Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Yes, but we don’t know if they ever reached port,” Arkoniel put in. “This could be a new assault coming with no word of the fate of the other. Whatever the case, it’s best to prepare for the worst.”

“Illardi, do you have maps and sea charts of that area?” asked Tharin.

“Of course. I’ll fetch them at once.”

Tamír turned impatiently to Arkoniel as she waited. “You said you had magic that could help. Couldn’t you board one of the ships the same way you caught up with us that night on the road to Atyion?”

Arkoniel considered the idea. “Perhaps, if I could get a clear idea of where one was. But even if I did manage not to end up in the sea instead, it would be impossible to do it quietly. You saw how violent the transition is. Someone would be bound to see me hurtling out of thin air. And I can only cast that sort of magic on myself every few days. It takes a great deal of strength to cast and control. I wouldn’t be able to get back to you, even if it all worked.”

“I thought you said this Third Orëska of yours is supposed to serve Tamír?” Kyman growled.

Arkoniel gave him a pained smile. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t serve. I was just pointing out the flaws of that particular spell for such a purpose.”

Just then Kiriar came running into the hall. “Lady Iya has found the enemy!”

Ki and the wizards followed as Tamír left Tharin in charge in the audience chamber and hurried upstairs to Iya’s chamber. They found her at her window, a crystal wand held loosely in her hands where they rested on the sill. Her eyes were closed, yet she still seemed to be looking out across the sea. Tamír couldn’t help doing the same, half-expecting to see sails beyond the mouth of the cove. “Do you see them?” she asked softly.

Iya nodded and opened her eyes. “A glimpse just now. I counted thirty warships, loaded with armed men. I’d guess two thousand men-at-arms, at the very least. They’re well west of the islands. They could be here by tonight if they are sailing for Ero. It’s too soon to tell.”

“I think I know where they’re headed—” It still felt very odd saying it. “From the vision. They’re landing in the same place they did before.”

“Tamír’s given me rather a good idea,” Arkoniel told her. “How is your Plenimaran these days?”

“Still quite fluent,” Iya replied.

“Good. Mine was never very good.” Arkoniel gave Tamír a wink. “I think you’ve seen this spell before, too. I must ask you all to be very quiet now. Sound carries with this one. Iya, where are they?”

“West and south of Little Crowberry Island. Do you remember the oak grove on the point there?”

“Ah, yes.” He closed his eyes and pressed his palms together in front of him. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, then he slowly opened his palms. A tiny circle of light appeared between them, hanging in the air. Tamír and the others moved to look over his shoulder.

“Look through, Tamír,” he whispered. “What do you see?”

It was like looking through a knothole in a fence. She leaned closer and caught a glimpse of shimmering blue. There were sounds, too, like rushing water and the cry of seabirds. Without thinking, she moved around him for a better look.

“Don’t touch,” Arkoniel warned.

He moved his hands and the circle widened to a hand-breadth. It was a window, and through it, they could see a bird’s-eye view of open sea, with the dark line of a wooded island in the distance. Arkoniel murmured softly and the view shifted dizzyingly. Tamír caught sight of many ships floating like toys far below.

“There they are!” Arkoniel exclaimed softly, sounding a bit surprised and rather pleased with himself. “Found them on the first try, too. We’re far enough away to be safe. They can’t hear us way up here.”

“They can see back through it, and hear too, can’t they?”

“Yes, that’s why I have to be very careful. We don’t want to give ourselves away.”

Carefully manipulating the spell, he guided the “window” down to what appeared to be the flagship. Barefoot sailors were busy on deck and in the sheets, but there were other men lounging at the rail and around the deck, men who wore the boots of soldiers. Arkoniel spied a pair who appeared to be officers and carefully brought the narrowed window up behind them. They were talking in low voices. It was difficult to hear them over the rush of waves under the keel and what Tamír could make out was in a language she did not speak.

Iya listened intently for a moment, then shook her head and motioned for Arkoniel to end the spell.

“At the moment the tall one’s bragging about some horses he’s bought,” she said. “It’s a good spell though, and a good idea. We will try again in a little while.”

“Maybe you should show this to some of our nobles,” Ki said. “The ones who were doubting whether wizards would be of use, anyway.”

“Yes, perhaps we can change their minds when they see how useful your magic is,” Tamír agreed.

“Better not to,” Iya replied. “It’s a useful spell, and not only against foreign enemies. First and foremost, Tamír, we serve you. It might be best if others did not know that we can watch them like this.”

“There’s also the danger that someone versed in magic might recognize it as something other than an Orëska-derived spell,” Arkoniel added. “You two are used to Lhel and her ways. But you know how most people feel about her kind and their magic.”

“They think that it’s necromancy,” Ki replied.

“Yes, and Tamír can afford no taint of that.”

“Have you taught this spell to any of your other wizards here?” Tamír asked.

“No, not this one.”

“Do you watch them, too, then?”

“No, for none of them have given me any reason to. Without trust, we can’t hope to achieve the sort of unity Iya foresaw. But I would not hesitate to do so if I thought any of them were secretly disloyal. As Iya said, our loyalty is to you, and you alone, even before Skala.”

“So only the two of you know this spell?”

“These wizards from Ero still know nothing of Lhel, and for now, that’s best,” Iya told her.

“Those I gathered at the keep do, though,” said Arkoniel. “Lhel was with us for a time.”

Tamír nodded, considering all this. “I won’t have you using that kind of watching spell on me. Give me your word on that.”

Both wizards pressed their hands to their hearts and gave their oaths.

“You have my word as your friend, too,” Arkoniel added earnestly. “We will find other ways to watch over you. We always have.”

“My secret watchers, eh?”

Iya smiled. “Those who watch on your behalf.”

“Very well. Now, what’s this magic you’re so anxious to show me, Arkoniel?”

“Come down to the courtyard.”

“I’ve spent a great deal of time, pondering how to combine spells to the best offensive advantage,” he explained. “I believe I’ve hit upon a few that will be most effective, and they take only a few of us rather than exhausting all of us at once, as that spell before the gates did.”

In the courtyard they found Hain and Saruel waiting next to a burning brazier. The man held a bow, and a space had been cleared and a round wooden target set up for a shooting list.

“You’re joining my archers?” Tamír asked, curious.

“No, Majesty,” he replied, handing the bow to her, and an arrow with a bit of oil-soaked rag wrapped around the head. “If you would be so kind as to assist us in our demonstration?”

“Fire, that’s the key,” Arkoniel explained. “Step over here.”

He led her away from the target so that she was facing the wooden curtain wall.