The Oracle's Queen

  She drifted over to a large open window, trying to cool herself with a delicate sandalwood-and-ivory fan. She’d found a box of them in one of the wardrobes in her dressing room and decided to put them to use. She’d felt a bit odd at first, as she did with most feminine accoutrements, but the scented breeze it created more than made up for any embarrassment. No one seemed to think it odd.

  With no battles to fight, she wore dresses most of the time. Lytia had set the castle seamstresses to making over her mother’s gowns into the newer fashion. This one, light blue linen trimmed with silver stitching, had been one of Princess Ariani’s favorite summer riding habits. Looking at herself in the mirror, Tamír thought of that night during her first visit here, when she’d snuck in and put on her mother’s cloak, trying to imagine what she’d look like as a girl.

  The sound of childish laughter from the garden below caught her attention. Some of Arkoniel’s youngest wizards were splashing in a fountain with some of the castle children. A few others were sitting on the grass, playing with some kittens. She envied them. Only last summer she and her friends would have been off swimming naked in the sea on a day like this, or lying in a shady corner somewhere with their shirts off.

  Illardi broke in on her reverie. “Majesty? What do you think?”

  She sighed and walked back to the table. “I was woolgathering. About what?”

  Nyanis had another map spread out. On it Tamír’s known allies were marked with blue ink, those loyal to Korin in red, and those whose intentions remained unknown in green. The red and green marks outnumbered the blue and were heavily concentrated to the north, where some of the largest holdings lay. The blue marks to the south were mostly towns and the holdings of lesser lords and knights.

  “You’ve shown great forbearance, Majesty,” Illardi said. “It’s time to show that the true queen has power and a limit to her patience.”

  “I’d start here, with Lord Erian,” Nyanis advised, pointing to a location two days’ ride north. “He has a strong keep, but less than two hundred warriors, and his holding was hard hit by the famine. He shouldn’t be able to hold out long in a siege. Send a company up there and make an example of him. The same tactic can be used against Duke Zygas and Lady Alna. Word will soon spread.”

  “So it’s come to this finally, has it? Skalans fighting Skalans. Still, if I am to be accepted as a warrior queen, then I must be seen acting like one.”

  “No, Majesty. Because you are queen, you must let your captains and generals take care of small fish like these,” Illardi explained.

  “What? Stay here while you go fight?”

  “He’s right, I’m afraid,” said Nikides. “These small holdings are below your notice. I’ll draft an ultimatum to be read out at the gates. That will give them a chance to change their minds if they think better of it.”

  “What did I train for, then?”

  “To lead battles, not skirmishes,” said Tharin. “Your father and I carried out these little fights in the king’s name. He didn’t have to be there. We were his arm and his will.” He smiled at her obvious disappointment. “You’ve already proven yourself, Tamír, from your very first fight. Word of your victories against the Plenimarans is spreading. Besides, as you say, this is Skalan against Skalan. Better you keep your hands clean. Let your warriors go make an example of these upstarts. Perhaps that will be enough for others, especially those who remain undeclared.”

  Tamír suddenly realized that she’d been using the fan rather emphatically. Bilairy’s balls, no wonder they were telling her to stay home, standing here in a dress like some fluttery courtier! “We’ll talk about this more after lunch,” she muttered. She was hungry, but if she didn’t get out of this dress and bathe, she was going to go mad.

  The others bowed and took their leave, except Ki and Tharin.

  “Could I have a word, Majesty?” Tharin murmured before she could escape, giving her a look that said it was important. “Alone?”

  She sighed. “Oh, all right. But let’s talk in the garden. It will be cooler there. Ki, have Baldus order a cold tub in my room, would you? I’ll eat with you shortly.”

  Ki shook his head. “That’s your third bath this week. People will take you for Aurënfaie if you keep this up.”

  The sun had moved behind the west tower and there was a breath of a breeze. Patterned beds of flowers scented the air, and the tinkling of fountains mingled with the droning of bees busy among the blossoms.

  Tharin seemed glad of the shade, too. He dressed like a proper courtier here, his tunic and short cape somber in tone but of a fine cut and trimmed with embroidery. A duke at last, he wore the gold chain and signet of his rank, and tied his hair back with a black silk ribbon instead of a greasy leather cord, but he cared no more for titles and fine things than he ever had. And he remained at her side, unmovable as a barnacle on a rock and her most trusted source of counsel.

  She could tell he had something on his mind now as they strolled along under a line of flowering trees. There were courtiers and servants all around, though, and he waited until they’d reached the relative seclusion of a thickly overgrown grape arbor to speak.

  Dappled shade played over his face as he sat down on the wooden bench. “You may not like what I have to say.”

  “You know I’ll listen, though.” She sat down and pulled her skirt up over her knees to cool her legs. Ringtail emerged from a clump of flowering roses and jumped into her lap. She scratched his ears, then winced as he kneaded sharp claws into her thigh. “Go on, then. What is it?”

  “It’s about Ki. The way things are now? It’s not good for him.”

  That caught her off guard. She’d expected talk of war. “Has he said something to you?”

  “No, and he wouldn’t thank me for interfering if he knew. But I’ve been at court longer than either of you, and I don’t like how the talk is running. He’s already labeled as your favorite, and more. That breeds jealousy, and that can lead to trouble for both of you.” He paused, plucking a few ripe grapes and passing some to her. “I’m guessing your feelings for him haven’t changed?”

  She ducked her head, blushing, and said nothing. They had; they were stronger than ever.

  “I know you try to hide it, but the mere fact that you keep him so close is enough for the gossips— That and the fact that he’s not highborn.”

  “You know I don’t care about that!”

  “No, but you’re at court now, and things are as they are; too many people with too much time to wonder.” He ate a grape, chewing slowly. “But there’s more to it than that. You’ve got him acting like a lady-in-waiting. That’s no position for a warrior.”

  “I do not!” But Tharin’s words stung in a way that told her he was right. “He’s my squire. If I was still a boy, they wouldn’t be talking like that, would they?”

  “People were talking before. But that’s neither here nor there. You are a young queen, and he’s a squire from a family no one knows of except as rough characters. When you were just a prince and still a child, it didn’t matter as much. Things have changed, and they’re never going back to what they were.”

  “What would you have me do? I don’t want Ki suffering on my account, but I can’t just send him away.” When Tharin said nothing, she bridled angrily. “No, I won’t do that, not for anyone!”

  “I’m not saying discharge him, but have a care for his feelings, too. Ki’s a fine warrior and a smart young man. If he’d risen under some other lord—Jorvai say, like his sister—then he’d be praised for his ability. As it stands now, no matter what he does, some will see it as your favor rather than him rising on his own merits.”

  “And Ki’s said nothing about all this to you?”

  “No. As long as you want him at your side, he’ll be there, no matter what’s made of it. But is this what you want for him?”

  “Of course it isn’t! I wish— Oh, Tharin, why does it have to be so damn difficult? Ki’s changed, too, and I’ve changed and—”


  Tharin regarded her knowingly. “You want him for your consort, don’t you?”

  Tamír reddened miserably. “Illardi and Nik both say I must have one soon, and that I have to think about proving that I can provide an heir.” Her stomach tightened in fear at the thought of what that meant. “It’s bad enough, thinking of—that, but I can’t imagine being with anyone but him! I love him, Tharin! I always have. But he doesn’t love me. Not that way.”

  “Has he said so?”

  “He doesn’t have to. He still treats me like a boy most of the time.”

  “Sometimes when we’re so close to someone all the time, we can’t really see them anymore. Perhaps what you both need is a bit of distance.”

  “Then you are saying I should send him away?”

  “No, I’m thinking of what Nyanis was saying. Ki needs to prove himself. He’s trained to fight and lead, just as you are. Have him take a force of his own against some of those lords.”

  “But won’t people still say that he got his commission because of me?”

  “When a princess becomes a queen, her Companions almost always become her commanders and councilors, like your father and Erius. Once Ki leads and wins on his own, that will be to his credit.”

  Tamír nibbled a grape as she considered this. It snapped between her teeth, flooding her mouth with sweet juice. “He won’t like it.”

  “Doesn’t matter if he does or not. He’s your liegeman, and honor-bound to obey your orders. Your father would be telling you the same if he were here now.”

  Tamír popped another grape into her mouth. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “If I make him a commander, then he can’t be just my squire anymore. He’s been fighting me on that, but he’ll have to accept a title. He’s more stubborn than you on that account. Oh, but wait. Does this mean I have to take another squire in his place?”

  “No. You don’t need one around here, and when you do go into battle he’ll ride with you, as I did with your father.”

  Tamír grinned. “That’s all right, then! Let’s go tell him.”

  Ki was in her chamber, helping Baldus oversee the filling of the silver-lined tub. Tamír sighed inwardly at the sight. Tharin was right; she had reduced him to duties far below his worth.

  “That’s enough,” she told the girls with the buckets though the tub was scarcely a quarter full. “You can leave us. You too, Baldus. Go play with your friends. I don’t need you until after supper.”

  The boy bowed and dashed off. Ki moved to follow, assuming she was going to bathe.

  “No, wait. We have something to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” Ki cast a curious look at Tharin.

  “Well, I think—And Tharin agrees …” It was much harder than she’d expected, with him giving her that suspicious look. “I’ve decided to give you a commission.”

  Ki folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. “What sort of commission, exactly?”

  “You’ll go after these local lords for me. You could take a company from the garrison and support Jorvai for starters, and then—”

  Ki bridled at once. “You’re sending me away?”

  “No, of course not! You shouldn’t be gone more than a few weeks, barring sieges. Listen, Ki, I trust you. And since I can’t go out on these raids, I need someone I trust to do it for me. Besides, I need a few commanders who aren’t old enough to be my grandfather.”

  Ki said nothing, but she saw interest warring with that stubborn gleam in his eye.

  “You can take Lynx with you, and the men from Alestun. They know you and they’ll set an example for the others.”

  “I see.” He shot another look at Tharin and shrugged. “Thank you. I’m honored.” Then, just as she’d expected, his eyes narrowed again. “Will you be replacing me with another squire?”

  “Never, Ki. When I go to battle, you’ll be at my side, I promise. Tharin will stay with me while you’re gone. Hell, he’s worse than a burr on a wool sock.”

  Tharin chuckled. “I am that. Don’t worry, Ki. You know I’ll look after her for you. It’s time you showed your mettle.”

  Tamír punched Ki lightly on the shoulder. “You’ll have all the fun, while I have to stay here—in a dress!”

  Chapter 27

  For Ki, the next three days passed too quickly, and he found himself torn between the excitement of his first command and guilt over leaving Tamír. He spent the days seeing to the equipage of his company and laying plans with Jorvai for the first confrontation, in which he would assist. In the evenings, though, he kept close to Tamír, and looked for some regret in her eyes, but she seemed glad for him and anxious to have him prove himself.

  The night before he was to leave, he lingered behind in her chamber after the others had withdrawn. As they sat by the open window, sipping the night’s last wine and listening to the sounds of the crickets, he found himself caught by the sight of her. She was gazing pensively out at the stars, one slender finger slowly tracing the raised pattern on her silver mazer. She wore a gown of dark red embroidered with golden vines tonight and the color suited her. The candlelight softened her features and caught the sheen of her hair as it lay loose over her shoulders and breast.

  In that moment Ki lost sight of Tobin, as he never had before. Her lips looked as soft as any he’d ever kissed, her cheeks smooth as a maiden’s, not a beardless boy’s. In this light she looked almost fragile. It was as if he were seeing her for the very first time.

  Then she turned and raised an eyebrow at him in a way he’d seen a thousand times before, and there was Tobin again, gazing at him with the same eyes as ever.

  “What’s wrong, didn’t your dinner agree with you?”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “I was just thinking—” He paused, heart racing. “I wish you were coming with me tomorrow.”

  “Me, too.” Her wry smile was Tobin’s, too. “Promise me you’ll—” Now she paused and looked embarrassed. “Well, don’t have so much fun you get yourself killed.”

  “I’ll do my best not to. Jorvai thinks most of them will give up without a fight anyway, once they see that you are willing to move against them. I may not have my sword out of its scabbard at all.”

  “I don’t know which to wish you: safety or an honorable fight. In case you do fight? Well, I made you this.” She reached into her sleeve and took out a golden disk an inch or so across and gave it to him. On it in a raised design was a stylized owl with wings outstretched, holding a crescent moon in its talons. “The idea came to me a few days ago. I made it in wax and had it cast in the village.”

  “It’s beautiful! It’s good to see you making things again.” Ki untied the leather cord around his neck and slid the charm on to dangle beside the carved horse. “Now I have both gods on my side.”

  “That was the idea.”

  Rising, she held out her hand. He stood and clasped with her. “Sakor’s fire, Ki, and Illior’s light to guide you.”

  Her hand was warm in his, the palm roughened from the hilt of a sword, the fingers strong and callused from the bowstring. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight, wishing he knew his own heart. She hugged him back, and when they stepped apart again he thought he caught a glimpse of his own confusion in her eyes. Before he could be sure, though, she turned away and reached for her cup again. “It’s late. You should get some rest while you can.”

  “I guess so.” She still wasn’t looking at him. Had he hurt her somehow? “I—I could stay a bit longer.”

  She smiled back at him and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Go on and get your rest. I’ll be there to see you off. Good night, Ki.”

  He could think of nothing more to say, or even what he wanted to say. “Thank you for my commission,” he said at last. “I’ll make you proud.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Well—good night.”

  His own door was only a dozen paces from Tamír’s, but it seemed a mile by the time he gained his room. He was startled to fi
nd Tharin there, standing at the rack that held Ki’s armor.

  “There you are. Since you don’t have a squire of your own, I thought I’d make a last inspection of your arms.” Tharin paused, looking at him oddly. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing!” Ki exclaimed quickly.

  Too quickly from the way Tharin’s eyes narrowed. “You were just with Tamír?”

  “Yes. I wanted to—to thank her, and she’s worried about me and—” He faltered to a halt.

  Tharin regarded him in silence for moment, then just shook his head.

  Tamír spent a sleepless night. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the anguished look she’d caught on Ki’s face, and the way it had felt when he embraced her. He still doesn’t know what to make of me, and neither do I!

  Before dawn she bathed at the washstand and put on a dark gown and a ceremonial breastplate. There was one last thing she meant to do. Tharin and the Companions were waiting outside and fell into step behind her. For the first time, Tamír was achingly aware of Ki’s absence at her side, and Lynx, too, who was going off as one of Ki’s captains.

  “You’re really going to do it this time, aren’t you?” Nikides asked.

  “He can’t very well refuse this time,” she murmured with a wry smile.

  * * *

  The mounted companies had already formed up when they reached the courtyard, and hundreds of courtiers lined the walls and stairways to see them off.

  Jorvai and Ki were there to greet her in full armor. Tamír wished them both luck and said a few words to the captains. Then, trying not to grin, she turned back to Ki. “There’s one more thing. Kneel and present your sword.”

  Ki’s eyes widened at that, but he had no choice but to obey.