Hidden Warrior (65 page)

He raised his hand and two more red-robed priests entered, bearing something on a long litter. A handful of dirty, bedraggled-looking people followed. “The Wizards of Ero,” Iya told her.

The litter bearers brought their burden to the foot of the throne and set it down. Something large and flat as a tabletop lay on it, swathed in dark red cloth embroidered with a silver eye.

Imonus descended to fold back the wrappings. Polished gold caught the light of the braziers, and those standing closest gasped as a golden tablet as tall as a man and several inches thick was revealed. Words were engraved across it in square, old-fashioned script like a scroll, the letters tall enough to be read halfway across the great chamber as the litter bearers stood the tablet on its end for all to see.

Tobin touched her heart and sword hilt reverently. “Ghërilain’s tablet!”

The high priest nodded. “Erius ordered this destroyed, just as he destroyed the steles that once stood in every marketplace,” he proclaimed in that same deep, carrying voice. “The priests of the Ero temple saved it and brought it in secret to Afra, where it was hidden until a true queen came to Ero again.

“Hear me, people of Ero, as you stand in the ruins of your city. This tablet is nothing. The words it bears are the very voice of Illior, set there by Illior’s first queen. This prophecy was fulfilled, and lived on in the hearts of the faithful, who have failed in their duty for a time.

“Here me, people of Ero, as you look on the face of Tamír, daughter of Ariani and all the queens who came before her, even to Ghërilain herself. The Oracle does not sleep, or see falsely. She would not send this sign to a pretender. She foresaw this queen before she was conceived, before Erius usurped his sister’s place, before their mother was lost to the darkness. Doubt my words, doubt this sign, and you doubt the Lightbearer, your protector. You have slept, people of Ero. Awake now and see clearly. The true queen has delivered you, and stands here now to reveal her true face and her true name.”

Tobin felt the hair on her arms slowly rise as the misty figure of a woman took shape beside her on the dais. As it grew more solid, she saw that it was a girl about her own age, dressed in a long blue gown. Over it she wore a cuirass of gilded leather emblazoned with the ancient crescent moon and flame emblem of Skala. The Sword of Ghërilain, which she held upright before her face, looked newly forged. Her flowing hair was black, her eyes a dark, familiar blue.

“Ghërilain?” Tobin whispered.

The ghostly girl aged before Tobin’s eyes to a woman with iron-grey hair and lines of care etched deep around her mouth and eyes.

Daughter
.

The sword was notched and bloody now, but shone more brightly than before. She offered it to Tobin, just as Tamír’s ghost had, and her eyes seemed to hold a challenge:
This is yours. Claim it
.

As Tobin reached to take it, the ghost disappeared and she found herself looking instead out through one of the tall windows. From here, she could see past the burned gardens to the smoking ruin of the city and the wreckage-strewn harbor beyond.

So long as a daughter of Thelátimos—

“Tob?” Ki’s worried whisper jolted her back to the present.

Her friends were watching her with concern. The Afran priest’s face was still masked, but she saw Ghërilain’s challenge mirrored in his dark eyes.

“Tobin, are you all right?” Ki asked again.

Her own sword felt too light in her hand as she raised it to salute the crowd, and cried out, “By this tablet, and by the Sword that is not here, I pledge myself to Skala. I am Tamír!”

T
he sound of her chamber door being thrown open startled Nalia out of her dreams. The room was still lost in darkness, except for the thin bar of star-flecked sky visible at the tower’s two narrow windows.

“My lady, wake up. They’ve all gone mad!” It was her page, and the child sounded terrified. She felt his fear as keenly as the ever-present damp that permeated every room of this lonely fortress they’d been exiled to.

Her nurse rolled over in the bed with an angry grunt. “Gone mad? Who’s gone mad? If this is another of your night terrors, Alin, I’ll skin you!”

“No, Vena, listen.” Nalia ran to the window that overlooked the bailey and pushed the leaded pane open. Far below she could see torches moving, and hear the clash of steel. “What’s happening, Alin?”

“The grey guard has turned on the Cirna garrison. They’re slaughtering them!”

“We must bar the door!” Vena lit a candle from the banked coals, then helped Alin set the heavy beam across the iron brackets. Leaving him at the door, she brought Nalia a shawl and stood listening to the inexplicable chaos below.

It died away at last and Nalia clung trembling to her nurse, fearful of what the quiet might mean. Outside there was nothing but the distant sigh of the waves against the cliffs.

“My lady, look there!” Alin pointed to the other window, the one that faced south over the isthmus road. A long line of torches was approaching quickly along it. As
they drew closer, Nalia could make out the riders who carried them, and hear the jangle of harness and mail.

“It’s an attack!” she whispered.

“The Plenimarans have come,” Vena wailed. “O Maker, save us!”

“But why would the grey guard attack the others inside the walls? What can it mean?”

Nearly an hour passed before they heard footsteps on the tower stairs. Vena and Alin pushed Nalia into the far corner, shielding her with their bodies.

The latch rattled. “Nalia, my dear, it’s only me. You’re quite safe. Open the door.”

“Niryn!” Nalia ran to the door and struggled to heave the bar aside. “That was you on the road? Oh, you gave us such a fright!” The bar clattered to the floor. She flung the door open and fell into her lover’s arms, feeling safe again.

Two Harrier guardsmen stood just behind him. “What’s happening?” she asked, fearful again. Niryn never allowed any other men in her tower; the red hawks on the front of their tunics looked black as ravens in the dim light. “Alin said the men were fighting each other.”

Niryn’s beard tickled her bare shoulder as he gently pushed her away. “Mutiny and treason, my dear, but it’s over now and you have nothing to fear. In fact, I bring you wonderful news. Tell your servants to leave us.”

Blushing but delighted, Nalia nodded at Vena and Alin and they hurried out as they always did. The guardsmen made way for them, but remained. “My lord, I’ve missed you so—”

She tried to embrace him again, but he held her at arm’s length. As she gazed up at that beloved face, some trick of the candle made his eyes look hard. She took a step back, pulling the shawl closer around her. “Something
is
wrong. Tell me, please.”

He smiled again, and the same ungenerous light stretched it into a leer. “This is a great day, Nalia. A very great day.”

“What—what do you mean, my lord?”

“I have someone I want you to meet.” He nodded to the guards and they stepped aside to let another man pass. Shocked, Nalia tugged, at her shawl again.

This one was young and very handsome, but he was dirty and unshaven, too, and smelled appalling. Nonetheless, she recognized the arms on his filthy surcoat and sank to her knees before him. “Prince Korin?”

“King Korin,” Niryn corrected gently. “I present Lady Nalia.”

“This? This is the one?” The young king’s look of disgust chilled her more than the night air.

“Her blood is true, I assure you,” Niryn said, going to the door.

Nalia watched in growing alarm as he stepped from the room and began to slowly close it after him. “Nalia, allow me to present your new husband.”

LYNN FLEWELLING’S first novel,
Luck in the Shadows
, was chosen by Locus as a Recommended First Novel and was a finalist for the Compton Crook Award.
Traitor’s Moon
, the third book in what has become the Nightrunner Series, was a finalist for the 2000 Spectrum Award. The Night-runner books have achieved worldwide popularity and are currently published in eight countries, including Russia and the Czech Republic.

Flewelling currently resides with her family in East Aurora, New York. Her website address is
www.sff.net/people/Lynn.Flewelling
.