Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

As Korin reached the stone jetty, the stink of hot tar and fish mingled with the salt tang in the air. “I wish we could sail with them,” he said over his shoulder to Alben and Urmanis. “They’ll be in Ero in a few days’ time while we’re still plodding along on the road.”

“Yes, but you’ll command the larger force,” Alben replied.

He and Urmanis were the last of Korin’s original Companions, and the last of his friends. He’d also raised Moriel to Companion. As Niryn pointed out, the Toad had proven his worth these past months, and though Niryn had been loath to release him from his own service, he’d had to agree that there were few enough properly trained young men left to fill out the ranks. Alben had always spoken well of him, and Korin found himself wondering why he hadn’t taken him on sooner.

Morus greeted him heartily. “Good morning, Majesty. How is your lady today?”

“She’s very well, my lord,” Korin replied, clasping hands with the man. “How is my navy?”

“We’ll load up and set sail as soon as you pour the libation. With a good following wind, we should make harbor above Ero in three days’ time and be ready to close the vise on Atyion as soon as you arrive.”

Moriel smiled at that. “You’ll catch Prince Tobin like a nut between two stones.”

“Yes.” Korin’s heart felt like a lump of ice in his breast every time his cousin was mentioned. He’d never hated anyone the way he hated Tobin. He haunted Korin’s dreams, a pale and taunting figure, twisted to a dark-eyed specter. Only last night Korin had dreamed of wrestling with him, each one trying to take the crown the other wore.

Tobin had fooled half the country with his mad claims and even had a few victories to impress them. Those galled Korin, and jealousy ate at his heart. Now the little upstart had even stolen Caliel away. He would never forgive any of them.

Niryn spoke darkly of the wizards who were gathering to Tobin’s court. Few had come to Cirna, and the handful of Harriers who’d come north were a worthless lot, as far as Korin was concerned, good for little more than burning their own kind and scaring the soldiers. If the rumors were to be believed, Tobin’s had greater powers. By the Flame, how he hated that brat!

“Korin, are you unwell?” Urmanis whispered close to his ear.

Korin blinked and found Morus and the others staring at him. Alben had him by the elbow and Urmanis stood close on the other side, alarmed.

“What are you all staring at?” Korin covered his momentary lapse with a glare. In truth, he felt a bit dizzy, and his clenched hands ached to strike out at something. “Come, summon your men, Morus.”

Morus gave the signal to one of his captains. The man raised a horn to his lips and blew the assembly call. Within moments other signalmen on the ships and up the hillside were echoing the call. Korin sat on a mooring post to wait, watching as rank upon rank of men poured out of the barracks and marched to the jetties. Longboats skimmed in over the smooth face of the harbor to meet them.

“Are you better?” Alben murmured, staying close to him and shielding him from the sight of the others.

“Yes, of course!” Korin snapped, then, with a sigh, “Was it a long one, this time?”

“Only a moment, but you looked ready to kill someone.”

Korin rubbed at his eyes, trying to fend off the headache that was building behind them. “I’ll be fine once we’re on the march.”

This time he would not show weakness or make mistakes. This time he would be his father’s son.

Korin came to Nalia the night before his departure, dressed in his armor and a fine silk tabard bearing the royal arms of Skala. Nalia had not seen him dressed so since that first night he’d come to her. He’d been haggard and dirty and covered in blood then, a terrifying stranger. Now he looked every inch a king, with a shining helmet banded in gold under his arm.

“I’ve come to bid you farewell,” he said, taking his customary seat across from hers. “We leave at first light and I have much to do before then.”

She wished he’d sit closer and take her hand again, but instead he sat stiffly in his chair. He’d never kissed her, either, except on the hand. Nalia’s mind strayed for just a moment to memories of Niryn and the false passion they’d shared. She quickly willed such thoughts away, as if they could somehow harm her child.

As much as she’d feared pregnancy, she felt fiercely protective toward the tiny life growing inside her. She would not be like that other wife. She would keep the child in her womb and it would be born healthy and beautiful. Her long-dead rival had kindled only boys, or so Tomara said. Surely Illior would let a girl child live.

“I may be gone through the winter, if we have to lay siege,” said Korin. “I’m sorry your new chamber isn’t complete yet, but it will be very soon. And I’ll make certain there is an even better one waiting for you in Ero. Will you write to me?”

“I will, my lord,” Nalia promised. “I will tell you how your child grows.”

Korin stood and took her hand. “I’ll make offerings to Dalna and Astellus for your health and our child’s.”

Our child . Nalia smiled and touched her pearl necklace for luck. “As will I, my lord, and for you.”

“Well, that’s good then.” He paused, then leaned down and gave her an awkward kiss on the forehead. “Goodbye, my lady.”

“Farewell, my lord.” Nalia stared after him in amazement as he went out. Yes, perhaps there was hope.

She went out to the balcony when he was gone, knowing that she wouldn’t sleep. She kept her lonely vigil there, wrapped in a shawl against the damp. Tomara slept in an armchair, chin on her breast, snoring softly.

Nalia settled by the parapet, chin resting on her hands. On the plain to the south, columns were forming in dark, shifting squares and rectangles against the moonlit grass. Watch fires burned everywhere and she could see men passing in front of them, making the flames wink and twinkle in the distance like yellow stars.

As the first light of the misty false dawn brightened in the east, Korin’s guard formed up in the yard below. When Korin mounted his tall grey horse, Nalia couldn’t help a sigh. He looked so handsome, so dashing.

Perhaps it is only on account of the child that he’s grown kinder, but I don’t care. I’ll bear him many children and bind his heart to me. He doesn’t have to love me or think me beautiful, so long as he’s kind . Without wanting to, she’d begun to hope.

Thinking that, she was surprised to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She rose and stood in the balcony doorway, listening with mounting dread. She knew that light step.

Niryn entered and bowed to her. “Good morning, my dear. I thought I’d find you awake. I wanted to say my farewells.”

He was dressed for traveling and looked almost as he used to when he visited her in Ilear. She’d yearned for his arrivals then and thrilled at the sight of him. The memory made her ill now. He looked so ordinary. And how could she ever have thought that forked beard attractive? It looked like a serpent’s tongue.

Tomara stirred, then rose to curtsy to him. “My lord. Shall I make you some tea?”

“Leave us. I want a moment with your mistress.”

“Stay,” Nalia commanded, but Tomara went out anyway, as if she hadn’t heard.

Niryn closed the door after her and locked it. When he turned back to Nalia, his look was appraising, and there was the hint of a smile on his thin lips.

“My, my. Childbearing does agree with you. You have a certain glow about you now, just like those pearls your dear husband gave you. That was my suggestion, by the way. Poor Korin has rather a tragic history when it comes to getting heirs. Every care must be taken.”