The Oracle's Queen

  “Yes, I see,” she said faintly. It felt like she’d been inhaling the Illiorans’ smoke again.

  “Are you all right?” Ki asked.

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath, wondering what was wrong with her. “I attack from the west, perhaps even surprise him if he thinks I’m still here readying for a siege.”

  She looked up at Mahti. “Why would you do this?”

  “You will give word to make peace to the Retha’noi. You will not kill us again. We be free to leave mountains.”

  “I’ll gladly try, but I can’t promise to change things overnight. Arkoniel, make him understand. I want to do what he asks, but it won’t be easy, changing people’s minds.”

  “I told him that, but he’s convinced you can help. A better understanding between our two peoples will work in your favor, too.”

  “It will be hard to bring supplies through the mountains,” said Tharin. “This isn’t a proper road.”

  “The Gedre could meet us with supplies,” Arkoniel pointed out. “Their ships are swift. They could probably reach Remoni harbor by the time we do.”

  “Contact them at once,” Tamír ordered. “And the Bôkthersans, too. Solun seemed eager to help.”

  “Didn’t he, though?” muttered Ki.

  Word of her plan spread quickly. The audience chamber was packed by the time Tamír entered. Her generals and their captains stood closest to the dais, but there were others, too—courtiers, common soldiers, townspeople—crowded in between the pillars, all talking excitedly.

  She ascended the dais, and the Companions took their places behind her. Lutha and Barieus stood with them, pale but proud in their borrowed clothes.

  Tamír drew her sword, feeling the momentous import of what she was about to do. “My lords, generals, and my good people, I come before you to formally declare that I, by the will of Illior, will march against Prince Korin to secure my throne and unite our divided land.”

  “Three cheers for our good queen!” Lord Jorvai shouted, raising his sword in the air.

  The cry was taken up, and the cheering went on until Illardi banged the floor with his staff of office and got their attention again.

  “Thank you. Let the heralds carry word across Skala. All who fight with me are my friends and true Skalans.” She paused, then added, “And all who oppose me shall be called traitor and stripped of their lands. May Illior give us the strength to make our victory swift and the wisdom to be just. Lord Chancellor Illardi, I charge you now to oversee the levy of warriors and supplies. Steward Lytia, you will oversee the sutlers and baggage wagons. I mean to march before the week is out. All captains are to return to their companies and begin preparations at once.”

  Leaving the court to its excitement, Tamír retired to the map room with her generals and Companions. Arkoniel was waiting there with Mahti and his principal wizards, Saruel, Malkanus, Vornus, and Lyan.

  The Companions took their places around the table, but Jorvai and some of the other nobles paused, eyeing the hill witch uneasily.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Majesty?” he asked.

  “This man is responsible for the safe return of my friends, and he is under my protection. I’ve been aided by his kind before, and have come to respect their magic. I charge you all to do the same.”

  “With all due respect, Majesty, how do you know it’s not some kind of trick?” Nyanis asked.

  “I’ve read his heart,” Arkoniel replied. “Some of the queen’s other wizards have, as well. He speaks the truth, and was guided to Queen Tamír’s aid by visions, just as we were.”

  “This man is a friend of the Crown,” Tamír said firmly. “You will accept my judgment in this. I hereby declare peace between Skala and the hill people, the Retha’noi. From this day forth no Skalan will offer them any violence, unless attacked. That is my will.”

  There was some grumbling and wary looks, but everyone bowed in obedience.

  “That’s settled, then.” Tamír proceeded to her plan to outflank Korin, using Arkoniel’s map and several others spread out on the great table.

  “I have spoken with the Khirnari of Gedre,” Arkoniel told them. “He knows the harbor and will send supply ships and archers. He’s also relayed word to Bôkthersa. With any luck, they’ll be there to meet us.”

  “That will be a fine trick, if Korin isn’t already halfway to Atyion by the time we get through,” said Jorvai. “If he gets word that you’ve left here, he’ll come for Atyion all the faster. The granaries and treasury would be fine plums for him if he could capture them, not to mention the castle itself. I daresay he’s been stretched thin, holed up in Cirna all these months.”

  “It’s true he needs gold,” said Lutha.

  “That’s why I won’t risk leaving Atyion undefended,” Tamír replied. “I’m going to keep two battalions of the Atyion garrison here as a holding force. If Korin does come this far, he’ll have to fight his way through. That will slow him long enough for me to catch up.” Tamír ran a finger up the eastern coast. “The Atyion army can come at Korin from the south. I hope to draw him west instead, but he could divide and attack us on both coasts.” She paused, turning to Tharin. “Lord Tharin, I name you as marshal of the eastern defenses. Arkoniel, choose among your wizards those who can best help him here.”

  Tharin’s eyes widened, and she knew he was on the verge of arguing with her. Only the presence of the others stopped him, which is why she’d made up her mind to broach the subject here rather than in private. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an Atyion man. The warriors know and respect you.”

  “After Queen Tamír herself, there’s no one else better respected among the ranks,” Jorvai agreed.

  “You also know the nobles who hold land between here and Cirna better than anyone else among my generals,” Tamír added. “If you do march north, you might be able to raise more fighters as you go.”

  “As you wish, Majesty,” Tharin said, though it was clear he was not at all happy.

  “You’re not breaking your oath to my father,” she said gently. “He wanted you to protect me. At the moment, this is the best way you can do that.”

  “It’s a risk, splitting your army. By all reports Korin outnumbers you nearly three to one,” Nyanis pointed out.

  “I can move faster with a smaller force. Mahti’s route will save us days.” She turned to the witch. “Can we take horses through there?”

  “The way small in places. In other, hard walking up.”

  “The Retha’noi don’t use horses. They carry everything on their backs,” Arkoniel told her.

  “Then we must do the same, and hope the ’faie arrive in good time.” Tamír frowned down at the map for a moment, then looked up at her lords. “What do you advise?”

  “I’d say rely on men-at-arms and archers, for the greater bulk of your force, Majesty,” Kyman replied. “You’ll want horses for reconnoitering, but the fewer we have to find forage for on the way, the better.”

  “You could also use what ships you have at Ero,” Illardi suggested.

  “They wouldn’t reach us in time to do much good. Keep them here and use them to defend Atyion and Ero. Illardi, you’ll oversee the ships. Jorvai, Kyman, Nyanis: you are my marshals.”

  They spent the rest of the day forming their plans. Lytia’s inventories were encouraging; even accounting for the provisioning of Tamír’s army, it would still leave enough that it would take Korin months to starve them out. Two companies would remain in the garrison; two thousand foot and five hundred horse would go with Tharin. The rest, nearly ten thousand of the best foot, archers, and one hundred cavalry, would take the mountain route with Tamír, with Mahti as their guide.

  Tamír and the Companions had just entered the hall for the evening meat when Baldus came pelting through the crowd toward her, dodging between startled servants and courtiers.

  “Majesty!” he cried, waving a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

  He came to a breathless stop before
her and bowed quickly. “I found this—under your door. Lady Lytia said to bring it to you at once. He asked her for some clothes—Lord Caliel—”

  “Hush.” Tamír took the parchment and opened it, recognizing Caliel’s elegant hand at once.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” said Ki.

  Tamír read the brief message through and handed it to him with a resigned sigh. “He’s taking Tanil back to Korin. He wanted to be gone before he could hear our plans.”

  “Damn him!” Lutha cried, clenching his fists in frustration. “I should never have left him alone. We’ve got to go after him.”

  “No.”

  “What? But he’s mad to go back!”

  “I gave him my word, Lutha,” she reminded him sadly. “It’s his choice. I won’t stop him.”

  Lutha stood a moment, a mute entreaty in his eyes, then stalked away with his head down.

  “Tamír?” Barieus said, clearly torn between duty and his friend.

  “Go on,” Tamír said. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

  When the war council was over, Arkoniel took Mahti back to the Orëska hall and gathered the others in the courtyard to make their own plans.

  “Hain, Lord Malkanus, and Cerana, I ask you to ride with me. Melissandra, Saruel, Vornus, Lyan, and Kaulin—I give you charge of the castle and the rest of the wizards.” He glanced over at the children, who were huddled together on the grass beside him. Wythnir gave him a heartbroken look. It pulled at Arkoniel’s heart, but there was no help for it.

  “I’m to stay behind, but that goes?” Kaulin demanded, jerking a thumb at Mahti, who sat on the grass near the children. “Is he one of us now?”

  Arkoniel sighed inwardly. Kaulin was his least favorite among the wizards. “He was guided to Queen Tamír by visions, just like the rest of us. Whether it was by his own gods or ours, he is one of us for as long as he serves her. You were with us in the mountains; you know the debt we owe to Lhel. Honor her by honoring this man. We can no longer let ignorance divide us. However, Kaulin, if you wish to come with me, you are welcome.” He looked around at the others. “All of you are here by choice. All of you are free as always to choose your own paths. I am master to no free wizard.”

  Kaulin backed down. “I’ll go with you. I can do a bit of healing.”

  “I’d prefer to accompany you, as well,” Saruel said.

  “I’ll take her place here,” Cerana offered.

  “Very well. Anyone else?”

  “You’ve portioned us wisely, Arkoniel,” Lyan replied. “There are enough of us in both places to harm the enemy and protect the innocent.”

  “I agree,” said Malkanus. “You have led us well, and you were the closest to Mistress Iya and shared her vision. I see no reason to change things now.”

  “I appreciate the fact that you are all still here and willing to support the queen.”

  “I suppose Iya had her reasons for leaving, but we’ll surely miss her strength,” Cerana sighed.

  “Yes, we will,” Arkoniel replied sadly. He’d told them simply that Iya had finished her part and gone away by her own choice. Tamír needed their loyalty, and those ties were still too tenuous to risk the full truth right now.

  You forgot your sword, Cal,” Tanil noted as they rode north along the high road in the waning dusk. He ducked his head, looking guilty. “I lost mine.”

  “It’s all right. We don’t need them,” Caliel assured him.

  Tanil had left Atyion willingly, eager to see Korin again. Thanks to Tamír’s generosity, they both had decent clothing and a bit of gold, enough for a pair of horses and food enough for the journey.

  “But what if we meet up with the Plenimarans again?”

  “They’re gone. Tamír drove them away.”

  “Who?”

  “Tobin,” Caliel amended.

  “Oh—yes. I keep forgetting. I’m sorry.” He was plucking at that severed braid again.

  Caliel reached over and pulled his hand away. “It’s all right, Tanil.”

  Tanil’s body had recovered, but inside he was broken, leaving him vague and easily confused. Caliel had considered simply taking him away, disappearing, but he knew that Tanil would never cease longing for Korin if he did.

  And where would I go that I could forget him?

  Caliel didn’t allow himself to dwell on what his own welcome was likely to be at Cirna. He would take Tanil back to Korin, as a last act of duty and friendship.

  No, he silently amended. Let my last act be to kill Niryn, and set Korin free.

  Bilairy could have him after that, with no regrets.

  Chapter 43

  Nalia had seen very little of Korin since he’d learned of her pregnancy. He did not come to her bed at all any longer—a welcome respite—and spent each day planning and organizing for his war.

  Nalia watched the activity in the encampments and the constant coming and goings in the fortress yards below from her balcony. The air was filled with the steady din of armorers and farriers, and the rumble of carts.

  She was not forgotten, however. Korin sent her little gifts each day, and Tomara went to visit him each morning with word of Nalia’s health. In those rare moments that he did come to her, he was kind and attentive. For the first time, Nalia actually looked forward to the sound of his step on the stairs.

  Korin was not thinking of Nalia as he and his men rode down the switchback road to the harbor. Before he’d come to Cirna, it had been nothing but a tiny fishing village. Over the course of the summer it had been transformed. Rows of makeshift houses, crude taverns, and long barracks houses had sprung up on the steep slope that stretched between the cliffs and the shoreline.

  A brisk sea breeze stirred through Korin’s black curls, drying the sweat on his brow. Summer was waning day by day, but the skies were still clear. Duke Morus’ ships rode at anchor in the deep harbor, joined now by more than a dozen others. There were thirty-three in all. Some were little more than large coasting vessels or fishing boats, but he had twenty fine strong carracks, capable of carrying a hundred men each.

  As Korin reached the stone jetty, the stink of hot tar and fish mingled with the salt tang in the air. “I wish we could sail with them,” he said over his shoulder to Alben and Urmanis. “They’ll be in Ero in a few days’ time while we’re still plodding along on the road.”

  “Yes, but you’ll command the larger force,” Alben replied.

  He and Urmanis were the last of Korin’s original Companions, and the last of his friends. He’d also raised Moriel to Companion. As Niryn pointed out, the Toad had proven his worth these past months, and though Niryn had been loath to release him from his own service, he’d had to agree that there were few enough properly trained young men left to fill out the ranks. Alben had always spoken well of him, and Korin found himself wondering why he hadn’t taken him on sooner.

  Morus greeted him heartily. “Good morning, Majesty. How is your lady today?”

  “She’s very well, my lord,” Korin replied, clasping hands with the man. “How is my navy?”

  “We’ll load up and set sail as soon as you pour the libation. With a good following wind, we should make harbor above Ero in three days’ time and be ready to close the vise on Atyion as soon as you arrive.”

  Moriel smiled at that. “You’ll catch Prince Tobin like a nut between two stones.”

  “Yes.” Korin’s heart felt like a lump of ice in his breast every time his cousin was mentioned. He’d never hated anyone the way he hated Tobin. He haunted Korin’s dreams, a pale and taunting figure, twisted to a dark-eyed specter. Only last night Korin had dreamed of wrestling with him, each one trying to take the crown the other wore.

  Tobin had fooled half the country with his mad claims and even had a few victories to impress them. Those galled Korin, and jealousy ate at his heart. Now the little upstart had even stolen Caliel away. He would never forgive any of them.

  Niryn spoke darkly of the wizards who were gathering to Tobin’s court. Fe
w had come to Cirna, and the handful of Harriers who’d come north were a worthless lot, as far as Korin was concerned, good for little more than burning their own kind and scaring the soldiers. If the rumors were to be believed, Tobin’s had greater powers. By the Flame, how he hated that brat!

  “Korin, are you unwell?” Urmanis whispered close to his ear.

  Korin blinked and found Morus and the others staring at him. Alben had him by the elbow and Urmanis stood close on the other side, alarmed.

  “What are you all staring at?” Korin covered his momentary lapse with a glare. In truth, he felt a bit dizzy, and his clenched hands ached to strike out at something. “Come, summon your men, Morus.”

  Morus gave the signal to one of his captains. The man raised a horn to his lips and blew the assembly call. Within moments other signalmen on the ships and up the hillside were echoing the call. Korin sat on a mooring post to wait, watching as rank upon rank of men poured out of the barracks and marched to the jetties. Longboats skimmed in over the smooth face of the harbor to meet them.

  “Are you better?” Alben murmured, staying close to him and shielding him from the sight of the others.

  “Yes, of course!” Korin snapped, then, with a sigh, “Was it a long one, this time?”

  “Only a moment, but you looked ready to kill someone.”

  Korin rubbed at his eyes, trying to fend off the headache that was building behind them. “I’ll be fine once we’re on the march.”

  This time he would not show weakness or make mistakes. This time he would be his father’s son.

  Chapter 44

  Korin came to Nalia the night before his departure, dressed in his armor and a fine silk tabard bearing the royal arms of Skala. Nalia had not seen him dressed so since that first night he’d come to her. He’d been haggard and dirty and covered in blood then, a terrifying stranger. Now he looked every inch a king, with a shining helmet banded in gold under his arm.

  “I’ve come to bid you farewell,” he said, taking his customary seat across from hers. “We leave at first light and I have much to do before then.”