Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

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.”

“Go ahead.”

Iya and the others formed a circle around the cast-off brooches. Iya raised her hands over them and the metal melted into a steaming puddle. Dylias waved a hand and the metal formed into a perfect sphere. At Kiriar’s command it floated up to eye level. Zagur made a sigil on the air with a polished wooden wand and the sphere flattened to a disk, forming itself into a silver mirror. Saruel stepped forward and wove a pattern on the air and the edges were transformed into a delicate frame of Aurënfaie floral tracery. Finally, Arkoniel cast a spell on the air, opening a small black portal. The mirror disappeared into it and dropped out of thin air into Tamír’s hands. The metal was still warm.

She held it up, admiring the exquisite workmanship. The intertwined copper leaves and vines that framed it were as good as anything she’d seen in a silversmith’s stall.

“It’s lovely!” She handed it to Ki to see, and it passed from hand to hand around the courtyard.

“I’m glad it pleases you, Highness. Please accept this as a gift of the Third Orëska,” said Iya.

“The what?” asked Illardi.

“Orëska is an Aurënfaie word meaning mage-born,” Iya explained. “Their magic passed by blood to our people, the free wizards, or Second Orëska. We are different in our powers than the ’faie, and often not as powerful. But now we mean to make a new kind of magic and a new way of practicing it, as you have just seen. Thus, we are a new, third sort.”

“And your Third Orëska will serve Skala?” asked Kyman.

“Yes, my lord. It is Illior’s will.”

“And you want nothing in return?” Kyman still looked skeptical.

“We ask only for the queen’s trust, my lord, and a safe place to nurture and teach the wizard-born.”

Tamír heard a few snorts and mutterings from the crowd but she ignored them, thinking of the orphans Arkoniel had already gathered and protected—just like he and Iya had protected her. “You will have it, as long as I have your loyalty.

“Now, we must turn our thoughts to Ero. Duke Illardi, what do you have to report?”

“The winter crops were not much damaged by the Plenimarans, but the grain stores were lost. If the spring crops aren’t planted, you risk starvation by winter. At the moment, however, it’s shelter and disease that most concern me. If the people scatter away to other cities, they may carry illness with them. But you can’t expect them to live on the plain in tents forever, either. Some sort of succor must be given, or you’ll have a rebellion on your hands before you’ve even begun.”

“Of course, they must be helped.”

“And they must know their help comes from you, Highness,” said Tharin. “Atyion has ample stores to draw from. Send for food, clothing, and lumber. Those the drysians deem healthy could be allowed to go there, or wherever they have kin. The rest must be looked after here.”