The Oracle's Queen

  “Be careful of your footing,” one of them warned, as she went to join them.

  Arkoniel and Lord Malkanus both had their eyes closed, lost in some spell. Kaulin stood with them, holding each by the elbow.

  “Has he been at it all night?” Tamír asked quietly.

  Kaulin nodded.

  “Any sign?” She could already guess the answer.

  Lord Malkanus opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, Majesty, but I still don’t see any sign of ships. It is very foggy, though, and it’s a very large sea.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re not out there somewhere.” Arkoniel sighed, opening his eyes. “Not that it matters now. Korin is breaking camp. I cast a window spell earlier. I still can’t focus it on Korin, but I was able to find his generals. There’s talk of moving south. I suspect he knows you’re close by, to be moving so suddenly.”

  Tamír rubbed a hand over her face and back through her dirty hair, trying to ignore the empty rumbling in her belly. “Then we don’t have long.”

  She walked back to the tent, where her marshals and the others were waiting. Ki handed her a roasted grouse, still hot on the stick it had been cooked on. “A gift from one of the Colath men.”

  Tamír pulled off a bit of the breast meat and handed it back. “Share it around. My lords, Korin is coming, and he’s only a day or so away. I say we choose the ground and be ready when he gets here rather than going on to meet him. Nyanis, Arkoniel, and the Companions will ride with me. The rest of you rouse your companies and spread the word. And warn them to keep away from the cliffs until this damn fog lifts! I can’t spare anyone to mishap.”

  The rain slowed to a drizzle as they rode north and the breeze picked up, pulling the fog to tatters around them.

  “Korin has numbers on his side, and a large force of cavalry. We must find a way to cut down his advantage,” Tamír mused, eyeing the countryside as they went.

  “Your greatest strength is in your archers,” Nyanis noted.

  “What if Master Arkoniel cast a window spell and you shot at Korin through it, like you did with the Plenimarans?” asked Hylia.

  Tamír frowned at the young squire. “That would be dishonorable. He and I are kin and warriors, and we’ll meet as warriors on the field.”

  “Forgive me, Majesty,” Hylia replied, reddening. “I spoke without thinking.”

  The ground fell away beyond their camp, and the forest closed in on the cliffs, leaving a space of open ground less than half a mile wide between trees and the sea. Farther on, the ground rose sharply beyond a little stream.

  Tamír dismounted there and let her horse drink. The ground underfoot was soft. She jumped the stream and walked around on the far side, stamping her feet. “It’s boggy over here. If Korin’s cavalry comes galloping down, they’re likely to find poor footing.”

  She crossed back and mounted again, then galloped up the hill with Ki and Nyanis to survey the view from the crest. The ground beyond the hill was firm and dry for as far as she could see. The forest was not so close here. From this direction the field grew narrower the farther down one went.

  “If he charges from here, it’ll be like peas into a funnel,” she mused. “A broad line would end up bunched and crowded in on itself unless Korin narrows his ranks.”

  “If you were marching from the north, this would look like a good place to take a stand,” Nyanis said. “You’d have the high ground.”

  “That’s best for defense, though. We need to bring them down to us.”

  “Korin won’t think anything of charging foot soldiers,” said Ki. “There’s a good chance he could break our lines, too, if he has as many people as you say, Arkoniel.”

  “That’s just what he’ll think,” said Tamír, already seeing it in her mind’s eye. “What we need is a herald, and a hedgehog.”

  Chapter 49

  Cutting west to the Osiat coast under a grey sky, Korin turned south with his cavalry, leaving the foot with orders to catch up quickly.

  Keeping the sea in sight, they rode hard all day, passing through open grasslands and skirting deep forest.

  “Rich-looking country,” Porion remarked as they stopped to water their horses at a river ford.

  But Korin had no eye for bottomland or timber stands. His gaze was fixed on the distance, already seeing in his mind’s eye the apparition of his cousin. After all the months of uncertainty and delay, it was almost beyond comprehension that he would finally face Tobin and decide the fate of Skala, once and for all.

  It was midafternoon before the first of the scouts returned with word of Tobin’s army.

  “They’ve moved north a few miles, Majesty, and seem to be anticipating your arrival,” the rider informed him.

  “That will be his wizards’ work,” said Alben.

  Korin nodded grimly. How was it that Niryn and his ilk had never been of such use?

  They were about to set off again when Korin heard a rider coming up from the rear at a punishing gallop. The man hailed him and reined in.

  “Majesty, two riders have been captured at the end of the column. One of them claims to be your friend, Lord Caliel.”

  “Caliel!” For a moment Korin could hardly get his breath. Caliel, here? He saw his own amazement on the faces of the remaining Companions, all but Moriel, who looked disconcerted.

  “He begs your indulgence to see him and the man he brought you,” the messenger said.

  “Bring them to me at once!” Korin ordered, wondering what could have possibly brought Cal back. He paced restlessly as he waited, fists clenched behind his back while Alben and the others watched in silence. Was this some trick of Tobin’s, sending the man back to spy? What could he hope to gain this late in the game? Korin could not imagine why else Caliel would risk execution to return. Revenge, perhaps? But that was simply suicidal, given the circumstances.

  Presently an armed escort arrived and Korin made out Caliel in their midst, riding with his hands bound before him. Someone else rode beside him. As they came closer, Korin let out a shocked gasp as his heart turned over in his breast. “Tanil?”

  The escort halted and four men brought the prisoners down from the saddle and marched them to where Korin and the others stood staring. Caliel met his gaze levelly and fell to one knee before him.

  Tanil was pale and thin. He looked terribly confused, but broke into a beautiful smile as he caught sight of Korin and attempted to come to him, only to be restrained.

  “My lord, I found you!” he called, struggling weakly. “Prince Korin, it’s me! Forgive me—I got lost, but Cal brought me back!”

  “Release him!” Korin ordered. Tanil ran to him and fell on his knees, clasping Korin’s boot with his bound hands. Korin loosed the rope and wrapped his arms awkwardly around the boy’s shaking shoulders. Tanil was laughing and sobbing at the same time, babbling apologies over and over again.

  Korin looked past him to find Caliel watching with a sad smile. He was filthy and pale, too, and looked on the verge of collapse, but he was smiling.

  “What are you doing here?” Korin asked, still not quite master of his voice.

  “I found him in Atyion. He wouldn’t rest until he came back to you, so I brought him.”

  Korin freed himself from Tanil’s embrace and walked over to him, drawing his sword as he went.

  Caliel didn’t flinch or show the least fear, just kept his gaze fixed on Korin.

  “Did Tobin send you?”

  “No, but she honorably let us go, even knowing that it was back to you.”

  Korin leveled the blade under Caliel’s chin. “You will not speak of him like that to me, do you understand?”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Korin lowered the tip of his blade a few inches. “Why did you come back, Cal? You’re still under the order of execution.”

  “Then kill me. I’ve done what I came to do. Just—please, be kind to Tanil. He’s suffered enough, for the love of you.” His voice was hoarse and hollow by the time he finished
, and he was wavering on his knees. Korin thought of the flogging he’d endured and wondered how he’d survived at all. It hadn’t mattered much at the time. Now he felt the first stirrings of shame.

  “Untie him,” he ordered.

  “But Majesty—”

  “I said untie him!” Korin barked. “Bring food and wine for them, and decent clothing.”

  Caliel rubbed his wrists as he was released, but stayed kneeling. “I don’t expect anything, Korin. I only wanted to bring him back.”

  “Knowing that I would hang you?”

  Caliel shrugged.

  “Who is your allegiance to, Cal?”

  “Do you still doubt me?”

  “Where are the others?”

  “They stayed in Atyion.”

  “But not you?”

  Caliel fixed him with that direct gaze again. “How could I?”

  Korin stood a moment, wrestling with his own heart. Niryn’s accusations against Caliel seemed so hollow now. How had he believed such things of his friend?

  “Do you swear yourself to me? Will you follow me and accept my course?”

  “I always have, Majesty. I always will.”

  How can you forgive me? Korin wondered, astonished. He held out his hand and drew Caliel to his feet, then caught him as the other man’s knees buckled under him. He felt thin and frail through his tunic, and Korin heard his muffled groan of pain as Korin’s hands grasped at his back. The tufts of Cal’s severed braids mocked him.

  “I’m sorry,” Korin whispered, so only Caliel could hear. “So sorry.”

  “Don’t!” Caliel’s hands tightened on Korin’s shoulders. “Forgive me for giving you reason to doubt me.”

  “It’s forgotten.” Then, to those who stood staring at the spectacle he was making of himself, he said gruffly, “Lord Caliel has redeemed himself. He and Tanil are Companions once more. Alben, Urmanis, see to your brothers. Make them comfortable and find them arms.”

  The others gently helped Caliel to a seat by the stream. Tanil stayed by Korin, but his eyes kept straying back to Caliel. Moriel hovered near them, and Korin saw the look of naked hatred Caliel gave him, and the one he got in return. “Moriel!” he snapped. “You go see to the horses.”

  Chapter 50

  Tamír had worked everyone tirelessly since dawn, preparing for Korin’s arrival, and Ki stayed close by her side. The fog lifted by midday, but the clouds hung low and rain blew in off the water all that day, keeping clothing damp and making the fires smoke and die. The archers looked to their bows, tightening slack strings and rubbing them well with wax.

  The entire army moved north, massing at the edge of the open ground she’d chosen. Ki and several of Nyanis’ best archers took their bows up to the crest of the hill and let fly toward their own side of the field, arching some and sending others straight on to test the range. The other Companions carefully marked where the shafts landed and Tamír planned their lines.

  “Korin’s had the same lessons we did,” Ki fretted as he rejoined her. “Don’t you think he’ll wonder why you’re ceding him the advantage?”

  Tamír shrugged. “We’ll take our position and stay here until he comes to us.”

  Gathering her commanders by the stream, she took up a long stick and began scratching her plan into the soft ground. “We must draw him.”

  She set sappers to work their mattocks, digging trenches and holes to founder charging horses, while others cut small ditches along the stream to spread the water and make the ground softer. The archers went into the forest to fashion stakes.

  As the morning passed and afternoon came on, Ki noticed how often Tamír looked south, watching for the lookouts she’d left behind at Remoni. There was still no word of the ’faie.

  They were talking with the sappers, when some of the men behind them let out a shout and pointed up the hill. Ki caught a glimpse of a horseman before the intruder wheeled and galloped back out of sight.

  “That’ll be one of Korin’s scouts,” said Ki.

  “Shall we go after him, Majesty?” Nyanis called.

  Tamír grinned. “No, let him go. He’s spared me the trouble of sending a messenger. Nikides, fetch your pen and call for a herald. Lutha, you and Barieus ride back to the lookouts. And tell Arkoniel I want to speak with him.”

  “They’ve done well,” Ki murmured, watching the pair swing up into the saddle and gallop off. Lutha had let Ki see the stripes on his back that morning. They were healing well enough, but a few of the deeper cuts had pulled open and bled on the long hard journey over the mountains. Barieus wasn’t faring any better. Both were wiry and stubborn as ever, though, and would have taken another flogging rather than utter a complaint.

  Tamír followed them with her eyes, too. “Korin is a fool.”

  The sun was sinking behind the clouds when Korin neared Tobin’s line. Caliel was still weak, but had insisted on riding with him. Tanil, though left a bit simpleminded by what the Plenimarans had done to him, was just as stubborn.

  Korin called a halt and rode ahead with Wethring and his guard to assess the ground.

  Topping a rise, he saw Tobin’s army encamped a mile or so on, between the cliffs and the forest.

  “So many,” he muttered, trying to estimate the numbers with her. It was difficult in the waning light, with them all bunched together like that, but it was a larger force than he’d expected.

  “Not many horse, though,” said Porion. “If you claim this high ground, you have the advantage.”

  Tamír, look there,” Arkoniel said, pointing toward the hill again.

  Even through the rain, Tamír knew Korin by the way he sat his horse, as much as by the standard flapping in the breeze behind him. She recognized Caliel beside him, too. Without thinking, she raised a hand to wave to them. She knew Korin wouldn’t see her, on foot among the others, but she still felt a pang when he wheeled his horse and disappeared over the crest of the hill. She closed her eyes as a tumult of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Sorrow and guilt struck deep as memories of all those happy years together flooded back. That it should come to this!

  A warm hand found hers and she looked up to find Arkoniel close beside her, shielding her from the eyes of the others.

  “Steady, Majesty,” he whispered, giving her an understanding smile. She felt strength return to her, though she couldn’t be sure if it was his magic doing it or his friendship.

  “Yes. Thank you.” She squared her shoulders and waved the herald over. “My cousin the prince has arrived. Carry your message and return with his reply.”

  Korin and his generals sat their horses at the forest’s edge, looking out at his cavalry spread across the grassy plain above the sea. Beyond them, lightning forked down from the lowering clouds over the water. A moment later the distant rumble of thunder rolled in.

  “This is no sort of weather to be fighting in, with night coming on,” Porion advised.

  “You’re right. Give the order to make camp.”

  Out of the gathering murk, a lone rider dressed in the blue-and-white coat of a herald appeared, holding his white baton aloft. Alben and Moriel rode out to meet him and escorted him to Korin.

  The herald dismounted and bowed deeply to Korin. “I bring a letter from Queen Tamír of Skala, to her beloved cousin, Korin of Ero.”

  Korin scowled down at him. “What does the false queen have to say?”

  The herald drew a letter from his coat. “ ‘To my cousin, Korin, from Tamír, daughter of Ariani, of the true line of Skala. Cousin, I stand ready to do battle with you, but know that I make you this last offer of amnesty. Put aside your anger and your arms. Give up your claim to the throne and let us be friends again. You have my most sacred oath, by Sakor, Illior, and all the Four, that you, your lady wife, and the child she bears will be held in proper honor among my court, as Royal Kin. The nobles who follow you will be granted clemency, and retain both lands and titles. I call upon you, cousin, to put aside your unlawful claim and let there b
e peace between us.’ ”

  The herald offered him the letter. Korin snatched it away, holding a corner of his cloak over it to shield it from the rain. It was Tobin’s hand, and his seal. He looked to Caliel, expecting some comment, but his friend just looked away, saying nothing.

  Korin shook his head and let the parchment fall. “Take back this answer, herald. Tell my cousin I will meet him tomorrow at first light at the point of my sword. All who fight in his name will be branded as traitors and forfeit all lands, titles, and their lives. No quarter will be given. Tell him also that I come without wizards. If he is honorable, he will not employ his own against me. Finally, give him my thanks for allowing Lord Caliel and my squire to return to me. They fight at my side. Tell him this message comes from King Korin of Skala, son of Erius, grandson of Agnalain.”

  The herald repeated the message and took his leave.

  Korin pulled his cloak tighter around him and turned to Porion. “Pass the order to set up tents and serve hot food. We’ll rest dry tonight.”

  Tamír assembled her marshals and captains before her tent to hear Korin’s reply. Everyone was silent for a moment when he’d finished.

  “Cal’s in no shape to fight!” Lutha fretted. “And Tanil? What’s he thinking?”

  “It’s out of our hands.” Tamír sighed, equally dismayed at the thought of meeting them in battle. “I wish now I’d locked them up in Atyion until this was over.”

  “You wouldn’t have been doing either of them any favor,” Lynx replied. “They’re where they wanted to be. The rest is with Sakor.”

  “Do you believe what he says, about having no wizards with him?” she asked Arkoniel. “I can’t imagine him leaving Niryn behind.”

  “We’ve seen no sign of him, or any magic around Korin, beyond the wards Niryn has had on him all these months,” Arkoniel replied. “Wait! Surely you don’t mean to honor his condition?”

  “I do.”