Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

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.”

Niryn 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.

Captain 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.”