The Oracle's Queen

  “I hope you’re right,” she said sadly, and took her leave.

  Arkoniel sat for a while, staring into the fire. Relieved as he was at the accord that had survived between them, his heart still ached, both at the loss of Iya and at seeing how strong and fragile Tamír still was. A heavy burden lay on those narrow shoulders. He resolved to do a better job of helping her to bear it.

  With that in mind, Arkoniel slipped out and made his way back to the Oracle’s chamber. For the first time in his life, he went there alone, with his own questions firmly in mind.

  The masked priests let him down and he found himself engulfed in the familiar darkness. He felt no fear this time, only resolve.

  When his feet found the ground again he started off at once toward the soft glow nearby.

  The woman sitting on the Oracle’s stool might have been the same girl he’d spoken to. It was difficult to say, and no one but the high priest of Afra knew how the Oracles were chosen or how many there were at a given time. It wasn’t always a girl or woman. He knew wizards who’d spoken with young men here. The only common factor seemed to be a touch of insanity or simpleminded-ness.

  She shook back her tangled hair and gazed at him as he took his place on the stool facing her. Her eyes were already bright with the god’s power, and her voice, when she spoke, held that strange timbre that was more than human.

  “Welcome back, Arkoniel,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “You stand at the side of the queen. Well done.”

  “My task has only begun, hasn’t it?”

  “You did not need to come here to know that.”

  “No, but I want your guidance, great Illior. What must I do to help her?”

  She waved a hand and the darkness beside them opened like a huge window. There was the city on the cliffs, full of great houses and wooded parks and broad streets. It was far larger than Ero and looked cleaner and more orderly. At its heart stood two palaces. One was low and forbidding, a fortress built into the curtain wall. The other was a huge, soaring, graceful four-sided tower, with thinner domed towers at each of the four points. This was guarded by nothing more than a single wall, and the land inside was planted with gardens. He could see people walking there, men and women and children, Skalan and ’faie, even centaurs.

  “You must give her this.”

  “This is the new capital she must found?”

  “Yes, and the Third Orëska will be the secret guardians.”

  “Guardians? I’ve been given that title already.”

  “You keep the bowl?”

  “Yes!”

  “Bury it deep in the heart of the heart. It is nothing to you, or to her.”

  “Then why must I keep it at all?” he asked, disappointed.

  “Because you are the Guardian. By guarding it, you guard her and all of Skala and the world.”

  “Can’t you tell me what it is?”

  “It is nothing by itself, but part of a great evil.”

  “And this is what you would have me bury at the heart of Tamír’s city? Something evil?”

  “Can there be good, without the knowledge of evil, wizard? Can there be existence without balance?”

  The vision of the city faded away, replaced by a large golden scale. In one pan lay the crown and sword of Skala. In the other lay a naked, dead infant: Brother. Arkoniel shivered and resisted the urge to look away. “Evil will always lie at the heart of all she accomplishes, then?”

  “Evil is always with us. The balance is all.”

  “I think I must do great good, then, to keep your balance. That child’s blood is on my hands, no matter what anyone says.”

  The chamber went very dark around them. Arkoniel felt the air thicken and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Yet the Oracle only smiled and bowed her head. “You are not capable of doing otherwise, child of Illior. Your hands and heart are strong, and your eyes see clearly. You must see what others cannot allow themselves to accept and speak the truth.”

  A pair of naked lovers appeared on the floor between them, writhing in passion. It was Arkoniel, driving between Lhel’s thighs as she clung to him. Her head was thrown back, her wild black hair spread around her ecstatic face. As he watched, his own face flushed and hot, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. “You have my love always, Arkoniel. Never grieve for me.”

  The vision faded quickly. “Grieve?”

  “You delved in her body, and she has left you pregnant with magic. Use it wisely and well.”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Grief closed like a fist around his heart. “How? Can’t you show me?”

  The Oracle just looked at him with those shining eyes and said, “It was a willing death.”

  That took none of his pain away. All this time, he’d looked forward to going back and finding her waiting for him.

  He pressed his face into his hands, tears hot behind his eyelids. “First Iya, and now her?”

  “Both willing,” whispered the Oracle.

  “That’s no comfort! What will I tell Tamír?”

  “Tell her nothing. It serves no purpose now.”

  “Perhaps not.” Arkoniel had long since grown used to carrying secrets and pain for the girl. Why should now be any different?

  Chapter 36

  Niryn returned from his afternoon stroll among the encampments to find Moriel and Mistress Tomara waiting for him in his private chamber. The woman held a small white bundle against her belly and she was positively beaming.

  “She’s with child at last, my lord!” She opened her bundle and displayed a collection of Nalia’s linen undergarments.

  Niryn eyed them closely. “Are you certain, woman?”

  “Not a sign of blood these past two full moons, my lord, and she hasn’t kept her breakfast down since the night of the floggings. I thought at first it was only her gentle spirit, but it’s kept on. She’s green as a marrow until noon and the heat makes her faint. I’ve been a midwife, as well as a lady’s maid, these forty years and I know the signs.”

  “Well, that is happy news. King Korin will be delighted, I’m sure. You must come tomorrow and announce it before his court.”

  “You don’t want to, my lord?”

  “No, let’s not spoil it for him. Let him think he’s the first to know.” He drew two gold sesters from the air with a conjurer’s flourish and presented them to her. “For the king’s sake?”

  Tomara took the coins and winked at him. “As you say, my lord.”

  Tomara was as good as her word, and didn’t so much as glance in the wizard’s direction as she came to Korin the following morning as he held court.

  He was in the midst of reports from his generals, but looked up in surprise to see her here at this hour. “Yes, what is it? Do you have word for me from your mistress?”

  Tomara curtsied. “I do, Majesty. Her Highness bids me tell you that she is with child.”

  Korin stared at her a moment, then let out a happy whoop and pounded Alben and Urmanis on the back. “That’s it! That’s our sign. Master Porion, send out the word to all my generals. We march on Atyion at last!”

  Men in the crowded hall began to shout and cheer. Niryn stepped to Korin’s side.

  “Are you certain the time is right?” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. “After all, she can’t be more than a moon or two along. Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait a little more, just to be safe?”

  “Damn you, Niryn! You’re worse than an old woman,” Korin exclaimed, pulling away. “Do you hear that, my lords? My wizard thinks we should wait a month or two more. Why not say until next spring? No, the snows will come and the seas will be harsh. If we move now we may even catch them with their crops in the fields. What do you say, my lords? Haven’t we waited long enough?”

  Another thunderous cheer went up as Niryn hastily made Korin a chagrined bow. “You know best, I’m sure, Majesty. I worry only for your safety and your throne.”

  “My throne is in Ero!” Korin cried, drawing his
sword and brandishing it. “And before the fall harvest is in, I will stand on the Palatine and claim it properly. On to Ero!”

  The rest of the company took up the rallying cry, and soon it was passed from throat to throat out into the castle yards and beyond to the encampments.

  Niryn exchanged a pleased look with Moriel. His little show had worked out well, and with the desired effect. No one could question that it had been the king’s will to proceed, rather than his wizard’s.

  * * *

  Nalia heard the shouting and hurried out onto the balcony to see if they were celebrating her news.

  Korin’s army was spread out on both sides of the fortress, a vast sea of tents and corrals. She could see runners fanning out, and men emerging from tents in their wake. She listened for a moment, trying to make out the chanted words. When she did, she felt a stab of pique.

  “To Ero? Is that all this means to him?” She went back to her needlework.

  Not long after, however, she heard Korin’s familiar step on the tower stair.

  He burst in, and for the first time since she’d met him, his dark eyes were alight with genuine joy. Tomara came in behind him and gave Nalia a happy wink over his shoulder.

  “Is it true?” he asked, staring as if he’d never seen her before. “You carry my child?”

  Our child! Nalia thought, but she smiled demurely and pressed a hand to her still-flat belly. “I do, my lord. By all the signs, I’m nearly two months gone. The child will be born in the spring.”

  “Oh, that’s wondrous news!” Korin fell to his knees at her feet and put his hand over hers. “The drysians will watch over you. You’ll want for nothing. You have only to ask and it’s yours!”

  Nalia stared down at him in amazement. He’d never spoken to her like this before—like she really was his wife. “Thank you, my lord. I would like more than anything to have more freedom. I’m so confined here. Couldn’t I have a proper room down in the fortress?”

  He nearly balked at that, but she’d chosen her moment well. “Of course. You’ll have the brightest, most cheerful room in this benighted place. I’ll have painters in to decorate it to your taste, and new tapestries—Oh, and I brought you this.”

  He took a silken pouch from his sleeve and laid it in her lap. Nalia untied the silk drawstring and a long strand of lustrous sea pearls cascaded out into her lap. “Thank you, my lord. They’ve very pretty!”

  “They’re said to bring luck to pregnant women and to keep the child safe in the waters of the womb. Wear them for me, won’t you?”

  A shadow fell across Nalia’s heart as she dutifully put on the necklace. The pearls were beautiful, with a lovely pink luster, but the necklace was a talisman, not an ornament. “I will wear them, as you say, my lord. Thank you.”

  Korin smiled at her again. “My first wife craved plums and salted fish when she was pregnant. Have you had any urges? Can I send for anything special that you don’t have?”

  “Only more room to walk around,” Nalia said, pressing her advantage.

  “You shall have it, as soon as a room is prepared.” He took her hands in his. “You won’t always be shut up in this dreary place, I promise you. I march on Prince Tobin soon, to reclaim my city and my land. Our children will play in the gardens of the Palatine.”

  Ero! Nalia had always longed to go there, but Niryn would never hear of it. To see a great city at last, to be consort there … “That will be very nice, my lord.”

  “Have you swung the ring yet?”

  “No, we thought you’d want to see, Majesty,” Tomara lied, giving Nalia another wink. Of course they had, the moment Tomara had guessed that she’d kindled.

  Pretending ignorance, Nalia lay back in her chair and handed Tomara the ring Korin had given her on their wedding day. Tomara took a length of red thread from her apron pocket and hung the ring on it, then dangled it over Nalia’s lap. After a moment the ring began to move in tiny circles. These early motions meant nothing. If the midwife were a proper dowser, the ring would begin to swing back and forth for a boy child, or go in greater circles for a girl.

  The ring made wide circles over her belly, just as it had the first time.

  “A daughter for sure, Majesty,” Tomara assured him.

  “A girl. A little queen! That’s good.” His smile faltered a little as he placed the ring back on her finger.

  He’s worried that she’ll look like me. Nalia pushed the hurtful thought away and squeezed his hand. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed. Perhaps the child would favor him instead. His coloring would make for a pretty girl.

  Korin surprised her again, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Perhaps you can forgive me the difficult beginning we’ve had? With a child, and the throne secure, I will try to be a better husband to you. I swear by Dalna.”

  She had no words to describe how his kindness affected her, so she kissed his hand. “I will be a good mother to our children, my lord.”

  Perhaps, she thought, I can come to love him, after all.

  Chapter 37

  Ki hadn’t been sorry to leave Afra. Far from helping Tamír, the Oracle seemed to have left her more troubled than ever. She was very quiet as they set out, and the treacherous going required too much attention for long conversations. Still, Ki sensed the deep sadness she carried.

  He knew he couldn’t lay all the blame on the Oracle. He’d failed her badly in his own clumsy way and left them both wounded. Wrapped alone in his blankets each night, he dreamed of their disastrous kisses and woke feeling tired and guilty.

  On those rare occasions when his dream self managed to enjoy the kiss, he woke feeling even more confused. On those mornings, as he watched her washing her face in a stream and combing out her hair, he wished more than ever that things had stayed the same between them as when they were children together. There had been no shadow, no doubt between them. He could look at Tobin or touch him without all this turmoil inside. He didn’t doubt the love between them, but it wasn’t the kind of love Tamír wanted or deserved.

  He kept all this locked away in his heart, knowing that she needed him strong and clearheaded, not moping around like some poetry-reading courtier. Despite his best efforts, the others had heard enough that night in the guesthouse to make them worry. No one asked Ki anything directly, but he often caught them watching him and Tamír.

  * * *

  Arkoniel was nearly as much a mystery as Tamír. No doubt he was still unhappy about Iya’s banishment, yet he and Tamír seemed on closer terms than they had been in months. He rode beside her every day, talking of his wizards and their magic, and of the new capital Tamír was planning. She’d mentioned her dreams of a place on the western coast to Ki before, but something in her visions at Afra had caught her imagination and Arkoniel seemed eager to foster such plans, despite the obvious impediments.

  Ki didn’t care about the difficulties. He only knew that the sadness left her eyes when she spoke of it, planning ways to make it a grander place than Ero. She got the same look she used to while working on some new design for a ring or breastplate. She was always happiest when planning a new creation.

  Arkoniel had traveled a great deal, and spoke of sewers and drainage as readily as he talked of magic. Saruel told her of Aurënfaie cities, and the innovations they used for ventilation and heat. The ’faie seemed particularly good at anything related to bathing. They devoted whole chambers to it, with channels for heated water and special raised tile floors that could be heated from underneath. Some of the larger houses had bathing pools large enough for a whole crowd to linger in. Apparently business was even conducted there.

  “It sounds like your people spend more time bathing than anything else,” Una noted with a grin.

  “More than Skalans, certainly,” Saruel replied wryly. “It’s not only hygienic, but good for the spirit. When taken together with massage and the proper herbs, it is very healing, as well. In my experience, the ’faie not only smell better, but are a healthier people.?
??

  Nikides chuckled at that. “Are you saying that we stink?”

  “I am merely stating a fact. When you come to build this new city of yours, Tamír, you might find it beneficial to provide proper bathing facilities for all, not only for your privileged classes. Send your builders to Bôkthersa to learn their methods. They are particularly good at such things.”

  “I wouldn’t mind going there myself, if all of them look like that Solun and his cousin!” Una murmured, and more than one among the Companions nodded.

  “Ah, yes.” Saruel smiled. “Even among the ’faie, they are considered particularly beautiful.”

  “I’ll have to make a point of visiting there,” Tamír said with a little smile. “To learn of the baths, of course.”

  That earned an outright laugh from everyone. Everyone except Ki. He’d seen how interested she’d been in the handsome Aurënfaie. He’d tried to ignore it at the time, but to hear her joke of it, like this with all the others sent a fresh twinge of jealousy through him. He shook it off, but for the first time, he had to confront the fact that she must marry someone, and soon. He tried to imagine that and couldn’t. All he could think of was the way she’d looked at Solun, and how it had made Ki want to drive the fellow and his pretty face from the room.

  And yet I can’t even kiss her? he thought in disgust. What right do I have to be jealous?

  He had little to offer on the subject of architecture or hypocausts, but found his own imagination caught by the thought of seeing a new city take shape, especially one guided by Tamír’s creative mind. She was already thinking about gardens and fountains, as well as defenses. A western capital made military sense, if they could overcome the trade route problem.

  “There must be a way to make a good road through the mountains,” he mused aloud as they made camp beside a river in the foothills their third day out. “I suppose it depends on where the city actually is, but there are roads already. I heard Corruth talking about the route they took to Afra. They sailed across from Gedre, but rode the rest of the way.”