The Oracle's Queen Read online

  “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.v 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 p
ost 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.

  The last woman presented was by far the most intriguing. Grey-eyed Saruel of Khatme was Aurënfaie, and wore the elaborate red-and-black headcloth, or sen’gai, and the black robes of her people. The fine black facial tattoos and jewelry that also distinguished that clan made her age difficult to guess at, and since Aurënfaie aged even more slowly than Skalan wizard-born, the guess would probably have been wrong.

  Tamír’s friend, Arengil of Gedre, had taught her something of his people’s ways. “May Aura be with you in the light, Saruel of Khatme,” she said, placing her hand over her heart and bowing.

  Saruel solemnly returned the gesture, her head tilted a bit to the left, as if she had trouble hearing. “And in the darkness, Tamír ä Ariani Agnalain of Skala.”

  “I thought all the ’faie left Ero when the Harriers began burning wizards and priests?”

  “I was one of those who shared the vision given to Mistress Iya. Aura Illustri, known to you as Illior Lightbearer, smiles upon you. Your uncle committed great evils upon your land and spat in the face of our god. You are the light sent to drive away the darkness spread by the Usurper and his dark wizards. It is my duty, and my great honor, to support you in whatever way I can.”

  “I welcome your aid and your wisdom.” Such pledges were never lightly made to outsiders—Tirfaie, as the Aurënfaie called short-lived humankind. “Mistress Iya, how should I reward you and your people for your service?”

  “We are not tradesmen or mercenaries, come to present a bill, Highness. You know of my vision about you, yet you don’t know the extent of what I’ve done to bring that vision to fruition.

  “While you grew, Arkoniel and I traveled this land, seeking out others who’d had been granted so much as a glimpse of that same vision. Some of them stand here before you now. Others await word to join us and aid you. Not all of them are powerful, but the Lightbearer has called them nonetheless, to protect you, the queen who must be.

  “I tell you now, before all these witnesses, that we were not charged by the Lightbearer simply to help you to this point, then walk away—”

  “That’s the same sort of talk we heard from that traitor Niryn, when he gathered his gang together,” Kyman interrupted. “He claimed they were serving the throne, too. I mean no disrespect to you, Mistress, or any of your friends, nor do I discount what you’ve done. But I’m not the only Skalan who’s a bit skittish, seeing too many of your kind
together in one place again.” He turned and bowed deeply to Tamír. “Forgive my plain speech, Highness, but it’s the truth.”

  “I know better than you what Niryn did, my lord. Mistress Iya, what is it you’re proposing?”

  “I understand the fears Niryn and his ilk have bred,” she replied calmly. “My ‘kind’ and I know still better than you, Highness, or anyone else here, the evil the Harriers practiced.”

  She reached into a fold of her gown and held up a large silver brooch inset with the copper flame of Sakor. “The Harriers imposed these on us.” The others held up brooches of their own, all except Arkoniel and Eyoli. Numbers were stamped on the back of each, a different one for each wizard. Iya’s was marked 222.

  “They listed us in their ledgers like cattle.” Iya tossed the brooch on the pavement at her feet. The other wizards did the same, making a small, glittering pile. “Every free wizard in Ero was made to wear one of these,” she went on bitterly. “Those who resisted burned. Wizards who’d sworn to aid you were among them, Highness. I felt the flames as they died. Niryn meant to teach us our place, teach us to fear, but instead, he made me remember something.

  “Most wizards are solitary by nature, it’s true, but in the time of your ancestor and the Great War, many of us came together with the queen and fought against the Plenimarans and their necromancers. The great chroniclers of that age credit them with stemming the tide of war.

  “Niryn and his white-robed murderers reminded me what wizards can accomplish by joining forces. If the Harriers could create such power for evil, then isn’t great good also possible? I swear to you by our most sacred oath, Highness—by Illior’s Light and by my hands, heart, and eyes—that the wizards who stand before you today seek to forge a union for the good of Skala, as in the days of your ancestor, and to support you, Illior’s chosen one. We have no greater desire than that. With your permission, we would demonstrate our good faith and the power of unity before these witnesses.”