Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

Niryn gave him an odd look and Lutha’s stomach tightened again. “As I said, you should have a care. Come along, Moriel.”

Lutha watched until he was certain they were really gone, clutching his sword hilt, heart pounding loud in his ears. He felt cold despite the warmth of the summer night.

Barieus looked up from the boot he was polishing as Lutha came in. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. Why?”

Barieus came over and pressed a hand to Lutha’s brow. “You’re white as milk and all covered in sweat. I knew you were drinking too much! Honestly, you’re getting as bad as Korin.”

“It’s not that. I’m pale?”

“Awful. Come on, I’m putting you to bed.”

Lutha suffered his friend’s fussing and kept his new fears to himself. Niryn had done something to him, something that showed. Was he cursed? Would he die before dawn? He’d heard stories of some of the things wizards could do if they were very powerful.

Unlike some of the other Companions, he and Barieus had never been anything more than friends, but he was glad to sleep close beside him tonight.

Niryn hadn’t needed to touch the young Companion to know what he’d been up to with Caliel. Moriel had been most informative, as usual. The boy had a true talent for listening through doors.

The young lords were getting quite bold lately, and Niryn enjoyed immensely watching them plot against him. The guilty look on that boy’s face just now had been so amusingly obvious that Niryn hadn’t been able to resist putting the lightest touch of a curse on him, just enough to give him bad dreams for a few nights.

He’d taken no direct action against Lord Caliel as yet. There had been no need. Korin’s own growing fears and the self-serving attitudes of some of the other Companions were doing the wizard’s work for him. Caliel’s obvious stubbornness about their position here, his outspokenness in company, and his misplaced friendship with Prince Tobin had cost him Korin’s trust with very little prompting on Niryn’s part. The ground was now fertile for his revenge whenever he chose to take it.

Moriel moved about the chamber, folding away Niryn’s overrobe into a chest and pouring a cup of sweet cider from a jug on the sideboard. Niryn drank it gratefully and Moriel refilled it.

“Thank you. That was dry work tonight.” Niryn had never had much taste for wine; it weakened the mind, and he knew all too well how such weakness could be exploited. At table he made a show of lingering over his mazer, taking no more than a few sips.

Moriel knelt to remove his master’s shoes. Orun had made certain this one was trained well in all the arts and war skills a squire would have needed. Tobin’s refusal to take Moriel in place of Ki had left the boy suitably bitter and eager for revenge. Orun had trained Moriel in other ways, as well, but Niryn did not take boys to his bed, not even willing ones like Moriel.

“Were you successful, my lord?” he asked as he placed the shoes neatly by the clothes chest.

“Of course. You know how persuasive I can be.”

Moriel smiled. “And the herald?”

“He was no challenge at all.”

“Was the letter from Prince Tobin?”

“Yes, quite a cunning piece of work. He pleaded with Korin to forgive him for his treachery and thought to convince the king to give over his crown without a fight.”

“It would be just like him,” Moriel sneered. “What sort of reply did Korin give, if I may ask, my lord?”

“He said he’d give his answer tomorrow. Be a good lad and make certain that herald never leaves the isthmus, won’t you? Take a few of my guard with you and bring me back the king’s letter. I’ll be most interested to see what he has to say.”

“Of course, my lord. But won’t Prince Tobin wonder if his messenger doesn’t return?”

Niryn smiled. “Yes, I’m certain his cousin’s silence will be quite unsettling for him.”

Korin answered Caliel’s knock with a curt, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Kor. Let me in.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Caliel thought Korin would refuse.

“It’s not locked.”

Caliel slipped inside and closed the door.

The royal chamber was better appointed than the other rooms of the fortress, at least by Cirna standards. The large, carved bedstead was fitted with heavy, dust-laden velvet hangings. A few faded tapestries hung on the walls.

Korin sat at the writing table in his shirtsleeves, looking worn and unhappy. His face was flushed with wine and a full mazer stood at his elbow. He appeared to be in the midst of writing a reply to Tobin’s letter, which lay before him. Caliel went to Korin and picked up the cup, glancing down as he did so at the sheet of parchment in front of him. Korin had gotten no further than, “To the pretender, Prince Tobin—”

He took a sip, watching for Korin’s reaction. He was glad to see no more than the usual level of irritation at the familiar liberty. He drew up another chair and sat down. “How are you?”

“Is that all you came to ask me?”

Caliel sat back and stretched out his long legs, pretending an ease he didn’t feel. “That herald got me curious. I thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about.”

Korin shrugged and tossed him Tobin’s letter. Caliel read the contents quickly and felt his heart skip a beat. Lutha had gotten most of it right, but it was even more shocking to see the words written out in Tobin’s own unmistakable scrawl.

Korin had reclaimed his mazer and was currently staring morosely into its depths. “Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know. Some of it—” I’m sorry I had to lie … I never meant any harm … be my brother still … I want things to be right and proper between us … “I do think you should meet with him, face-to-face.”

“No! Madman or necromancer’s monster, he’s a traitor, and I can’t be seen justifying his claim in any way.”

“Is that what Niryn counseled?”

“And he’s right!” Korin’s bloodshot eyes were wide now, and burning with a sudden, unreasoning fury. “Tobin haunts my dreams, Cal. I see him, all pale and leering, calling me usurper and a murderer’s son.” He rubbed at his eyes and shuddered.

“All the more reason to find out for yourself what his intentions really are.”

“I said no!” Korin snatched the letter back and slammed it down on the desk. He drained the cup and slammed that down, too.

“Damn it, Kor, I can’t believe you’re just going to take the word of others on this.”

“So you’re saying I should honor this—this request?”

“Korin, look at yourself! This is Niryn’s doing. He’s on you like a leech! He made you run from Ero. He brought you that ill-made girl you’ve got hidden away up in the tower. Is that how you treat a wife, Kor? A consort? Is this how the king of Skala lives? I say we gather your army tomorrow and ride for Ero. Parley with Tobin or fight him. Either way, you can see for yourself what the truth is!”

“I know the truth!”

“From who? Niryn’s hounds?” Desperate, Caliel leaned forward and captured Korin’s hand in his. “Listen to me, please. I’ve always been true to you, haven’t I?”

It hurt, the hesitation he saw before Korin nodded. Caliel pressed on. “Whatever Niryn has told you, you have my loyalty and my love, now and always! Let me go as your emissary. I know the city. I can slip in and be back in no time. I might even be able to talk to him. Give the word, Kor. I’ll go tonight!”

Korin wrenched his hand free. “No! I can’t spare you.”

“Spare me for what? Watching you drink yourself to death?”

“Take care, Caliel,” Korin growled.