The Oracle's Queen (18 page)

Lutha watched with growing alarm; this was how King Erius had acted when the fit came on.

“I always thought he was out for himself, from the day he showed up in Ero,” Alben drawled, chiming in as usual to support any slander against Tobin. “You were good to him, Korin, better than a brother, and here's how he repays you.”

Korin slumped back into his chair, looking rather dazed. “Mad. He's gone mad!”

“How do we know for certain?” Caliel asked. “With all respect, Lord Niryn, I don't know these spies of yours. I don't know how reliable they are as observers. And I doubt any of them know Tobin as we did.”

A more ominous silence fell over the table as Niryn turned to Caliel again. “You doubt the king's judgment in this matter, Lord Caliel?”

Caliel tensed, sensing his misstep, and Lutha saw him look to Korin for support. Korin concentrated on paring an apple, as if he was paying the conversation no mind.

The other lords and warriors watched this exchange like a pack of wolves, gauging who the strong ones were and whom they could pick off later. Caliel wasn't coming off well. Even Alben and Urmanis were carefully keeping their own counsel.

Lutha was ashamed of his own silence. Before he could think what to say, however, Cal caught his eye and shook his head, warning him off. Lutha unhappily complied.

“I'm only saying that we're a long way from Ero here,” Caliel went on, speaking to Korin as if no one else was in the room.

Korin just went on with his apple, cutting a slice and dipping it in his wine.

“We'll know the truth of it when we've captured Prince Tobin and all his traitors!” said young Nevus. “We're ready to follow our true king, aren't we?” he cried, and was greeted with a cheer.

“We'll celebrate the summer solstice on the Palatine!” someone else shouted.

“Aye, Majesty, give the word! We can be there by week's end,” Master Porion said.

Korin smiled and pressed his fist to his heart in acknowledgment, but he didn't stand to announce a campaign.

Looking around, Lutha felt the same current of impatience he'd sensed before, unspoken behind all the shouting and pounding of wine cups.

The company broke up soon after, leaving Korin's allies to find their way back to their drafty tents or sleep drunk in the hall on benches and tabletops. Lutha trailed
after Caliel, hoping to speak with him, but he just shook his head and retreated alone to his own room.

Disheartened, Lutha was on his way back to his chamber with Barieus when they were waylaid by the other Companions and drawn into Urmanis' chamber.

“What's gotten into Cal?” Alben demanded. “Why is he turning his back on Korin now, when he needs him most?”

“Turning
his
back?” Lutha looked in disbelief from him to Urmanis. “Haven't you been paying the least bit of attention? I know you never liked Tobin, but are you ready to let Niryn play Lord Chancellor and high priest and Sakor only knows what else like this? You know what Korin can be like, and with all that's happened, he's worse than ever—”

The Companions had always spoken honestly among themselves, lord and squire alike, even to Korin. So neither Lutha nor Barieus was prepared when the others drew their daggers and backed them into the corner farthest from the door.

“You two swore an oath!” Alben growled. “You are the King's Companions and your loyalty is to
him
. Not to Cal or Tobin or any priest. Isn't that so?”

Barieus moved to cover Lutha.

“You know we're loyal!” Lutha gasped, less shocked by the naked gleam of steel than the doubt in his fellow Companions' eyes. “Damn it, so is Cal! We're just worried for Korin, that's all! He hasn't been himself for ages, and he's drinking so much—and—”

And Niryn is on him like a bad fever
, Lutha thought, but something in the others' eyes stopped the words from coming out his mouth. Lutha might not be the quickest wit in Skala, but his instincts were good and telling him now that speaking ill of Niryn to anyone was unwise.

“Sheathe your blades unless you mean to use them,” he said instead, trying to make light of it. “Bilairy's balls, Alben, are you calling
me
a traitor now?”

The others slowly put away their knives and Lutha heard Barieus let out a faint, pent-up breath.

Urmanis gave him a chagrined smile and ruffled Lutha's hair. “These are uncertain times, little brother. You should think before you open that foolish mouth of yours. I feel bad about how things are between Korin and Caliel, too, but don't let your heart blind you to your duty. Korin isn't the one who's betrayed Skala. Tobin has.”

Lutha shook his hand off and pushed past him to the door. “I'm as loyal as you, and so is Cal,” he threw back over his shoulder. “You've no right to accuse us, just for speaking honestly! Korin doesn't need lackeys and slaves, like some Plenimaran Overlord. He needs warriors. Skalan warriors! Don't you forget what we are.”

By the time he'd made it out the door he was shaking and doubly glad of Barieus close behind him. He was so angry he had to spit three times to ward off drawing bad luck for it.

“What's going on?” Barieus asked as soon as they were safely behind their own door. “How can they just sit there in that hall, watching Fox Beard insult Caliel like that?”

“I don't know. And then they have the gall to question
my
loyalty, right to my face?” Lutha spat again and paced the narrow room. “Maybe they're all going mad as old Agnalain herself! I'll tell you one thing, though. If Korin doesn't make up his mind which way he's going to jump soon, those cheers won't be so loud.”

N
iryn saw better than Lutha the impatience among the warriors. The young king felt it, too, and would have led them out tomorrow, but for Niryn's subtle intervention. The wizard realized the risk, putting off the fight, but he was not ready to slip Korin's leash just yet.

Nalia's tiring woman, Tomara, had taken fondly to her new mistress, but she was still Niryn's willing informant. When she came to Niryn's room the previous night, it had been with a long face.

“Her moon flow's come again,” she said, holding out the bloodstained linen for proof.

Frowning, Niryn went to one of the large, locked chests that lined his chamber and sorted through the bags of herbs stored there. Selecting three, he mixed dried leaves and blossoms in a basin and carefully packed them in a linen bag.

“Make her teas with this and see that she drinks them. She will kindle.”

“Of course she will, young and strong as she is,” the old woman assured him. “And the young king so attentive, too!” She gave the wizard a wink. “The sheets bear witness to that.”

Niryn smiled and gave her a sester.

Sitting by his window later, gazing up at Nalia's tower, he murmured, “You must kindle for me, my girl.” He was not worried, only impatient. He'd foreseen an heir born to the stock of Erius. It would be so.

C
aptain Ahra's scouting party returned early one rain-soaked morning near the end of Gorathan with more news of Korin's position at Cirna. Most of the northern lords had declared for Korin, and trade from that area had stopped.

Ahra came directly to the audience chamber, still in her armor and muddy boots. She dropped to one knee before Tamír, left hand on her sword hilt, and raised her right fist to her heart. “Prince Korin has a sizable force gathered, perhaps five thousand men, and twenty ships. I have a list of the nobles who've declared for him.”

“Is Lord Niryn still with him?”

“Yes, and everyone is scared to death of the bastard and the handful of wizards he has left. Your loyal garrison there was slaughtered, and his grey-back Guard put in their place.”

“Any news of the Companions?” Ki asked.

“Lord Caliel and Lord Alben were seen, and there are said to be others, but I wasn't able to learn who or how many. Master Porion is with them. Korin isn't showing himself much outside the keep.”

Tamír exchanged a worried glance with Ki and Nikides, wondering if Lutha and Barieus had survived.

“Leave it to Alben to scrape through,” Ki muttered. “Garol's probably right there beside him, too.”

“It's good that Caliel and Master Porion are still with him, though,” Nikides mused. “They could always talk sense to him.”

“Perhaps, but they'll stand by him, no matter what,” Tharin mused.

Tamír nodded and turned back to Ahra. “Anything else to report?”

“Well, Korin wears his father's crown now, and carries Ghërilain's sword. He claims to be king.”

“It is not valid. He has not been properly consecrated,” said Imonus.

“I guess that didn't stop him,” Ahra replied. “He's sent out heralds, calling for the nobles of Skala to join him against you, Highness. Prince Korin claims you're nothing but a mad boy in a dress, the puppet of rogue wizards and priests.”

Tamír's hands tightened on the arms of her chair; the words cut her to the quick. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, but it hurt all the same, to have her own fears confirmed.

“Niryn's put that into his head,” Nikides offered, though he didn't sound very convinced, either.

“I wouldn't doubt it,” said Ahra. “Korin has taken a new wife, too. The Princess Consort Nalia, they call her. I heard her called Nalia the Plain, and Nalia the Marked, too, on account of some birthmark on her face.”

Tamír rubbed at the dark pink stain on her left forearm. That was said to denote wisdom. She wondered what this other woman's mark meant.

“Are you sure you heard right?” asked Lynx. “Korin's not the sort to take an ugly girl into his bed.”

“Supposedly she's of the royal blood, some degree of cousin. Her mother was Lady Ana, who married Lord Sirin of Darie.”

“I remember her,” said Iya. “She had a wine stain birthmark on her face, too, and no chin to speak of, but she was intelligent and wellborn enough to find herself a good husband. The Harriers murdered her during the purges. I never heard of any child, though. How old is she said to be?”

“About Prince Korin's age, I believe,” replied Ahra.

“Couldn't she be an imposter?” asked Nikides.

“It's possible, of course, but they'd be foolish to try such a sham. The truth is easily learned,” said Imonus.

“The truth can be manipulated,” said Arkoniel. “Still, it would be foolish to try and pass off a false heir when Korin himself can claim royal blood.”

“Niryn must want the added legitimacy of a direct female bloodline,” said Iya, frowning. “By the Light, he was playing a long-sighted game. Tamír, if Korin fathers a daughter on her, that child could make a claim to your throne.”

“No one has a clearer claim than Princess Tamír!” Kyman objected. “She is the daughter of the rightful heir, and of the unbroken line of Ghërilain. I say the sooner we do away with Korin and this upstart girl the better. Get rid of them both before they breed!”

“Would you have me become my uncle so quickly?” Tamír sighed.

Kyman bowed, but he was glowering through his beard. “I meant no disrespect, but you must understand that the existence of such a child would be a threat.”

Iya nodded darkly. “It's true, Tamír.”

Looking into Iya's pale, hard eyes, Tamír felt a sudden chill, as if Brother had come up behind her. The demon was nowhere to be seen, but the uneasy sensation lingered. “I am the daughter of Ariani, of Ghërilain's line, and Illior's Chosen. I do not fear any distant cousins or their unborn children.”

“You're all jumping at shadows anyway,” said Ki. “Korin has never planted a child that lived.”

“I pity this Nalia more than I fear her,” Tamír said softly. No one else there, not even Ki, had seen what she had, standing beside Korin in that birthing chamber: Aliya screaming in agony on a blood-soaked bed, dying to birth a dead thing with no arms or face. “If Illior means for me to
be queen, then I shall be queen; but I've told you already, I won't rule with a kinswoman's blood on my hands.”

For once Tamír was glad of her long skirts. They hid the way her knees shook as she stood. “What I declared before the walls of Ero I declare to you all now; anyone who murders kin of mine, any kin, is my enemy!”

Everyone bowed to her. Out of the corner of her eye, Tamír saw Arkoniel and the other wizards doing the same with their hands to their hearts. Iya alone remained unmoved, regarding Tamír with that unblinking gaze that had frightened her as a child. A twinge of that same fear angered her now. It reminded her too much of how she'd felt around Niryn.

T
amír retreated to her chamber after the audience, clearly needing to be alone. Ki and Tharin followed but found the door closed against them.

Tharin drew Ki away from the guards at the door and shook his head. “She's done well, so far, with that honest kind heart of hers, but I saw doubting faces in the crowd tonight. These men are risking everything to follow her, and now we know that Korin already has more than twice her army at his command. She can't afford to let kindness turn to weakness in front of them. Can you talk to her?”

“I'll try. But she's right to say she won't act like her uncle.” Ki paused, studying the older man's face closely. “You think she's right in that, don't you?”

Tharin smiled and patted his shoulder. He didn't have to reach down to do that anymore; Ki was as tall as he was. “Of course. But Mistress Iya is probably right about Niryn being even cleverer than we gave him credit for. He didn't just pull this girl out of the air.”

“I can't help that. What do I do for Tamír?” Ki asked, looking unhappily back at the closed door.

Tharin squeezed his shoulder. “You've always taken good care of her, as a squire and a friend, and I know
you'll stand by her now. Just see that she doesn't worry herself sick over this business.”