The Oracle’s Queen

“A letter from Lady Myna of Tynford, offering fealty,” she told him.

“Already? Word travels fast.”

She tossed the letter aside and stretched out on her stomach, chin propped on one hand. “I can’t stop thinking about Korin. A retreat’s one thing, but for him to just run off like that and leave the city open to the enemy? That doesn’t seem right.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons at the time.” Cowardice, most likely, he thought, scrubbing at a bloodstain on his left knee.

Tamír stared off at nothing for a moment, brow knitted in thought. “Damn that Niryn! It has to be him, weakening Kor’s mind.”

“I don’t doubt it. But maybe Korin wasn’t too hard to sway, either.” So much for tact.

Tamír gave him a wry look. “I know, Ki. You were right about him all along, but I still say there’s good in him, too. Once we know where he is, I’ll call for a parley. There’s got to be some way to resolve this, short of war!”

“I admit I don’t much like the idea of facing friends on the battlefield. Not even Alben or Mago. Well, maybe Mago.”

That earned him a fleeting grin. Ki stood up and reached for the dry flannel by the tub, noting how she averted her eyes. He quickly wrapped the cloth around his waist and looked around for something to put on besides his own filthy clothes.

Someone had laid out clean garments for him, too. The long linen shirt had white silk embroidery around the neck and gathered cuffs. He pulled it over his head, then stood there with the breeches in his hand, unsure what to do next.

He looked up at Tamír again and saw the same confusion. They both wanted this to be simple, like nothing had changed.

She shrugged, not quite looking at him. “Stay?”

“All right.” But he pulled on the breeches anyway, then blew out all but one lamp. He returned uncertainly to the bed, wondering if he should sleep on the floor with Baldus. Tamír was under the covers now, with the coverlet pulled up to her nose. He could just see her dark eyes watching him expectantly.

Still uncertain, he wrapped himself in a spare blanket and settled on the far edge of the bed. They lay facing each other, faces half-shadowed in the soft glow of the night lamp. Less than two arms span separated them, but it felt like a mile.

After a moment, Tamír reached out to him. He laced his fingers with hers, glad of the contact. Her fingers were warm and sun-browned from days in the saddle, not soft and pale like the girls he’d bedded. Those hands had trembled, or caressed. Tamír held his hand firm and sure, same as always. It made Ki feel very odd inside, even as he watched her eyes drift shut and her face relax in sleep. With her face pressed into the pillow and her hair spilled across her cheek like that, she looked like Tobin again.

He waited until he was certain she was really asleep, then let go of her hand and rolled on his back, teetering on the edge of the mattress and longing for the nights when they’d so innocently slept warm in each other’s arms.

Chapter 5

In the dream she was still Tobin who’d lived at the keep, and the tower door was never locked.

He climbed the stairs to his mother’s ruined sitting room at the top and found Brother waiting for him. Hand in hand, the twins climbed onto the ledge of the window that looked west toward the mountains. Between the tips of his boots, Tobin saw the river below, surging black beneath the ice like a great serpent trying to break free.

The grip on his hand tightened; it was his mother with him now, not Brother. Ariani was pale and bloody, but she smiled as she stepped off the ledge, pulling Tobin down with her.

But Tobin didn’t fall. He flew up into the sky and far over the mountains to a cliff above the dark Osiat Sea. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the now-familiar hills, and snowy peaks beyond. As always in this dream, the robed man stood off in the distance, waving to him. Would he ever see the man’s face?

Then Ki appeared at Tobin’s side and took his hand, drawing him to the brink of the cliff to show him the fine harbor that lay below. Tobin could see their faces reflected down there, side by side, like a miniature painted on silver foil.

Tamír had experienced this dream so often now that she knew she was dreaming, and turned all the more eagerly to Ki. Perhaps this time …

But as always, she woke with a start before their lips could touch.

Ki lay curled up on the far side of the bed, and opened his eyes as soon as she stirred. “You were restless. Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes. And now I’m starving.” She lay there, watching with bittersweet fondness as Ki yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes. He’d left the front of his shirt unlaced and she could see the little horse charm she’d made him soon after they’d met, still hanging around his neck on its chain. He’d never taken it off since she’d given it to him, not even in the bath. For a fleeting moment it could have been any morning in the old days, the two of them waking up together to face a new day.

The illusion shattered as quickly as her dream had when he got up so quickly and made his way barefoot to the door.

“I’ll go find us something to eat,” he said, not looking back. “I’ll knock before I come back in.”

Tamír sighed, guessing he was anxious to give her time to get dressed.

A moment later there was a knock at the door and Lady Una stepped in, still in her mud-stained tunic and boots. She wore a new baldric with the colors of Tamír’s guard.

Baldus woke at last and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Go find yourself some breakfast,” Tamír told the boy.

“Yes, Highness.” The boy yawned and gave Una a curious look, his eyes lingering admiringly on her sword. Then he recognized her and made her a hasty bow. “Lady Una!”

Una looked down at the boy, then gave a little cry of surprise. She knelt and took his hand. “You’re Lady Erylin’s son, aren’t you? I bet you know my brother Atmir. He’s Duchess Malia’s page at court.”

“Yes, lady! We have lessons together, and sometimes we play—” Baldus trailed off and his face fell. “Well, we did—before.”

“Have you seen him, since the attack?”

He shook his head sadly. “I haven’t seen any of my friends since the enemy came.”

Una’s kind smile couldn’t cover her disappointment. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe. If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Baldus bowed to Tamír and went out.

Una straightened to attention. “Forgive me, Highness. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’ve had no word of any of my family.”

“No need to apologize. Poor Baldus. He doesn’t really understand what’s happened. I hope you both find your kin.” She paused expectantly. “Why are you here?”

Una began to look uncomfortable. “Lord Tharin thought you might need assistance, Highness.”

Suddenly self-conscious to be sitting there in nothing but a woman’s nightgown, Tamír found the robe and wrapped herself in it. “Better?”

Una made her another hasty bow. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to you, really, or how to act.”

“You and everyone else!” Tamír spread her arms. “Well, here I am. Take a good look.”

Una blushed. “It’s not that. You know, when I threw myself at you and kissed you that time? If I’d known, I’d never have done such a thing.”

Tamír still blushed at the memory. “It wasn’t your fault. Hell, I didn’t know either back then. Believe me, I don’t hold it against you. Let’s just forget it.” She raked a hand absently back through her tangled hair. “Look at you now, a warrior, after all! I guess those sword-fighting lessons were useful, after all.”

“It was a good start,” said Una, obviously relieved by the change of subject. “Although I think I was the only girl who wasn’t there just to make eyes at the boys.”

Ki hadn’t minded that at all, Tamír recalled. She pushed that thought aside at once. “So, Captain Ahra finished your education?”

“Yes. I remembered Ki’s stories about his sister, so I rode for Lord Jorvai’s holding the night I ran away and found her. I put all my trust in her, and she promised to make a soldier of me. Her methods weren’t quite as refined as yours, though.” Una grinned. “I must admit, I was a bit surprised when I met her. She’s much—rougher than Ki.”

Tamír laughed outright at that. “I’ve met his whole family, and that’s a very forgiving assessment. But tell me, why did you run away like that? There were rumors that you’d been killed by the king, or your father.”

“That’s not far from the truth. Father was terrified of losing favor with your uncle. He beat me and said I was to be sent off to live with some ancient aunt in the central islands until he could marry me off. So I ran away. All I took was this.” She touched her sword hilt. “It was my grandmother’s. Mother gave it to me with her blessing when I left. But things are different now, aren’t they? Women can be warriors again, even noblewomen.”

“Yes, even nobles.”

Forgetting her breeches and sword, Una made her a graceful curtsy. “You have my loyalty until death, Highness.”

Tamír bowed. “And I accept it. Now tell me honestly, do you think I look much like a girl?”

“Well—Perhaps if you combed your hair? And didn’t scowl so much?”

Tamír let out an unladylike snort, noting with a twinge of envy that Una really was quite pretty, with her smooth, dark hair and oval face.

Baldus peeked in just then. “It’s Mistress Iya, Highness. She wants to come in.”

Tamír frowned at the intrusion, but nodded.

Iya wore a gown of fine brown wool and a fancy leather girdle, and her long grey hair was combed loose over her shoulders, making her look younger and less severe than usual. She was carrying what looked like several dresses over one arm.

“Hello, Una. Good morning, Highness. Ki said you were awake. I hope you rested well?”

Tamír shrugged, eyeing the gowns with suspicion.

Iya smiled and held them up. “I’ve come to help you dress.”

“I’m not wearing those!”

“I’m afraid you must. There are already enough rumors flying about saying you’re only a boy playing at being a girl, without you adding to them. Please, Tamír, you must trust me in this. There’s nothing shameful about wearing a dress, is there, Lady Una? It hasn’t stopped you being a soldier.”

“No, Mistress.” Una shot Tamír an apologetic glance.

But there was still too much of Tobin in her for Tamír to give in so easily. “Ki and Tharin will laugh their heads off—and the rest of my guard, too! Damn it, Iya, I’ve worn breeches all my life. I’ll trip on the skirts. I’ll turn my ankles in slippers and look a fool!”

“All the more reason for you to get used to them now, before you have a great crowd of nobles and generals to impress. Come now, don’t make such a fuss.”

“I won’t ride in a gown,” Tamír warned. “And I sure as hell won’t ride sidesaddle! I don’t give a damn what anyone says.”

“Should a princess use such rough language?” asked Una, trying to stifle a smile and failing.

“One step at a time,” said Iya. “Besides, her grandmothers all swore like Scavenger men. Queen Marnil could make generals blush. For today, let’s just concentrate on appearances. Duchess Kallia will send her dressmaker to you. In the meantime, she was good enough to lend you some of her eldest daughter’s gowns. The two of you are close in size.”

Tamír blushed as she took off the nightgown, then felt a perfect fool as Iya and Una helped her into a linen shift and pulled a heavy green satin dress down over her head.

“What do you think of this one, before we lace it up?” asked Iya, turning her to face the mirror.

“I hate it!” Tamír snapped, barely glancing at her reflection.

“I admit that’s not a good color for you. Makes you look sallow. But you must wear something, and these are all we have.”

Tamír discarded one after another, grudgingly settling at last on a high-necked hunting gown of dark blue wool, mostly because it was plainer than any of the others, shorter in the front, and cut loose for easy movement. The laced sleeves were tied on at the shoulder, letting her move her arms easily. The style also allowed her to wear her boots rather than the soft shoes Iya had brought. When Una had laced it up, it was still loose through the bodice, but not as uncomfortable as she’d expected.

“This goes with it, I believe.” Iya handed her a leather girdle embossed with leaves and flowers. It fastened with a golden clasp and hung low on her slim hips, with a long gold-tipped end that hung down the front of the gown to her knees. Tamír picked it up, impressed with the workmanship. “This looks like Ylanti work.”

“You always did have an eye for fine things.” Una pulled out the sword pendant Tamír had made for her a few years earlier. “Are you still making jewelry?”

Tamír looked up, chagrined at being caught liking any part of this ridiculous outfit. “All my tools were lost in Ero.”

“You’ll find more, I’m sure,” said Iya. “You have the gift. You mustn’t ignore it. Now Una, see what you can do with that hair. My horse’s tail looks better.”

Tamír sat fidgeting as Una combed her hair. “Nothing too fancy. I don’t want to be fussing with it all the time like—like some girl!”

Una and Iya both chuckled at that.

“There’s no reason you can’t wear it as you always have,” Una told her, deftly replaiting the warrior braids. “All the women soldiers I know wear their hair loose, or in a long braid in back to keep it out of their faces. Let’s see how that looks.” She plaited Tamír’s hair back into a thick braid, then took a bit of red leather thong from her belt pouch. “See, no ribbons. And I promise not to make a bow, either. There. Have a look.”

Tamír faced the mirror again and was rather surprised at what she saw. “Hand me my sword belt.”

She buckled it on over the girdle, then checked her reflection again. The gown was actually rather flattering, making her look slender rather than skinny and angular. The small side braids and the sword still marked her as a warrior, but she looked less boyish than she had. She made an effort not to scowl. No one would call her a beauty, that was for certain, but her eyes seemed bluer, accented by the gown.

“I’ve been saving something for you. Your father entrusted it to me, years ago.” Iya produced a thin golden circlet from the folds of her robe and presented it to Tamír. It was beautiful, and very simple, just a band of gold engraved with a stylized wave pattern. “That’s Aurënfaie work. It was your mother’s.”

Tamír started to put it on, but Una stopped her. “No, it won’t look right with your hair back. Let me.”

She undid the large braid and combed the hair out with her fingers. Then she lifted the top layer and drew it up through the circlet before settling the ring around Tamír’s brow. She let the hair fall back over it, so that only the section of the band across Tamír’s brow showed. She smoothed the small braids back into place. “There! Now people will know you’re a princess.”

Tamír pulled the gold chain from around her neck and broke it, slipping off the two rings. She placed her father’s heavy black signet on her right forefinger, and the amethyst portrait ring on her left ring finger, where it fit perfectly. When she studied her reflection again, her expression was softer, almost wondering. This time, a girl was looking back at her, even if she did still feel like a boy in a dress.

Iya stood just behind her, one hand covering her mouth and a suspicious brightness in her eyes. “Oh, my dear girl, look at you—the true warrior queen returned at last. Una, call in Ki and Tharin, and Arkoniel, too, if he’s out there.”

Tamír stood nervously by the mirror as the men came in, with Baldus on their heels.

“You look pretty!” the little boy exclaimed.

“Thank you.” Tamír glared at Tharin and Ki, daring them to laugh.

“The lad’s right,” Tharin said, coming to her and turning her this way and that. “By the Flame! What do you say, Ki? Our girl polishes up well, doesn’t she?”

Ki had been staring at her all this time, not saying a word. At last he gave her a doubtful nod. “Better.”

“Better?” Tamír’s heart sank a little and she hated herself for it. Not in a dress for an hour yet and she was already acting like those girls at court!

“No, really,” Ki said quickly. “You’re much prettier with your hair fixed and all. That dress suits you, too. I bet you could fight in it if you had to.”

Tamír drew her sword and made a swift series of thrusts and feints. The skirts swirled around her legs, and she caught the hem with her bootheel once or twice. “It needs to be shorter.”

“You’ll start a new fashion,” Tharin said, grinning.

Una laughed. “Or a scandal!”

“Yes, it might be better if you put on breeches to fight,” mused Iya. “Failing that, though, if you’re caught off guard, try this.” She swept up the right side of her long skirt and tucked the hem into her girdle. “It’s easier to run like this, too.”

Tamír groaned, imagining a life hampered by gowns.

“Come along, Highness. Your court awaits,” Iya told her. “Let them see their queen and spread the word.”

Chapter 6

Tamír’s first official audience was held in the villa courtyard. Flanked by her friends and new guard, she entered the winter-brown gardens to find a restless crowd of warriors, wizards, and frightened guild masters awaiting her, anxious for news.

She looked around, searching out familiar faces, and spotted Nikides slumped in an armchair near the fountain, talking with Lynx and Iya.

“I didn’t expect to see you up and around yet,” she exclaimed, oblivious to all the eyes following her as she strode over to give him an awkward hug.

“Healer’s orders,” he rasped. His round, unshaven face was parchment pale, but his eyes were shining with wonder as he stared at her.

She took his hand. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather. We could do with his counsel now.”

He nodded sadly. “He would have served you, and so will I.” He looked more closely at her. “You really are a girl. By the Light, I wanted to believe it, but it didn’t seem possible. I hope you’ll make me your court historian. I believe there are going to be wondrous things to record.”

“The post is yours. But I’m also in need of Companions. I’d like you and Lynx to be the first, along with Ki, of course.”

Nikides laughed. “Are you sure you want me? You already know what a poor swordsman I am.”

“You have other talents.” She turned to Lynx. His dark eyes were still haunted, even when he smiled. “What about you?”

“Be Lord Nikides’ squire, you mean? Lord Tharin did suggest it.”

“No. You’re my friend, and you’ve stood by me. I’m raising you to full Companion. You’ll both have to find squires of your own.”

Lynx blinked at her in surprise. “I’m honored, Highness, and you have my loyalty always! But you do know my father was only a knight? I’m a second son, with no holdings of my own.”

Tamír faced the assembly, hand on her sword hilt. “You all heard that, I suppose? Well, listen well. Loyal men and women who serve me well will be judged on their merits, not by their birth. There’s not a noble in Skala whose ancestors were born with circlets on their heads. If it is Illior’s will that I rule Skala, then I want it known that I look to people’s hearts and acts, not their birth. Nikides, you can record that as one of my first decrees if you like.”

She couldn’t tell if he was coughing or laughing as he bowed to her from his chair. “I shall make a note of it, Highness.”

“Let it be known that anyone I choose to elevate will be accorded as much respect as a noble of six generations. By the same token, I won’t think twice about taking away the title and holdings of those who prove themselves unworthy.”

She caught warning looks from Tharin and Iya, but most of the crowd cheered.

She turned to Una next. “What do you say, Lady Una? Will you join our ranks too?”

Una fell to one knee and offered her sword. “With all my heart, Highness!”

“That’s settled, then.”

Lynx knelt, too, and she drew her sword again and touched him on the shoulder. “I name you Lord—Wait, what’s your real name?”

Nikides seemed about to supply that bit of information, but Lynx stopped him with a sharp glance. “I’ve been called Lynx for so long, it feels like my true name. I’d remain so, if that’s acceptable.”

“As you like,” said Tamír. “I name you Lord Lynx, with lands and holdings to be determined later. Lady Una, I also accept your fealty. Your first charge as my Companions is to take good care of my royal chronicler. And yourselves,” she added with a warning look at Lynx.

Lynx gave her a guilty nod. “Bilairy doesn’t seem to want me yet, Highness.”

“Good. I can’t spare you.”

With that settled, she took the chair that had been set out for her and turned her attention to the assembled nobles. “My friends, I thank all of you for what you’ve done. I’ll be honest with you, as well. I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen next. It seems I must go against my cousin, and anyone who upholds Korin’s claim to the throne. I do not want a civil war, but it could come to that. If any of you has had second thoughts about backing me, you’re free to go. No one will stop you. But go now.”

Silence greeted this offer, and no one moved. After a moment Lord Jorvai came forward and knelt before her, offering his sword. “I swore fealty to you on the battlefield, Highness, but I do so again before these witnesses. Accept Colath as your sworn ally.”

“And Illear,” Kyman said.

One by one, all the others reasserted their oaths. No one left.

Tamír stood and raised her hand to them. “I don’t hold the Sword of Ghërilain, or wear the crown, but with the authority of Illior and before these witnesses, I accept your fealty, confirm your holdings, and count you as my dear friends. I will never forget the sight of your banners coming to my aid when I needed you most.”

When she’d finished with the oaths, Tamír turned to the guild masters and mistresses who’d been waiting nervously for her attention. One after the other, men and women wearing the insignias of their offices knelt and pledged the loyalty of their guilds. Butchers, smiths, carters, bakers, masons—it seemed an endless stream, but Tamír was glad for a chance to mark the leaders of the city’s common classes.

Finally, with the sun almost at midday, she came to Iya and the wizards.

“Your valor during the battle will not be forgotten. My lords and good people, I ask you to honor these brave wizards.”

The throng bowed or cheered with varying degrees of enthusiasm. In spite of all the wizards had done, she knew that Niryn and his Harriers had left a bad taste in the mouths of many—one that made them regard all wizards with a degree of suspicion. In fact, the free wizards of Skala had always had a mixed reputation. For every grave and serious wizard like Iya, or kindly one like Arkoniel, there were a hundred ha’penny cheats and market fair conjurers. And there were those who, like Niryn, attached themselves to the rich and powerful for their own ends. While Tamír had her own reasons for mistrust, she owed a great deal already to the nineteen wizards Iya presented.

Some wore robes, but most were dressed like merchants or minor nobles. Others looked like humble travelers, and at least half of them bore wounds from the battle. She was glad to see the fair-haired young mind-clouder, Eyoli, among them. He’d helped her reach Atyion during the battle and nearly lost his life in the process.

Two of the wizards presented, Dylias and Zagur, looked as old as Iya. Kiriar and a very pretty woman introduced as Elisera of Almak, appeared to be Arkoniel’s age, although Tamír knew enough of wizards to realize that their true ages were as hard to guess as any Aurënfaie’s.