Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Can we see them now?” asked Barieus, brightening noticeably at the mention of Lynx.

“Of course. Ki, go fetch them, will you?”

“What about Tanil?” asked Ki.

“Him, too. I’ll explain while you’re gone.”

Ki nodded and strode out.

“What about Tanil?” Caliel demanded.

“The Plenimarans weren’t gentle with him.” She told them all of it, wishing she could spare them the details, but it would be plain enough when they saw him.

Caliel groaned and closed his eyes.

“Oh, hell,” Lutha muttered.

Ki soon returned with the other Companions. Nikides stopped just inside the doorway, staring at Lutha and Barieus.

“I—can you forgive me?” Lutha said at last, voice trembling with emotion.

Nikides burst into tears and embraced them both.

Lynx had his arm around Tanil and was speaking quietly to him. The moment the squire saw Caliel, however, he pulled away and ran to him.

“I’ve lost Korin!” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes as he knelt by the bed. “I don’t know what to do, Cal. I can’t find him!”

Caliel reached for his hand and touched the red, raised scars on his wrist. “You didn’t lose him. We lost you. Korin’s been very sad, thinking you were dead.”

“Really?” He stood up at once, looking around the room. “Where is he?”

“He’s at Cirna.”

“I’ll go saddle our horses!”

“No, not yet.” Caliel drew him back.

“It’s all right. I’m sure Korin won’t mind,” said Lynx. “He’ll want you to look after Cal, won’t he?”

“But—Mylirin?”

“He’s dead,” Caliel told him.

“Dead?” Tanil looked at him blankly for a moment, then buried his face in his hands and began to weep softly.

“He fell honorably.” Caliel drew him down on the bed and held him. “Will you take his place as my squire until we go back to Korin?”

“I—I’m not worthy to be a Companion anymore.”

“Of course you are. And you’ll earn those braids back, as soon as we’re both well again. Won’t he, Tamír?”

“Yes. The healers did a fine job. For now, your duty is to Caliel.”

Tanil wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry about Mylirin, but I’m glad to see you again, Caliel. Korin will be so pleased that you weren’t lost, too!”

Caliel shared a sad look with Tamír. For now, they would let Tanil cling to his hopes.

They talked for a while, catching up on both sides, then left Tanil with Caliel and went back to Nikides’ room.

“Cal isn’t going to change his mind, you know,” Lutha told her as they made their way to the Companions’ chamber. “If he hadn’t been so badly hurt, he really would have gone back.”

“He’ll do what he must. I won’t stop him.”

Tharin was there with the young squires and clasped hands happily with Lutha and Barieus. Tamír stayed with them a little while longer, then rose to go. Ki rose to follow, but she smiled and motioned for him to stay.

She paused in the doorway, gladdened beyond words to see her friends together again. Even if Caliel couldn’t join them, at least he was alive.

Arkoniel took the hill witch down to his chamber by back passages and servants’ stairs. The few people they met paid the stranger little mind, accustomed to Arkoniel bringing strays of all sorts into the castle.

His room was by far the most luxurious he’d ever had, with finely carved old furnishings and bright hangings. The rest of the wizards were housed in similar chambers on this small courtyard. Tamír, in keeping with her promise, had granted them a generous allowance from her treasury and given them space in the castle to train and teach.

Wythnir was where Arkoniel had left him, curled up in the deep embrasure of a window, watching the other children play outside in the twilight. He hopped down at once as Arkoniel and Mahti entered, staring up at Mahti with apparent interest and none of his usual shyness, much to Arkoniel’s surprise.

“You’re a witch, aren’t you, just like Mistress Lhel? She told me that men could be witches, too.”

Mahti smiled down at the boy. “Yes, keesa.”

“She was very nice to us. She showed us how to find food in the forest and kept people from finding us.”

“You be oreskiri, little one? I feel magic in you.” Mahti squinted his eyes a little. “Ah, yes. Little piece Retha’noi magic here, too.”

“Lhel taught the children and some of the older wizards a few small spells. I think you’ll find most of my people more welcoming toward you, thanks to her.”

“I make magic by this.” He held the oo’lu out to Wythnir, encouraging the boy to hold it. Wythnir glanced at Arkoniel for reassurance, then accepted it, stooping a little under its weight.

“This little one does not fear me,” Mahti remarked in his own language, watching Wythnir fit his small hand into the burned palm print near the oo’lu’s end. “Maybe you and he can teach others not to fear my people and to share magic with us, as Lhel did.”

“That would be a good thing for all. Tell me, where do you come from?”

“The western mountains. I would not have found my way here if not for Lhel and my visions.”

“Very strange, indeed.”

“You speak my language very well, Orëska. It’s easier for me, and I can make myself clear.”

“As you wish. Wythnir, go out and play with your friends while there’s still some daylight. I’m sure they missed you while we were gone.”

The child hesitated, then dropped his gaze and started for the door.

“He is frightened to be parted from you,” Mahti observed. “Why not let him stay? He doesn’t understand my language, does he? Even if he did, I have nothing to say that a child may not hear.”

“Wythnir, you may stay if you like.” Arkoniel seated himself by the hearth and Wythnir sat down at once by his feet, hands folded in his lap.

“He is obedient and intelligent, that child,” Mahti said approvingly. “He will be a strong oreskiri, if you can heal the fear in him. He has been hurt deeply.”

“It often happens to children born into poverty or ignorance with the power. He won’t speak of his past, though, and the wizard who had him before doesn’t seem to know much about him.”

“You are good to him. He loves you as a father.”

Arkoniel smiled. “It’s best so, between master and apprentice. He’s a very good boy.”

Mahti settled on the floor facing them, his oo’lu across his knees. “I saw you in my vision, Arkoniel. Lhel loved you in life, and loves you still. She shared much of her magic with you, so she must have trusted you, too.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“That is not against the ways of your people, to use our magic?”

“There are many who say so, but my teacher and I disagreed. Iya sought her out specifically because she could make the kind of binding spell that would protect Tamír. I remember that when we found her, she was not surprised to see us. She said she’d seen us in a vision, too.”

“Yes. Her manner of hiding the girl was a harsh one, though. Your mistress, she understood that it would require the death of the boy child?”

“Those were desperate times, and she saw no other way. Lhel was good to Tamír, watching over her without our knowledge for some time.”

“She was lonely, until you came to her bed. But you could not fill her belly.”

“If it had been possible, I’d have gladly done that for her. It’s different with your people, isn’t it?”

Mahti chuckled. “I have many children, and all of them will be witches. It’s how we keep our people strong in their mountains. We must be very strong, to still be alive after the southlanders drove us away.”