Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“By the Light, that was a neat bit of magicking you lot did!” Jorvai exclaimed.

Tamír gave Arkoniel a genuine smile. “The Third Orëska proved its worth today. We lost less than twoscore. I wonder what it would be like, to settle all disputes so easily,” she mused.

Jorvai snorted. “Wouldn’t leave us warriors much to do, now would it?”

Arkoniel couldn’t imagine magic ever supplanting war, and doubted if it would be a good thing if it did. War gave men like Jorvai purpose.

Outriders carried the news of their success back to Ero and Tamír returned to find her people lining the roads, waving flowers and bright bits of cloth and chanting her name in an endless roar.

At Illardi’s gate she drew her sword and proclaimed, “This victory belongs to Illior, protector of Skala!”

They rode a circuit of the camps and Ero’s ruined eastern gate. She poured a soldier’s libation there for the spirits of all who’d died in the last battle and again gave thanks to Illior.

They ended at Illardi’s courtyard and the soldiers took their leave. The commanders dismounted and followed Tamír into the temple of the stele, where the three masked priests of Afra stood waiting to greet her.

“Tell me, my queen, do you now believe in the visions of the Lightbearer?” Imonus asked.

“I do,” she replied, presenting him with the captured Plenimaran banner. “I present this trophy to Illior as a token of my gratitude. The vision was true, and saved many lives. We were not taken unaware this time.”

“It is a sign, my queen. The covenant that was broken by Erius has been restored.”

“I will uphold it as long as I rule.”

Tamír held a victory feast the following night and sent ale and victuals out to the camps. Bonfires burned across the plain well into the night.

Arkoniel was pleased to find himself and Iya at the head table once again, with the other wizards in places of honor among the nobles.

Tamír entered the hall when all the others were seated. She wore a dark blue velvet gown embroidered with silver, with her sword hanging at her side. The golden circlet shone on her brow, contrasting with her black hair.

“She looks rather pretty, don’t you think?” said Iya.

Arkoniel had to agree although she still strode like a man. Ki was at her side, looking older and very noble in his dark velvet tunic. His long hair was drawn back in a braid, with the two thin warrior braids still loose on either side of his face. Arkoniel took a closer look at the other Companions and saw that the others had done the same, except for Nikides, who wore his hair pulled back in a simple queue.

“Tamír’s idea, I believe,” Iya murmured. “I like it. Signifies a change.”

Between the meat and fish courses, Tamír stood and poured the libation to the gods, then toasted her commanders. When the cheering had subsided, she turned to the wizards and saluted them with her mazer.

“My friends,” she began, and Arkoniel’s heart skipped a beat as those dark eyes lingered on his face longer than the rest. “My friends, once again you have proven your great value and skill. Skala thanks you! No wizard who serves the Third Orëska will lack a roof over his head or food to eat in my city.”

As they returned to their meal, Arkoniel leaned over to Iya and whispered, “Do you think we’re forgiven at last?”

“I hope so. To protect her, we must remain close to her.”

The feast broke up late in the evening, but Arkoniel lingered, hoping for a word with Tamír. She was about to retire but excused herself from the others and drew him across the hall to an unoccupied corner.

“Yes?”

Arkoniel smiled, feeling a little awkward. “I appreciated your kind words tonight. You know that I have given my life to you, but—well, I do hope you can find it in your heart to see me as a friend again.”

Tamír was quiet for a moment, then held out her hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve been cold. It was hard, but now, I do truly see what we can accomplish together. This was meant to be. You and Iya have been faithful guardians.”

Blinking back sudden tears, he sank to his knees before her and pressed his lips to her hand. “I will never leave you, my queen.”

She chuckled. “Well, I hope you’ll leave me to go to bed.”

“Of course.” Arkoniel rose and bowed.

She turned to go, then paused, an odd look in her eyes—it was a question, with perhaps a hint of doubt. At last she said, “When I go to Afra, you and Iya will come with me, won’t you? Since Illior spoke to you there.”

“Only to Iya,” Arkoniel reminded her.

“You’ve carried the burden, too. I want you both with me.”

“As you wish.”

“Good. I’ll settle things in Atyion, then a journey.” She leaned closer and confided, “I’m actually looking forward to it. I don’t mind the fighting and feasting, but holding court is so boring ! Well, good night.”

Arkoniel stifled a laugh as he watched her rejoin the Companions and take her leave.

Tamír took leave of her friends and went to her room with Ki.

“That was a good feast,” Ki said, patting his belly happily. “A good feast for a good victory.”

“It was,” Tamír agreed, but other thoughts had been nagging at her all day. “Can you imagine facing Korin like that?”

“You’re still worried about a war with him.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I guess so, but what can you do? He’s made no effort to talk with you, just sat up there in Cirna gathering his army. You don’t think he’s doing that just to pass the time, do you?”

“But I haven’t made any effort to contact him, have I?”

“You’re the legitimate queen. It’s up to him to come to you.”

Tamír let out an exasperated sigh and dropped into a chair. “That’s what Illardi and everyone else keeps telling me. But he won’t, and as queen, it’s up to me to keep the peace, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yes—”

“So I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to write to him. Privately, as kin, not an enemy.”

“I don’t suppose a letter could do much harm,” he replied doubtfully. “Or much good either, probably.”

“Go and fetch me a herald, will you? I won’t be long.” She paused, wondering what Iya or her generals would think of her plan. “Be discreet, won’t you?”

Ki gave her a wry wink as he went out. “Is that what we call it, now that we’re all grown up?”

Tamír went into the day room next to her bedchamber and sat down at the writing desk. Quill in hand, she stared at the blank parchment, searching for the right words. Nikides and Illardi helped her with her correspondence in court matters, but she wanted to speak to Korin from her heart, not in formal court language. The words flowed easily onto the parchment.

‘ To Prince Korin, Beloved Cousin and Brother, I know you’ve had word of me, Kor, and what has happened. I know how hard it must be to believe, but it’s true … ,

By the time she finished the words were blurring before her. She wiped her eyes hastily on the sleeve of her gown, not wanting tears to spoil the page and signed it Your loving cousin and sister, Princess Tamír, who was Tobin . She didn’t realize Ki had come back until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I sent Baldus down— Hey, what’s wrong?”

She turned and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her face to the soft velvet of his tunic. He held her and after a moment she felt a hand stroke her hair.

“He’s not worth this, you know!” he whispered. “He’s not worth your little finger!”

She reluctantly released him, then sealed the letter with the expensive blue wax from the desk, pressing the Atyion signet into it. “There. Done.”