Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Does this man admit to being a witch?” asked Tamír.

“Oh yes. He makes no secret of it. He was dreadfully filthy when they first arrived—well, they all were, poor lads—and he strikes me as a simpleminded fellow, but the others vouched for him and claim he helped them. They’ve been cruelly used.”

“By whom?”

“They wouldn’t say.”

Four armed men were on guard outside the guest room, and old Vornus and Lyan were sitting on a bench just across from the door, wands across their knees, as if expecting trouble at any moment. They stood and bowed as she approached.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Tamír asked them.

“We’ve been keeping watch on your unusual guest,” Vornus replied. “Thus far he’s behaved himself.”

“We’ve felt no magic from him at all,” Lyan added, tucking her wand up her sleeve. “Your people seem terrified, but I’ve sensed no harm in him.”

“Thank you for your vigilance. Please continue to keep watch for now.”

The guards stepped aside, and Tamír knocked at the door.

It swung open and there stood Lutha, barefoot and dressed in a long shirt over a pair of breeches. He was thin and pale, and his braids had been cut off, but the look on his face as he recognized Tamír was almost comical. Across the room, Caliel lay on his stomach on a large bed, with Barieus hunched over in a chair beside him. Both stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost.

Lutha gasped. “By the Four! Tobin?”

“It’s Tamír, now,” Ki told him.

A tense pause followed, then Lutha broke into a tearful grin. “So it’s true! Bilairy’s balls, we’ve been hearing rumors ever since we left Ero, but Korin wouldn’t believe it.” He wiped at his eyes. “I don’t know what to say, except that I’m damn glad to see you both alive!”

“What happened to you?”

“Come in first and let the others see you properly.”

He led the way to the bed, and Tamír noted how stiffly he moved, as if in pain.

Caliel pushed himself up with a grimace as she and Ki approached. Barieus rose slowly and gave her an uncertain smile, wonder and confusion warring in his eyes.

“Yes, it’s Tobin,” Ki assured him. “But she’s Queen Tamír now.”

Barieus looked from Tamír to Ki. “Have you two been fighting? Tamír—your chin? Ki, what happened to your cheek?”

“I fell, and Ki was bitten by a dragon. We both were, actually.”

“A dragon?”

“Just a small one,” Ki told him.

Lutha laughed. “We’ve missed a lot, it seems.”

It was good to see him smile, but the way they all held themselves, together with Lytia’s comment, sent a pang of foreboding through her. All three were missing their braids.

“How?” Caliel asked, staring at her in consternation. His handsome face was mottled with fading bruises, and his eyes were haunted.

With a sigh, Tamír quickly sketched out the details of the change and watched their eyes go wide.

“I know it sounds like something out of a bard’s tale, but I saw her change with my own eyes, right here in Atyion, along with about a thousand other people,” Ki told them.

“Now, tell me what happened to you three,” Tamír urged.

Lutha and Barieus turned their backs and lifted their shirts. Caliel hesitated, then slowly did the same.

“Bilairy’s balls!” gasped Ki.

Barieus’ and Lutha’s backs were crosshatched with half-healed lash marks, but Caliel must have been whipped raw. His skin was a mass of scabs and angry red scar tissue from neck to waist.

Tamír’s throat went dry. “Korin?”

Lutha lowered his shirt and helped Caliel pull his back down. All of them looked ashamed as Lutha haltingly told Tamír of their time at Cirna and how her letter to Korin had been received.

“We’d only had the word of Niryn’s spies about you, and we didn’t trust them,” Caliel explained. “I wanted to go see for myself, but Korin said no.”

“And you went anyway,” Tamír said.

Caliel nodded.

“Niryn had his spies watching us,” Lutha said bitterly. “You remember Moriel, who wanted Ki’s place as your squire so badly?”

“The Toad? Of course,” muttered Ki. “Don’t tell me he’s still with Korin?”

“He’s Niryn’s hound now, and he watched every move we made for his master,” Caliel said.

“Oh, my friends!” Tamír whispered, deeply touched by their faith in her. “So, what do you say, now that you’ve seen me?”

Caliel regarded her for a moment, and that haunted look returned. “Well, you don’t seem mad. I’m still trying to figure out the rest of it.” He looked to Ki. “I don’t suppose you’d go along with this if it was necromancy?”

“No necromancy. Retha’noi binding,” a low, amused voice broke in.

Tamír had been so alarmed by the condition of her friends that she’d forgotten all about the hill witch. As he rose from a pallet in the corner and came forward, she saw that he was dressed more like a Skalan peasant farmer, but there was no mistaking what he was.

“This is Mahti,” said Lutha. “Before you get angry, you should know that he’s the reason we got here at all.”

“I’m not angry,” Tamír murmured, studying the man with interest. He was small and dark like Lhel, with the same olive skin and long, black curls in wild disarray around his shoulders, and the same rough, stained bare feet. He wore a necklace and bracelets strung with animal teeth, and held a long, elaborately decorated horn of some sort.

He came closer and smiled broadly at her. “Lhel tell me come to you, girl who was boy. You know Lhel, yes?”

“Yes. When did you last see her?”

“Night before today. She says you come.”

Ki frowned and stepped closer to Tamír. “That’s not possible.”

Mahti eyed Tamír knowingly. “ You know dead not stop coming if they want. She tell me of your noro’shesh, too. You have eyes that see.”

“He’s talking ghosts?” muttered Barieus. “He never said anything about that to us. He just kept claiming he’d seen us in a vision or something and that he was supposed to come with us.”

“You be scared.” Mahti chuckled, then pointed to Tamír. “She not be scared.”

“How did you first meet her?” Tamír asked.

“She come in vision. Dead when I know her.”

“He never said anything about anyone named Lhel, either. Who is she?” asked Lutha.

“It’s all right. I think I understand.”

The witch nodded sadly. “Lhel is loving you. She tells all the time for me to come to you.”

“Her ghost told you, you mean?” Ki asked.

Mahti nodded. “Her mari come to me when I make dream with oo’lu.”

“That’s what he calls that horn of his,” said Barieus. “He does magic with it, like a wizard.”

“Korin sent trackers and a wizard after us, but Mahti played that horn and not one of them saw us, though we were standing in plain sight in the road,” Lutha explained.

“He’s a good healer with it and his herbs, too. Good as a drysian,” added Barieus. “And he knew a shortcut way through the mountains, too.”

“I wouldn’t have lived to get here if it wasn’t for him,” said Caliel. “Whatever else you might say of him, he took good care of us.”

“Thank you for helping my friends, Mahti,” Tamír said, holding out her hand. “I know how dangerous it is for you to come this far into our lands.”

Mahti touched her hand lightly and chuckled again. “No danger for me. Mother Shek’met protect and Lhel be guide.”

“Even so, I’ll make certain you have safe passage back to your hills.”

“I come to you, girl who was boy. I come to help.”

“Help me do what?”

“I help as Lhel help. Maybe with your noro’shesh? That one still no sleep.”