"You don't have much time," Ki murmured, sensing her doubt.

 

"Visions!" she muttered, just loud enough for his ears. Then she called up to a horn bearer on the wall, "Sound the alarm and assembly. Make sure it reaches the camps." "A vision. Queen Tamir's had a vision!" The word passed quickly around the yard and beyond.

 

Arkoniel came running from the house, with Wythnir at his heels. She explained as quickly as she could what she'd seen as they hurried toward the hall, hoping he wouldn't think she'd gone mad.

 

Arkoniel took her at her word. "We've been using the wizard's eye spell to keep watch over the eastern waters, but it's a very large sea. It's also possible that they are using magic of their own to conceal their approach."

 

"I don't see what use your magic is, then," she muttered.

 

Forgotten in the excitement, Wythnir watched his master with wide, solemn eyes, clinging to his tunic with one hand and running to keep up.

 

Arkoniel put a comforting hand on the child's head. "I know you still distrust it, Tamir, but we've come up with a few new tricks I think you'll find useful."

 

"What about Brother?" asked Ki. "Do you think you could send him to spy out the situation?"

 

"I doubt it," Tamir replied. "Even if he did, how could we believe anything he told us? I doubt he cares much what happens to Skala. Gather all my warlords and generals together in the audience hall. We'll make a start Sakor's way."

 

Co her surprise, most of her generals had far less trouble accepting the vision than she did.

 

"Your grandmother and all those who came before her relied on such visions," Kyman pointed out. "It's only fitting the Lightbearer would speak to you, as well. It's a lucky sign, I'd say."

 

"You are Illior's Queen," Arkoniel murmured, standing beside her with Ki and the Companions. "They accept it, and so do your friends. Isn't it time you did, as well?"

 

"What do you say, my friends?" she asked the others. "It seems Illior means for me to be queen, even without the proper investiture."

 

"A sword doesn't make a queen," Nyanis replied. "You've been touched by Illior all your life. That's good enough for me."

 

"And me!" the others agreed.

 

"Then I am queen," she said, and was surprised by a sudden sense of lightness, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "How many warriors -do we have now?"

 

"At most two thousand, without counting your reserves in Atyion and those who may join us from the Ero camps," Tharin told her.

 

"I have several of my captains there, looking for able-bodied fighters," Illardi added.

 

"I saw at least twenty ships in the vision. How many men do you make that?"

 

"It depends on what sort of ships they are. Could you tell?" Illardi asked.

 

"Three masts, I think. As long as our own warships."

 

"It could be a second attack, or a supply convoy. There's no way of knowing if they've had word of the defeat you dealt the first force."

 

"A few ships did get away," she reminded him.

 

"Yes, but we don't know if they ever reached port," Arkoniel put in. "This could be a new assault coming with no word of the fate of the other. Whatever the case, it's best to prepare for the worst."

 

"Illardi, do you have maps and sea charts of that area?" asked Tharin.

 

"Of course. I'll fetch them at once."

 

Tamir turned impatiently to Arkoniel as she waited. "You said you had magic that could help. Couldn't you board one of the ships the same way you caught up with us that night on the road to Atyion?"

 

Arkoniel considered the idea. "Perhaps, if I could get a clear idea of where one was. But even if I did manage not to end up in the sea instead, it would be impossible to do it quietly. You saw how violent the transition is. Someone would be bound to see me hurtling out of thin air. And I can only cast that sort of magic on myself every few days. It takes a great deal of strength to cast and control. I wouldn't be able to get back to you, even if it all worked."

 

"I thought you said this Third Oreska of yours is supposed to serve Tamir?" Kyman growled.

 

 Arkoniel gave him a pained smile. "I didn't say I wouldn't serve. I was just pointing out the flaws of that particular spell for such a purpose."

 

Just then Kiriar came running into the hall. "Lady Iya has found the enemy!"

 

Ki and the wizards followed as Tamir left Tharin in charge in the audience chamber and hurried upstairs to Iya's chamber. They found her at her window, a crystal wand held loosely in her hands where they rested on the sill. Her eyes were closed, yet she still seemed to be looking out across the sea. Tamir couldn't help doing the same, half-expecting to see sails beyond the mouth of the cove. "Do you see them?" she asked softly.

 

Iya nodded and opened her eyes. "A glimpse just now. I counted thirty warships, loaded with armed men. I'd guess two thousand men-at-arms, at the very least. They're well west of the islands. They could be here by tonight if they are sailing for Ero. It's too soon to tell."

 

"I think I know where they're headed—" It still felt very odd saying it. "From the vision. They're landing in the same place they did before."

 

"Tamir's given me rather a good idea," Arkoniel told her. "How is your Plenimaran these days?"

 

"Still quite fluent," Iya replied.

 

"Good. Mine was never very good." Arkoniel gave Tamir a wink. "I think you've seen this spell before, too. I must ask you all to be very quiet now. Sound carries with this one. Iya, where are they?" "West and south of Little Crowberry Island. Do you remember the oak grove on the point there?"

 

"Ah, yes." He closed his eyes and pressed his palms together in front of him. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, then he slowly opened his palms. A tiny circle of light appeared between them, hanging in the air. Tamir and the others moved to look over his shoulder.

 

"Look through, Tamir," he whispered. "What do you see?"

 

It was like looking through a knothole in a fence. She leaned closer and caught a glimpse of shimmering blue. There were sounds, too, like rushing water and the cry of seabirds. Without thinking, she moved around him for a better look.

 

"Don't touch," Arkoniel warned.

 

He moved his hands and the circle widened to a hand-breadth. It was a window, and through it, they could see a bird's-eye view of open sea, with the dark line of a wooded island in the distance. Arkoniel murmured softly and the view shifted dizzyingly. Tamir caught sight of many ships floating like toys far below.

 

"There they are!" Arkoniel exclaimed softly, sounding a bit surprised and rather pleased with himself. "Found them on the first try, too. We're far enough away to be safe. They can't hear us way up here."

 

"They can see back through it, and hear too, can't they?"

 

"Yes, that's why I have to be very careful. We don't want to give ourselves away."

 

Carefully manipulating the spell, he guided the "window" down to what appeared to be the flagship. Barefoot sailors were busy on deck and in the sheets, but there were other men lounging at the rail and around the deck, men who wore the boots of soldiers. Arkoniel spied a pair who appeared to be officers and carefully brought the narrowed window up behind them. They were talking in low voices. It was difficult to hear them over the rush of waves under the keel and what Tamir could make out was in a language she did not speak.

 

Iya listened intently for a moment, then shook her head and motioned for Arkoniel to end the spell.

 

"At the moment the tall one's bragging about some horses he's bought," she said. "It's a good spell though, and a good idea. We will try again in a little while."

 

"Maybe you should show this to some of our nobles," Ki said. "The ones who were doubting whether wizards would be of use, anyway."

 

"Yes, perhaps we can change their minds when they see how useful your magic is," Tamir agreed.

 

"Better not to," Iya replied. "It's a useful spell, and not only against foreign enemies. First and foremost, Tamir, we serve you. It might be best if others did not know that we can watch them like this."

 

"There's also the danger that someone versed in magic might recognize it as something other than an Oreska-derived spell," Arkoniel added. "You two are used to Lhel and her ways. But you know how most people feel about her kind and their magic."

 

"They think that it's necromancy," Ki replied.

 

"Yes, and Tamir can afford no taint of that."

 

"Have you taught this spell to any of your other wizards here?" Tamir asked.

 

"No, not this one."

 

"Do you watch them, too, then?"

 

"No, for none of them have given me any reason to. Without trust, we can't hope to achieve the sort of unity Iya foresaw. But I would not hesitate to do so if I thought any of them were secretly disloyal. As Iya said, our loyalty is to you, and you alone, even before Skala."

 

"So only the two of you know this spell?"

 

"These wizards from Ero still know nothing of Lhel, and for now, that's best," Iya told her.

 

"Those I gathered at the keep do, though," said Arkoniel. "Lhel was with us for a time." Tamir nodded, considering all this. "I won't have you using that kind of watching spell on me. Give me your word on that."

 

Both wizards pressed their hands to their hearts and gave their oaths.

 

"You have my word as your friend, too," Arkoniel added earnestly. "We will find other ways to watch over you. We always have."

 

"My secret watchers, eh?"

 

Iya smiled. "Those who watch on your behalf."

 

"Very well. Now, what's this magic you're so anxious to show me, Arkoniel?"

 

"Come down to the courtyard."

 

"I've spent a great deal of time, pondering how to combine spells to the best offensive advantage," he explained. "I believe I've hit upon a few that will be most effective, and they take only a few of us rather than exhausting all of us at once, as that spell before the gates did."

 

In the courtyard they found Hain and Saruel waiting next to a burning brazier. The man held a bow, and a space had been cleared and a round wooden target set up for a shooting list.

 

"You're joining my archers?" Tamir asked, curious.

 

"No, Majesty," he replied, handing the bow to her, and an arrow with a bit of oil-soaked rag wrapped around the head. "If you would be so kind as to assist us in our demonstration?"

 

"Fire, that's the key," Arkoniel explained. "Step over here."

 

He led her away from the target so that she was facing the wooden curtain wall.

 

Ki looked around. "She's facing away from your target."

 

Arkoniel's grin widened as he lit the tip of her arrow with a snap of his fingers. "You only think she is. Get ready to draw on my word, Tamir." He moved a few yards away and wove a pattern on the air with his wand.

 

A small circle of blackness appeared out of thin air near the tip of his wand. At his silent command, it dilated until it was about two feet across. He stepped back. "At this close range, that should be an easy target for a skilled archer like you. If you would?"

 

Tamir drew and let fly. The flaming shaft struck the black circle dead center and disappeared into it. The circle winked out of existence, leaving no trace of the arrow behind. It should have been quivering in the wooden wall a few yards away, but it had disappeared without a trace.

 

"Now, if you'd step back to the target," Arkoniel said.

 

The burning arrow was embedded dead center in the wooden target, the shaft and fletching already charring black. The thick wood of the target began to smoke as they watched, then burst into flame.

 

"Saruel added a nice bit of magic to the oil," Arkoniel explained.

 

"Yes, anything it touches once it is ignited will burn quite intensely," the Khatme woman said. "It is very dangerous, not to be handled carelessly."

 

"Bilairy's balls!" Ki laughed. "So you can send an arrow anywhere you like, and it will set whatever it hits on fire? That's a neat trick."

 

Tamir took in the impossible trajectory of the shaft. "How is that possible?"

 

"It's just the translocation spell. I visualize where I want an object to go and that's where it comes out. A normal flame is snuffed out in the transition, but Saruel's spell makes it strong enough to survive. Well, most of the time, anyway."

 

"And you are certain it will work against the ships?"

 

Arkoniel rubbed at his beard, eyeing the burning target. "Reasonably so, based on the tries we've made so far."

 

"Amazing," Tamir said, genuinely impressed.

 

"That is his gift," Iya said proudly. "He's already come up with ideas I'd never have dreamed of. Or anyone else, it seems."

 

"Even in Aurenen, no one has ever made such a spell as this," said Saruel. "The Lightbearer has touched him with special sight."

 

"How did my uncle ever dare to turn his back on that immortal?"

 

"We've seen what comes of that," Iya said. "You are already healing the land and restoring Illior's favor. And you have Sakor's as well. They are the patrons of Skala, and you embody them both. That is no accident."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 17

 

  

 

 

 

There was no time to assemble their full force. Even if there had been, Tamir was unwilling to leave Ero completely open to attack on the strength of a single vision. She sent mounted messengers up and down the coast, raising the alarm and summoning more reinforcements from Atyion. There were three nobles with estates within half a day's ride, but one was already here with his fifty men and the other two had made no effort to acknowledge Tamir's claim to the throne.

 

She gathered her generals in Illardi's library and consulted his maps.

 

"It's deep water here where you think they'll arrive, and a long smooth beach for landing," Illardi said, pointing to the area in question. "Lots of room to beach longboats or ferry in horses. They'll most likely rely on swordsmen and archers, and may shoot from the boats as they come in. They're masters at that."

 

"if they come in," said Ki. "If I found myself facing a massed army, I'd withdraw."

 

"Not if you were a Plenimaran," Tharin pointed out. "Their Overlord is unforgiving if his orders aren't carried out to the fullest, no matter what the cost."

 

Jorvai nodded. "That's true. In any case, though, the open beach still works to our advantage."

 

"We can mass our archers to the fore, with the cavalry behind," said Tamir. "Their archers will be scattered and shooting from unsteady boats. No matter how skilled they are, that won't help their aim. For all the history lessons old Raven gave us, I don't recall one battle where the enemy won the advantage with that kind of assault."

 

"Don't underestimate them," Tharin warned. "I hate to praise an enemy, but I've fought them all my life and they come by their reputation honestly. They're as fearless as they are brutal."

 

"Then we'll make certain the tide comes in red with their blood." Tamir turned to the others. "With warriors like you at my back and Illior on our side, how can we fail?"

 

In the end, she decided on two hundred mounted archers and five hundred more armed riders. Jorvai and Kyman would lead the two wings. She would command the center, with Tharin and her Companions, together with Nyanis and her Atyion companies. Illardi would remain at Ero, to protect the city.

 

When they'd finished she sent the generals back to their camps but remained in the library with Tharin and her Companions, fanning herself with a folded map. The day had turned out hot.

 

"So, have you all found squires for yourselves?" she asked. "You'll be needing them."

 

"We have, Majesty," said Nikides. "I'll send for them and their kin, for the investiture."

 

Iya had suggested privately that it would be wise to promote the kin of Tamir's allies to the Companions. Tamir had agreed and was pleased to find Illardi, Kyman, and one of Jorvai's knights all waiting solemnly in the sweltering hall. With them stood two boys and a girl, dressed in full armor in spite of the heat.

 

The first presented was Illardi's eldest son, tall, dark-eyed Lorin. He was a good choice; she'd seen the boy sparring in the practice yard and he had skill. The other two were strangers, but looked steady and strong. They all seemed young, and none of them had earned their braids yet, but she'd been younger than them when she'd joined Korin's Companions.

 

"Arkoniel had a word with them earlier, too," Tharin whispered to her. "He was pleased."

 

Not standing on ceremony, she joined them by the hearth. "Companions, present your choices."

 

Nikides had precedence by birth. "Majesty, I present Lorin, son of the Duke Illardi, and humbly request you accept his service as a squire among the Companions."

 

"Do you desire to serve in this manner?" she asked the boy. Lorin immediately fell to one knee and presented his blade. "With all my heart!"

 

"Duke Illardi, do you give permission for the bond?"

 

"I do, Majesty," Illardi replied proudly.

 

"Then I accept your son into my service. Rise, Lorin, and join hands with your new lord for the bond."

 

Lorin clasped hands with Nikides. Duke Illardi unbuckled his sword belt and wrapped the long end around the boys' hands. "Serve well, my son, your lord and your queen."

 

"I swear by the Four," Lorin vowed solemnly.

 

"Lord Nikides, I ask that you care for my son as your retainer."

 

"By the Four, he will be as a brother to me."

 

Una was the next in rank and presented a sun-browned girl with wild blond hair caught back in an unruly braid. "My queen, I present Hylia, daughter of Sir Moren of Colath. She's one of Ahra's riders, and we've fought together since I joined. I humbly request you accept her service as a squire among the Companions."

 

Ki grinned. "I'll vouch for her, too. We grew up near each other and used to wrestle every time we met."

 

The vows were given and Sir Moren gave his daughter a kiss on the brow.

 

Lynx presented his candidate next, a boy of fourteen named Tyrien, a nephew to Lord Kyman. "His father's dead and his mother is at home, but I speak for him," said Kyman, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Tyrien was a head shorter than Lynx, but wiry-looking and strong, and had a hint of Aurenfaie about him, with his large grey eyes and fair skin.

 

The ritual was repeated and Tyrien took his place beside Lynx.

 

"Welcome, my friends," Tamir said to the new squires. "I know you will serve Skala well and be worthy of the title of Royal Companion. These are uncertain times now, and you'll all have a chance to prove yourselves in battle soon. Fight bravely, and I'll put in your braids myself."

 

As she finished, her gaze came to rest on Ki. At his own insistence, he was still only a squire in name, but she was determined to change that. He was more to her than that, and everyone knew it.

 

They don't know all of it, though, she thought, remembering her confusion when they'd woken up together that morning. I don't even understand it completely myself.

 

"Majesty?" Imonus approached, holding something covered in a cloth. "I have something for you."

 

He swept the cloth aside to reveal a fine helm. The steel headpiece, cheek guards, and mail neck curtain were chased with gold, and a simple golden crown encircled the brow.

 

"Where did you get this?" she asked.

 

"From the wagons bearing the contents of the royal catacombs, my lady. I do not know which queen it belonged to, but I suspect none of them would begrudge a kinswoman wearing it to battle. The enemy should know that they face a true queen."

 

Tamir turned it over in her hands, admiring the fine metalwork. The image of Illior's dragon stood rampant in gold on the cheek pieces. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

 

Imonus bowed. "It will do until the true crown graces your brow." Baldus was fairly bouncing with excitement when she and Ki reached her room. "Highness, look, look what's arrived and just in time for the battle!"

 

"She's Majesty now," Ki informed him as Tamir strode over to the bed with a happy gasp.

 

The seamstresses of Illardi's house had been busy. A new silk tabard was worked beautifully with her arms, and a new banner was spread out across the bed beside it.

 

Tamir sent Baldus out, wanting a last moment alone with Ki.

 

His blood was up and his eyes were shining in a way she hadn't seen in weeks. "You're looking forward to this."

 

"So are you."

 

She grinned. "It should be a nice change from complaining millers."

 

"It's going to be a tough fight if the wizards counted right."

 

"But we're better rested and can meet them in place."

 

"Old Raven would be proud of you. You were good at your history and warfare lessons." He paused and eyed her closely. "You've got something on your mind besides the battle."

 

Tamir hesitated, wondering how to broach the issue of Ki's promotion to him. "It came to me during the investitures. I've no business treating you like a squire. You're as dear to me as—" She paused, and felt herself blushing. "As Caliel is to Korin," she finished quickly. "It's not right, after all we've been through together."

 

Ki's brown eyes narrowed. "No."

 

"You'd still be—"

 

"No, Tamir!" He folded his arms, mouth set in a stubborn line. "We've both had enough changes to last us a while. This isn't the time for you to break in some green squire."

 

"You're as bad as Tharin."

 

"He stayed your father's man, didn't he? There's no shame in it." "Of course not, but you deserve more respect. So does he."

 

"I'm at your side, Tamir. If people don't respect that, then to hell with them. I've never cared what anyone thinks and you know it."

 

That was a lie, of course. Taunts of "grass knight" and "horse thief's brat" had cut him to the quick, even if he'd been too proud to say so.

 

Can a queen take her squire for a consort? Blushing again at the unbidden thought, she turned and pretended to admire the new tabard. She'd let Ki have his way for now, but sooner or later she'd see him raised to his proper place. And anyone who wanted to remember him as a grass knight then could go to Bilairy.

 

Iya and several other wizards had kept on with their watching and sent word that the Plenimarans meant to make landfall exactly where Tamir had foreseen.

 

The sun was at its zenith and the house was sweltering as Ki helped her on with her padded tunic and Aurenfaie chain mail. Sweating in his own armor, he tugged her burnished cuirass snugly into place, making sure there was the least gap possible on either side. The elegant goldwork on the breastplate caught the light. This armor, like the helm, had been made for a woman warrior and accented the slight curve of her bosom with glinting steel and tracery. She felt rather self-conscious about that. Still, she couldn't resist stealing a sidelong look in the mirror.

 

Ki laughed as he dropped the silk tabard over her head. "Pretty taken with yourself, ain't you?"

 

Tamir scowled at her reflection. "Do I look like a queen?"

 

Ki clapped the new helm on her head. "You do now, except for the Sword."

 

"I still have a good one." She drew her blade and held it up. It had been her father's.

 

Ki clasped her shoulder. "He'd be proud of you, and so would your mother, too, I bet, if she could see you now."

 

Tamir wished she could believe that. "Let's go," she said. "I want to be well placed when our guests show up."

 

The Companions and standard-bearers stood ready in the courtyard. Arkoniel, Saruel, and Kiriar were with them. The wizards wore no armor but were dressed for swift riding. The Khatme still wore her long dark gown, but sat astride with her skirts pulled back over tall riding boots.

 

"How is Iya?" she asked Arkoniel.

 

"Exhausted."

 

"You've been using magic, too. Aren't you tired?"

 

Arkoniel smiled. "I've been at different tasks, and they were not as taxing. I'm ready for battle. We all are."

 

"My Oreska wing," she said, smiling. "May Sakor join with Illior for your work today."

 

Lynx was holding her mount. She missed her old horse, Gosi, who'd been missing since Ero fell, but the little palfrey wouldn't have been suited for this sort of work. She rode a tall black Aurenfaie stallion named Midnight now, from her Atyion herds. He was trained for battle: swift, responsive, with no hint of skittishness. She'd seen to it that Ki had a horse of equal mettle, a fine bay named Swift.

 

She made a last offering at the shrine of the Four and was glad to see the smoke from Sakor's brazier float straight up, an auspicious sign before battle. She also stopped at the stele and burned incense and owl feathers there. The smoke caressed her again, but the Lightbearer had no more visions for her.

 

She rode out the gate to take her place at the head of the mounted column, and a huge cheer went up from the riders and the other warriors who stood watching. The banners of her lords fluttered above the ranks in a stiff sea breeze, bright against the morning sky. "Ta-mir! Ta-mir! Ta-mir!" The chant sent a chill up her spine.

 

She rose in the saddle and saluted them. The cheering swelled as she kicked her mount into a gallop and rode for the head of the column.

 

A calm certainty settled over her, as it always did at such moments. This is what I was born for.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 18

 

  

 

 

 

They reached the cove just before nightfall and Tamir sent out scouts to look for advance forces. On the horizon, she could just make out a few dark shapes.

 

Arkoniel verified them as enemy ships. "They must mean to come ashore after dark, just as you foresaw."

 

"Yes." The three-quarter moon was rising behind the ships. It had been much higher in the vision. "I want the riders held back a quarter mile. The archers will lie low along the head of the beach here. Do you know yet if they have wizards with them?"

 

"I've seen no sign of any," he replied.

 

"Good."

 

Tamir rode among the wings, speaking with the captains as they and their warriors shared a cold meal. They wanted no fires to alert the enemy. It was a clear night and even the smallest flame would be visible for miles. Each company of archers along the beach had a fire laid ready, with a cup of firechips to throw on when the time came.

 

Silence was ordered, for sound carried, too. Tamir stood with her guard, watching and listening.

 

"There," Saruel whispered at last. "Can you see the glimmer of the sails? They're sailing without lanterns."

 

Wizards saw better than most in the dark, but Tamir could soon make out the scattered brightness of sails catching the moonlight. Soon they could hear the creak of ropes and the snap of canvas.

 

The first enemy vessels entered the cove mouth, unaware of the welcome that awaited them, and the first longboats were lowered. The boats were strongly rowed, and skimmed swiftly shoreward.

 

Tamir and her Companions stood at the center of the beach with bows in hand. Nyanis stood with them, and one of the archer captains. At her signal, Nyanis scattered a few firechips onto the dry wood and flames flared up. In an instant other fires leaped up along the beach. Tamir grinned at Ki as they heard the first shouts of alarm from the approaching boats.

 

Ki handed her an arrow tipped with a knot of pitch-soaked rag. She nocked the shaft, lit the head, and fired it high into the air. It was too late for the Plenimaran boatmen to retreat. Two hundred Skalan archers had already drawn on Tamir's signal and loosed a deadly, flaming volley at the enemy.

 

Hundreds of arrows lit the sky, and for a moment the enemy boats cast shadows on the water. Then the shafts found their mark and darkness returned, filled with screams. Another volley was loosed, then another, and a fourth. More shouts and cries of pain echoed across the water.

 

As Tharin had predicted, however, the Plenimarans were not immediately dismayed. Answering volleys whistled back through the air. Ki and the other Companions threw up their shields around Tamir, catching half a dozen points. Other arrows struck the ground around them, sticking quivering in the sand.

 

"Arkoniel, now!" she ordered.

 

The wizard cast a spinning black disk on the air a few yards in front of him, and Lynx and Ki covered Tamir with their shields as she sent a flaming shaft through it. The shaft disappeared and the disk collapsed.

 

An instant later the sail of a distant ship caught fire. The flames spread with unnatural speed, driven by Saruel's charm.

 

"It worked!" Arkoniel crowed.

 

The flames quickly claimed the masts and spread to the deck below. In the red glare of the flames, they could see sailors abandoning the vessel.

 

He and the other wizards cast more of the spells, until ten ships were burning. They'd scattered the attacks among the fleet; the wind carried bits of burning sail to other vessels. The harbor was bright with the light of burning ships.

 

The Plenimarans managed a few more ragged volleys, but they lacked the concentration of the Skalan assault.

 

"They're turning back!" a lookout called and the cry went down the line.

 

The Skalan warriors gave their war cries and beat their shields in a deafening roar of defiance. As it died away, however, Tamir heard a horn from their northern flank, signaling an attack there.

 

"They must have gotten a force ashore up the coast!" Tharin cried. "Companions, guard your queen!"

 

"Nyanis, hold the longboats with your archers," Tamir ordered. "Companions, to your horses!"

 

Tamir rallied her cavalry and galloped north to meet the foe there. It was impossible to make out exact numbers in the darkness, but the moon cast enough light to see a sizable force marching quickly to meet them. They clashed half a mile north of the cove, horse against foot, and the battle cries rang out on both sides.

 

"For Skala and the Four!" Tamir cried, pressing the Skalan cavalry's advantage and riding the Plenimarans down.

 

Slashing left and right with her sword, she hewed her way through upraised swords and pikes. Midnight reared at her command, lashing out with steel-shod hooves. The Plenimarans' shouts turned to screams under her onslaught and hot blood spurted up her arm and into her face. Battle lust seized her, driving away any thought of pain or fatigue. She was dimly aware of Ki shouting something behind her.

 

She looked around and spotted her standard waving over the heads of the massed foot soldiers, and Ki and the others fighting frantically to catch up with her.

 

Suddenly too many arms were reaching for her, hands grasping and pulling, trying to drag her from the saddle. She laid about with her sword, driving back all she could reach. Midnight snorted and bucked, kicking out at those trying to slash his legs below the barding. Tamir clung on with her thighs and twisted her rein hand in his mane. The high bow of the saddle kept her steady as the horse tried to rear again. She reined him down, concerned that there were too many sharp blades ready to slash at his underbelly. Someone grabbed her by the ankle and tried to yank her down.

 

Just as she was certain she was going to fall, the man who had her foot suddenly let go and fell away. Righting herself in the saddle, Tamir looked down to see Brother's pale face among the press. Men falling dead without a blow marked his wake as he disappeared again.

 

Then Ki was with her, screaming with rage as he and Tharin cut down the Plenimarans still clinging to Tamir's legs and harness. Her other Companions soon caught up and cleared a circle around her.

 

Lynx was struck in the shoulder by a pike and nearly toppled from his saddle, but Tyrien rode the pikeman down. Just beyond them, Una and Hylia were fighting side by side, widening the swath of open ground around Tamir. Kyman and his riders were pushing the enemy back on her right. In the distance she could make out Jorvai's banner waving above the fray.

 

"Fight through and wheel!" Tamir shouted, brandishing her sword toward the thin line of enemy soldiers that stood between them and the beach.

 

They cut their way through and turned to crash into the enemy line again. They might be outnumbered, but their horses gave them the advantage and their first charge broke the lines. They swept through the disorganized men like a scythe through a grainfield, cutting them down and trampling them under their horses' hooves.

 

"They're breaking!" Tharin shouted.

 

Tamir heard a wild shout of victory and looked to see Nikides—bloody-faced and cheering—brandishing his darkened blade, with young Lorin beside him, grim and equally blooded.

 

"To me!" Tamir called, rallying them for another pass.

 

The enemy broke, trying to flee back to the boats they'd come in on. Ships were anchored here, too, and Tamir had no wizards to burn them.

 

Tamir and her riders rode the fleeing warriors down, driving them into the water, then pulled back and let Kyman's archers finish them off and burn their boats. Some managed to escape, rowing back into the darkness, but behind them the corpses of their fallen comrades littered the sand and rolled in the swell of the incoming tide.

 

They rode back to the beach where Nyanis' archers stood ready to resume their attack. Tamir dismounted by one of their watch fires.

 

"The dogs have gone back to their kennels for now," he reported, looking her over. She was covered in blood, and her tabard was stained and torn. "You look like you had a good time."

 

"A bit too good," Tharin said softly, glowering at her. "You left your guard behind and came close to losing Ki in the bargain."

 

"Then you'd all better learn to ride faster," she retorted. He was right, of course, but she wasn't about to admit it.

 

He held her gaze a moment, then pursed his lips and looked away, knowing better than to say more in front of the other nobles.

 

The wizards joined her by the watch fire and they stood in silence a moment, marveling at their success.

 

"What do you think they'll do now?" asked Arkoniel. "They still outnumber us, and it's too soon to expect our reinforcements." Tamir shrugged. "If they come in again, we'll fight them again. They've lost the element of surprise and they know it. I think they'll ask to parley."

 

As the misty dawn broke over the water, she was proven right. The Plenimaran flagship raised a long white banner. She gave orders for her standard-bearer to answer in kind, then summoned her entire force to mass along the beach in plain sight.

 

A longboat bearing a smaller version of the parley banner was lowered and rowed ashore. The Plenimaran commander was a black-bearded giant of a man, dressed in ornate black leather and mail. His surcoat bore the device of a noble house. Half a dozen grim-looking men accompanied him, all unarmed.

 

They splashed from the boat, but the commander left the others at the water's edge and strode without escort up the beach. When he saw Tamir standing there in her crowned helm he hesitated, perhaps surprised not to meet a more formidable foe.

 

"I am Duke Odonis, General of Plenimar and Admiral of the Overlord's fleet," he announced gruffly in thickly accented Skalan. "With whom do I speak?"

 

"I am Tamir Ariani Agnalain, Queen of Skala," she replied, removing her helm so that he could see her face better. "You parley with me."

 

His bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Queen?" he scoffed. "Skala has no queen now. Who are you, little girl?"

 

Little girl! She was still enough Tobin in her own mind to be doubly offended by the jibe. She drew herself up sternly. "I am Tamir, daughter of the Princess Ariani, daughter of Agnalain. My uncle, the usurper king, cursed of Illior, fell to your first assault on the capital. I stand in his place now, the chosen of Illior Lightbearer. The priests of Afra will bear witness to this."

 

Odonis was still regarding her with some skepticism. "You lead this—" He took in the small size of her force and arched an eyebrow at her again. "This raiding party?"

 

"I do. Do you mean to carry on with your assault? My army and my wizards stand ready to fight you."

 

"Wizards? Ah, Oreska. Toothless wanderers."

 

"They are not so toothless," Tamir replied calmly, pointing out at the burning ships. "That's their work. Allow me to convince you."

 

Arkoniel cast the spell once again and she shot a flaming shaft neatly through it. Across the water, the mainsail of Odonis' ship caught fire.

 

Odonis no longer looked so smug. "What is this?"

 

"This is the work of my Oreska, and they will do so to your entire fleet if you do not leave our shores at once."

 

"You do not fight us in an honorable way!"

 

"Was it honorable for the commander who came before you to sail out of the teeth of a gale with no challenge and fall on a sleeping city? It was a cowardly attack and he was defeated with all his force, at Illior's will, by Skalan warriors and Skalan wizards. Their ships lie at the bottom of Ero harbor now. The rest of your ships will suffer the same fate if you do not withdraw and go home. Go back to your Overlord and tell him that a daughter of Thelatimos rules again, and Skala is once more under the Lightbearer's protection."

 

Odonis considered this, then gave her a stiff bow. "I will carry your words."

 

"I'm not done," Tamir snapped. "I demand reparation for Ero. I will keep ten of your ships. You will surrender them at once and leave them here at anchor."

 

"Ten!"

 

"You may take the crew away with you. I have no time to deal with them. Leave the vessels with their stores and take the rest of your ships. Otherwise, I will burn them all out from under you and kill every Plenimaran who makes it to shore."

 

She had no idea if the exhausted wizards could carry out her threat, but then, neither did Odonis, and he had little reason to doubt her.

 

She could see his jaw working through his beard as the man gritted his teeth in frustration. At last he bowed again. "As you say. Ten ships, with stores but no crew."

 

"You will surrender your banner, as an acknowledgment of your defeat here today. Before these witnesses, I place you under my sacred protection if you will leave my shores now. Land again, and I will leave none of you alive. I suggest you go at once, before I change my mind."

 

Odonis made her a last grudging bow and walked quickly back to his waiting boat. Tamir's people jeered at his retreat.

 

Tamir stood watching until he was well away, then sank down wearily on a stone as the night's work caught up with her. "Tharin, pass the word that everyone is to rest a little before we head back. All of you," she added, giving the Companions a meaningful look. Grinning, they spread out around her, lying on their cloaks on the beach.

 

Ki stretched out beside her, leaning back on his elbows. He still had blood on his face, but a long stalk of wild oat hung from the corner of his mouth and he looked well content with the world.

 

"That was a nice bit of fighting, Your Majesty, except for you charging off without us," he said, just loud enough for her ears.

 

"I thought you'd all keep up."

 

The stalk bobbed against Ki's lip as he sucked on it in silence for a moment. "Now that you're my queen, can I still tell you that I'll kick your ass from here to Alestun if you do that again?"

 

The last of the day's tension dissolved as she let out a laugh and punched him roughly on the shoulder. "Yes, I think you still can."

 

Ki grinned up at her. "Well, since you managed to survive it, I guess I'll tell you that I've heard what some of the warriors are saying. They think you're god-touched by Sakor and the Lightbearer, all at once."

 

"I'm beginning to think so, too." But she hadn't forgotten that glimpse of Brother in the fray, either. It was the second time he'd aided her in battle, and she silently thanked him.

 

Arkoniel was grateful for the respite. He'd never cast so many spells in such a short space of time before. Even Saruel was pallid beneath her markings as they retired to get their breath.

 

Glancing back, Arkoniel saw Tamir and Ki sitting together down the beach. The way they were talking and smiling, they looked almost like the two young boys they'd been.

 

Seasoned by tragedy and battle, and not yet sixteen. But she was not the first queen to take the throne so young, and others had been married and bedded at her age.

 

And then there was Ki. He'd turn seventeen soon. As the wizard watched, he leaned over to Tamir and said something and they both laughed.

 

Arkoniel felt another bittersweet tug at his heart as he allowed himself to lightly brush Ki's mind. He loved Tamir with his whole heart, but there was still great confusion there.

 

Still mindful of his promise, the wizard turned away without touching Tamir's thoughts. Joining Saruel and Kiriar above the beach, he sprawled on the coarse grass there and closed his eyes. Every spell took its toll, but he'd never experienced a sense of depletion like this. What good would they be to Tamir in a real war if a single battle used up all their strength?

 

Che sun was just peaking over the horizon when a horn call roused him from his doze. The wizards rose with a collective groan. Arkoniel gave Saruel his hand and helped her to her feet. To his surprise, warriors and captains reached out and patted their backs and saluted them as they mounted and joined the others.

 

"By the Light, that was a neat bit of magicking you lot did!" Jorvai exclaimed.

 

Tamir gave Arkoniel a genuine smile. "The Third Oreska proved its worth today. We lost less than twoscore. I wonder what it would be like, to settle all disputes so easily," she mused.

 

Jorvai snorted. "Wouldn't leave us warriors much to do, now would it?"

 

Arkoniel couldn't imagine magic ever supplanting war, and doubted if it would be a good thing if it did. War gave men like Jorvai purpose.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 19

 

  

 

 

 

Outriders carried the news of their success back to Ero and Tamir returned to find her people lining the roads, waving flowers and bright bits of cloth and chanting her name in an endless roar.

 

At Illardi's gate she drew her sword and proclaimed, "This victory belongs to Illior, protector of Skala!"

 

They rode a circuit of the camps and Ero's ruined eastern gate. She poured a soldier's libation there for the spirits of all who'd died in the last battle and again gave thanks to Illior.

 

They ended at Illardi's courtyard and the soldiers took their leave. The commanders dismounted and followed Tamir into the temple of the stele, where the three masked priests of Afra stood waiting to greet her.

 

"Tell me, my queen, do you now believe in the visions of the Lightbearer?" Imonus asked.

 

"I do," she replied, presenting him with the captured Plenimaran banner. "I present this trophy to Illior as a token of my gratitude. The vision was true, and saved many lives. We were not taken unaware this time."

 

"It is a sign, my queen. The covenant that was broken by Erius has been restored."

 

"I will uphold it as long as I rule."

 

Tamir held a victory feast the following night and sent ale and victuals out to the camps. Bonfires burned across the plain well into the night.

 

Arkoniel was pleased to find himself and Iya at the head table once again, with the other wizards in places of honor among the nobles.

 

Tamir entered the hall when all the others were seated. She wore a dark blue velvet gown embroidered with silver, with her sword hanging at her side. The golden circlet shone on her brow, contrasting with her black hair.

 

"She looks rather pretty, don't you think?" said Iya.

 

Arkoniel had to agree although she still strode like a man. Ki was at her side, looking older and very noble in his dark velvet tunic. His long hair was drawn back in a braid, with the two thin warrior braids still loose on either side of his face. Arkoniel took a closer look at the other Companions and saw that the others had done the same, except for Nikides, who wore his hair pulled back in a simple queue.

 

"Tamir's idea, I believe," Iya murmured. "I like it. Signifies a change."

 

Between the meat and fish courses, Tamir stood and poured the libation to the gods, then toasted her commanders. When the cheering had subsided, she turned to the wizards and saluted them with her mazer.

 

"My friends," she began, and Arkoniel's heart skipped a beat as those dark eyes lingered on his face longer than the rest. "My friends, once again you have proven your great value and skill. Skala thanks you! No wizard who serves the Third Oreska will lack a roof over his head or food to eat in my city."

 

As they returned to their meal, Arkoniel leaned over to Iya and whispered, "Do you think we're forgiven at last?"

 

"I hope so. To protect her, we must remain close to her."

 

The feast broke up late in the evening, but Arkoniel lingered, hoping for a word with Tamir. She was about to retire but excused herself from the others and drew him across the hall to an unoccupied corner.

 

"Yes?"

 

Arkoniel smiled, feeling a little awkward. "I appreci- ated your kind words tonight. You know that I have given my life to you, but—well, I do hope you can find it in your heart to see me as a friend again."

 

Tamir was quiet for a moment, then held out her hand. "I'm sorry if I've been cold. It was hard, but now, I do truly see what we can accomplish together. This was meant to be. You and Iya have been faithful guardians."

 

Blinking back sudden tears, he sank to his knees before her and pressed his lips to her hand. "I will never leave you, my queen."

 

She chuckled. "Well, I hope you'll leave me to go to bed."

 

"Of course." Arkoniel rose and bowed.

 

She turned to go, then paused, an odd look in her eyes—it was a question, with perhaps a hint of doubt. At last she said, "When I go to Afra, you and Iya will come with me, won't you? Since Illior spoke to you there."

 

"Only to Iya," Arkoniel reminded her.

 

"You've carried the burden, too. I want you both with me."

 

"As you wish."

 

"Good. I'll settle things in Atyion, then a journey." She leaned closer and confided, "I'm actually looking forward to it. I don't mind the fighting and feasting, but holding court is so boring! Well, good night."

 

Arkoniel stifled a laugh as he watched her rejoin the Companions and take her leave.

 

Tamir took leave of her friends and went to her room with Ki.

 

"That was a good feast," Ki said, patting his belly happily. "A good feast for a good victory."

 

"It was," Tamir agreed, but other thoughts had been nagging at her all day. "Can you imagine facing Korin like that?"

 

"You're still worried about a war with him."

 

"Aren't you?" "I guess so, but what can you do? He's made no effort to talk with you, just sat up there in Cirna gathering his army. You don't think he's doing that just to pass the time, do you?"

 

"But I haven't made any effort to contact him, have I?"

 

"You're the legitimate queen. It's up to him to come to you."

 

Tamir let out an exasperated sigh and dropped into a chair. "That's what Illardi and everyone else keeps telling me. But he won't, and as queen, it's up to me to keep the peace, wouldn't you say?"

 

"Well, yes—"

 

"So I've made up my mind. I'm going to write to him. Privately, as kin, not an enemy."

 

"I don't suppose a letter could do much harm," he replied doubtfully. "Or much good either, probably."

 

"Go and fetch me a herald, will you? I won't be long." She paused, wondering what Iya or her generals would think of her plan. "Be discreet, won't you?"

 

Ki gave her a wry wink as he went out. "Is that what we call it, now that we're all grown up?"

 

Tamir went into the day room next to her bedchamber and sat down at the writing desk. Quill in hand, she stared at the blank parchment, searching for the right words. Nikides and Illardi helped her with her correspondence in court matters, but she wanted to speak to Korin from her heart, not in formal court language. The words flowed easily onto the parchment.

 

'To Prince Korin, Beloved Cousin and Brother, I know, you've had word of me, Kor, and what has happened. I know how hard it must be to believe, but it's true…

 

By the time she finished the words were blurring before her. She wiped her eyes hastily on the sleeve of her gown, not wanting tears to spoil the page and signed it Your loving cousin and sister, Princess Tamir, who was Tobin. She didn't realize Ki had come back until she felt a hand on her shoulder. "I sent Baldus down—Hey, what's wrong?"

 

She turned and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her face to the soft velvet of his tunic. He held her and after a moment she felt a hand stroke her hair.

 

"He's not worth this, you know!" he whispered. "He's not worth your little finger!"

 

She reluctantly released him, then sealed the letter with the expensive blue wax from the desk, pressing the Atyion signet into it. "There. Done."

 

"I hope you know what you're doing," Ki muttered, patting her shoulder.

 

Baldus returned with the herald, a young man with a long blond braid that reached nearly to his waist and the sacred silver-capped baton of his office tucked into the belt of his blue tunic.

 

"Ride to Cirna and deliver this to Prince Korin in private," she told him, giving him the sealed missive. "No one else is to see it, you understand? Destroy it if necessary."

 

The herald touched the seal to his lips. "You have my oath, by Astellus the Traveler. I will deliver your message within the week, barring mishap on the roads."

 

"Good. Wait for Prince Korin's reply. I'm leaving for Atyion soon, so bring me his answer there. A safe journey to you."

 

The herald bowed and strode out.

 

"Atyion at last, eh?" Ki said, pleased.

 

"And then Afra," Tamir replied, picking at a drop of wax on the desktop.

 

"You haven't asked Arkoniel about what Brother said, have you?"

 

"When would I have had time?" she asked, but knew that was only an excuse. Deep down, something was holding her back, even if it meant Brother's continued anger.

 

"Well, you should get some rest."

 

She looked up and found Ki fidgeting nervously as he glanced at the bed.

 

Does he want to sleep with me again, or is he afraid I'll ask him to? she wondered. She didn't know which she wanted, either. It had been so easy the other night, when she was upset in the dark. Now it felt more awkward than ever.

 

"Well—good night," Ki mumbled, and settled the issue by disappearing quickly into the dressing room.

 

"Good night." Tamir stayed at the desk for some time, idly covering a sheet of parchment with designs and small sketches. She was in no hurry to lie down alone.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 20

 

  

 

 

 

With the first harvests in and planting over, more nobles came to Cirna seeking to pledge themselves to the new king. Lutha eagerly searched each band of newcomers for familiar faces. There weren't many.

 

Heralds arrived daily, but some of these messages were cool in tone and evasive about support. Others seemed to be sounding out the new king, weighing his influence against Tobin's claim. They asked the same questions as the nobles who'd been cooling their heels here since spring: Why hadn't he marched to reclaim his capital? Why did he remain at such a distant holding when the land needed him? Why had there been no royal progress? Some sent offers of their daughter's hands, not knowing the king had already taken a wife.

 

Korin and the others were returning from an early-morning ride on the south road when Lutha spotted a rider coming on at a hard gallop.

 

"Look there," he said, pointing.

 

"A messenger," said Lord Niryn, shading his eyes.

 

The entourage reined in, and Captain Melnoth rode out with a few men to intercept him.

 

The man didn't slow his horse until he was almost upon them. Reining in his lathered horse, he called out, "I bring news for King Korin!"

 

"Come," Korin ordered.

 

This was one of Niryn's men. "I was spying at Ero, Majesty. There has been another Plenimaran raid. They attacked north of the city, and Prince Tobin defeated them." "Did you witness the battle, Lenis?" asked Niryn.

 

"Yes, my lord. They have powerful wizards at court there, using some sort of fire spells."

 

"What about my cousin?" Korin demanded, twisting the reins in his hands. "Is he still passing himself off as a girl?"

 

"Yes, Majesty. I caught a glimpse of her—ah, him, as he rode out."

 

"And?" Korin demanded.

 

The man smirked. "He makes a very homely girl, Majesty."

 

Most of the company laughed at that, but Caliel and Lutha exchanged concerned looks. This meant another feather in Tobin's cap. His Illioran supporters would certainly see it as another sign of the god's favor. Korin's supporters here might, as well. They were growing increasingly restless, baffled by Korin's refusal to move.

 

"Shall I carry word on to the fortress, Majesty?" the messenger asked nervously.

 

Korin looked to Niryn before he replied.

 

The wizard shrugged. "There's little hope of keeping this sort of news from traveling."

 

Korin waved the man on.

 

"Damnation!" Alben exclaimed. "Lord Niryn, do you hear that? Another damn victory for Tobin, while we're languishing up here, doing nothing!"

 

"No doubt it was only a small raid, my lord," Niryn replied calmly. "Such things always grow in the telling."

 

"That doesn't matter," Alben retorted.

 

"He's right, you know," Lutha burst out." We should be down there, holding off the enemy."

 

"Hold your tongue," Korin ordered. "I say when we go or stay. You'll do well to remember that, all of you!"

 

Even so, Korin was seething as they rode back to the fortress. Whatever his reasons for staying here, Korin was as frustrated as the rest of them. The news of the victory was met with all the resentment and frustration Lutha felt himself. That night in the great hall, and for many thereafter, there were dark looks and guarded grumbling. Warriors who'd fled the city with Korin burned anew with the shame. Could it be, Lutha heard men whispering, that there was something to this talk of prophecy?

 

Yet no one dared question the king.

 

Lutha marked the days off on the calendar stick and saw Ki's birthday come and go. He and Caliel raised a wine cup to him that night and wondered if he'd celebrated it this year. Korin's name day had been a forced, dreary affair.

 

Things had not improved between Korin. and Caliel. Cal still sat at Korin's right hand, but where once all the Companions had often accompanied Korin to his chambers at night, now only Alben and Urmanis seemed welcome. Moriel the Toad was always lurking about where he was least wanted, too, and Korin seemed to have warmed to him, as well, and often included him in his private drinking circle, at least on the nights when Korin did not go straight to Nalia in her tower.

 

They saw a bit more of the young consort these days. She came down to supper at the high table now and then, when Korin ate privately with his Companions.

 

She and Korin still seemed ill at ease with each other, Lutha noted. Korin had been a loving and attentive husband to Aliya, but it was increasingly apparent that he felt no such affection for his new wife. Nalia was quiet, but did attempt a bit of polite conversation with whoever was sitting next to her. A few times she'd noticed Lutha staring at her and smiled shyly.

 

She often came out walking in the bailey yard or along the walls on the long evenings, always heavily guarded. Lutha and the other Companions served as escorts, but Niryn was always there, making it difficult to speak with her. Korin was conspicuously absent on these occasions.

 

Even without conversation, Lutha felt an increasing sympathy for her. He was homely himself, but he was sure that didn't matter as much in a warrior as in a consort. Nalia was not beautiful, it was true, but her voice was pretty enough to make him wonder what she sounded like if she ever had the occasion to laugh. She had a lady's dignity about her that he admired, but her eyes were so sad it broke his heart.

 

It must be hard on her, too, having the entire fortress whispering about whether she was pregnant yet or not. Korin still made nightly visits to her tower, but Lutha had seen Korin's face more than once as he approached the tower door; he didn't have the look of a happy bridegroom. It was no secret that he seldom passed more than an hour or two there, and returned to his own bed to sleep.

 

All in all, it seemed an odd way to treat a wife, homely or not. Korin had treated his whores better, back in Ero.

 

"Perhaps it's Aliya's memory that keeps him from treating Nalia better," Barieus suggested one night as they all sat together over wine in one of the cheerless guardrooms.

 

"Aliya was beautiful, and he chose her for love," Alben reminded him. "This one? I'd keep her shut away, too, if she were mine."

 

"That's an unmanly sentiment, even from you," Caliel growled. The stress of their situation had frayed the regard between them.

 

"Well, you don't think he chose her on his own, for love or romance, now do you?" Alben shot back. "She's a girl of the blood, one of the last left of a breeding age, as far as anyone knows. That's what Niryn told me."

 

"Getting pretty thick with him, aren't you?" Lutha muttered into his wine. "You speak of her like she's a prize bitch in his kennel," Caliel retorted.

 

Alben shrugged. "What do you think Kor's doing up there with her at night, reading her poetry?"

 

"Shut your filthy mouth, you heartless bastard!" Lutha yelled. "That's the Consort you're speaking so lightly of. She's a lady of the blood!"

 

"And you're her champion?" Alben threw down his cup and jumped to his feet, hot for a fight.

 

Caliel quickly got between them. "Stop it, both of you! The penalty for brawling still stands, and I don't want to be the one having to carry it out!"

 

Alben angrily yanked his arm free of Caliel's grasp.

 

"Where is her family?" Urmanis wondered drunkenly over his cups. "For that matter, where did she come from and how do we know she is what they claim?"

 

That gave everyone pause. After a moment Alben slumped back down in his chair and snatched his squire's wine cup. Draining it, he wiped his mouth and muttered, "I'm not going to be the one to ask Korin about it. You go ahead, if you care so much. Bilairy's balls, Lutha, anyone would think she was your wife, the way you go on about her! I wouldn't let Korin catch you making long eyes at her."

 

"You bastard!" Lutha was on his feet again, reddening at the accusation.,Caliel and Barieus both got hold of him this time. Alben laughed as they pulled him from the room before he could defend his honor.

 

Sitting by the balcony door in her shift, trying to catch a breath of morning breeze, Nalia looked down at the red stain in her lap and smiled. She didn't mind the discomfort and mess of her moon flow; it meant a welcome respite from her husband's cold attentions.

 

Korin still came to her almost every night, and she never refused him, though she still sometimes wept after he'd gone. He was never cruel or coarse, but neither was he passionate. Their congress was merely duty, a task to be carried out as quickly and efficiently as possible. She got no pleasure from it, and wondered if he did, beyond the physical release. Had he been cruel, she might have found the courage finally to make that leap from the balcony. As it was, she'd grown resigned.

 

She had known affection with Niryn, and passion, and she had mistakenly imagined herself his beloved.

 

Life was nothing like that with Korin. When he was sober he would take time before their coupling to drink with her and tell her something of his day. It was all speculation about weaponry and marches, and bored her terribly.

 

Sometimes he asked about her day, though, and she'd dared hint at the empty hours. He'd surprised her, letting her come downstairs to dine more often. He still refused to let her outside the fortress to ride or walk along the cliffs, claiming it wasn't safe, but little comforts began to arrive.

 

She had stacks of books now, baskets of needlework and painting supplies, even a cage of cheerful yellow birds. Korin also sent gifts of perfumes and cosmetics, but these felt more like unspoken taunts. Her mirror had never lied to her and she'd long since made peace with her reflection. Did this man think that a little paint would change the way she looked? It hurt that it mattered enough for him to send such things, just as it still hurt that he would only come to her bed after the lamps had been put out. Niryn had never made her feel ugly.

 

Niryn. It still felt as if her heart would tear itself in two, whenever she thought of him. She could not escape him; he was there at table, and often walked with her, speaking lightly of inconsequential things, as if they were mere acquaintances. She realized now that he enjoyed this game between them, knowing that she could never speak the truth to Korin, even if she'd dared.

 

Oh, but how she longed to! She dreamed of it sometimes, screaming out the truth, so that Korin would mete out his wrath on her seducer. The Korin in her dreams was a warmer, kinder man than the waking reality. She often wished he were not so handsome and coolly attentive. She couldn't quite bring herself to hate him as she did Niryn, but she could not love him, either.

 

She dressed and returned to her chair. "Tomara, tell my husband my moon blood has come again."

 

The woman examined the stained linen and Nalia could see the woman counting silently on her fingers. "Aye, lady. Such a pity!"

 

"Why do you say that?"

 

"Why, you've not kindled, and him trying so hard!"

 

Nalia was shocked at the hint of reproof. "You make it sound as if I'm to blame. Haven't I endured his efforts without complaint?"

 

"Of course you have, my lady. But he's fathered children on other women before you."

 

"Others?" Nalia said faintly. She'd never considered that.

 

Tomara patted her hand. "There are women whose wombs are stony, my lady, and can't sprout their husband's seed, no matter how many times he plants it. If you prove barren, then what shall our young king do for an heir?" She shook her head and set about tidying up the room.

 

A stony womb? Nalia pressed her fingers to her lips, not wanting to betray the sudden hope she felt. Niryn's seed had never grown in her, either! If she were barren, then Korin would have no use for her. Perhaps he would put her aside for another and she would be free!

 

She composed herself quickly and took up her embroidery hoop. "You say my husband has had children with other women? Can none of them be his heir? What about his first wife?"

 

"A sad tale, that. She kindled twice, but lost the first too early and died trying to birth the second."

 

"What about the child?" "It died, as well, poor little mite. If he's got bastards, I haven't heard of them. Besides, only a trueborn heir will do, says Lord Niryn. That's what makes you such a precious jewel, my lady. You have the blood and Lord Niryn claims your family breeds girls. If you give the king a daughter, then who can dispute her claim to the throne? Not that pretender in Ero!" She made an ill luck sign. "Necromancy or pure lies, that's all that is! Mad as his mother, that one, so everyone says."

 

"Prince Tobin, you mean?" asked Nalia. Korin seldom spoke of his cousin except to call him "usurper" and mad.

 

"Your poor husband loved him like a brother. But during the Battle of Ero Prince Tobin ran away and come back with a gang of renegades at his back, claiming to be a girl and the queen!"

 

Nalia stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Don't tell me anyone believed that?"

 

"Why do you think we're way up here, rather than in the capital?" Tomara asked. "Traitors and fools, they are, but there are enough of them to back the boy's claim. It'll be war, I warrant, if they try to go against King Korin. Such nonsense! It's those Illiorans and a pack of mad priests and wizards that's behind it." Her faded eyes went hard and angry. "The old king had the right idea. Burn 'em and be done with it. Now look what we've come to? No, my lady, you must bear a daughter for your dear husband, and soon, for the good of the land."

 

As Nalia had hoped, news of her menses kept Korin away for the required days. She embroidered and played cards with Tomara and read her books, tales of knights perishing for the love of their ladies. Tomara brought her special teas, brewed from cane berry leaves, honey, and unicorn root, to make her womb more fertile.

 

The thought of the king's other wife and whatever other children he might have fathered preyed on her mind, much to her surprise. She was not jealous, just bored to death and hungry for any sort of gossip.

 

"You could find out for me, Tomara. He is my husband, after all. Don't I have a right to know? Perhaps it might help," she wheedled, sensing she had Tomara's attention. "I do so want to please him," she lied. "There must be some among his men who know his—tastes?"

 

Fortunately, Tomara was a bit of a gossip herself, and easily won over to the task. When she brought in the supper tray that night, she was smiling very smugly.

 

Nalia clasped her hands eagerly. "You learned something, didn't you?"

 

"Aye, perhaps," the old woman teased as they sat down to eat beside the hearth.

 

Nalia kissed her, the way she used to charm her nurse into telling secrets. "Come on now, who did you speak to?"

 

"Your husband's manservant. He told me that the king's fathered no living children at all! Not so much as a bastard. Bellies have swelled, but not a child has lived."

 

"Not one? How sad!" Nalia said, forgetting her own hopes for a moment. "No wonder Korin is so glum when he comes to me."

 

"Aye, bad luck," Tomara murmured, nibbling at a slice of bread with an arch look.

 

"There's something else, isn't there?"

 

"Well, I shouldn't tell you—"

 

"Tomara, I—I command you!"

 

"Well, it's only gossip, mind you. Soldiers are worse than old women when it comes to that, and superstitious."

 

"Out with it!" Nalia cried, resisting the urge to pinch her.

 

"Well, just between the two of us, my lady, I've heard a few among the ranks whisper that Korin's seed is cursed, on account of his father seizing the throne from his sister. But Princess Ariani was mad as a spring weasel, and she had no daughter. Stillborn, the girl babe was, or perhaps she killed the child. Who knows? It's no wonder that son of hers turned out a bad sort."

 

"Oh, you'll drive me mad with your rambling! I don't give a broken pin for Prince Tobin. Tell me about Korin!"

 

"It's on account of the prophecy. Surely you know of that?"

 

"The Prophecy of Afra, you mean? The old king and my husband are cursed by that?"

 

"That's what the Illiorans would have us believe," Tomara sniffed. "All the droughts and crop blight and that plague? All because a 'daughter of Thelatimos' doesn't sit on the throne. Didn't stop the rains from coming back this spring, though, did it?"

 

Nalia pondered this. "But King Erius is dead. Maybe that broke the curse?"

 

"Which doesn't say much for the Illiorans' claim to a queen. And all the more reason for that other prince to give way, I say. Korin's claim is the stronger, being the child of Agnalain's firstborn."

 

"But what about the curse on Korin's children?" Nalia asked impatiently.

 

Tomara leaned close and whispered, "It's said that he's fathered nothing but monsters, dead before they could draw breath."

 

Nalia shivered in spite of the day's lingering heat. "His other wife, she died in childbirth?"

 

Tomara sensed her misstep at once. "Oh pet! She wasn't of the royal line, was she? Not like you. The old king died and took the curse with him. The sun shines on the new king, and on you. You're the last, you see! With nothing but two princes left, you are the daughter of Thelatimos, and your children have the true claim. You'll be the mother of queens!"

 

Nalia nodded bravely, but fear turned the bread to ashes in her mouth. Her bleeding passed on the sixth day, and the following night Korin resumed his cheerless visits, sometimes coming to her drunk and barely able to consummate the act.

 

Tomara brought her those herbal infusions again, too, but Nalia only pretended to drink them and poured them into the commode when the woman was out of the room.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 21

 

  

 

 

 

Tamir stayed in Ero long enough to celebrate Ki's name day. It had been a small celebration this year, just the Companions and a few close friends, with lots of wine and honey cake. Tamir joined in the drinking and jokes, but found herself 'watching Ki with different eyes as he teased the new squires about fidgeting with their braids. They were still children, really, but he was a man grown.

 

An age to be thinking of marriage.

 

Since the night of the victory feast, he'd gone back to his cot in the dressing room, as if nothing had happened between them. Perhaps nothing did, she thought sadly.

 

She had more wine than usual and woke the next morning with a heavy head. As the column set off for Atyion, she saw most of the others wincing and blinking in the hot sun.

 

Ki looked fresher than any of them. "Are you unwell?" he teased, and grinned at the dark look she gave him.

 

Tamir rode out with her Companions and wizards, dressed for show in a riding gown under her breastplate and sword belt.

 

Outside, the great column filled the road, banners and armor bright in the sunlight. Baggage carts and foot soldiers brought up the rear. It wasn't only soldiers in the column today. Illardi, Iya, and Nikides had spent weeks tracking down the remaining scribes and functionaries who'd served at Erius' court and testing their loyalty. Most gladly gave their allegiance to the new queen, some out of loyalty to who she was and what she represented, others in hopes of keeping their positions at court. Nearly forty now rode with the baggage train: scribes, chamberlains, document keepers, footmen, and bailiffs. It was virtually a ready-made court.

 

The crowds that gathered along the road to see them off were smaller and more subdued than they had been a few days earlier, their mood almost sullen.

 

"Don't leave us, Majesty!" they called out. "Don't abandon Ero!"

 

Riding just behind Tamir with the other wizards, Arkoniel could tell the words stung. She was young and craved her people's love.

 

Once they were well on their way Arkoniel rode back to check on his younger charges, who were making the long journey in a cart.

 

It was a large, comfortable cart with a canvas awning, and the bed was filled with soft straw for the children to lie in. Ethni had been disappointed at having to stay with the younger ones, and insisted on taking the reins. Wythnir sat on the driver's bench beside her and waved as Arkoniel rode up to them. A crowd of foot soldiers had gathered around it, entranced at the little spells the children knew. They gave Arkoniel respectful nods and made way for him to ride beside the cart. The wizards had noticed more goodwill among the common soldiers since the battle.

 

The children rose and clung to the side of the cart at his approach.

 

"How are you faring so far?" he asked.

 

"I have to pee!" Danil declared.

 

"He's been twice already since we left," Rala said, rolling her eyes.

 

"You'll have to work out that for yourselves," Arkoniel replied. "And how are you?" he asked Wythnir.

 

The child just shrugged.

 

"Come now, what's the matter?" Arkoniel chided, already guessing the answer. "Nothing," the child mumbled.

 

"Your long face says otherwise."

 

Wythnir ducked his head and mumbled. "Thought you'd gone away again. Like before."

 

"When I left you in the mountains, you mean?"

 

The boy nodded. "And when you went off to fight."

 

Ethni had told him how upset the boy had been, but there'd been no help for it then. He had to learn that Arkoniel's duty to Tamir would always come first.

 

All the same, he did the best he could to make it up to him. Arkoniel could only guess at the life the child had known before he'd come to Kaulin in return for some debt. The man had not been cruel as far as Arkoniel knew, but treated him little better than a useful hound before passing him off to Arkoniel.

 

Arkoniel shifted the bag hanging from his saddlebow and held out a hand, lifting the small boy over to sit in front of him on his horse.

 

"But you see, I'm taking you all with me this time, to that great city I told you about," he told him, settling an arm around Wythnir's waist. "We're all to live in a castle now."

 

"Lord Nyanis says there are lots of cats and kittens there, too," Rala said from the cart. "Will Queen Tamir let us play with them?"

 

Arkoniel chuckled. "The cats of Atyion rule themselves and play with whomever they like."

 

"Will you stay there with us, Master?" asked Wythnir.

 

"Of course. Unless the queen needs me to help her, as she did with the battle. But I came back again, didn't I?"

 

Wythnir nodded. "Yes. That time."

 

The sun was shining, and the huge double towers of the castle glowed white against the blue sky as Tamir came in sight of Atyion a few days later.

 

"They've got your colors up this time, at least," Ki noted. Banners fluttered from the turrets, and from walls and rooftops in the town below, as if it was a festival week.

 

Lytia and a host of retainers rode out to meet them just outside the town walls. The grey-haired steward reined her palfrey in beside Tamir's horse. "Welcome home, Majesty! Your castle is in good order and a feast is prepared for tonight. I anticipated two hundred. Is that acceptable?"

 

"Yes, that's fine," Tamir replied, amazed as always by the woman's efficiency. "You've taken good care of my holding, as always, and you've done well supplying Ero. I hope it was not too much of a burden on my people here?"

 

"Atyion is rich in every way," Lytia assured her. "The people here have plenty and were honored to share with their less fortunate brethren in poor Ero. Is it true you're going to burn it?"

 

"It has to be done."

 

Lytia nodded, but Tamir saw the way her gaze swept her own fine town, as if she was trying to imagine such a calamity here. As steward, she ruled in the absence of the noble. According to Tharin, his family had served Tamir's family here as long as anyone could remember. His aunt took her duties seriously and loved the town and castle as if it were truly her own.

 

The townspeople streamed out to meet her on the road. Beyond the vineyards, on the rolling river mead between the town and the sea, a district of new wood-and-stone houses was being erected on the lands Tamir had designated for the Ero survivors.

 

"You've been busy, I see."

 

"We've settled over a thousand so far, Majesty. They've named the village Queen's Mercy, in your honor."

 

Tamir smiled at that, but as they approached the castle gates a grisly sight greeted her. The pitiful remains of Duke Solari's corpse still hung from the battlements overhead, reduced to a few blackened scraps and bones in faded yellow silk. "Why hasn't he been cut down yet?" Tamir demanded. Riding beside her, Lord Nyanis had gone pale at the sight of his onetime friend.

 

"He was a traitor and has been treated as one," Lytia replied. "It's customary to leave the body for the birds, as a warning to others."

 

Tamir nodded grimly, but the sight pained her. Traitor he might have been in the end, but she'd known him all her life. "What of Lady Savia and the children?"

 

"Gone back to their own estate. But the eldest son, Nevus, gathered the remains of his father's forces and has sworn in with Korin. I had it from Lady Savia herself that he means to avenge his father's death on you."

 

"What will you do to them?" Nyanis asked.

 

Tamir sighed. "If Lady Savia will swear fealty to me, then she can keep her lands."

 

"I wouldn't be too trusting," Tharin warned. "Her husband was a turncoat and a serpent. She has no reason to bear you any goodwill."

 

"I'll sort that out later, I suppose. If her son has the forces of the holding away with him, then she's not an immediate threat, is she?"

 

The greensward between the curtain walls was filled with livestock and fowl. The yards were filled with soldiers, and all the gardens were bright with summer flowers. A crowd of liveried servants stood waiting to greet Tamir as she dismounted and handed her reins to a groom. She spoke briefly with them, then strode inside.

 

She paused at the large household shrine in the receiving chamber and made offerings to the Four. As she cast her feathers on the brazier of Illior, something brushed against her leg. She looked down to find Ringtail regarding her with lazy green eyes. She scooped up the big orange cat and winced as he bumped his head against her chin. Kneading her arm with his big, seven-toed paws, he broke into a deep purr. "Looks like he's glad to see you again, too," Ki said, chuckling.

 

She let Ringtail down and he trotted along at her heels as she continued on through the gallery to the great hall. More cats appeared from under tables and the tops of shelves, as if they'd been expecting her.

 

Afternoon sun streamed through the high windows, illuminating the rich tapestries and war trophies on the walls, and the myriad silver and gold vessels on the age-darkened oak sideboards. The long tables were set up facing the dais and high table, and were spread with shining white linen and colorful silk runners. Servants in blue livery were already bustling about with platters and mazers.

 

Home, she thought, trying the word out as she gazed around. It still didn't quite fit, not the way it did at Alestun, even after all her years at court.

 

Nobles and royal retainers were everywhere, already having taken up residence in what was now the royal palace. There was certainly room, hundreds of them in fact, in the great, two-towered edifice.

 

"This is how it was in your father's day," Lytia said as she accompanied her up to the room with the swan hangings. "You've made this castle come alive again. Will you have an official progress? A festival might be in order, as well. The people have had no chance to celebrate your reign, and those poor displaced souls up from Ero could certainly do with a bit of merriment."

 

"Perhaps." Tamir wandered over to the window as Baldus and Ki oversaw the servants with her meager baggage. Ringtail jumped up on the sill and she stroked him absently.

 

From there she could see more of the herds, now being tended in the close. "It looks more like you're preparing for a siege than a festival." "I thought it best, with things as they are. Any word from Prince Korin?"

 

Tamir shook her head, wondering if her herald had made it safely to Cirna.

 

Tamir made a progress around the entire extensive holding the following day, and was pleased by the reports of her reeves and householders. The summer fields were ripening and the grapevines were heavy with fruit. According to her herd master—another relation of Tharin's—three hundred new colts and fillies had been born in the royal herds that spring, the most in years.

 

She left it to Nikides and Lytia to choose her lesser courtiers, and the pair proved invaluable in their knowledge of such details. A royal court needed its own small army of functionaries.

 

Tamir chose her principal ministers, with help from Tharin and the wizards. Jorvai and Kyman wanted nothing to do with court responsibilities, respectfully requesting to remain her commanders. Nyanis—charismatic, intelligent, and clever—would retain his command, but also serve as a chief emissary, helping to court those nobles who'd still not declared for her.

 

Duke Illardi had proven his worth at Ero, and she appointed him her Lord Chancellor. Tharin was pressed into accepting the title of duke at last, and made Lord Protector of Atyion, charged with the defense of the castle and the queen's person. Ki stubbornly refused any change in his status and told her so in no uncertain terms when they were alone.

 

Nikides also remained a Companion for now, but accepted an appointment as Royal Secretary, overseeing her correspondence and petitions. He, in turn, would organize the many scribes required.

 

At Tamir's suggestion, one of his first choices was young Bisir, whom she'd known in Lord Orun's house- hold. She had not forgotten his kindness, or his company the winter he'd gotten snowed in with them at the keep.

 

"You do me too great an honor, Majesty!" he exclaimed when he presented himself at court at her summons. He was still pretty and soft-spoken, but the kindness he'd known from her, and from the woman who'd taken on his training here in Atyion had driven the haunted look from him at last.

 

"Those were dark days for both of us," she reminded him. "You were one of the few who showed me any kindness. But you also saw many of the most scheming lords among his friends. I'll rely on that knowledge. You are to alert me to anyone you recognize and tell me all you can of their dealings with my guardian and my uncle."

 

Bisir nodded gravely. "I never thought I would be grateful for my service there, Majesty. I am honored to be of use to you."

 

There were also the wizards to consider. Many of her nobles, who hadn't been with her at Ero, still had a strong distrust of wizards.

 

"It's important that we be seen as your allies, just the same as your generals," Iya advised. "Niryn left a bad taste in people's mouths. The Third Oreska must be seen to be loyal and above reproach."

 

"I will rely on you to make certain they are," Tamir replied.

 

Lytia had found comfortable rooms for them in the west tower, overlooking one of the private garden courts.

 

Tamir made a point of visiting the hall where the wizards practiced and found a warm welcome there, especially among the children. They delighted in showing off newly learned skills, and happily spun acorns and spoons in the air for her, and showed her how they could make fire without flint or wood.

 

Messengers arrived almost daily with word from towns along the coast and the western hills. The harvests were good, and no plague had come, even during the dog days of summer. There were still too many empty villages, and too many orphans and widows on the roads, but a new sense of hope flowed out from Atyion.

 

Tamir shared in that hope for the land, but for herself there was less joy.

 

Her friendship with Ki was no secret to anyone. He was at her side constantly and had the room next to hers. The other Companions were housed along the same corridor, but none of them excited the sort of gossip that he did. Jealous courtiers whispered "grass knight" and "queen's favorite" thinking she would not hear of it. But she did, and so did Ki. He bore it stoically, but wouldn't talk about it, not even to her. Instead, he became more careful and spent less time alone with her in her room, finding excuses to include Lynx and the others, and leaving her when they did. They rode and sparred and practiced their archery together, as they always had, but the tenuous thread of attraction she'd thought she'd felt that last night together seemed to have broken. Alone in the huge bed with only Baldus and the cat for company, Tamir bore the nightmares and visitations from Brother in silence, torn between hurt and concern for her friend's honor and too proud to ask anyone else for help. She thought nothing of it; since childhood, she'd suffered such burdens alone.

 

Even so, the pain did not go away. Sometimes, unable to sleep, she shyly explored her body with her hands beneath the covers, testing its curves and folds with trembling fingertips. Her breasts were a bit rounder, but still small. Her hipbones and ribs were as sharp beneath her skin as they had ever been, though, and women's girdles had been taken in to keep them from slipping off her narrow hips. Tobin's hips, she thought darkly. Hardest of all to touch was the hidden cleft between her legs. Even after all these months, she felt the lack of what had been there be- fore, still missed the comforting weight of cock and balls against her thigh. Behind the downy triangle of soft hair that remained, there was only a mysterious cleft she could hardly bear to touch. She made herself do it now, though, and gasped at the textures and sensations there. It was warm, and moist, not at all like it had been before, and left the smell of the ocean on her fingers. She turned on her stomach and buried her burning face in the coolness of her pillow, unable to bear the powerful mix of wonder and revulsion she felt.

 

What am I, really?

 

And close on the heels of that, What does he really see when he looks at me? Is that why he stays away?

 

Never had she missed Lhel more. Who else would understand? Lying in the dark, fighting back tears, she vowed to go back to the keep as soon as she could. It was almost a relief when Brother came whispering that night.

 

"What do you see when you look at me?" she demanded softly.

 

What I always see, Sister, he replied. I see the one who has my life. When will you let me rest?

 

"I want you to be free," she told him. "I want us both to be free. Can't you tell me anything more?"

 

But as always, he was no help at all.

 

By day she had no choice but to put such thoughts out of her mind, but there were daylight worries to take their place. As the weeks passed, she searched the audience chamber for her herald, but there was no sign of him.

 

Arkoniel noticed her distraction and drew her aside into the gallery one day after the morning's audience. Ki followed, as usual. In daylight he was her faithful shadow.

 

"You haven't been reading my thoughts have you?" she demanded suspiciously.

 

"Of course not. I merely took note of your obvious disappointment each time a herald arrives." "Oh. Well, you might as well know, I wrote Korin a letter."

 

"Ah, I see. You still think Korin can be reasoned with?"

 

"Maybe, if I could get him away from Niryn."

 

"What do you think, Ki?" asked Arkoniel.

 

"Tamir knows what I think," Ki said, frowning. "I pegged him as a weak reed from the first."

 

"A weak reed?"

 

"It's what my old dad used to say of a man who was too easily swayed. Korin may not be a bad sort at heart, but he's got no grit when it matters. We saw it in that first fight we had, against those bandits, and again at Ero. And he always let Alben and the others lead him into mischief, too. Now it's Niryn."

 

"Hmm. Well, you also can't discount the fact that Korin really does believe he's the rightful king."

 

"What else can I do?" Tamir asked, frustrated.

 

"Eyoli has volunteered to go north for you. I believe he can get inside the court and be your eyes and ears there. His magic is not strong enough to attract the notice of the Harriers but does allow him to move about freely."

 

"Risking his life for me again?" Tamir noted. "I think he may be the bravest of all your wizards."

 

"He is devoted to you and all you stand for. Shall I tell him to go?"

 

"Yes. If nothing else, perhaps he can tell us if Lutha and Barieus are still alive."

 

When Arkoniel was gone, Ki sighed and. shook his head. "If they are still with him, then it's by choice."

 

He left the rest unsaid, but she knew what he was thinking. If their friends had made that choice, then there were two more people they both dreaded having to face in battle.

 

She turned to go, but Ki caught her by the arm and stepped close, looking at her closely. "You're pale these days, and thinner, too, and—" His other hand came up to clasp her shoulder, as if he expected her to run away. "Well, you just look worn-out. You can't keep on like this."

 

"Like what?" she asked, wondering if her fears about him showed after all.

 

He smiled and she felt a shiver run up her spine. She could feel the warmth of his hands through the sleeves of her gown. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and smell the ripe pear he'd eaten during the assembly. Stunned, she wondered suddenly if his lips still tasted of the fruit?

 

"You haven't given yourself a moment to rest since Ero fell," he replied, oblivious to her turmoil. "You've got to rest, Tamir. There's no battle to fight right now and those damn courtiers have no right to run you into the ground like this. We should take off and go hunting or fishing—anything to get away from all that." He gestured in the direction of the hall. "Hell, I'm worried about you and so are the others."

 

He sounded so much like his old self that it brought tears to her eyes. "There now, you see?" he murmured, and pulled her into an embrace.

 

And once again, Tamir felt torn in two—half of her still Tobin, glad for the gesture of a friend, the other—Tamir—caught up in emotions she didn't fully understand, except that she still wanted to taste Ki's lips.

 

She pulled back a little, heedless of the tear that escaped down her cheek and looked up into his eyes. Their lips were just inches apart, so close…

 

Like my dreams, she thought. It would be so easy to just lean forward a little and kiss him.

 

Before she could, the sound of approaching footsteps made her start and pull back. A pair of young nobles passed by, making her a hasty bow as they caught sight of her behind the pillar.

 

She returned it with what dignity she could manage and when they were gone she saw that Ki was blushing furiously. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—No, here. Look, I'm going to go fetch our horses and we're going for a ride. To hell with all this, at least until supper. Just us and the Companions, all right?"

 

She nodded and went to find the others, thinking glumly Just like my dream, in every way.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 22

 

  

 

 

 

Yawning through another dreary evening feast, Lutha was about to invite Caliel and some of the younger officers back to his room for a game of bakshi when there was a stir among the guards by the door. Porion rose from his place and went to see what was going on. He returned a few moments later with a herald, who'd just arrived.

 

The man was young, and notable both for his striking long blond braid and the bloody bandage wrapped around his left arm.

 

"I've never seen a wounded herald before," said Barieus. Heralds were sacred.

 

The young man came forward and bowed gracefully to Korin. "Your Majesty, please forgive my tardy delivery of this message. I should have been here a week ago, but I was delayed on the road."

 

"I see that you're hurt. Were you attacked?" asked Korin.

 

"Yes, Majesty. I met with some brigands on the road, but the message I carry remains safe." He pressed a hand to his breast and bowed again. "It is a most important letter, and the person who sends it requires that I give it to you in private. If it please Your Majesty, may we withdraw?"

 

Lutha glanced over at Niryn, but the man appeared to be taking little notice.

 

Korin raised a questioning eyebrow, however. "Who is this message from?"

 

"That, too, I may only impart to you alone, Majesty." Even a king could not order him to go against a vow he'd given to the one who'd entrusted him with the message. Korin rose. "My lords, I'll bid you good night now. We'll speak more of strategy in the morning."

 

Alben yawned and ran a hand back through his long hair, which he'd taken to wearing loose except for the braids. "Tell Korin I'm in my room if he needs me. Mago, go find us that brace of pretty little dairymaids I met this morning and ask them if they'd like to see our chamber. Good night, boys." He gave the others a rakish wink; handsome Alben wasn't often refused.

 

"Would you boys like to join us for a last cup?" Niryn offered, knowing full well they wouldn't take him up on it.

 

"Thank you for the offer, my lord, but I've already made plans for the evening," Caliel replied coolly, then caught Lutha's eye. "You do still want that game of bakshi, don't you, Rattie? I promise I'll let you try and win your money back."

 

Rattie? thought Lutha. It was an affectionate nickname from his early days with the Companions; as a child Lutha had been small, quick in a fight, and had borne an unfortunate resemblance to said rodent. But no one had called him that in years. He shrugged and replied, "You'll do better to try and hang on to your own."

 

"Come on then. The stones are in my room."

 

Niryn waited until the other Companions were out of sight, then murmured, "Watch those two, Moriel."

 

He made his way alone up to Korin's door, where he swiftly sketched a pair of spells on the air, weaving in the proper intents.

 

Korin opened the door to his knock and waved him inside impatiently. "Come along, won't you? I want you to hear this."

 

The herald's mind had proven suitably malleable as well. He showed no hint of surprise or objection as Niryn stepped in and closed the door softly after him. Caliel's chamber was much like Lutha's: narrow, damp, and sparsely furnished. Caliel had not taken a new squire, even when Barieus offered to help him find somebody. Lutha understood his friend's hesitation. Who would you trust here? As far as Lutha knew, Cal hadn't had a woman to his bed since they'd been here, either, though Lutha and Barieus, like Alben, had found plenty of willing girls among the servants of the keep.

 

Barieus started for the small wine table against the wall, looking for cups. Before he could pour for them, however, Caliel said, "Barieus, would you lend me your lord for a little while?"

 

"Sure, Cal." Barieus shot Lutha a curious look and went out.

 

"So, are we going to play?" Lutha asked.

 

Instead, Caliel held a finger to his lips and went to the narrow keyhole window.

 

"Rattie?" Lutha whispered. "You haven't called me that in—"

 

"I just wanted to get your attention. And I need a clever rat to climb out this window."

 

Lutha blinked. It was a sheer drop on this side of the fortress.

 

"Not all the way out," Caliel amended. "Come here. If I hold your feet, I think you can fit out the wide part."

 

Caliel pushed a wooden stool under the window for Lutha to stand on. He stepped up and examined the window. The slit had a round cutout at the bottom for an archer to shoot through, just large enough for someone small and flexible to squeeze out.

 

"But why?" he asked, peering out at the very long drop below.

 

Caliel gave him an impatient look. "I want to hear what that messenger has to say, of course!"

 

"What? How drunk are you?" Lutha hissed. "It's a herald! It's Korin! It's—"

 

Caliel clapped a hand over Lutha's mouth and pushed the shutter closed with his other hand. "Do you want him to hear you?"

 

Lutha pushed Caliel's hand away but shut his mouth.

 

"I know it's Korin!" Cal whispered. "That's why I want to know what's going on. This message might be from Tobin. At least I hope it is!" He pushed the shutter back again and gave Lutha an expectant look.

 

"If you drop me, I swear to Bilairy I'll haunt you."

 

"Fair enough. Hurry now, before we miss it all."

 

Caliel snuffed the lamp. Lutha stepped onto the stool and squeezed out the loophole. It was a snug fit even for him, but once his shoulders were through the rest of him fit easily. With Caliel's arms wrapped tightly around his thighs, he was able to push himself out from the wall and twist himself toward Korin's window. I must look like a caterpillar on a branch, he thought sourly, straining every muscle.

 

Korin's bedroom window was only a few feet away. Twisting himself to the side and grasping the edge of the stonework that framed the loophole there, he got close enough to hear what was going on inside, though the angle was wrong to see anything but a sliver of tapestry-covered wall. The breeze was in his favor. He could hear the voices clearly.

 

"—word from your cousin, the Princess Royal Tamir, of Ero and Atyion."

 

"You are ill informed, Herald. There is no such person as this princess."

 

Lutha stifled a grunt of surprise. That was Niryn's voice, not Korin's.

 

"Forgive me, Majesty," the herald amended hastily, sounding frightened. "I am instructed to say that your cousin sends most loving regards. May I read the missive?"

 

"Go on." That was Korin.

 

Lutha heard the rustle of parchment, then the clear, carrying voice of the herald in his official capacity.

 

" 'To Prince Korin, Beloved Cousin and Brother. I know you've had word of me, and what has happened. I know how hard it must be to believe, but it's true. I am a girl, but the same cousin you've always known. You only have to meet with me to have the proof. The high priest of Afra and most of Atyion witnessed the change and can vouch for me. I write to you now in my true form, as Tamir, daughter of Ariani and Rhius, the scion of Atyion. My seal bears witness. '"

 

Lutha caught his breath. That certainly sounded like Tobin's manner of speech, and he claimed powerful witnesses.

 

" 'I'm sorry I had to lie to you and the others,'" the herald continued. " 'I've only known for a few years myself, but it was hard all the same, keeping the secret from my friends. I never meant to betray you when I joined the Companions. I didn't know then, I swear by the Flame. I never brought harm to you or your father, though he did great harm to my mother and her kin, whether you want to believe it or not. My mother should have been queen, and me after her. It breaks my heart to write this to you, Kor, but your father brought a curse on the land, one it is my burden to lift and heal.

 

" 'I mean you no harm, cousin. I never could. You were always kind to me. I have always loved you as a brother and I always will. Does it matter so much between us, who wears the crown? You are a rightful prince of Skala. I want you at my right hand, in my court and on the battlefield. Your children will be secure in their inheritance.

 

" 'Please, parley with me. I want things to be right between us again.'"

 

The herald paused. "If you'll forgive me, Majesty, it is signed as follows: 'Your loving cousin and sister, Princess Tamir, who was Tobin.'"

 

"I see." Something in Korin's voice caught at Lutha's heart. He sounded sad, not angry.

 

"Utter nonsense and subterfuge!" Niryn cut in sharply. "Majesty, you cannot possibly—" Korin said something too softly for Lutha to catch.

 

"Majesty?"

 

"I said leave me! Both of you," Korin shouted with such vehemence that if Caliel hadn't had still a secure grip on Lutha, he'd probably have fallen. Caliel dragged him back through the window.

 

Lutha collapsed in a trembling heap on the floor, heart hammering in his chest. Caliel closed the shutter and set the hasp.

 

"What is it? What did you hear?" he demanded softly.

 

"It was from Tobin. At least that's what the herald claims, and they can't lie, can they? Only he says he really is a girl and—"

 

"You're babbling. Slow down. Start from the beginning."

 

So Lutha did, repeating as much of what he'd heard as he could remember.

 

"Niryn was in there?"

 

"I bet he put some spell on the herald and made him break his vow."

 

"Korin, too. And you're right; that does sound like Tobin. And he offers proofs? Still, it could be a trick. Or a trap."

 

"That's what Niryn said."

 

"I don't like to agree with that bastard, but it makes more sense than the alternative."

 

"Come on, Cal! Tobin would never betray us like that, or Ki either. Not of their own free will, anyway. I've been thinking and thinking on it. There are wizards at Tobin's court, too. I wonder if maybe one of them put some kind of spell on them, like Niryn is trying to do with Korin? There was that one old woman who came around. Tobin said she was attached to his family somehow."

 

"Mistress Iya? I think she was a friend of his father's."

 

"You couldn't call Tobin a traitor, could you, if someone was making him do all that?" Lutha was still stubbornly clinging to hope. "I don't think that would change the minds of most of the nobles supporting Korin."

 

Caliel lit the lamp, then sat down on the bed. "Damn it, Lutha, we've got to get this settled once and for all, especially with this latest victory at Ero still fresh in everyone's minds. I don't know how much longer Korin can keep his supporters if he won't fight." He rubbed absently at the ring Tobin had made. "The only spies we have word from are those sent by Niryn. If only we could go see for ourselves—We're the damn Companions, for hell's sake! We're sworn to protect Korin. We should be the ones to bring him proof one way or the other. I don't trust Niryn to do that, not the way he hangs on Kor like a red leech."

 

"Neither do I, but what can we do?" asked Lutha.

 

"I think you know that as well as I do, but I want one more chance to reason with Korin. You say he sent Niryn out just now? Good. Then I think I'll go and see if I can have a quiet chat with him without an audience for once."

 

"Do you want me to come with you?"

 

Caliel smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Let me talk to him alone first."

 

Lutha nodded and turned to go, but Caliel caught him by the hand. "I've been glad of your company here, Lutha. I can still talk with you honestly."

 

"You always can," Lutha assured him. "Barieus, too. We don't like how things are, but I know it's been worse for you. You were always so close with him."

 

Caliel nodded slowly, looking so sad all of a sudden that Lutha nearly hugged him. If they'd both been a few years younger, he might have.

 

Lutha lingered a moment, watching as Caliel knocked softly at Korin's door. To his relief, Korin let him in.

 

Things just can't be as bad as they seem, he decided, heading back to his own room. Hadn't Korin thrown Niryn out, just now, and let Caliel in? That had to be a good sign. If only someone would stick a knife in that red bastard, maybe things could get back to normal. Rounding the corner, Lutha suddenly found himself face-to-face with the Toad and Niryn himself. He'd have plowed right into them if Niryn hadn't caught him by the arm. The wizard's grip was strong, and his hand lingered a moment longer than necessary. Lutha felt a chill run through him, like the onset of a fever. His belly did a queasy roll and he had to swallow hard to keep his wine down.

 

"Have a care, my lord," Niryn murmured. He patted Lutha's arm, then tucked his hands back into his own voluminous silver-and-white sleeves. "Rushing around headlong like that, you'll do yourself harm."

 

"Forgive me, my lord," Lutha said hastily. "I—I didn't expect to meet you here."

 

Niryn gave him an odd look and Lutha's stomach tightened again. "As I said, you should have a care. Come along, Moriel."

 

Lutha watched until he was certain they were really gone, clutching his sword hilt, heart pounding loud in his ears. He felt cold despite the warmth of the summer night.

 

Barieus looked up from the boot he was polishing as Lutha came in. "What happened to you?"

 

"Nothing. Why?"

 

Barieus came over and pressed a hand to Lutha's brow. "You're white as milk and all covered in sweat. I knew you were drinking too much! Honestly, you're getting as bad as Korin."

 

"It's not that. I'm pale?"

 

"Awful. Come on, I'm putting you to bed."

 

Lutha suffered his friend's fussing and kept his new fears to himself. Niryn had done something to him, something that showed. Was he cursed? Would he die before dawn? He'd heard stories of some of the things wizards could do if they were very powerful.

 

Unlike some of the other Companions, he and Barieus had never been anything more than friends, but he was glad to sleep close beside him tonight. Niryn hadn't needed to touch the young Companion to know what he'd been up to with Caliel. Moriel had been most informative, as usual. The boy had a true talent for listening through doors.

 

The young lords were getting quite bold lately, and Niryn enjoyed immensely watching them plot against him. The guilty look on that boy's face just now had been so amusingly obvious that Niryn hadn't been able to resist putting the lightest touch of a curse on him, just enough to give him bad dreams for a few nights.

 

He'd taken no direct action against Lord Caliel as yet. There had been no need. Korin's own growing fears and the self-serving attitudes of some of the other Companions were doing the wizard's work for him. Caliel's obvious stubbornness about their position here, his outspokenness in company, and his misplaced friendship with Prince Tobin had cost him Korin's trust with very little prompting on Niryn's part. The ground was now fertile for his revenge whenever he chose to take it.

 

Moriel moved about the chamber, folding away Niryn's overrobe into a chest and pouring a cup of sweet cider from a jug on the sideboard. Niryn drank it gratefully and Moriel refilled it.

 

"Thank you. That was dry work tonight." Niryn had never had much taste for wine; it weakened the mind, and he knew all too well how such weakness could be exploited. At table he made a show of lingering over his mazer, taking no more than a few sips.

 

Moriel knelt to remove his master's shoes. Orun had made certain this one was trained well in all the arts and war skills a squire would have needed. Tobin's refusal to take Moriel in place of Ki had left the boy suitably bitter and eager for revenge. Orun had trained Moriel in other ways, as well, but Niryn did not take boys to his bed, not even willing ones like Moriel.

 

"Were you successful, my lord?" he asked as he placed the shoes neatly by the clothes chest. "Of course. You know how persuasive I can be."

 

Moriel smiled. "And the herald?"

 

"He was no challenge at all."

 

"Was the letter from Prince Tobin?"

 

"Yes, quite a cunning piece of work. He pleaded with Korin to forgive him for his treachery and thought to convince the king to give over his crown without a fight."

 

"It would be just like him," Moriel sneered. "What sort of reply did Korin give, if I may ask, my lord?"

 

"He said he'd give his answer tomorrow. Be a good lad and make certain that herald never leaves the isthmus, won't you? Take a few of my guard with you and bring me back the king's letter. I'll be most interested to see what he has to say."

 

"Of course, my lord. But won't Prince Tobin wonder if his messenger doesn't return?"

 

Niryn smiled. "Yes, I'm certain his cousin's silence will be quite unsettling for him."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 23

 

  

 

 

 

Korin answered Caliel's knock with a curt, "Who is it?" "It's me, Kor. Let me in."

 

There was a pause, and for a moment Caliel thought Korin would refuse.

 

"It's not locked."

 

Caliel slipped inside and closed the door.

 

The royal chamber was better appointed than the other rooms of the fortress, at least by Cirna standards. The large, carved bedstead was fitted with heavy, dust-laden velvet hangings. A few faded tapestries hung on the walls.

 

Korin sat at the writing table in his shirtsleeves, looking worn and unhappy. His face was flushed with wine and a full mazer stood at his elbow. He appeared to be in the midst of writing a reply to Tobin's letter, which lay before him. Caliel went to Korin and picked up the cup, glancing down as he did so at the sheet of parchment in front of him. Korin had gotten no further than, "To the pretender, Prince Tobin—"

 

He took a sip, watching for Korin's reaction. He was glad to see no more than the usual level of irritation at the familiar liberty. He drew up another chair and sat down. "How are you?"

 

"Is that all you came to ask me?"

 

Caliel sat back and stretched out his long legs, pretending an ease he didn't feel. "That herald got me curious. I thought I'd come see what all the fuss was about."

 

Korin shrugged and tossed him Tobin's letter. Caliel read the contents quickly and felt his heart skip a beat. Lutha had gotten most of it right, but it was even more shocking to see the words written out in Tobin's own unmistakable scrawl.

 

Korin had reclaimed his mazer and was currently staring morosely into its depths. "Do you believe him?"

 

"I don't know. Some of it—" I'm sorry I had to lie… I never meant any harm… be my brother still… I want things to be right and proper between us … "I do think you should meet with him, face-to-face."

 

"No! Madman or necromancer's monster, he's a traitor, and I can't be seen justifying his claim in any way."

 

"Is that what Niryn counseled?"

 

"And he's right!" Korin's bloodshot eyes were wide now, and burning with a sudden, unreasoning fury. "Tobin haunts my dreams, Cal. I see him, all pale and leering, calling me usurper and a murderer's son." He rubbed at his eyes and shuddered.

 

"All the more reason to find out for yourself what his intentions really are."

 

"I said no!" Korin snatched the letter back and slammed it down on the desk. He drained the cup and slammed that down, too.

 

"Damn it, Kor, I can't believe you're just going to take the word of others on this."

 

"So you're saying I should honor this—this request?"

 

"Korin, look at yourself! This is Niryn's doing. He's on you like a leech! He made you run from Ero. He brought you that ill-made girl you've got hidden away up in the tower. Is that how you treat a wife, Kor? A consort? Is this how the king of Skala lives? I say we gather your army tomorrow and ride for Ero. Parley with Tobin or fight him. Either way, you can see for yourself what the truth is!"

 

"I know the truth!"

 

"From who? Niryn's hounds?" Desperate, Caliel leaned forward and captured Korin's hand in his. "Listen to me, please. I've always been true to you, haven't I?"

 

It hurt, the hesitation he saw before Korin nodded. Caliel pressed on. "Whatever Niryn has told you, you have my loyalty and my love, now and always! Let me go as your emissary. I know the city. I can slip in and be back in no time. I might even be able to talk to him. Give the word, Kor. I'll go tonight!"

 

Korin wrenched his hand free. "No! I can't spare you."

 

"Spare me for what? Watching you drink yourself to death?"

 

"Take care, Caliel," Korin growled.

 

"Lutha, then—"

 

"No! None of the Companions." Something very close to fear flitted in Korin's red-rimmed eyes. "Damn it, Caliel, why are you always fighting me? You used to be my friend!"

 

"And you used to know who your friends are!" Caliel stood and backed away, fists clenched helplessly at his . sides. "Bilairy's balls, Korin, I can't just stand by and watch you piss away—"

 

"Get out!" Korin yelled, staggering up to his feet.

 

"Not until I've made you see sense!"

 

"I said get out!" Korin grabbed up the mazer and flung it at Caliel. It struck him in the face and cut across his cheekbone. The dregs stung the open wound.

 

The two young men stood staring at each other in shocked silence and Caliel saw that Korin had his hand on his sword hilt.

 

He slowly wiped his cheek with the back of one hand. It came away bloody. He held it out for Korin to see. "Is this what we've come to? You couldn't even take an honest swing at me?"

 

For a moment Caliel was certain Korin would break into that shamefaced grin that had always won him over, the one that had always been enough to make Caliel forgive him anything. It was all it had ever taken and he ached to forgive him now.

 

Instead, Korin turned his back on him. "Things have changed. I am your king, and you will obey me. Good night." The curt dismissal stung far worse than the wound. "We've had some hard days," he said quietly. "The world is out of joint right now. But remember this: I am your friend, and I have nothing in my heart for you but the same love I have always felt. If you can't see that, then I pity you. I won't stop being your friend, no matter how big an ass you make of yourself!" He had to stop and force down the lump of bitterness that was rising to choke him. "Sleep on your belly tonight, Kor. You're drunker than you think."

 

He slammed out and stalked back to his room. Alone, he threw his wine-stained coat aside and paced the bare floor.

 

I am your friend, damn you! What can I do for you? How can I help you?

 

Too agitated to sleep and longing for company, he thought of going to Lutha's chamber. What did it say, he wondered darkly, when the youngest Companions were Caliel's sole confidants? The last honest men.

 

"No, not the last ones," he muttered.

 

Porion's chamber was in the lower level of the keep, close to the guardroom. As Caliel made his way down through the torchlit corridors, the golden hawk ring on his forefinger caught his eye again, and he regarded it sadly, recalling Tobin's shy smile the day he'd given it to him. It had been a gift, in return for all the time Caliel and their friend Arengil had spent teaching him falconry. Tobin was good with the birds, patient and gentle. He was like that about everything. Or had been, anyway. Caliel still couldn't bring himself to take the ring off.

 

Porion answered the door in his shirtsleeves and raised an eyebrow at Caliel's bloody cheek as he motioned him to the plain room's only chair.

 

"What have you done to your face?" he asked, sitting down on the narrow bed.

 

Caliel dabbed the cut with his sleeve. "It's nothing. I need to talk with you."

 

"About King Korin." "Yes."

 

Porion sighed. "I figured you'd come to me, sooner or later. Speak your mind, boy."

 

Caliel smiled in spite of himself. The Companions would always be "boy" and "lad" to their old swordmaster. "I was just with him. The letter he got was from Tobin. He let me read it."

 

"And what did Tobin have to say?"

 

"He claims outright to have changed into a girl. He didn't explain, just said he had witnesses, including some Afran priests and most of Atyion."

 

"What do you believe?"

 

"I don't know." Caliel fidgeted with the ring. "Fantastic as it sounds, it makes more sense than Tobin turning traitor, don't you think?"

 

Porion ran a hand over his short grey beard and sighed. "You're young, and you have a good heart. And thanks to Erius, you boys led a sheltered life for too long. I've lived through two queens and a king and seen what people are capable of when great power is involved. I've been thinking about Tobin, too. I always thought it was queer, him being kept away from court most of his life, off in secret."

 

"His father was an honorable man, though, and served Erius all his life."