Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

Ethni had told him how upset the boy had been, but there’d been no help for it then. He had to learn that Arkoniel’s duty to Tamír would always come first.

All the same, he did the best he could to make it up to him. Arkoniel could only guess at the life the child had known before he’d come to Kaulin in return for some debt. The man had not been cruel as far as Arkoniel knew, but treated him little better than a useful hound before passing him off to Arkoniel.

Arkoniel shifted the bag hanging from his saddlebow and held out a hand, lifting the small boy over to sit in front of him on his horse.

“But you see, I’m taking you all with me this time, to that great city I told you about,” he told him, settling an arm around Wythnir’s waist. “We’re all to live in a castle now.”

“Lord Nyanis says there are lots of cats and kittens there, too,” Rala said from the cart. “Will Queen Tamír let us play with them?”

Arkoniel chuckled. “The cats of Atyion rule themselves and play with whomever they like.”

“Will you stay there with us, Master?” asked Wythnir.

“Of course. Unless the queen needs me to help her, as she did with the battle. But I came back again, didn’t I?”

Wythnir nodded. “Yes. That time.”

The sun was shining, and the huge double towers of the castle glowed white against the blue sky as Tamír came in sight of Atyion a few days later.

“They’ve got your colors up this time, at least,” Ki noted.

Banners fluttered from the turrets, and from walls and rooftops in the town below, as if it was a festival week.

Lytia and a host of retainers rode out to meet them just outside the town walls. The grey-haired steward reined her palfrey in beside Tamír’s horse. “Welcome home, Majesty! Your castle is in good order and a feast is prepared for tonight. I anticipated two hundred. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Tamír replied, amazed as always by the woman’s efficiency. “You’ve taken good care of my holding, as always, and you’ve done well supplying Ero. I hope it was not too much of a burden on my people here?”

“Atyion is rich in every way,” Lytia assured her. “The people here have plenty and were honored to share with their less fortunate brethren in poor Ero. Is it true you’re going to bum it?”

“It has to be done.”

Lytia nodded, but Tamír saw the way her gaze swept her own fine town, as if she was trying to imagine such a calamity here. As steward, she ruled in the absence of the noble. According to Tharin, his family had served Tamír’s family here as long as anyone could remember. His aunt took her duties seriously and loved the town and castle as if it were truly her own.

The townspeople streamed out to meet her on the road. Beyond the vineyards, on the rolling river mead between the town and the sea, a district of new wood-and-stone houses was being erected on the lands Tamír had designated for the Ero survivors.

“You’ve been busy, I see.”

“We’ve settled over a thousand so far, Majesty. They’ve named the village Queen’s Mercy, in your honor.”

Tamír smiled at that, but as they approached the castle gates a grisly sight greeted her. The pitiful remains of Duke Solari’s corpse still hung from the battlements overhead, reduced to a few blackened scraps and bones in faded yellow silk. “Why hasn’t he been cut down yet?” Tamír demanded. Riding beside her, Lord Nyanis had gone pale at the sight of his onetime friend.

“He was a traitor and has been treated as one,” Lytia replied. “It’s customary to leave the body for the birds, as a warning to others.”

Tamír nodded grimly, but the sight pained her. Traitor he might have been in the end, but she’d known him all her life. “What of Lady Savia and the children?”

“Gone back to their own estate. But the eldest son, Nevus, gathered the remains of his father’s forces and has sworn in with Korin. I had it from Lady Savia herself that he means to avenge his father’s death on you.”

“What will you do to them?” Nyanis asked.

Tamír sighed. “If Lady Savia will swear fealty to me, then she can keep her lands.”

“I wouldn’t be too trusting,” Tharin warned. “Her husband was a turncoat and a serpent. She has no reason to bear you any goodwill.”

“I’ll sort that out later, I suppose. If her son has the forces of the holding away with him, then she’s not an immediate threat, is she?”

The greensward between the curtain walls was filled with livestock and fowl. The yards were filled with soldiers, and all the gardens were bright with summer flowers. A crowd of liveried servants stood waiting to greet Tamír as she dismounted and handed her reins to a groom. She spoke briefly with them, then strode inside.

She paused at the large household shrine in the receiving chamber and made offerings to the Four. As she cast her feathers on the brazier of Illior, something brushed against her leg. She looked down to find Ringtail regarding her with lazy green eyes. She scooped up the big orange cat and winced as he bumped his head against her chin. Kneading her arm with his big, seven-toed paws, he broke into a deep purr.

“Looks like he’s glad to see you again, too,” Ki said, chuckling.

She let Ringtail down and he trotted along at her heels as she continued on through the gallery to the great hall. More cats appeared from under tables and the tops of shelves, as if they’d been expecting her.

Afternoon sun streamed through the high windows, illuminating the rich tapestries and war trophies on the walls, and the myriad silver and gold vessels on the age-darkened oak sideboards. The long tables were set up facing the dais and high table, and were spread with shining white linen and colorful silk runners. Servants in blue livery were already bustling about with platters and mazers.

Home , she thought, trying the word out as she gazed around. It still didn’t quite fit, not the way it did at Alestun, even after all her years at court.

Nobles and royal retainers were everywhere, already having taken up residence in what was now the royal palace. There was certainly room, hundreds of them in fact, in the great, two-towered edifice.

“This is how it was in your father’s day,” Lytia said as she accompanied her up to the room with the swan hangings. “You’ve made this castle come alive again. Will you have an official progress? A festival might be in order, as well. The people have had no chance to celebrate your reign, and those poor displaced souls up from Ero could certainly do with a bit of merriment.”

“Perhaps.” Tamír wandered over to the window as Baldus and Ki oversaw the servants with her meager baggage. Ringtail jumped up on the sill and she stroked him absently.

From there she could see more of the herds, now being tended in the close. “It looks more like you’re preparing for a siege than a festival.”

“I thought it best, with things as they are. Any word from Prince Korin?”

Tamír shook her head, wondering if her herald had made it safely to Cirna.

Tamír made a progress around the entire extensive holding the following day, and was pleased by the reports of her reeves and householders. The summer fields were ripening and the grapevines were heavy with fruit. According to her herd master—another relation of Tharin’s—three hundred new colts and fillies had been born in the royal herds that spring, the most in years.

She left it to Nikides and Lytia to choose her lesser courtiers, and the pair proved invaluable in their knowledge of such details. A royal court needed its own small army of functionaries.

Tamír chose her principal ministers, with help from Tharin and the wizards. Jorvai and Kyman wanted nothing to do with court responsibilities, respectfully requesting to remain her commanders. Nyanis—charismatic, intelligent, and clever—would retain his command, but also serve as a chief emissary, helping to court those nobles who’d still not declared for her.