The Oracle's Queen (55 page)

Perhaps it is only on account of the child that he's grown kinder, but I don't care. I'll bear him many children and bind his heart to me. He doesn't have to love me or think me beautiful, so long as he's kind
. Without wanting to, she'd begun to hope.

Thinking that, she was surprised to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She rose and stood in the balcony doorway, listening with mounting dread. She knew that light step.

Niryn entered and bowed to her. “Good morning, my dear. I thought I'd find you awake. I wanted to say my farewells.”

He was dressed for traveling and looked almost as he
used to when he visited her in Ilear. She'd yearned for his arrivals then and thrilled at the sight of him. The memory made her ill now. He looked so ordinary. And how could she ever have thought that forked beard attractive? It looked like a serpent's tongue.

Tomara stirred, then rose to curtsy to him. “My lord. Shall I make you some tea?”

“Leave us. I want a moment with your mistress.”

“Stay,” Nalia commanded, but Tomara went out anyway, as if she hadn't heard.

Niryn closed the door after her and locked it. When he turned back to Nalia, his look was appraising, and there was the hint of a smile on his thin lips.

“My, my. Childbearing does agree with you. You have a certain glow about you now, just like those pearls your dear husband gave you. That was my suggestion, by the way. Poor Korin has rather a tragic history when it comes to getting heirs. Every care must be taken.”

“Is it true, that all his other women miscarried monsters?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What will become of my child, then? How will I protect her? Tomara said Illior's anger blighted those other babes.”

“A most convenient explanation, and one I was more than happy to foster. The truth lies a bit closer to home, I'm afraid.” He came to her and stroked her cheek with one gloved finger as Nalia stood frozen with loathing. “You needn't fear for your child, Nalia. She will be perfect.” He paused, and then traced the birthmark that marred her cheek and weak chin. “Well, perhaps not perfect, but no monster.”

Nalia recoiled. “It was you! You blighted those other babes.”

“Those that needed blighting. Young girls often lose the first one, without any assistance. As for those others, it was a simple matter, really.”

“You're the monster! Korin would burn you alive if he knew.”

“Perhaps, but he never shall.” The man's thin smile widened maliciously. “Who would tell him? You? Please, summon him now and try.”

“That spell you put on me—”

“Still in force. I have you quite nicely surrounded with spells, all to keep you safe, my dear. You mustn't bother him with trifles when he has so many more important things to worry about. He's quite terrified of battle, you know.”

“Liar!”

“I assure you, it's true. I had no hand in that; it's just his nature. He's served his purpose admirably with you, though. He always excelled at rutting.”

“That's why you found me and kept me hidden away all those years,” Nalia murmured.

“Of course.” He went out onto the balcony, beckoning for her to follow. “Look out there,” he said, gesturing grandly at the massed army. “That's my doing, as well. An army, ready to secure your husband's claim once and for all. And so they shall. His mad cousin hasn't half so many.”

Nalia lingered in the doorway as Niryn leaned on the parapet.

“Korin
will
win? You've seen this?”

“That hardly matters now, does it?”

“What do you mean? How could it not matter?”

“It is not Korin I see in my visions, dear girl. It is the child in your womb. I misread them for a long time, and it cost me considerable effort, but now it's all come clear. The girl child I foresaw is your daughter. As it is, the people now must choose between a usurper king, damned by Illior, or a mad girl spawned of necromancy.”

“Girl? Prince Tobin, you mean?”

“I'm not entirely sure what Tobin is, nor do I care. No one can contest the true blood and true form of your little
daughter when she arrives. She is of the purest royal lineage.”

“What about my husband?” Nalia asked again as cold fear crept over her. “How can you, of all people, call him usurper?”

“Because that's what he is. You know the prophecy as well as I do. Korin, and his father before him, were useful placeholders, nothing more. Skala must have her queen. We shall give them one.”

“We?” Nalia whispered through lips suddenly gone dry.

Niryn leaned over, watching the activity below with evident amusement. “Look at them down there, bustling around with visions of victory. Korin thinks he'll rebuild Ero. Already he sees himself playing with his children there.”

Nalia clung to the doorframe as her knees threatened to give out under her. “You—you think he's not coming back.”

The sky was much brighter by now. She caught the sly, sidelong look he gave her.

“I have missed you, Nalia. Oh, I don't blame you for being angry with me, but appearances had to be maintained. Come now, you're not going to tell me you're in love with him? I know his heart, my dear. You're nothing to him but a pair of legs to lie between, a womb to fill.”

“No!” Nalia covered her ears.

“Oh, he flatters himself that he has a warm heart. See how he's feathered your little nest up here. It was more for his conscience than your comfort, I assure you. We agreed, he and I, that you had just enough spirit to try and scamper away, given the chance, so it was better to keep you safely caged up here, like your pretty birds. Though he's never called you pretty.”

“Stop it!” Nalia cried. Tears filled her eyes, blurring Niryn to a dark, menacing shape against the sky. “Why are
you so cruel? He
does
care for me. He's come to care for me.”

“You have come to care for him, you mean. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. You're young and romantic, and Korin's not a bad sort, in his way. But I'm sorry you've become attached to him. It will only make things worse in the end.”

Nalia went colder still. “What are you saying?”

Nalia could hear Korin greeting his men and calling out orders. He sounded so happy.

“You should take a good look at him now, while you can, my dear.”

“He's
not
coming back.” Darkness threatened to close in around her.

“He's done his part, albeit unwillingly,” Niryn mused. “Think how cozy it will be; you the mother of the infant monarch, and me, her Lord Protector.”

Nalia stared at him in disbelief. Niryn was waving at someone below. Perhaps Korin had looked up and seen him.

She imagined Korin trusting Niryn, just as she had.

She imagined her life stretching out in front of her, a voiceless pawn in Niryn's game, silenced by his magic. And her child, her little unborn daughter, looking up into that false face. Would he someday seduce her, too?

Niryn was still leaning on the parapet, one hip hitched up on the edge as he waved and smiled that false, empty smile.

Rage too long banked flared in Nalia's wounded heart, catching like wildfire on the tinder of her pain and betrayal. It scalded away the numbing fear and drove her forward. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord as she rushed at Niryn and pushed with all her might.

For an instant they were face-to-face, almost close enough to kiss. That false smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look of disbelief. He clawed the air, catching her by the sleeve as he tried in vain to pull himself back
from the tipping point. But he was too heavy for her and instead dragged her over the edge with him.

Or nearly so. For an endless instant she hung over the edge, and saw Korin and his riders there below, their faces pale ovals with open mouths. She would land at Korin's feet. She and her child would die there in front of him.

Instead, something caught her and pulled her back from the brink. She had one last sight of Niryn's disbelieving face as he fell, then she tumbled back onto the balcony and lay there in a quivering heap, listening to Niryn's brief, truncated scream and the cries of those who saw him fall.

I have you quite nicely surrounded with spells, all to keep you safe, my dear
.

Nalia let out a disbelieving laugh. Trembling, she rose unsteadily and peered back over the parapet.

Niryn lay sprawled like a child's rag doll on the paving stones. He'd landed facedown, so she could not see if that look of dismay was still there.

Korin looked up and saw her, then ran inside the keep.

Nalia staggered back into her room and collapsed on her bed. She would tell him the truth, spilling out every detail of the wizard's treachery against them. He would understand. She would see that fond smile again.

Moments later Korin burst in and found her lying there. “By the Four, Nalia, what have you done?”

Nalia tried tell him, but the words stuck in her throat, just as they had before. She clutched at her throat as the tears came. Tomara came in and ran to take her in her arms. Lord Alben was there, too, clutching Korin's arm, and Master Porion and others Nalia did not know. In the courtyard below someone was wailing. It sounded like a young man.

Nalia tried again to tell Korin the truth, but the horror in his eyes silenced her as harshly as the magic still stopping her tongue. At last she managed to whisper, “He fell.”

“I—I saw—” Korin stammered, slowly shaking his head. “I saw you!”

“Close that door,” Porion ordered, pointing beyond Nalia to the balcony door. “Close it and make it fast. Bar the windows, too!” Then he was pulling at Korin, drawing him away from her before she could find the words to make them understand.

He was evil! He was going to cast you aside as he did me! He was going to take your place!

The words would not come.

“I saw you,” Korin gasped again, then turned and strode from the room. The others followed and Nalia heard Korin cry out angrily, “It's the madness. It's in the blood. Guard her! See that she does no harm to my child!”

Nalia collapsed sobbing in Tomara's arms and wept long after the sound of horses and trumpets had faded away outside. Korin was gone off to his war. He would never smile at her again, even if he did return.

I'm free of Niryn at last, though
, she thought, consoling herself with that knowledge.
My child will never be tainted by his touch or that false smile!

T
he late-summer sky overhead was blue as Zengati lapis the day Tamír led her army forth from Atyion. In the vineyards that lined the road women were cutting heavy bunches of grapes into deep baskets. In the distant meadows hundred of fine young foals gamboled among the vast herds, and the fields of grain shone like gold.

Tharin rode beside her, not yet ready to bid her farewell.

Behind them ranks of men-at-arms, archers, and mounted fighters marched under her banner and those of more than a dozen noble houses from Ilear to Erind.

Others, who had been levied from the towns and farms, had only knives, sickles, or cudgels, but they held themselves as proudly as the lords who led them.

The Companions all wore long blue tabards with her coat of arms emblazoned on their chests, and the baldric of her house.

Lutha and Barieus rode proudly, if a bit uncomfortably, talking happily with Una, who'd returned the day before with several regiments from Ylani.

Mahti rode with the wizards for now, with his oo'lu across his back in place of a sword. Word of their strange guide had spread quickly, soldiers' gossip being what it was. Word of their queen's sudden affection for the hill folk spread like wildfire. There was muttering, but their lords and captains kept everyone in line.

A
t midafternoon Mahti pointed inland toward the mountains. “We go that way.”

Tamír shaded her eyes. There was no road, only rolling fields, meadows, and wooded foothills beyond.

“I don't see any pass,” said Ki.

“I know way,” Mahti insisted.

“Very well, then. We'll go west.” Tamír reined in to make her farewells to Tharin.

He gave her a sad smile as they clasped hands. “This time it's you riding away, rather than me.”

“I remember how that felt, watching you and Father leave. We'll have some good tales to tell when we meet again.”

“May you hold the Sword of Ghërilain before the snow flies.” Raising his sword, he shouted, “For Skala and Tamír!”

The army took up the cheer, the words rolling back down the long line like a tide.

With a final wave, Tharin and his escort wheeled their horses and galloped back toward Atyion.

Tamír watched him go, then fixed her gaze on the mountains.

T
he following day brought them to the foothills, and the next to the forests that covered the foot of the range.

Late that afternoon, Mahti pointed out a game trail leading through a thick patch of wild currant bushes.

“Is that the start of your secret road?” asked Tamír.

“Soon come to,” Mahti replied. He spoke rapidly to Arkoniel.

“We follow this trail for a day, then follow a stream up to a waterfall,” Arkoniel told her. “The hidden trail starts just beyond it. He says the way is easier after that. We'll reach the first hill folk village within two days.”

“I didn't realize there were any living so close.”

“I not know these Retha'noi, but they see my oo'lu and know I be witch.” He spoke to Arkoniel again, evidently wanting to be certain that Tamír understood what he said clearly.

Arkoniel listened, his face going very serious. “The moment you see any hill folk you must call an immediate halt and stay still. He'll go ahead and speak with them on our behalf. Otherwise, they're likely to attack.”