Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Did the Plenimarans knock down the statues?”

Iya chuckled. “No, the defenders on the Palatine dropped them on the enemies’ heads.”

“I never went back,” Tamír murmured.

“Highness?”

Ki understood. The night they’d first come to Ero, Tamír had taken her father’s ashes down into the royal crypt and seen her mother’s preserved corpse. That had been the only time she’d ventured into the catacombs, avoiding them even on Mourning Night and the other holy days. Ki figured that after living with Brother all these years, she’d had her fill of the dead.

And where’s he now? he wondered. There’d been no sign of the demon since the unbinding ceremony. All the bits of bone from the doll had burned away with the magic. Perhaps Tamír was finally free of him, as Lhel had promised.

And he’s free, too . Ki still recalled the look of agony on Brother’s face in those final moments. Despite all the fear and pain he’d caused over the years, and the harm he’d tried to do, Ki hoped that the angry spirit had passed the gate at last, for everyone’s sake.

The city outside the Palatine was in chaos, the air filled with angry cries and the sound of weeping. The rain had lessened, but ragged clouds still hung low over the city. Fires still raged in some of the wards, and an endless stream of refugees choked the streets. Soldiers stood guard outside the gates, trying to keep people from returning to salvage or loot.

Tamír looked around at these people— her people. Most of them had no idea who was passing them tonight. What would they think if they saw her abandoning the capital?

“By the Flame, I’m tired of sneaking about in the dark,” she muttered, and Ki nodded.

Smoldering foundations and lurking freebooters weren’t the worst of the dangers in the ruined city. Hundreds of bodies, the victims of battle and plague, lay rotting in the streets, breeding more disease. Most of the Scavengers who tended to such things were dead themselves.

Tamír’s guard doused their torches once they were free of the city, not wanting to serve as targets for any lurking enemy archers. The north high road was crowded with a dark, seething line of people, horses, and carts of every description stretching away into the night.

Have I already failed? she wondered again.

If the Lightbearer wanted a queen so badly, then why had the Immortal chosen such a dark moment to reveal her? She’d put the question to the Afran priest earlier, but Imonus’ maddeningly serene smile had been her only answer. The priests and wizards were delighted with this turn of events, despite all the suffering that came with it.

And yet the sight of all these homeless people left her feeling very small and tired. How was she to help them all? The burden of this new role, and all the uncertainty that came with it, bore down on her like a great weight.

“Don’t worry,” Tharin said quietly. “Things will look better in the morning. The clouds are breaking up. I can see the stars already. See that group over there?” He pointed up at a constellation. “The Dragon. I take that as a good omen, don’t you?”

Tamír managed a wan smile; the Dragon was one of Illior’s signs. She’d been a devotee of Sakor all her life; now every sign and omen seemed to come from the Lightbearer. As if in answer to her thoughts, an owl hooted loudly somewhere off to their right.

Imonus caught her eye. “Another good omen, Highness. When you hear the Lightbearer’s bird, you salute the god.” He showed her how, touching three fingers to his forehead between his brows.

Tamír copied the gesture. Ki and Tharin followed suit, then other riders around them who’d heard and seen.

Is it because they’ve accepted Illior’s hand in all this, or because they’ll follow anything I do?

She’d always been in Korin’s shadow at court and seen how everyone went along with whatever he did. If that was to be the case, she vowed to set a better example than he had.

Duke Illardi and his mounted escort met them on the road. Tamír and the Companions had guested with him often, during the hot days of summer. He was a pleasant, greying fellow, who’d always reminded her a bit of Tharin.

“Greetings, Highness,” he said, covering his heart with his fist as he bowed from the saddle. “Delighted as I am to offer you hospitality once again, I regret the circumstances.”

“So do I, your grace. I’m told you’re willing to swear fealty to me, and support my claim to the throne?”

“I am, Highness. We’re an Illioran house and always have been. I think you’ll find a good many others around the country who will be glad to see the Lightbearer’s prophecy upheld at last.”

“And plenty who won’t,” Lord Jorvai put in as they set off again. “The Sakor factions who enjoyed the king’s favor won’t so readily see his son displaced. Some have already left the city on account of him.”

“Will it be civil war, then?” Illardi asked.

The question sent a chill through Tamír. Forgetting her resentment for a moment, she turned to Iya. “Will Korin fight me for the crown?”

“With Niryn still alive and dripping poison in his ear? Yes, I’d say it’s likely.”

“Skalans fighting Skalans? I can’t believe that’s what the Lightbearer wants of me!”

They reached Duke Illardi’s estate without challenge. Large beacon fires burned along the tops of the walls, illuminating the archers stationed there.

Beyond lay a pleasant, rambling stone villa set on a promontory overlooking the sea. The Plenimarans had attacked as they passed; black-fletched arrows still littered the bailey yard and gardens, but the gates had not been breached.

Tamír and the others dismounted at the main entrance to the house. Two pillars carved with Illior’s Eye flanked the doorway and a crescent moon decorated the lintel. When they’d visited here in Erius’ time, Sakor’s Flame had been painted there. Tamír hoped Illardi didn’t change his loyalties too quickly, or too often.

He’d always been a kind host to the Companions, however, and he seemed sincere now as he bowed and said, “All that is mine is yours, Highness. I’ve ordered a bath and food prepared. Perhaps you’d prefer to take them in your chambers?”

“I would, thank you.” Tamír had suffered through enough formalities for one day.

He led her to a set of rooms on a terrace facing the sea. Baldus clung to her hand, and Ki and Tharin followed. In addition to the main bedchamber there was a sitting room, dressing room, and antechambers for her guard. In the heat of summer these rooms had been pleasantly cool. Now they were dank despite the candles and hearth fires burning there.

“I’ll leave you to rest and refresh yourself, Highness,” said Illardi. “My servants will bring you anything you require.”

“I’ll see the men settled in,” said Tharin, discreetly withdrawing to leave her alone with Ki. “Come, Baldus.”

Baldus looked panicked and Tamír nodded to him. “You’ll attend me.”

The child gave her a grateful look as he scampered to join them.

Despite the damp, the hangings were warmly colorful, and the bedsheets were clean and smelled of sunshine and wind.

Baldus looked around the unfamiliar chamber. “What do I do, my lady? I’ve never attended a girl before.”

“I have no idea. Help me off with these boots, for starters.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed and chuckled as the boy struggled with her boots. “I think we could fit your whole family in this bed, Ki.”

He dropped into a chair and grinned. “And the dogs, too.”

Baldus gave the boot a final yank and tumbled back, his already dirty tunic covered in mud.