— 27 —

For Ki, the next three days passed too quickly, and he found himself torn between the excitement of his first command and guilt over leaving Tamír. He spent the days seeing to the equipage of his company and laying plans with Jorvai for the first confrontation, in which he would assist. In the evenings, though, he kept close to Tamír, and looked for some regret in her eyes, but she seemed glad for him and anxious to have him prove himself.

The night before he was to leave, he lingered behind in her chamber after the others had withdrawn. As they sat by the open window, sipping the night’s last wine and listening to the sounds of the crickets, he found himself caught by the sight of her. She was gazing pensively out at the stars, one slender finger slowly tracing the raised pattern on her silver mazer. She wore a gown of dark red embroidered with golden vines tonight and the color suited her. The candlelight softened her features and caught the sheen of her hair as it lay loose over her shoulders and breast.

In that moment Ki lost sight of Tobin, as he never had before. Her lips looked as soft as any he’d ever kissed, her cheeks smooth as a maiden’s, not a beardless boy’s. In this light she looked almost fragile. It was as if he were seeing her for the very first time.

Then she turned and raised an eyebrow at him in a way he’d seen a thousand times before, and there was Tobin again, gazing at him with the same eyes as ever.

“What’s wrong, didn’t your dinner agree with you?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I was just thinking—” He paused, heart racing. “I wish you were coming with me tomorrow.”

“Me, too.” Her wry smile was Tobin’s, too. “Promise me you’ll—” Now she paused and looked embarrassed. “Well, don’t have so much fun you get yourself killed.”

“I’ll do my best not to. Jorvai thinks most of them will give up without a fight anyway, once they see that you are willing to move against them. I may not have my sword out of its scabbard at all.”

“I don’t know which to wish you: safety or an honorable fight. In case you do fight? Well, I made you this.” She reached into her sleeve and took out a golden disk an inch or so across and gave it to him. On it in a raised design was a stylized owl with wings outstretched, holding a crescent moon in its talons. “The idea came to me a few days ago. I made it in wax and had it cast in the village.”

“It’s beautiful! It’s good to see you making things again.” Ki untied the leather cord around his neck and slid the charm on to dangle beside the carved horse. “Now I have both gods on my side.”

“That was the idea.”

Rising, she held out her hand. He stood and clasped with her. “Sakor’s fire, Ki, and Illior’s light to guide you.”

Her hand was warm in his, the palm roughened from the hilt of a sword, the fingers strong and callused from the bowstring. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight, wishing he knew his own heart. She hugged him back, and when they stepped apart again he thought he caught a glimpse of his own confusion in her eyes. Before he could be sure, though, she turned away and reached for her cup again. “It’s late. You should get some rest while you can.”

“I guess so.” She still wasn’t looking at him. Had he hurt her somehow? “I—I could stay a bit longer.”

She smiled back at him and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Go on and get your rest. I’ll be there to see you off. Good night, Ki.”

He could think of nothing more to say, or even what he wanted to say. “Thank you for my commission,” he said at last. “I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will.”

“Well—good night.”

His own door was only a dozen paces from Tamír’s, but it seemed a mile by the time he gained his room. He was startled to find Tharin there, standing at the rack that held Ki’s armor.

“There you are. Since you don’t have a squire of your own, I thought I’d make a last inspection of your arms.” Tharin paused, looking at him oddly. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing!” Ki exclaimed quickly.

Too quickly from the way Tharin’s eyes narrowed. “You were just with Tamír?”

“Yes. I wanted to—to thank her, and she’s worried about me and—” He faltered to a halt.

Tharin regarded him in silence for moment, then just shook his head.

Tamír spent a sleepless night. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the anguished look she’d caught on Ki’s face, and the way it had felt when he embraced her. He still doesn’t know what to make of me, and neither do I!

Before dawn she bathed at the washstand and put on a dark gown and a ceremonial breastplate. There was one last thing she meant to do. Tharin and the Companions were waiting outside and fell into step behind her. For the first time, Tamír was achingly aware of Ki’s absence at her side, and Lynx, too, who was going off as one of Ki’s captains.

“You’re really going to do it this time, aren’t you?” Nikides asked.

“He can’t very well refuse this time,” she murmured with a wry smile.

The mounted companies had already formed up when they reached the courtyard, and hundreds of courtiers lined the walls and stairways to see them off.

Jorvai and Ki were there to greet her in full armor. Tamír wished them both luck and said a few words to the captains. Then, trying not to grin, she turned back to Ki. “There’s one more thing. Kneel and present your sword.”

Ki’s eyes widened at that, but he had no choice but to obey.

Tamír drew her own and touched him on the cheek and shoulders. “Before these witnesses, for your years of honest and loyal friendship, and for saving my life more than once, I dub you Lord Kirothieus of Oakmount and Queen’s Mercy, and grant you the steading of your birth, as well as the rents, holdings, and main right of the village of Queen’s Mercy. In addition, you are granted a founding gift of five thousand gold sesters. May you use it wisely, to the honor of your house and Skala. Rise, Lord Kirothieus, and accept your arms.”

Several young women came forward. One held his banner on a standard pole. Two others displayed a tabard. Both showed his new device, laid out by Nikides. The shield was diagonally divided from left to right with the white bar representing legitimate birth. Centered on the bar was a lion skin draped over a stick, to commemorate the first time Ki had risked his life to defend her. She saw him smile at that. The left field was green, with a white tree, for Oakmount. The right was black, with a white tower, for Queen’s Mercy. A silver flame cupped by a crescent moon, honoring the two gods, surmounted the design.

“You have been busy, haven’t you?” Ki muttered, trying to sound put out, but his shining eyes and reddened cheeks said otherwise. He pulled on the tabard and held his sword up before his face. “The house of Oakmount and Queen’s Mercy will ever be your most loyal servants, Majesty.”

Tamír took his hand and turned him to face the assembly. “My people, welcome Lord Kirothieus, my friend and my right hand. Honor him as you honor me.”

A cheer went up and Ki blushed harder. Tamír clapped him on the shoulder and mouthed, “Be careful.”

Ki mounted his horse and fastened his helmet. Jorvai drew his sword and shouted, “For the honor of Skala and the queen!” and his riders took up the cry.

Ki did the same, shouting “For Tamír and Skala!” and a thousand throats behind him took it up.

“I hope you appreciate how jealous I am,” Tamír said, when the shouting died down.

“It’s your own doing.” Jorvai laughed, clapping on his battle-scarred helmet. “Don’t worry. Ki and I will keep each other alive if we can and carry the other’s ashes if we can’t.”

“Good. Go show them this ‘mad boy in a dress’ is not to be trifled with.”

They rode first to the large holding of Duke Zygas, a hard-bitten old lord. He had a large stone keep with strong outlying walls but his wealth lay in his grainfields, which were ripe. He had a few turma of fighters stationed on the road at the outskirts of the holding, but Jorvai and Ki had marched through the night and took them by surprise just after sunrise. Ki led a forward party and quickly dispatched any resistance. Leaving the captains to bring up the foot, Jorvai and the riders rushed on at a gallop to the gates of the keep and sent out a herald under the white banner.

The walls above the earthen moat bristled with archers and gleamed with the reflected light off helms and weapons, but no shaft could be loosed on either side until the herald had spoken and withdrawn.

Zygas’ white-and-black banner with its three horses rose above the barbican. A man leaned over and called down angrily, “Who abuses my rights and hospitality in this manner? I recognize only one banner there. Jorvai of Colath, we have never had bad blood between us. Why are you at my gates as if I were a Plenimaran?”

“The herald speaks for me,” Jorvai called back.

“Your grace, I bear a letter from Tamír Ariani Ghërilain, Queen of Skala,” the herald announced.

“I know no such queen, but I will honor the white banner. Speak your letter.”

“The banners of Lord Jorvai of Colath and Lord Kirothieus of Oakmount and Queen’s Mercy fly at your gates, the liegemen of Tamír Ariani Ghërilain, Queen of Skala by right of blood and birth.

“Be it known, Zygas, son of Morten, Duke of Ellsford and Fire River, that by your obdurate and ignoble disloyalty, you have incurred the displeasure of the Crown. If you do not this day desist from such action and ride at once under safe passage to Atyion to swear fealty to the rightful queen, forswearing all other loyalties, then you shall be declared a traitor and stripped forthwith of all titles, lands, rents, and chattels. If you hold your gates against these, the queen’s chosen lords, your fields will be burned, your livestock taken, your gates broken, and your house razed. You and your heirs will be taken prisoner and carried forthwith to Atyion to face the queen’s justice.

“Queen Tamír, in her wisdom, abjures you to seize the hand of mercy extended today and turn your back on all other erroneous alliances. Delivered this day by my hand.”

A lengthy pause followed. Ki craned his neck, trying to make out his opponent’s face, but Zygas had stepped away from the battlements.

“What do you think?” he said quietly to Jorvai as they sat their horses, waiting.

“Erius guested here often, and Zygas fought for him across the sea. I don’t know that he knows any more about Korin than he does Tamír, though.”

They sat there as the sun rose higher and the air grew warm. Sweating in his armor and tabard, Ki listened to the barking of dogs and bleating of sheep from beyond the keep walls. The drawbridge across the moat was pulled up to shield the doors. It was fashioned of thick timbers, and studded with brass bosses the size of bucklers. It would probably take catapults and fire to breach the place, if it came to that.

The shadows cast by his horse’s legs had clocked nearly an hour’s passage before they heard the sound of riders coming around the keep from the left at a gallop. Zygas had a back door somewhere, and had used it to ride out.

He was mounted on a tall bay warhorse, but wore no armor. Instead, he was accompanied by his own herald under a sacred banner. He galloped up to them, head high, and reined in. He nodded to Jorvai, then gave Ki a cold, appraising look. “I don’t know you.”

“Allow me to present Lord Kirothieus. He’s the queen’s man, same as I am,” Jorvai told him. “Well, what do you say? You haven’t gone north, so perhaps you’re having a few doubts?”

“You believe this nonsense about a boy turning into a girl, do you?”

“I saw it with my own eyes, and you’ve never known me for a liar, have you? It happened on the very steps of Atyion castle. Lord Kirothieus has been friend and squire to her since they were both younglings.”

“On my honor, Your Grace, it is true,” Ki said.

Zygas snorted at that. “On the honor of a stripling lord raised by the so-called girl queen, eh?”

“You have only to come to Atyion and see for yourself. Would you call the priest of Afra a liar to his face, as well?” Ki replied evenly. He glanced up at the battlements again. “I don’t see Korin’s banner flying there, only your own. Are you waiting to see them clash, then back the winner?”

“You watch your tongue, you young upstart!”

“He’s right, Zygas,” Jorvai chided. “I never put you down as anything but a solid man, but it seems you’re growing indecisive in your old age.”

The duke glared at them both for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ve waited months for Korin to march and defend his throne, but he sends me nothing but excuses. Instead here you two are. You were always an honest fellow, Jorvai. Can I trust this offer of hers?”

“You can trust her to accept your fealty if you ride today, just as you can trust us to set fire to every field and byre and cottage the moment you say otherwise.”

“Aye, and you’ve brought a force to do it, too, haven’t you?” Zygas sighed. “And if I say that I will go, to see for myself?”

“Not good enough. If you take the right path and offer fealty, I’m to tell you to ride at once under the protection of my own men, and that you must take your wife and children with you. You have a son on his own lands now, as I recall, and a few younger ones still under the roof?”

“She requires hostages, does she?”

“That’s for her to say when you get there. You shouldn’t have waited so long. It’s only her kind heart that’s kept your lands untouched today, but her patience has reached its end. Decide now, and let’s get on with it.”

Zygas looked around at the fields and steadings that lay beyond the line of armed riders. In the distance the foot soldiers were coming on fast, raising the dust from the road as they jogged along with weapons ready. “So she really is the princess’ daughter, hidden all this time?”

“That she is. You’ll see Ariani in her. It’s clear as day. The lords of the southlands are flocking to her. Nyanis is with her, and Kyman. You don’t think them fools, do you?”

Zygas rubbed a hand over his grizzled beard and sighed. “No, nor you either. If I do go, will she take my lands?”

“That’s for her to say when she’s seen you,” Jorvai replied. “But it’s sure as the Maker’s rain in spring that she will if you don’t.”

Ki could see the man warring with himself. At last Zygas said, “I’m to take my little girls, as well? How will I protect them on the road, with no escort of my own? I won’t have them abused.”

“Tamír would kill anyone who touched them, and so would I,” Ki told him. “I have women among my warriors. I’ll send some of them as your escort. They won’t let anyone touch your girls.”

Zygas took one more look around at the armed fighters massed at his gate. “Very well, but my curse will be on all of you and your queen if this is a trick.”

“Tamír wants nothing from you but your loyalty,” Ki assured him.

Zygas gave them a resigned bow. “If this queen of yours is as merciful as you paint her, then perhaps she’s worth backing, rightful or not.”

He rode off the way he’d come and Ki let out a pent-up breath. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Jorvai chuckled darkly and pointed back at their forces. “That’s a persuasive argument. So, you’ve seen how it’s done. I hope you find Lady Alna as amenable.”

Unfortunately, she was not. Ki and his company marched three days through sweltering heat, only to find the village deserted, the fields harvested, and the noblewoman ready and waiting.

She was a widow of middling years, with long yellow hair and a proud, hard face. She rode out, as Zygas had, but listened with thinly veiled impatience as the herald read out his missive.

“Lies or necromancy? Which is it, my lord?” she sneered, clearly less than impressed by Ki. “I have a thousand men-at-arms behind my walls and my grain is safe there, too. King Korin has sent assurances that my lands will be expanded and my title protected under his banner. What do I have from your queen, but threats?”

“You were summoned more than once and given every chance to align yourself with the true queen,” Ki replied, keeping his temper in check.

She sniffed at that. “True queen! Ariani had no daughters.”

“She did and you have heard the tale of her changing, I’m sure.”

“Then it’s necromancy. Are we to bow down to an overlord backed by dark magic like the Plenimarans do?”

“It wasn’t dark magic…” Ki began, but she cut him off angrily.

“Half my kin were wizards, free wizards of Skala, boy, and powerful ones. They could not do such magic as you describe.”

Ki wasn’t about to tell her that a hill witch had done the deed. “You have your choice,” he told her. “Go to Atyion with your children now, under safe conduct, or I will not hesitate to carry out my orders.”

“Won’t you?” Alna took a long look at him. “No, I don’t suppose you will. So be It. I was loyal to King Erius and I will not forsake his son.” With that she wheeled her horse and rode back to her own gates. Under the rules of parley he had no choice but to watch as they closed heavily after her.

Ki turned to find Lynx and Grannia watching him expectantly. “Grannia, you burn the village. Lynx, bring up the sappers and fire carriers. Show no mercy to anyone carrying a weapon. Those are your orders.”