The Oracle's Queen

  When it was the size of a shield, the dark surface rippled and shapes began to form there. The loss of blood must have overtaken her then, for she grew faint, and the images in the blood swam in a dizzying blur of color.

  “I—I’m going to …” She was about to faint.

  The touch of a cold hand in hers brought her back. Opening her eyes, she found herself standing with Brother on a windswept cliff above the sea. It was the place she’d visited so often in her dreams, but it had always been Ki with her, and the sky was blue. This sky promised rain, and the sea was the color of lead.

  Then she heard the clash of arms, just as she had at the temple in Atyion. In the distance she saw two armies fighting, but she had no way to reach them. A rocky gully lay between her and the field of battle. Far beyond them, she could just make out what looked like the towers of a great city.

  Korin’s banner rose from the shadows at her feet, floating in the air as if held by invisible hands.

  You must fight for what is rightfully yours, Tamír, Queen of Skala a low voice whispered in her ear. By blood and trial, you must hold your throne. From the Usurper’s hand you will wrest the Sword.

  More blood! she thought despairingly. Why must it be so? There must be another way, a peaceful way! I will not spill a kinsman’s blood!

  You were born of spilled blood.

  “What are you talking about?” she cried aloud. The wind caught the banner and blew it in her face, blinding her. It was nothing but a length of silk and embroidery, but it wrapped itself around her throat like a living thing, cutting off her breath.

  “Brother, help me!” she wheezed, clawing at it but finding no purchase in the elusive, wind-torn fabric.

  A chilling laugh answered her. Avenge me, Sister. Avenge me, before you ask any more favors of the one wronged!

  “Illior! Lightbearer, I call on you!” she cried, struggling desperately. “How can I help him? I beg you, give me a sign!”

  The silken banner evaporated around her like mist at dawn, leaving her in darkness again.

  No, not darkness, for in the distance she saw a cool white glow, and realized she was back in the Oracle’s cavern. Somehow, caught in the vision, she’d wandered away from the light. Her hands felt sticky. She raised them, squinting in the uncertain light and saw that they were bloody to the elbow.

  “No!” she whispered, wiping them hastily on her skirts.

  Slowly, on unsteady legs, she made her way back toward the Oracle’s seat, but as she drew closer, she saw someone else in her place, a robed figure with a long, familiar grey braid, kneeling with bowed head before a much younger Oracle. Tamír recognized Iya even before the wizard raised her head. When had she come down, and why? The priest had said only one person was allowed down into the chamber at a time.

  Iya held something in her arms. Coming closer, Tamír saw that it was an infant. The child was limp and silent, and its dark eyes were vacant.

  “Brother?” Tamír whispered.

  “Two children, one queen,” the child Oracle whispered in a voice too ancient and deep for her small frame. “In this generation comes the child who is the foundation of what is to come. She is your legacy. Two children, one queen marked with the blood of passage.”

  The girl turned to Tamír, her eyes full of searing white light that seemed to bore into Tamír’s very soul. “Ask Arkoniel. Only Arkoniel can tell you.”

  Terrified without knowing why, she fell to her knees and whispered, “Ask him what? About my mother? Brother?”

  Cold hands closed around her neck from behind, choking her as the banner had. “Ask Arkoniel,” Brother whispered in her ear. “Ask him what happened.”

  Tamír’s hands flew to her throat; she didn’t really expect to touch Brother or stop him, any more than she’d ever been able to. But this time her hands found cold flesh and hard, corded wrists. She grabbed at them as a terrible stench rolled over her, making her gag.

  “Give me peace!” a thick, gasping voice moaned close to her face. It was not Brother’s ghost behind her anymore, but his corpse. “Give me rest, Sister.”

  He released her and she fell forward on her hands, then twisted around to face the horror behind her.

  Instead, she found herself looking at the Oracle again, the woman she’d been speaking with. She sat just as Tamír had left her, hands open on her knees, eyes wide and empty again.

  Tamír raised her own hands, and found them dry and clean. Her bodice was still laced. There was no sign of blood anywhere.

  “You’ve told me nothing,” she gasped.

  The Oracle gazed stupidly past her, as if Tamír wasn’t even there.

  A rage she’d never experienced before came over her. She grabbed the Oracle by the shoulders and shook her, trying to find the god’s intelligence again in those blank eyes. It was like shaking a doll.

  It was a doll, large as a woman, but made of cotton-stuffed muslin, with a crudely painted face and uneven limbs. It weighed nothing and flopped limply in her hands.

  Tamír dropped it in surprise, then stared down in renewed horror. It was just like her old doll, the one her mother had sewn Brother’s bones into. It even had a twisted cord of black hair tied tightly around its limp neck. There was no sign of the Oracle. Tamír was alone in the dark chamber and the light of the orb was slowly failing.

  “What are you trying to show me?” she cried out, clenching her fists in desperation. “I don’t understand! What has any of this got to do with Skala?”

  “You are Skala,” the voice of the god whispered. “That is the one truth of your life, twin of the dead. You are Skala, and Skala is you, just as you are your brother, and he is you.”

  The light was nearly gone when she felt something tighten around her chest. She looked down in a panic, wondering if the terrible doll had come to life, or if it was Brother’s grisly corpse again. Instead, she saw that it was the priest’s rope, somehow looped around her body again. Someone had taken up the slack and she just had time to grab on for purchase when she was lifted bodily off the ground to spin up through the solid darkness. She looked up frantically, found the circle of stars overhead, and kept her eyes fixed on it as it grew larger and closer. She could see the dark outline of heads there now, and hands were reaching down to help her up over the lip of the hole. It was Ki, and his arms were strong and sure around her as her knees gave out.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously, helping her to a seat on the edge of the stone enclosure. “We waited and waited, but you gave no sign.”

  “Brother,” she gasped, clutching at the neck of her gown.

  “What? Where?” Ki cried, alarmed, still holding her.

  Tamír leaned gratefully into that embrace. “No— It was only—only a vision.” But she couldn’t stop shaking.

  “The god spoke to you,” said Ralinus.

  Tamír let out a harsh laugh. “If you could call it that. Riddles and nightmares.”

  Suddenly she heard a scratching sound behind her. Turning, she was horrified to see Brother gazing up at her from the cavern entrance, his face a mask of hate. His pale skin slowly shriveled on his skull, and hands like claws emerged and scrabbled at the ground as he began to pull himself from the hole.

  You are he, and he is you, the Oracle whispered from below.

  The words followed Tamír into darkness as she fainted.

  Chapter 33

  Tamír was as cold as a corpse when they lifted her from the Oracle’s chamber. Ki pulled her away from the others and sat down, cradling her head against his chest.

  “Master, did the Oracle hurt her?” Wythnir whispered.

  “Hush! It’s only a faint.” Iya took charge, pushing Arkoniel and the priests aside as she knelt and rested a hand on the girl’s clammy brow.

  “It’s a good sign,” Ralinus told the others, trying to calm them. “She must have had an important vision, to be so overcome.”

  Tamír’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Iya. A chill went through the wizard
; those eyes looked as black as the demon’s in the moonlight, and just as accusing. Tamír pushed Iya’s hand away and struggled from Ki’s arms to sit up.

  “What—what happened?” she asked in a quavering whisper. Then she looked back at the well and began to tremble uncontrollably. “Brother! I saw—”

  “Companions, carry your queen back to her lodging,” Iya ordered.

  “I don’t need anyone to carry me!” Tamír gave Iya another dark look as she staggered unsteadily to her feet. “I have to go back down there. Something went wrong. I didn’t understand what the Lightbearer showed me.”

  “Be patient, Majesty,” the priest replied. “Though the vision may not be clear at first, I assure you, whatever you were shown is true. You must meditate on it, and in time you will see the meaning.”

  “In time? Damn it, Iya, did you know this would happen? Why didn’t you warn me?” She turned an accusing look on Arkoniel. “Or you?”

  “All experience the Oracle in their own fashions. We couldn’t risk coloring your expectations.”

  “Let your friends help you back,” Iya told her sternly. “We don’t need you falling and cracking your skull in the dark.”

  Tamír opened her mouth to protest, but Ki stepped in and put an arm firmly around her waist. “Calm down and stop being so damn stubborn!”

  Tamír took a deep, shuddering breath, then grudgingly let him help her back to the guesthouse.

  He’s the only one who can sway her like that, Iya thought. The only one she trusts so deeply. The look she’d given Iya told a different story.

  At the guesthouse, however, not even Ki could convince her to go to bed. “Ralinus, I must speak with you now, while the vision is still fresh in my mind.”

  “Very well, Majesty. The temple is just next door—”

  “Iya, you and Arkoniel wait for me,” she ordered. “I’ll speak with you later.”

  The sharpness in her voice surprised Iya, just as that dark look had. She pressed her hand to her heart and bowed. “As you wish, Majesty.”

  “Ki, come with me.” Tamír strode away, with Ralinus and Ki hurrying along behind her.

  Arkoniel watched her go, then turned to Iya with a worried look. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

  “If it’s Illior’s will.” Iya walked slowly into the guesthouse, ignoring the confused looks of the young priests and Companions, who’d witnessed the exchange.

  I kept my word, Lightbearer. I will keep it still.

  The temple of Illior was a tiny, low-ceilinged chamber carved into the cliff face. Inside, it was dank and ill lit by a single brazier burning before a large, painted carving of the Eye of Illior. The walls, or what Ki could see of them, were stained with smoke.

  “Are you certain you want me here for this?” he whispered, watching as Ralinus put on a smooth silver mask.

  Tamír nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the priest.

  “But wouldn’t it be better to have the wizards, too? I mean, they know about this sort of thing.”

  Her eyes went hard again at the mention of them. “No. Not now.”

  Ralinus knelt before the brazier and gestured for Tamír to join him there. “What did you see, daughter of Thelátimos?”

  Ki stood awkwardly by as Tamír haltingly related what the Oracle had shown her.

  “She said that I must take the Sword from the usurper’s hand,” Tamír said, her eyes filled with sorrow. “That means war with Korin, doesn’t it? She was showing me that there’s no peaceful way to settle this.”

  “I fear that is so,” the priest replied.

  “It’s what we’ve been telling her all along,” Ki said. “You’ve had it from a god now.”

  “It seems I have no choice,” Tamír murmured.

  “That was not all the Oracle showed you,” said the priest. “Something else upset you.”

  She shivered again, as she had at the cavern. Ki moved closer and took her hand. She held his so tightly it hurt. “My brother—I saw him down there, but not—Not the way I usually do. He’s always looked like me, or at least how I looked as a boy. He’s a young man now, as I should have been.” She let out a humorless little laugh. “He even has the beginnings of a beard. But this time—” She was shaking. Ki wanted to put his arms around her but he didn’t dare interrupt.

  “It was as if—as if his grown body was a corpse. I could feel him. He was real.”

  Ki felt a chill and looked around nervously, wondering if Brother could appear in a temple.

  “And I saw him following me up from the hole, too. That’s when I fainted,” she whispered, embarrassed. “Please, honored one, I have to understand. Everything she showed me seemed to be mixed up with Brother and how he and I are Skala, whatever that means.”

  “I don’t know, Majesty, except that the link between you has not been severed yet. Put that aside if you can, and turn your thoughts to the throne. The queen is the land, as the Lightbearer told you. Your life is dedicated to the protection and preservation of your people, and you must be willing to sacrifice anything to do that, even if it means your own life.”

  Tamír frowned, tugging at one of her braids. “I’m supposed to fight Korin. But if the banner in my vision represented him, then I didn’t know how! It was choking me. I was losing.”

  “But you saw no defeat.”

  “I didn’t see anything. It just ended.” She paused. “Well, it was choking me and I called on Illior to help me. Brother wouldn’t; he just kept telling me I must avenge him.”

  “The vision ended when you called upon the Lightbearer?”

  She nodded.

  The priest pondered this. “You must keep this in your heart, Majesty. Illior guides your steps and keeps his hand above you.”

  “The Oracle called me a ‘seed watered with blood.’ She said she saw blood all around me, like a river. Am I to be like my uncle, for the sake of Skala? How can any good come out of evil?”

  “You must find that out for yourself, when the time comes.”

  “What do I say to the people, when I go back to Atyion? They’re all expecting some great pronouncement from Illior, like the one given to Queen Ghërilain. But I have nothing I’d want engraved in gold.” She shook her head. “A river of blood.”

  Ralinus was quiet for a moment, then he leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Blood is not only what’s spilled but also what runs in your veins, Majesty. That same blood will live on in your children, as it lives in you, joining past and future. Is that not a river, too?

  “Allow me to explain something very important to you. Lord Kirothieus, you are her good friend, so you must learn this as well, since she includes you in her confidence. What I tell you now, every priest of Illior knows. You, as queen, receive the revelations of the gods because you are strong and the chosen one. But what you reveal to your people should be no more, and no less, than what they would profit most by hearing.”

  Tamír exchanged a startled look with Ki. “Are you saying I should lie to them?”

  “No, Majesty. You will tell them that Illior has confirmed your right to the crown ‘by blood and trial.’ You will warn them of the strife ahead, but you will also call upon them to lend you their strength to do the Lightbearer’s will.”

  “And they don’t need to know that I’m haunted by my dead brother?”

  “That is no secret, Majesty. It is swiftly becoming a legend among the people, that you have a guardian spirit.”

  “A demon,” Ki corrected.

  The priest raised an eyebrow at him. “And what would it profit the people, to think their queen accursed? Let them weave your story for you, Tamír.”

  Tamír let go of Ki’s hand and rose. “Thank you, honored one. You’ve helped me see more clearly.”

  “It is customary for the high priest to commit a vision to a scroll for you to carry back. I will have it ready for you in the morning.”

  As Ki walked out into the square with her he could tell that Tamír was still deeply troubled. Sh
e stood a long time by the spring, lost in thought. Ki waited silently, arms folded against the chill. The stars were so bright here that there were shadows on the ground.

  “What do you make of it?” she asked at last.

  “A worthy warrior knows the difference between good and evil, honor and dishonor.” He stepped closer and carefully laid his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t look up, but she didn’t pull away, either. “You’re the kindest, most honorable person I know. If Korin is too blind to see that, then it’s his own weakness showing again. If you are Skala, then that’s a good thing for everyone.”

  She sighed and covered one of his hands with her own. Her fingers were very cold.

  Ki unclasped the brooch at his throat and draped his cloak around her shoulders, over her own.

  Tamír gave him a wry smile. “You’re as bad as Nari.”

  “She’s not here, so it’s up to me to look after you.” He chafed her arms to warm her. “There, that’s better.”

  She pulled away and just stood there, eyes downcast. “You—that is—I appreciate—” She faltered to a halt, and he suspected she was blushing.

  There’d been too many of these moments of sudden shyness between them these past few months. She needed him. Not caring who might see, Ki pulled her into a rough hug.

  Her cheek was cold and smooth against his. He tightened the embrace, wishing he could give her his warmth. It felt good, holding his friend like this again. Her hair was softer than he remembered, under his hand.

  Tamír sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. His heart swelled and tears stung his eyes. Swallowing hard, he whispered, “I’ll always be here for you, Tob.”

  He’d hardly realized his mistake before she jerked away and strode back toward the guesthouse.

  “Tamír, Tamír, I’m sorry. I forgot! It doesn’t mean anything. Come back!”

  The door slammed firmly behind her, leaving him there in the cold starlight, confused by feelings he wasn’t ready to claim and calling himself nine kinds of fool.

  An ominous feeling weighed on Arkoniel’s heart as he and Iya sat waiting in Tamír’s little chamber. Iya would say nothing, and he was left to unhappy imaginings.