Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

These were very small, hardly more than cells, and simply furnished: just a bed, washstand, and a few stools. But the walls were whitewashed and painted with bright colors, like the Keyhole. Tamír’s chamber had one tiny window covered with a screen of fretted stone. Ki took the room next to hers, and the rest of her people were distributed along the same corridor. There appeared to be a veritable warren of little rooms stretching back into the rock.

Tamír washed quickly and let Una help her change her travel-stained tunic for one of her gowns. Ki came in as they finished.

“That’s something, those ’faie turning up like that,” said Una, folding Tamír’s tunic away on top of a chest.

“After all the stories I’ve heard of them, it doesn’t really surprise me,” Tamír replied, tugging a comb through her hair. “What do you think of them so far, Ki?”

He leaned on the doorframe, picking at a hangnail. “Good-looking folk, I guess.”

Una laughed. “Beautiful is more like it! And I liked the way that young Bôkthersan blushed when you greeted him, Tamír.”

Tamír grinned. “I haven’t met an ugly Aurënfaie yet. Do you think there are any?” she asked, still struggling with the comb.

Ki strode over and took it, then worked the tangle free, muttering, “Maybe they don’t send the ugly ones abroad.”

Una gave him an odd look, and Tamír realized that no one had ever seen Ki do this for her. Suddenly self-conscious, she retrieved the comb and said lightly, “Maybe the ones they think are ugly are still good-looking to us.”

Ki made a noncommittal noise and strode to the door. “Come on, Your Majesty, I’m starving.”

As Tamír rose to follow, Una caught her by the arm and whispered, “He’s jealous! You should flirt with the handsome ’faie.”

Tamír gave her an incredulous look and shook her head. She’d never played those court games and wasn’t about to start now. She and Una followed Ki out to the hostel’s large front chamber, where the rest of the company were already mingling with the Aurënfaie and temple folk. She doubted Una was even right about Ki’s odd behavior; such a thing had never happened between them before. He wasn’t even interested in her, not that way!

All the same, she felt self-conscious again as Solun bowed to her from across the room. She glanced at Ki, and though he was neither smiling nor frowning, his gaze did seem to keep wandering back in the direction of the handsome ’faie.

“Please, Majesty,” Ralinus said, indicating a seat for her at the center of one of the tables. He sat with her, together with her wizards, Tharin and Ki, and the Aurënfaie. Young boys in white robes brought basins for them to dip their fingers in, while others poured wine. More introductions were made among Tamír’s people as they took their places at the tables. Tamír was not displeased to be seated across from the handsome Bôkthersans.

She poured a libation to Illior and the Four, and the meal began. They exchanged pleasantries as they ate. Tamír questioned the ’faie about their homeland and watched them as they talked with the others. Una and Hylia were both making eyes at Solun, and Lynx was looking a little flustered as he tried to make small talk with Corruth, seated beside him.

They truly were beautiful people, but Tamír would not let that blind her. They would not have come so far if they didn’t want something in return. Beside her, Ki was giving Arengil an abbreviated description of the fighting they’d seen so far.

“If the king hadn’t caught us that day, I’d have been with you,” Arengil grumbled. “We train for war in Gedre, but all we get to fight are Zengati pirates.”

“My nephew was quite taken with Tirfaie life,” Sylmai said, giving him a fond look. “Perhaps he needs to see a real battle so that he will not be so hasty to seek them out.”

The tables were cleared, and warm tarts and cheese were set before them, with a sweet wine.

“Ralinus said you came to meet me,” Tamír said to Sylmai, who appeared to be the highest in rank among them. “Was it only curiosity that brought you all this way?”

The woman smiled knowingly, nibbling a bit of cheese, but it was Khair who answered. “It was foretold that you would set right what the usurper wrought against the faithful. This gives us hope that Skala might yet give up the blasphemies—”

“Our clan and Bôkthersa have some of the closest ties to Skala, so the khimaris decided to send representatives to meet with you and learn the whole truth,” Sylmai said, cutting him off rather abruptly.

“I took no offense,” Tamír assured them. “My uncle’s actions against followers of Illior were unforgivable. Do you wish to reestablish ties with my country?”

“Perhaps,” the Khatme replied. “Our first task was to ascertain the validity of your claim and discover whether you mean to properly honor the Lightbearer, as your ancestors always have.”

“I witnessed the acts of my uncle firsthand. I would never continue such policies. All the Four are honored in Skala, and Illior is our special patron.”

“Please forgive Khair’s bluntness,” Solun said, narrowing his eyes at the man. It seemed the others found their companion as abrasive as Tamír did.

To her surprise, the Khatme touched his brow. “I meant no disrespect. Your presence here speaks well of your intentions.”

“My clan would welcome reestablishing ties with Skala,” Solun said. “There are still those living among us who remember your Great War, the children of the wizards who joined the great queen Ghërilain against the necromancers of Plenimar. We have paintings of her at Bôkthersa. Arengil is right. You have her eyes, Tamír ä Ariani.”

“Thank you for saying so.” She felt herself blush again, mortified at the effect the man had on her. “Are you offering to ally with me against my cousin, Prince Korin?”

“Yours is the true claim to the throne,” said Khair.

“Will it really come to fighting?” asked Arengil. “Korin was not his father. We were good friends.”

“He’s changed since you left, and not for the better,” Ki told him. “He’s taken up with Lord Niryn. You remember Old Fox Beard, don’t you?”

“This Niryn is the wizard who gathered the Harriers, is he not?” asked Khair.

“Yes,” Tamír told him. “By all reports, he’s attached himself to Korin. I’ve tried to contact my cousin, but he refuses to parley. He claims I’m either mad or a liar.”

“Clearly you are neither,” said Solun. “We will tell the Iia’sidra so.”

Just then something flittered from the shadows overhead, just beyond the glow of the broad stone hearth.

“Master, look!” Wythnir exclaimed.

Una flinched back. “Bats?”

“I think not.” Ralinus held up his hand, as if calling a falcon. A tiny winged creature fluttered down and settled on his outstretched finger, clinging with delicate clawed feet and a long slender tail. “Look, Majesty. One of the Lightbearer’s dragons comes to greet you, after all.”

Tamír leaned closer, remembering the warning not to touch. The dragon was beautiful, a perfect miniature of the huge beasts she’d seen in manuscripts and pictured on tapestries and temple walls around Ero. Its wings were similar in form to a bat’s, but nearly translucent and faintly iridescent, like the inside of a mussel shell.

“I didn’t think there were any dragons left in Skala,” said Arengil.

“They are rare, but these little ones have been more common around Afra in recent years. The Lightbearer must have sent them to greet their new queen.” Ralinus held the little creature out to Tamír. “Would you like to hold it? I’m sure it will come to you if you’re very calm.”