Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Ki muttered, patting her shoulder.

Baldus returned with the herald, a young man with a long blond braid that reached nearly to his waist and the sacred silver-capped baton of his office tucked into the belt of his blue tunic.

“Ride to Cirna and deliver this to Prince Korin in private,” she told him, giving him the sealed missive. “No one else is to see it, you understand? Destroy it if necessary.”

The herald touched the seal to his lips. “You have my oath, by Astellus the Traveler. I will deliver your message within the week, barring mishap on the roads.”

“Good. Wait for Prince Korin’s reply. I’m leaving for Atyion soon, so bring me his answer there. A safe journey to you.”

The herald bowed and strode out.

“Atyion at last, eh?” Ki said, pleased.

“And then Afra,” Tamír replied, picking at a drop of wax on the desktop.

“You haven’t asked Arkoniel about what Brother said, have you?”

“When would I have had time?” she asked, but knew that was only an excuse. Deep down, something was holding her back, even if it meant Brother’s continued anger.

“Well, you should get some rest.”

She looked up and found Ki fidgeting nervously as he glanced at the bed.

Does he want to sleep with me again, or is he afraid I’ll ask him to? she wondered. She didn’t know which she wanted, either. It had been so easy the other night, when she was upset in the dark. Now it felt more awkward than ever.

“Well—good night,” Ki mumbled, and settled the issue by disappearing quickly into the dressing room.

“Good night.” Tamír stayed at the desk for some time, idly covering a sheet of parchment with designs and small sketches. She was in no hurry to lie down alone.

With the first harvests in and planting over, more nobles came to Cirna seeking to pledge themselves to the new king. Lutha eagerly searched each band of newcomers for familiar faces. There weren’t many.

Heralds arrived daily, but some of these messages were cool in tone and evasive about support. Others seemed to be sounding out the new king, weighing his influence against Tobin’s claim. They asked the same questions as the nobles who’d been cooling their heels here since spring: Why hadn’t he marched to reclaim his capital? Why did he remain at such a distant holding when the land needed him? Why had there been no royal progress? Some sent offers of their daughter’s hands, not knowing the king had already taken a wife.

Korin and the others were returning from an early-morning ride on the south road when Lutha spotted a rider coming on at a hard gallop.

“Look there,” he said, pointing.

“A messenger,” said Lord Niryn, shading his eyes.

The entourage reined in, and Captain Melnoth rode out with a few men to intercept him.

The man didn’t slow his horse until he was almost upon them. Reining in his lathered horse, he called out, “I bring news for King Korin!”

“Come,” Korin ordered.

This was one of Niryn’s men. “I was spying at Ero, Majesty. There has been another Plenimaran raid. They attacked north of the city, and Prince Tobin defeated them.”

“Did you witness the battle, Lenis?” asked Niryn.

“Yes, my lord. They have powerful wizards at court there, using some sort of fire spells.”

“What about my cousin?” Korin demanded, twisting the reins in his hands. “Is he still passing himself off as a girl?”

“Yes, Majesty. I caught a glimpse of her—ah, him, as he rode out.”

“And?” Korin demanded.

The man smirked. “He makes a very homely girl, Majesty.”

Most of the company laughed at that, but Caliel and Lutha exchanged concerned looks. This meant another feather in Tobin’s cap. His Illioran supporters would certainly see it as another sign of the god’s favor. Korin’s supporters here might, as well. They were growing increasingly restless, baffled by Korin’s refusal to move.

“Shall I carry word on to the fortress, Majesty?” the messenger asked nervously.

Korin looked to Niryn before he replied.

The wizard shrugged. “There’s little hope of keeping this sort of news from traveling.”

Korin waved the man on.

“Damnation!” Alben exclaimed. “Lord Niryn, do you hear that? Another damn victory for Tobin, while we’re languishing up here, doing nothing!”

“No doubt it was only a small raid, my lord,” Niryn replied calmly. “Such things always grow in the telling.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Alben retorted.

“He’s right, you know,” Lutha burst out. “ We should be down there, holding off the enemy.”

“Hold your tongue,” Korin ordered. “I say when we go or stay. You’ll do well to remember that, all of you!”

Even so, Korin was seething as they rode back to the fortress. Whatever his reasons for staying here, Korin was as frustrated as the rest of them.

The news of the victory was met with all the resentment and frustration Lutha felt himself. That night in the great hall, and for many thereafter, there were dark looks and guarded grumbling. Warriors who’d fled the city with Korin burned anew with the shame. Could it be, Lutha heard men whispering, that there was something to this talk of prophecy?

Yet no one dared question the king.

Lutha marked the days off on the calendar stick and saw Ki’s birthday come and go. He and Caliel raised a wine cup to him that night and wondered if he’d celebrated it this year. Korin’s name day had been a forced, dreary affair.

Things had not improved between Korin and Caliel. Cal still sat at Korin’s right hand, but where once all the Companions had often accompanied Korin to his chambers at night, now only Alben and Urmanis seemed welcome. Moriel the Toad was always lurking about where he was least wanted, too, and Korin seemed to have warmed to him, as well, and often included him in his private drinking circle, at least on the nights when Korin did not go straight to Nalia in her tower.

They saw a bit more of the young consort these days. She came down to supper at the high table now and then, when Korin ate privately with his Companions.

She and Korin still seemed ill at ease with each other, Lutha noted. Korin had been a loving and attentive husband to Aliya, but it was increasingly apparent that he felt no such affection for his new wife. Nalia was quiet, but did attempt a bit of polite conversation with whoever was sitting next to her. A few times she’d noticed Lutha staring at her and smiled shyly.

She often came out walking in the bailey yard or along the walls on the long evenings, always heavily guarded. Lutha and the other Companions served as escorts, but Niryn was always there, making it difficult to speak with her. Korin was conspicuously absent on these occasions.

Even without conversation, Lutha felt an increasing sympathy for her. He was homely himself, but he was sure that didn’t matter as much in a warrior as in a consort. Nalia was not beautiful, it was true, but her voice was pretty enough to make him wonder what she sounded like if she ever had the occasion to laugh. She had a lady’s dignity about her that he admired, but her eyes were so sad it broke his heart.

It must be hard on her, too, having the entire fortress whispering about whether she was pregnant yet or not. Korin still made nightly visits to her tower, but Lutha had seen Korin’s face more than once as he approached the tower door; he didn’t have the look of a happy bridegroom. It was no secret that he seldom passed more than an hour or two there, and returned to his own bed to sleep.

All in all, it seemed an odd way to treat a wife, homely or not. Korin had treated his whores better, back in Ero.