Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“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.”

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 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.