tamír, with Mahti as their guide.

T
amír and the Companions had just entered the hall for the evening meat when Baldus came pelting through the crowd toward her, dodging between startled servants and courtiers.

“Majesty!” he cried, waving a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

He came to a breathless stop before her and bowed quickly. “I found this—under your door. Lady Lytia said to bring it to you at once. He asked her for some clothes—Lord Caliel—”

“Hush.” Tamír took the parchment and opened it, recognizing Caliel's elegant hand at once.

“He's gone, isn't he?” said Ki.

Tamír read the brief message through and handed it to him with a resigned sigh. “He's taking Tanil back to Korin. He wanted to be gone before he could hear our plans.”

“Damn him!” Lutha cried, clenching his fists in frustration. “I should never have left him alone. We've got to go after him.”

“No.”

“What? But he's mad to go back!”

“I gave him my word, Lutha,” she reminded him sadly. “It's his choice. I won't stop him.”

Lutha stood a moment, a mute entreaty in his eyes, then stalked away with his head down.

“Tamír?” Barieus said, clearly torn between duty and his friend.

“Go on,” Tamír said. “Don't let
him
do anything stupid.”

W
hen the war council was over, Arkoniel took Mahti back to the Orëska hall and gathered the others in the courtyard to make their own plans.

“Hain, Lord Malkanus, and Cerana, I ask you to ride with me. Melissandra, Saruel, Vornus, Lyan, and Kaulin—I give you charge of the castle and the rest of the wizards.” He glanced over at the children, who were huddled together on the grass beside him. Wythnir gave him a heartbroken look. It pulled at Arkoniel's heart, but there was no help for it.

“I'm to stay behind, but
that
goes?” Kaulin demanded, jerking a thumb at Mahti, who sat on the grass near the children. “Is he one of us now?”

Arkoniel sighed inwardly. Kaulin was his least favorite among the wizards. “He was guided to Queen Tamír by visions, just like the rest of us. Whether it was by his own gods or ours, he is one of us for as long as he serves her. You were with us in the mountains; you know the debt we owe to Lhel. Honor her by honoring this man. We can no longer let ignorance divide us. However, Kaulin, if you wish to come with me, you are welcome.” He looked around at the others. “All of you are here by choice. All of you are free as always to choose your own paths. I am master to no free wizard.”

Kaulin backed down. “I'll go with you. I can do a bit of healing.”

“I'd prefer to accompany you, as well,” Saruel said.

“I'll take her place here,” Cerana offered.

“Very well. Anyone else?”

“You've portioned us wisely, Arkoniel,” Lyan replied.
“There are enough of us in both places to harm the enemy and protect the innocent.”

“I agree,” said Malkanus. “You have led us well, and you were the closest to Mistress Iya and shared her vision. I see no reason to change things now.”

“I appreciate the fact that you are all still here and willing to support the queen.”

“I suppose Iya had her reasons for leaving, but we'll surely miss her strength,” Cerana sighed.

“Yes, we will,” Arkoniel replied sadly. He'd told them simply that Iya had finished her part and gone away by her own choice. Tamír needed their loyalty, and those ties were still too tenuous to risk the full truth right now.

Y
ou forgot your sword, Cal,” Tanil noted as they rode north along the high road in the waning dusk. He ducked his head, looking guilty. “I lost mine.”

“It's all right. We don't need them,” Caliel assured him.

Tanil had left Atyion willingly, eager to see Korin again. Thanks to Tamír's generosity, they both had decent clothing and a bit of gold, enough for a pair of horses and food enough for the journey.

“But what if we meet up with the Plenimarans again?”

“They're gone. Tamír drove them away.”

“Who?”

“Tobin,” Caliel amended.

“Oh—yes. I keep forgetting. I'm sorry.” He was plucking at that severed braid again.

Caliel reached over and pulled his hand away. “It's all right, Tanil.”

Tanil's body had recovered, but inside he was broken, leaving him vague and easily confused. Caliel had considered simply taking him away, disappearing, but he knew that Tanil would never cease longing for Korin if he did.

And where would I go that I could forget him?

Caliel didn't allow himself to dwell on what his own
welcome was likely to be at Cirna. He would take Tanil back to Korin, as a last act of duty and friendship.

No
, he silently amended.
Let my last act be to kill Niryn, and set Korin free
.

Bilairy could have him after that, with no regrets.

N
alia had seen very little of Korin since he'd learned of her pregnancy. He did not come to her bed at all any longer—a welcome respite—and spent each day planning and organizing for his war.

Nalia watched the activity in the encampments and the constant coming and goings in the fortress yards below from her balcony. The air was filled with the steady din of armorers and farriers, and the rumble of carts.

She was not forgotten, however. Korin sent her little gifts each day, and Tomara went to visit him each morning with word of Nalia's health. In those rare moments that he did come to her, he was kind and attentive. For the first time, Nalia actually looked forward to the sound of his step on the stairs.

K
orin was not thinking of Nalia as he and his men rode down the switchback road to the harbor. Before he'd come to Cirna, it had been nothing but a tiny fishing village. Over the course of the summer it had been transformed. Rows of makeshift houses, crude taverns, and long barracks houses had sprung up on the steep slope that stretched between the cliffs and the shoreline.

A brisk sea breeze stirred through Korin's black curls, drying the sweat on his brow. Summer was waning day by day, but the skies were still clear. Duke Morus' ships rode at anchor in the deep harbor, joined now by more than a dozen others. There were thirty-three in all. Some were little more than large coasting vessels or fishing boats, but he
had twenty fine strong carracks, capable of carrying a hundred men each.

As Korin reached the stone jetty, the stink of hot tar and fish mingled with the salt tang in the air. “I wish we could sail with them,” he said over his shoulder to Alben and Urmanis. “They'll be in Ero in a few days' time while we're still plodding along on the road.”

“Yes, but you'll command the larger force,” Alben replied.

He and Urmanis were the last of Korin's original Companions, and the last of his friends. He'd also raised Moriel to Companion. As Niryn pointed out, the Toad had proven his worth these past months, and though Niryn had been loath to release him from his own service, he'd had to agree that there were few enough properly trained young men left to fill out the ranks. Alben had always spoken well of him, and Korin found himself wondering why he hadn't taken him on sooner.

Morus greeted him heartily. “Good morning, Majesty. How is your lady today?”

“She's very well, my lord,” Korin replied, clasping hands with the man. “How is my navy?”

“We'll load up and set sail as soon as you pour the libation. With a good following wind, we should make harbor above Ero in three days' time and be ready to close the vise on Atyion as soon as you arrive.”

Moriel smiled at that. “You'll catch Prince Tobin like a nut between two stones.”

“Yes.” Korin's heart felt like a lump of ice in his breast every time his cousin was mentioned. He'd never hated anyone the way he hated Tobin. He haunted Korin's dreams, a pale and taunting figure, twisted to a dark-eyed specter. Only last night Korin had dreamed of wrestling with him, each one trying to take the crown the other wore.

Tobin had fooled half the country with his mad claims and even had a few victories to impress them. Those galled
Korin, and jealousy ate at his heart. Now the little upstart had even stolen Caliel away. He would never forgive any of them.

Niryn spoke darkly of the wizards who were gathering to Tobin's court. Few had come to Cirna, and the handful of Harriers who'd come north were a worthless lot, as far as Korin was concerned, good for little more than burning their own kind and scaring the soldiers. If the rumors were to be believed, Tobin's had greater powers. By the Flame, how he hated that brat!

“Korin, are you unwell?” Urmanis whispered close to his ear.

Korin blinked and found Morus and the others staring at him. Alben had him by the elbow and Urmanis stood close on the other side, alarmed.

“What are you all staring at?” Korin covered his momentary lapse with a glare. In truth, he felt a bit dizzy, and his clenched hands ached to strike out at something. “Come, summon your men, Morus.”

Morus gave the signal to one of his captains. The man raised a horn to his lips and blew the assembly call. Within moments other signalmen on the ships and up the hillside were echoing the call. Korin sat on a mooring post to wait, watching as rank upon rank of men poured out of the barracks and marched to the jetties. Longboats skimmed in over the smooth face of the harbor to meet them.

“Are you better?” Alben murmured, staying close to him and shielding him from the sight of the others.

“Yes, of course!” Korin snapped, then, with a sigh, “Was it a long one, this time?”

“Only a moment, but you looked ready to kill someone.”

Korin rubbed at his eyes, trying to fend off the headache that was building behind them. “I'll be fine once we're on the march.”

This time he would not show weakness or make mistakes. This time he would be his father's son.

K
orin came to Nalia the night before his departure, dressed in his armor and a fine silk tabard bearing the royal arms of Skala. Nalia had not seen him dressed so since that first night he'd come to her. He'd been haggard and dirty and covered in blood then, a terrifying stranger. Now he looked every inch a king, with a shining helmet banded in gold under his arm.

“I've come to bid you farewell,” he said, taking his customary seat across from hers. “We leave at first light and I have much to do before then.”

She wished he'd sit closer and take her hand again, but instead he sat stiffly in his chair. He'd never kissed her, either, except on the hand. Nalia's mind strayed for just a moment to memories of Niryn and the false passion they'd shared. She quickly willed such thoughts away, as if they could somehow harm her child.

As much as she'd feared pregnancy, she felt fiercely protective toward the tiny life growing inside her. She would not be like that other wife. She would keep the child in her womb and it would be born healthy and beautiful. Her long-dead rival had kindled only boys, or so Tomara said. Surely Illior would let a girl child live.

“I may be gone through the winter, if we have to lay siege,” said Korin. “I'm sorry your new chamber isn't complete yet, but it will be very soon. And I'll make certain there is an even better one waiting for you in Ero. Will you write to me?”

“I will, my lord,” Nalia promised. “I will tell you how your child grows.”

Korin stood and took her hand. “I'll make offerings to Dalna and Astellus for your health and our child's.”

Our child
. Nalia smiled and touched her pearl necklace for luck. “As will I, my lord, and for you.”

“Well, that's good then.” He paused, then leaned down and gave her an awkward kiss on the forehead. “Goodbye, my lady.”

“Farewell, my lord.” Nalia stared after him in amazement as he went out. Yes, perhaps there was hope.

She went out to the balcony when he was gone, knowing that she wouldn't sleep. She kept her lonely vigil there, wrapped in a shawl against the damp. Tomara slept in an armchair, chin on her breast, snoring softly.

Nalia settled by the parapet, chin resting on her hands. On the plain to the south, columns were forming in dark, shifting squares and rectangles against the moonlit grass. Watch fires burned everywhere and she could see men passing in front of them, making the flames wink and twinkle in the distance like yellow stars.

A
s the first light of the misty false dawn brightened in the east, Korin's guard formed up in the yard below. When Korin mounted his tall grey horse, Nalia couldn't help a sigh. He looked so handsome, so dashing.