The Oracle's Queen

  Tamír turned it over in her hands, admiring the fine metalwork. The image of Illior’s dragon stood rampant in gold on the cheek pieces. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  Imonus bowed. “It will do until the true crown graces your brow.”

  * * *

  Baldus was fairly bouncing with excitement when she and Ki reached her room. “Highness, look, look what’s arrived and just in time for the battle!”

  “She’s Majesty now,” Ki informed him as Tamír strode over to the bed with a happy gasp.

  The seamstresses of Illardi’s house had been busy. A new silk tabard was worked beautifully with her arms, and a new banner was spread out across the bed beside it.

  Tamír sent Baldus out, wanting a last moment alone with Ki.

  His blood was up and his eyes were shining in a way she hadn’t seen in weeks. “You’re looking forward to this.”

  “So are you.”

  She grinned. “It should be a nice change from complaining millers.”

  “It’s going to be a tough fight if the wizards counted right.”

  “But we’re better rested and can meet them in place.”

  “Old Raven would be proud of you. You were good at your history and warfare lessons.” He paused and eyed her closely. “You’ve got something on your mind besides the battle.”

  Tamír hesitated, wondering how to broach the issue of Ki’s promotion to him. “It came to me during the investitures. I’ve no business treating you like a squire. You’re as dear to me as—” She paused, and felt herself blushing. “As Caliel is to Korin,” she finished quickly. “It’s not right, after all we’ve been through together.”

  Ki’s brown eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “You’d still be—”

  “No, Tamír!” He folded his arms, mouth set in a stubborn line. “We’ve both had enough changes to last us a while. This isn’t the time for you to break in some green squire.”

  “You’re as bad as Tharin.”

  “He stayed your father’s man, didn’t he? There’s no shame in it.”

  “Of course not, but you deserve more respect. So does he.”

  “I’m at your side, Tamír. If people don’t respect that, then to hell with them. I’ve never cared what anyone thinks and you know it.”

  That was a lie, of course. Taunts of “grass knight” and “horse thief’s brat” had cut him to the quick, even if he’d been too proud to say so.

  Can a queen take her squire for a consort? Blushing again at the unbidden thought, she turned and pretended to admire the new tabard. She’d let Ki have his way for now, but sooner or later she’d see him raised to his proper place. And anyone who wanted to remember him as a grass knight then could go to Bilairy.

  Iya and several other wizards had kept on with their watching and sent word that the Plenimarans meant to make landfall exactly where Tamír had foreseen.

  The sun was at its zenith and the house was sweltering as Ki helped her on with her padded tunic and Aurënfaie chain mail. Sweating in his own armor, he tugged her burnished cuirass snugly into place, making sure there was the least gap possible on either side. The elegant goldwork on the breastplate caught the light. This armor, like the helm, had been made for a woman warrior and accented the slight curve of her bosom with glinting steel and tracery. She felt rather self-conscious about that. Still, she couldn’t resist stealing a sidelong look in the mirror.

  Ki laughed as he dropped the silk tabard over her head. “Pretty taken with yourself, ain’t you?”

  Tamír scowled at her reflection. “Do I look like a queen?”

  Ki clapped the new helm on her head. “You do now, except for the Sword.”

  “I still have a good one.” She drew her blade and held it up. It had been her father’s.

  Ki clasped her shoulder. “He’d be proud of you, and so would your mother, too, I bet, if she could see you now.”

  Tamír wished she could believe that. “Let’s go,” she said. “I want to be well placed when our guests show up.”

  The Companions and standard-bearers stood ready in the courtyard. Arkoniel, Saruel, and Kiriar were with them. The wizards wore no armor but were dressed for swift riding. The Khatme still wore her long dark gown, but sat astride with her skirts pulled back over tall riding boots.

  “How is Iya?” she asked Arkoniel.

  “Exhausted.”

  “You’ve been using magic, too. Aren’t you tired?”

  Arkoniel smiled. “I’ve been at different tasks, and they were not as taxing. I’m ready for battle. We all are.”

  “My Orëska wing,” she said, smiling. “May Sakor join with Illior for your work today.”

  Lynx was holding her mount. She missed her old horse, Gosi, who’d been missing since Ero fell, but the little palfrey wouldn’t have been suited for this sort of work. She rode a tall black Aurënfaie stallion named Midnight now, from her Atyion herds. He was trained for battle: swift, responsive, with no hint of skittishness. She’d seen to it that Ki had a horse of equal mettle, a fine bay named Swift.

  She made a last offering at the shrine of the Four and was glad to see the smoke from Sakor’s brazier float straight up, an auspicious sign before battle. She also stopped at the stele and burned incense and owl feathers there. The smoke caressed her again, but the Lightbearer had no more visions for her.

  She rode out the gate to take her place at the head of the mounted column, and a huge cheer went up from the riders and the other warriors who stood watching. The banners of her lords fluttered above the ranks in a stiff sea breeze, bright against the morning sky.

  “Ta-mír! Ta-mír! Ta-mír!” The chant sent a chill up her spine.

  She rose in the saddle and saluted them. The cheering swelled as she kicked her mount into a gallop and rode for the head of the column.

  A calm certainty settled over her, as it always did at such moments. This is what I was born for.

  Chapter 18

  They reached the cove just before nightfall and Tamír sent out scouts to look for advance forces. On the horizon, she could just make out a few dark shapes.

  Arkoniel verified them as enemy ships. “They must mean to come ashore after dark, just as you foresaw.”

  “Yes.” The three-quarter moon was rising behind the ships. It had been much higher in the vision. “I want the riders held back a quarter mile. The archers will lie low along the head of the beach here. Do you know yet if they have wizards with them?”

  “I’ve seen no sign of any,” he replied.

  “Good.”

  Tamír rode among the wings, speaking with the captains as they and their warriors shared a cold meal. They wanted no fires to alert the enemy. It was a clear night and even the smallest flame would be visible for miles. Each company of archers along the beach had a fire laid ready, with a cup of firechips to throw on when the time came.

  Silence was ordered, for sound carried, too. Tamír stood with her guard, watching and listening.

  “There,” Saruel whispered at last. “Can you see the glimmer of the sails? They’re sailing without lanterns.”

  Wizards saw better than most in the dark, but Tamír could soon make out the scattered brightness of sails catching the moonlight. Soon they could hear the creak of ropes and the snap of canvas.

  The first enemy vessels entered the cove mouth, unaware of the welcome that awaited them, and the first longboats were lowered. The boats were strongly rowed, and skimmed swiftly shoreward.

  Tamír and her Companions stood at the center of the beach with bows in hand. Nyanis stood with them, and one of the archer captains. At her signal, Nyanis scattered a few firechips onto the dry wood and flames flared up. In an instant other fires leaped up along the beach. Tamír grinned at Ki as they heard the first shouts of alarm from the approaching boats.

  Ki handed her an arrow tipped with a knot of pitch-soaked rag. She nocked the shaft, lit the head, and fired it high into the air. It was too late for the Plenimaran boatmen to retreat
. Two hundred Skalan archers had already drawn on Tamír’s signal and loosed a deadly, flaming volley at the enemy.

  Hundreds of arrows lit the sky, and for a moment the enemy boats cast shadows on the water. Then the shafts found their mark and darkness returned, filled with screams. Another volley was loosed, then another, and a fourth. More shouts and cries of pain echoed across the water.

  As Tharin had predicted, however, the Plenimarans were not immediately dismayed. Answering volleys whistled back through the air. Ki and the other Companions threw up their shields around Tamír, catching half a dozen points. Other arrows struck the ground around them, sticking quivering in the sand.

  “Arkoniel, now!” she ordered.

  The wizard cast a spinning black disk on the air a few yards in front of him, and Lynx and Ki covered Tamír with their shields as she sent a flaming shaft through it. The shaft disappeared and the disk collapsed.

  An instant later the sail of a distant ship caught fire. The flames spread with unnatural speed, driven by Saruel’s charm.

  “It worked!” Arkoniel crowed.

  The flames quickly claimed the masts and spread to the deck below. In the red glare of the flames, they could see sailors abandoning the vessel.

  He and the other wizards cast more of the spells, until ten ships were burning. They’d scattered the attacks among the fleet; the wind carried bits of burning sail to other vessels. The harbor was bright with the light of burning ships.

  The Plenimarans managed a few more ragged volleys, but they lacked the concentration of the Skalan assault.

  “They’re turning back!” a lookout called and the cry went down the line.

  The Skalan warriors gave their war cries and beat their shields in a deafening roar of defiance. As it died away, however, Tamír heard a horn from their northern flank, signaling an attack there.

  “They must have gotten a force ashore up the coast!” Tharin cried. “Companions, guard your queen!”

  “Nyanis, hold the longboats with your archers,” Tamír ordered. “Companions, to your horses!”

  Tamír rallied her cavalry and galloped north to meet the foe there. It was impossible to make out exact numbers in the darkness, but the moon cast enough light to see a sizable force marching quickly to meet them. They clashed half a mile north of the cove, horse against foot, and the battle cries rang out on both sides.

  “For Skala and the Four!” Tamír cried, pressing the Skalan cavalry’s advantage and riding the Plenimarans down.

  Slashing left and right with her sword, she hewed her way through upraised swords and pikes. Midnight reared at her command, lashing out with steel-shod hooves. The Plenimarans’ shouts turned to screams under her onslaught and hot blood spurted up her arm and into her face. Battle lust seized her, driving away any thought of pain or fatigue. She was dimly aware of Ki shouting something behind her.

  She looked around and spotted her standard waving over the heads of the massed foot soldiers, and Ki and the others fighting frantically to catch up with her.

  Suddenly too many arms were reaching for her, hands grasping and pulling, trying to drag her from the saddle. She laid about with her sword, driving back all she could reach. Midnight snorted and bucked, kicking out at those trying to slash his legs below the barding. Tamír clung on with her thighs and twisted her rein hand in his mane. The high bow of the saddle kept her steady as the horse tried to rear again. She reined him down, concerned that there were too many sharp blades ready to slash at his underbelly. Someone grabbed her by the ankle and tried to yank her down.

  Just as she was certain she was going to fall, the man who had her foot suddenly let go and fell away. Righting herself in the saddle, Tamír looked down to see Brother’s pale face among the press. Men falling dead without a blow marked his wake as he disappeared again.

  Then Ki was with her, screaming with rage as he and Tharin cut down the Plenimarans still clinging to Tamír’s legs and harness. Her other Companions soon caught up and cleared a circle around her.

  Lynx was struck in the shoulder by a pike and nearly toppled from his saddle, but Tyrien rode the pikeman down. Just beyond them, Una and Hylia were fighting side by side, widening the swath of open ground around Tamír. Kyman and his riders were pushing the enemy back on her right. In the distance she could make out Jorvai’s banner waving above the fray.

  “Fight through and wheel!” Tamír shouted, brandishing her sword toward the thin line of enemy soldiers that stood between them and the beach.

  They cut their way through and turned to crash into the enemy line again. They might be outnumbered, but their horses gave them the advantage and their first charge broke the lines. They swept through the disorganized men like a scythe through a grainfield, cutting them down and trampling them under their horses’ hooves.

  “They’re breaking!” Tharin shouted.

  Tamír heard a wild shout of victory and looked to see Nikides—bloody-faced and cheering—brandishing his darkened blade, with young Lorin beside him, grim and equally blooded.

  “To me!” Tamír called, rallying them for another pass.

  The enemy broke, trying to flee back to the boats they’d come in on. Ships were anchored here, too, and Tamír had no wizards to burn them.

  Tamír and her riders rode the fleeing warriors down, driving them into the water, then pulled back and let Kyman’s archers finish them off and burn their boats. Some managed to escape, rowing back into the darkness, but behind them the corpses of their fallen comrades littered the sand and rolled in the swell of the incoming tide.

  They rode back to the beach where Nyanis’ archers stood ready to resume their attack. Tamír dismounted by one of their watch fires.

  “The dogs have gone back to their kennels for now,” he reported, looking her over. She was covered in blood, and her tabard was stained and torn. “You look like you had a good time.”

  “A bit too good,” Tharin said softly, glowering at her. “You left your guard behind and came close to losing Ki in the bargain.”

  “Then you’d all better learn to ride faster,” she retorted. He was right, of course, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

  He held her gaze a moment, then pursed his lips and looked away, knowing better than to say more in front of the other nobles.

  The wizards joined her by the watch fire and they stood in silence a moment, marveling at their success.

  “What do you think they’ll do now?” asked Arkoniel. “They still outnumber us, and it’s too soon to expect our reinforcements.”

  Tamír shrugged. “If they come in again, we’ll fight them again. They’ve lost the element of surprise and they know it. I think they’ll ask to parley.”

  As the misty dawn broke over the water, she was proven right. The Plenimaran flagship raised a long white banner. She gave orders for her standard-bearer to answer in kind, then summoned her entire force to mass along the beach in plain sight.

  A longboat bearing a smaller version of the parley banner was lowered and rowed ashore. The Plenimaran commander was a black-bearded giant of a man, dressed in ornate black leather and mail. His surcoat bore the device of a noble house. Half a dozen grim-looking men accompanied him, all unarmed.

  They splashed from the boat, but the commander left the others at the water’s edge and strode without escort up the beach. When he saw Tamír standing there in her crowned helm he hesitated, perhaps surprised not to meet a more formidable foe.

  “I am Duke Odonis, General of Plenimar and Admiral of the Overlord’s fleet,” he announced gruffly in thickly accented Skalan. “With whom do I speak?”

  “I am Tamír Ariani Agnalain, Queen of Skala,” she replied, removing her helm so that he could see her face better. “You parley with me.”

  His bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Queen?” he scoffed. “Skala has no queen now. Who are you, little girl?”

  Little girl! She was still enough Tobin in her own mind to be doubly offended by the jibe. She drew herself up s
ternly. “I am Tamír, daughter of the Princess Ariani, daughter of Agnalain. My uncle, the usurper king, cursed of Illior, fell to your first assault on the capital. I stand in his place now, the chosen of Illior Lightbearer. The priests of Afra will bear witness to this.”

  Odonis was still regarding her with some skepticism. “You lead this—” He took in the small size of her force and arched an eyebrow at her again. “This raiding party?”

  “I do. Do you mean to carry on with your assault? My army and my wizards stand ready to fight you.”

  “Wizards? Ah, Orëska. Toothless wanderers.”

  “They are not so toothless,” Tamír replied calmly, pointing out at the burning ships. “That’s their work. Allow me to convince you.”

  Arkoniel cast the spell once again and she shot a flaming shaft neatly through it. Across the water, the mainsail of Odonis’ ship caught fire.

  Odonis no longer looked so smug. “What is this?”

  “This is the work of my Orëska, and they will do so to your entire fleet if you do not leave our shores at once.”

  “You do not fight us in an honorable way!”

  “Was it honorable for the commander who came before you to sail out of the teeth of a gale with no challenge and fall on a sleeping city? It was a cowardly attack and he was defeated with all his force, at Illior’s will, by Skalan warriors and Skalan wizards. Their ships lie at the bottom of Ero harbor now. The rest of your ships will suffer the same fate if you do not withdraw and go home. Go back to your Overlord and tell him that a daughter of. Thelátimos rules again, and Skala is once more under the Lightbearer’s protection.”

  Odonis considered this, then gave her a stiff bow. “I will carry your words.”

  “I’m not done,” Tamír snapped. “I demand reparation for Ero. I will keep ten of your ships. You will surrender them at once and leave them here at anchor.”

  “Ten!”

  “You may take the crew away with you. I have no time to deal with them. Leave the vessels with their stores and take the rest of your ships. Otherwise, I will burn them all out from under you and kill every Plenimaran who makes it to shore.”