Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

The smoke enveloped her. There must have been more incense in the packet than she’d thought; it was so thick now it completely obscured the temple and courtyard from sight. She coughed and tried to wave it away from her face. It roiled before her eyes, then parted.

She let out a surprised gasp, for instead of Imonus and the stele, she was looking out across a high mountain pass. A road twisted sharply away before her, hugging the sides of barren stone peaks. In the distance Brother stood in the road under a painted archway, beckoning to her. Just beyond him stood a woman. Tamír was too far away to tell who it was, but somehow she could hear her words, as clearly as if she stood beside her.

“You shall have your answer in Afra, Tamír, Queen of Skala. You must be strong to accept it.”

“Come to Afra, if you dare!” Brother taunted.

“Why can’t you tell me now!” she called back, but he only laughed.

Tamír felt a strange shift, and just as suddenly she found herself standing by a shallow, vaguely familiar cove at night, with a three-quarter moon rising before her. It painted a glistening white trail across the dark water that seemed to end at her feet.

“Beware, Queen Tamír. Be strong,” a voice whispered in her ear, but there was no one there. Waves lapped the sandy shoreline and she heard the low hooting of an owl somewhere nearby.

“Prepare for what?” she whispered thickly, not sure if she spoke aloud or not. “Why are you showing me this?”

Another sound came from far out on the water. It was the splash of oars. There were tall warships riding at anchor out there. Now she could make out scores of longboats being rowed swiftly for the beach.

She watched helplessly as the first boats came to rest on the shingle and armed men climbed out—Plenimaran archers and swordsmen, and squires carrying shields. They passed within arm’s length of her but no one seemed to take any notice.

She turned to look for help, but the high ground beyond the beach was empty. However, she caught sight of a familiar headland in the distance and realized where she was. This was the stretch of coast where the enemy had come ashore before. Beyond the rise was the farm where they’d rescued Tanil and the other captives.

Another invasion. They’ve come back!

The Plenimarans still took no notice of her, but when she tried to run, the stinging white smoke closed in around her again, making it hard to catch her breath. She closed her eyes, choking and coughing, and when she opened them she was on her knees before the brazier, with Ki close beside her, grasping her shoulder.

“Are you sick?” he asked, concerned. “You look terrible.”

“The Plenimarans,” she whispered hoarsely. “I saw—I saw them coming again, at night—” Ki kept a hand under her arm as she rose and brushed the dust from the front of her skirt. “I saw—I saw a second Plenimaran invasion force. It was night, and they landed up the coast, just like before.” She looked at the priest again. “But before that, I saw something else—my brother, and a gateway in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s the road to Afra, Highness.”

Tamír passed a hand across her eyes as another wave of dizziness tried to claim her. “There was a woman, too. She kept calling me Queen Tamír.”

Imonus touched his fingers to his brow. “Then queen you are, Majesty, with the Sword or without it.”

“Listen to him,” Ki urged.

“But—”

“All hail Tamír, the true queen, by the Lightbearer’s own mouth,” Imonus declared.

“Hail Queen Tamír!”

Tamír looked around, still a bit dazed. A small crowd had gathered and were watching her expectantly. “But—that wasn’t what I was asking.”

“Remember what you were shown,” Imonus said gently. “You must go to Afra. But everything in its own time. Right now, you should go and consult with your generals and your wizards.”

“And tell them what? That I had a dream?”

“A vision.”

“But I don’t even know when they’re coming.”

“You said you saw the moon. What shape was it?”

Tamír thought a moment. “Three-quarters, waxing.”

“That would be tonight,” said Imonus.

“Tonight!”

“Or a month off,” Ki pointed out.

“It could be a year off, for all I could tell. I mean no disrespect, Imonus, but I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

The priest laughed behind his mask. “How did the vision feel?”

“Feel? Like I was right there on that beach with them.”

“Then give thanks to your patron deity, Majesty, and go consult with your generals at once.”

“You don’t have much time,” Ki murmured, sensing her doubt.

“Visions!” she muttered, just loud enough for his ears. Then she called up to a horn bearer on the wall, “Sound the alarm and assembly. Make sure it reaches the camps.”

“A vision. Queen Tamír’s had a vision!” The word passed quickly around the yard and beyond.

Arkoniel came running from the house, with Wythnir at his heels. She explained as quickly as she could what she’d seen as they hurried toward the hall, hoping he wouldn’t think she’d gone mad.

Arkoniel took her at her word. “We’ve been using the wizard’s eye spell to keep watch over the eastern waters, but it’s a very large sea. It’s also possible that they are using magic of their own to conceal their approach.”

“I don’t see what use your magic is, then,” she muttered.

Forgotten in the excitement, Wythnir watched his master with wide, solemn eyes, clinging to his tunic with one hand and running to keep up.

Arkoniel put a comforting hand on the child’s head. “I know you still distrust it, Tamír, but we’ve come up with a few new tricks I think you’ll find useful.”

“What about Brother?” asked Ki. “Do you think you could send him to spy out the situation?”

“I doubt it,” Tamír replied. “Even if he did, how could we believe anything he told us? I doubt he cares much what happens to Skala. Gather all my warlords and generals together in the audience hall. We’ll make a start Sakor’s way.”

To her surprise, most of her generals had far less trouble accepting the vision than she did.

“Your grandmother and all those who came before her relied on such visions,” Kyman pointed out. “It’s only fitting the Lightbearer would speak to you, as well. It’s a lucky sign, I’d say.”

“You are Illior’s Queen,” Arkoniel murmured, standing beside her with Ki and the Companions. “They accept it, and so do your friends. Isn’t it time you did, as well?”

“What do you say, my friends?” she asked the others. “It seems Illior means for me to be queen, even without the proper investiture.”

“A sword doesn’t make a queen,” Nyanis replied. “You’ve been touched by Illior all your life. That’s good enough for me.”

“And me!” the others agreed.

“Then I am queen,” she said, and was surprised by a sudden sense of lightness, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. “How many warriors do we have now?”

“At most two thousand, without counting your reserves in Atyion and those who may join us from the Ero camps,” Tharin told her.

“I have several of my captains there, looking for able-bodied fighters,” Illardi added.

“I saw at least twenty ships in the vision. How many men do you make that?”

“It depends on what sort of ships they are. Could you tell?” Illardi asked.

“Three masts, I think. As long as our own warships.”

“It could be a second attack, or a supply convoy. There’s no way of knowing if they’ve had word of the defeat you dealt the first force.”

“A few ships did get away,” she reminded him.