Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

Barieus chuckled.

“Fine, we guide,” Lutha muttered. “Just don’t complain to me if we don’t end up where you intended!”

Thanks to her wizards and spies, Tamír now knew the hearts of six nobles who had estates within a few days’ ride of Atyion. Four were against her, all well within striking distance if they chose to make trouble.

This was cause for concern. Tamír’s army still numbered less than ten thousand warriors, and many were untrained farmers and merchants’ sons and daughters. Disenchanted nobles who’d fled Korin’s northern court brought reports of twice that number. If Korin moved in force, Tamír would have to rely on the strong walls and carefully stocked supplies of her new capital.

Something had to be done.

She met with her generals and wizards around the great round table in the map chamber. This room had been used since the time of the castle’s founding to plan battles. Racks of maps and sea charts filled the walls. In quiet moments Tamír had searched through the excellent collection, finding many that bore notations in her father’s hand.

At the moment Lytia was reading out castle inventories of armaments, and the number of various kinds of craftsmen. Tamír tried hard to concentrate on the lists of farriers and armor makers, but her mind wandered. It was hot and still today, and the steady drone of the cicadas made her eyelids heavy. She was sweating in her summer gown. It was close to her moon time again, too, and the heat seemed to bother her more. Or maybe it was these wretched long skirts!

She drifted over to a large open window, trying to cool herself with a delicate sandalwood-and-ivory fan. She’d found a box of them in one of the wardrobes in her dressing room and decided to put them to use. She’d felt a bit odd at first, as she did with most feminine accoutrements, but the scented breeze it created more than made up for any embarrassment. No one seemed to think it odd.

With no battles to fight, she wore dresses most of the time. Lytia had set the castle seamstresses to making over her mother’s gowns into the newer fashion. This one, light blue linen trimmed with silver stitching, had been one of Princess Ariani’s favorite summer riding habits. Looking at herself in the mirror, Tamír thought of that night during her first visit here, when she’d snuck in and put on her mother’s cloak, trying to imagine what she’d look like as a girl.

The sound of childish laughter from the garden below caught her attention. Some of Arkoniel’s youngest wizards were splashing in a fountain with some of the castle children. A few others were sitting on the grass, playing with some kittens. She envied them. Only last summer she and her friends would have been off swimming naked in the sea on a day like this, or lying in a shady corner somewhere with their shirts off.

Illardi broke in on her reverie. “Majesty? What do you think?”

She sighed and walked back to the table. “I was woolgathering. About what?”

Nyanis had another map spread out. On it Tamír’s known allies were marked with blue ink, those loyal to Korin in red, and those whose intentions remained unknown in green. The red and green marks outnumbered the blue and were heavily concentrated to the north, where some of the largest holdings lay. The blue marks to the south were mostly towns and the holdings of lesser lords and knights.

“You’ve shown great forbearance, Majesty,” Illardi said. “It’s time to show that the true queen has power and a limit to her patience.”

“I’d start here, with Lord Erian,” Nyanis advised, pointing to a location two days’ ride north. “He has a strong keep, but less than two hundred warriors, and his holding was hard hit by the famine. He shouldn’t be able to hold out long in a siege. Send a company up there and make an example of him. The same tactic can be used against Duke Zygas and Lady Alna. Word will soon spread.”

“So it’s come to this finally, has it? Skalans fighting Skalans. Still, if I am to be accepted as a warrior queen, then I must be seen acting like one.”

“No, Majesty. Because you are queen, you must let your captains and generals take care of small fish like these,” Illardi explained.

“What? Stay here while you go fight?”

“He’s right, I’m afraid,” said Nikides. “These small holdings are below your notice. I’ll draft an ultimatum to be read out at the gates. That will give them a chance to change their minds if they think better of it.”

“What did I train for, then?”

“To lead battles, not skirmishes,” said Tharin. “Your father and I carried out these little fights in the king’s name. He didn’t have to be there. We were his arm and his will.” He smiled at her obvious disappointment. “You’ve already proven yourself, Tamír, from your very first fight. Word of your victories against the Plenimarans is spreading. Besides, as you say, this is Skalan against Skalan. Better you keep your hands clean. Let your warriors go make an example of these upstarts. Perhaps that will be enough for others, especially those who remain undeclared.”

Tamír suddenly realized that she’d been using the fan rather emphatically. Bilairy’s balls, no wonder they were telling her to stay home, standing here in a dress like some fluttery courtier! “We’ll talk about this more after lunch,” she muttered. She was hungry, but if she didn’t get out of this dress and bathe, she was going to go mad.

The others bowed and took their leave, except Ki and Tharin.

“Could I have a word, Majesty?” Tharin murmured before she could escape, giving her a look that said it was important. “Alone?”

She sighed. “Oh, all right. But let’s talk in the garden. It will be cooler there. Ki, have Baldus order a cold tub in my room, would you? I’ll eat with you shortly.”

Ki shook his head. “That’s your third bath this week. People will take you for Aurënfaie if you keep this up.”

The sun had moved behind the west tower and there was a breath of a breeze. Patterned beds of flowers scented the air, and the tinkling of fountains mingled with the droning of bees busy among the blossoms.

Tharin seemed glad of the shade, too. He dressed like a proper courtier here, his tunic and short cape somber in tone but of a fine cut and trimmed with embroidery. A duke at last, he wore the gold chain and signet of his rank, and tied his hair back with a black silk ribbon instead of a greasy leather cord, but he cared no more for titles and fine things than he ever had. And he remained at her side, unmovable as a barnacle on a rock and her most trusted source of counsel.

She could tell he had something on his mind now as they strolled along under a line of flowering trees. There were courtiers and servants all around, though, and he waited until they’d reached the relative seclusion of a thickly overgrown grape arbor to speak.

Dappled shade played over his face as he sat down on the wooden bench. “You may not like what I have to say.”

“You know I’ll listen, though.” She sat down and pulled her skirt up over her knees to cool her legs. Ringtail emerged from a clump of flowering roses and jumped into her lap. She scratched his ears, then winced as he kneaded sharp claws into her thigh. “Go on, then. What is it?”

“It’s about Ki. The way things are now? It’s not good for him.”

That caught her off guard. She’d expected talk of war. “Has he said something to you?”

“No, and he wouldn’t thank me for interfering if he knew. But I’ve been at court longer than either of you, and I don’t like how the talk is running. He’s already labeled as your favorite, and more. That breeds jealousy, and that can lead to trouble for both of you.” He paused, plucking a few ripe grapes and passing some to her. “I’m guessing your feelings for him haven’t changed?”