Porion nodded. "I knew Rhius from a boy and I wouldn't have thought him capable of intrigue like this. Still, he did keep more to himself after his marriage, and even more after that child was born. For all we know, he and that wizard of his were planning this all along, to avenge Erius' taking Ariani's place on the throne."

 

Caliel shifted uneasily in his chair. "I didn't come to speak of Tobin. Do you think Korin's acting like himself?"

 

Porion picked up his scabbard and found a flask of mink oil in a box under the bed. The musky smell rose in the air between them as he worked it into the scarred leather. "You've been Korin's friend longer than anyone else, but he's not only your friend, nor was he ever. He's the king. I didn't like everything his father did, and I sure as hell didn't care much for his grandmother, but the crown is the crown, and duty is duty. Korin's young, and green, it's true, but you know the worth in him."

 

"You know him as well as I do, Porion. We've both seen his weaknesses, too—the drinking, and—" Caliel clenched his fists against his knees, hating what he had to say next. "He's no good in battle. It wasn't just that first time, against those bandits. He nearly got us all killed at Ero, then he let that damn wizard talk him into running!"

 

Porion kept at his work. "It takes time, with some."

 

"Tobin—"

 

Porion looked up sharply, and Caliel was taken aback by the sudden anger in his old mentor's eyes. "That's enough, Caliel. I won't hear it, you comparing the two of them. Korin is king, and that's that. I served his father and now I serve him. If you don't think you can do that, then it's best if I know it now."

 

"That's not what I'm saying! I love Korin. I'd lay down my life for him. But I can't stand by any longer while that serpent ruins what's left of him! Bilairy's balls, Porion, you're not going to tell me you think this great friendship between them is natural? How can you sit there in the hall night after night, seeing that cur in Tobin's place—"

 

"Tobin again, is it?" Porion regarded him levelly. "That name is on your lips a great deal, my lord."

 

Caliel went cold. Porion had been his swordmaster since he was a boy, a friend and a good teacher. He was looking at him now with the same distrust that Korin had earlier, taking his measure.

 

"Something isn't right with that, Porion. That's all I'm trying to say."

 

"Times change, lad. People change. But the crown's the crown, and duty is duty. You're old enough to understand that." "You're saying I should just keep my mouth shut and let Lord Niryn have his way?"

 

"Who the king chooses for his councilors is his concern. The best you can do is stand by him. Can you look me in the eye and swear your loyalty to him?"

 

Caliel met the old man's gaze unflinchingly. "I swear by the Flame and all the Four, I serve Korin as my friend and my king."

 

Porion wiped more oil on the scabbard. "I believe you, but there are those close to the king who think otherwise."

 

"Niryn, you mean? I know. Moriel's under my feet all the time, spying for him. He can lurk all he likes. I've done nothing I'm ashamed of."

 

Porion shrugged. "All the same, watch your step, lad. That's all I'm saying."

 

The exchange, with its hint of a threat, upset Caliel even more than his argument with Korin, and not only because the man had questioned his loyalty. His bedchamber had all the allure of a tomb. Instead, he went out and walked the battlements, warring silently with himself.

 

Porion's admonishments had cut deep; in his heart Caliel did feel disloyal. But his fear for Korin was real, too. Now it seemed that Niryn had even won over Porion. He and Lutha were truly the only ones left who could see that Korin was growing weaker under Niryn's influence.

 

He wandered down to the courtyard well for a drink, still trying to figure out what to do. Somehow, he didn't think murdering Niryn in his sleep was his best plan, tempting as it was.

 

He was still fretting when he heard a door open. He glanced in that direction, then hastily crouched down behind the low well. It was Moriel, and he had one of the Harrier captains with him, a tall man named Seneus. The pair stopped in the shelter of a farrier's shed. The Toad looked around carefully, then took a purse from his belt and gave it to the Harrier. "Station your men on all the roads and have someone follow when he leaves."

 

"I know my business!" Seneus snorted. "I've hunted wizards, you know. This one shouldn't give any trouble." He weighed the purse, then opened it. "This better all be gold. I'm courting Astellus' curse."

 

"It is, and more than enough for any offerings to lift it," Moriel replied. "But what does a Sakor man like you care for the watery Traveler, eh? My master will give you more, when you bring back the king's letter. Go on now, and do your duty."

 

Caliel caught his breath as the import of the conversation came clear. The only Astellian in the keep tonight was Tobin's herald.

 

He waited until both men were safely gone, then slipped back up to his room. He quickly put on his hauberk, then a plain tunic and cloak over it, and buckled on his sword. He didn't allow himself to pause as he passed Korin's door, or the corridor leading to Lutha's. He and Barieus must remain blameless.

 

Instead, he stole across the shadowy yard to the kitchen entrance and the rooms set aside for heralds there. There were several, but only one with a pair of boots outside the door.

 

He scratched softly, keeping an eye out for watchmen. The herald answered, yawning, his long yellow hair loose around his shoulders. "Is it dawn already?" He broke off in surprise as Caliel pushed him back into the room and closed the door. "Lord Caliel, what are you doing here?"

 

"Did King Korin give you a message to carry back to Prince Tobin?"

 

"You know I can't tell you that, my lord."

 

"I come as a friend. There's a plot on your life, to keep that message from being delivered. I mean to ride for Atyion right now. I'll carry it, and you can leave by another way. I swear by your Traveler and all the Four, this is the truth." "I cannot, my lord, though it means my life."

 

Caliel ran a hand over his face in frustration. "The message will be lost. You're already wounded. You'll be no match for the men being sent after you."

 

The man smiled and held up his bandaged arm. "As you can. see, heralds are not so easily caught. There were twenty brigands, and I came away with' my life and my message. There are other roads I can take, thanks to your warning."

 

"You'll be watched from the moment you leave the gate. There'll probably be a wizard in the pack."

 

"So you say, my lord, and again, I'm grateful, but my duty is sacred. I cannot do as you ask."

 

Caliel shook his head, caught between the desire to knock the man out for his own good, and admiration for his courage. "You'll be dead by sunset tomorrow."

 

"That is for Astellus to decide, my lord."

 

"Well, I hope your god loves you. Will you keep this conversation to yourself?"

 

The herald bowed. "You were never here, my lord."

 

Leaving the man to his fate, Caliel went back to the yard and left by a small postern gate on the seaward side. Model's henchmen wouldn't have had time to set their ambush yet and would be looking for a herald with a blond braid when they did. If he didn't hesitate, he might have a chance.

 

With no immediate threat of attack from without, the guards were lax. He slipped out unchallenged and followed a rough footpath along the cliffs, then stole a horse from a picket line. He smiled darkly to himself as he rode off, thinking with satisfaction of the bad report he could make of the Harrier officers when he got back.

 

The high road shone like a pale ribbon before him in the starlight. The farther he got from that cursed fortress, the lighter his heart felt. By dawn he was miles away, watching the sun come up over the Inner Sea. In a few days he'd see for himself if Tobin was friend or foe. The cut on his cheek was already scabbed over, the hurt Korin had done him already forgiven. With Korin's faith or without it, Caliel would serve his king the best way he could.

 

He looked down at the ring again. If you are still our friend, then Korin needs you. If not, I'll deal with you myself, for his sake and in his name.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 24

 

  

 

 

 

Lutha spent the night lost in terrifying dreams he could not escape and woke with the sun in his eyes and someone pounding furiously at his door.

 

"Lutha, are you there? Open in the name of the king!"

 

Lutha lurched up to find Barieus bent over the wash-stand, looking back wide-eyed at him, water dripping from his cupped hands. "That sounds like Alben."

 

Lutha went to the door, his sweaty shirt clinging uncomfortably to his back between his shoulder blades, and opened the door a crack to peer out.

 

Alben greeted him with a look of relief. "You are here! When you didn't appear at the morning meal—"

 

"I overslept. What's all the shouting about?" He opened the door wider and found himself facing half a dozen grey-back Guards. He was also aware of Barieus at his back. "What's going on, Alben?"

 

"Caliel deserted last night."

 

Lutha stared at him in disbelief until cold realization hit. "And you assumed we ran off with him."

 

Alben had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Master Porion sent me. Korin's in a state. He's already had Cal declared a traitor and set a price on his head."

 

"That's ridiculous! There must be some other explanation."

 

"He's gone, Lutha. Did you know he was planning this?"

 

"Are you mad? Of course he didn't!" Barieus cried.

 

"Perhaps Lord Lutha should answer for himself?" Niryn stepped into view behind his men. "Lord Lutha, you have been seen by witnesses, meeting in secret with Lord Caliel and plotting against the king. I'm only sorry I didn't take action sooner, before Lord Caliel escaped."

 

"Plotting?" Lutha sputtered. "We never—Is that what Korin thinks? Let me talk to him!" He turned, looking frantically for his clothes. Barieus tried to fetch him his trousers, but the grey-backs surged in and seized both of them.

 

"Alben, you can't believe this?" Lutha cried as they were dragged away. "Let me talk to Korin. Alben, please! This is Niryn's doing. Alben!"

 

They were dragged, half-dressed and struggling, downstairs, in front of all the warriors and nobles gathered there, and out to a damp, dark little cell beside the barracks.

 

The guards shoved them inside and slammed the heavy door on them, plunging them into darkness. There was a heavy thud as the thick bar was dropped into place.

 

"Lutha, what's going on?" Barieus whispered.

 

"I don't know. Maybe Korin's really gone mad at last." Lutha found a damp stone wall with his hand and sat down with his back to it, drawing his bare legs up under his shirt. "You saw who came for us. Damn that wizard to the crows!"

 

There were chinks in the stonework where the roof beams met the wall. As his eyes adjusted he could make out Barieus crouched beside him, and the narrow confines of their cell. It was barely two arm spans wide.

 

They sat in silence for a while, trying to comprehend this sudden reversal of fortune.

 

"You don't think Cal would really turn traitor?" Barieus asked at last.

 

"No."

 

"Then why did he leave like that, without saying anything to you?"

 

"We've only got Niryn's word that he did. More likely Niryn had him murdered. Damn him! I should have warned Cal."

 

"Warn him about what?"

 

Lutha told him how they'd spied on Korin, and how he'd run into the man afterward. "Niryn probably knew all along. I should have guessed by the way he looked at me. Damn, I should have gone back to Caliel!"

 

They sat in silence again, glumly watching a thin ray of sunlight track down the wall.

 

At last they heard the bar being lifted, and daylight flooded the cell, making them blink. A guard tossed in their clothes. "Get dressed. King Korin has summoned you."

 

They dressed hastily and were escorted to the hall. Korin sat on his throne, flanked by the two remaining Companions and Niryn's wizards. Master Porion stood at his right hand today, and he held a long whip in his hand, the same sort that Tobin had been made to use on Ki.

 

Lutha drew himself up to attention, trying not to let his anger and fear show. He might be barefoot, with straw in his hair, but he was still a Royal Companion and a nobleman's son.

 

"A complete search has been made for Caliel. He's nowhere to be found," Korin said. "What do you know of this?"

 

"Nothing, Majesty."

 

"Don't lie to me, Lutha. You'll only make things worse for yourself."

 

"Oh, so I'm a liar now, as well as a traitor?" Lutha snapped. "Is that all you think of me, Majesty?"

 

"Lutha!" Barieus murmured in alarm.

 

"Companion, you will address your liege with the proper respect!" Porion barked.

 

Quivering with outrage, Lutha shut his mouth and fixed his eyes on the floor.

 

"You will mind your tongue or lose it, my lord," Niryn said. "Speak the truth, or I will compel you." "I always speak the truth!" Lutha retorted, not bothering to hide his disdain for the man.

 

"I've sent my best trackers after him," Niryn told him. "Lord Caliel will be found and brought back very soon. You only do yourselves harm by lying for him. He's gone over to Prince Tobin."

 

Lutha ignored him. "On my honor as your Companion, Korin, Cal said nothing about leaving or going back to Ero, and we never planned to desert. I swear by the Flame."

 

"As do I, Majesty," said Barieus.

 

"Yet you admit to sympathizing with the false queen?" Niryn said.

 

"Sympathizing? I don't know what you mean," Lutha replied. Korin was still impassive on his throne, and the distrust in his eyes scared Lutha. "We only thought it was odd you wouldn't let us go find out the truth about Tobin. But Cal never said anything about leaving! He's as loyal to you as I am."

 

"That may not count for much, Majesty," Niryn sneered. "If you will allow me, I can soon give you the truth."

 

Lutha's heart sank as Korin nodded. Niryn stepped down from the dais and motioned to the men flanking Lutha. They grabbed his arms, holding him fast.

 

Niryn stood before him, and made no effort to hide his nasty, gloating smile. "This may hurt a bit, my lord, but it is your king's will."

 

He clasped Lutha under the chin with one cold hand and laid the other on top of his head, palm to Lutha's brow. His touch made Lutha shudder, like having a snake crawl across your bare foot in the dark. He fixed his gaze on the wizard's chest. The white robe was spotless, as always; Niryn smelled of candles and smoke and something sweet.

 

Lutha had nothing to hide. He concentrated on his loyalty to Korin until a bolt of searing pain obliterated all conscious thought. It felt like his head was being crushed and plunged into fire, all at once. He didn't know if he was still on his feet or not, but felt like he was falling endlessly into a black pit. Despair swept aside pride; he wanted to cry, scream, beg Korin or even the wizard for this torture to end. But he was blinded and lost, his tongue numb in his mouth.

 

It went on and on, and just when he thought he would die from the pain, he found himself on his hands and knees in the stale rushes at Niryn's feet, gasping for breath. His head throbbed horribly and his mouth tasted like bile.

 

Niryn was already gripping Barieus' head in the same manner. Lutha watched helplessly as his friend stiffened and went white.

 

"Korin, please! Make him stop," Lutha begged hoarsely.

 

Barieus let out a strangled whine. His eyes were open, but unseeing, and his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles showed white through his sun-browned skin. Niryn looked serene, as if he were healing the boy rather than tearing into his soul.

 

Lutha struggled unsteadily to his feet. "Let go of him! He doesn't know anything." He grabbed at the wizard's arm, trying to stop him.

 

"Guards, restrain him," Korin ordered.

 

Lutha was too weak to fight but he did anyway, struggling fruitlessly between the two guardsmen.

 

"Lord Lutha, don't! There's nothing you can do," one of them warned.

 

Niryn released Barieus and the boy collapsed unconscious to the floor. The guards let go of Lutha and he fell to his knees beside him. Barieus' eyes were tightly shut, but his face still bore a look of utter horror.

 

"They speak the truth regarding Lord Caliel, Your Majesty," said Niryn. "They know nothing of his disappearance."

 

Was that relief in Korin's eyes? Lutha was weak with it himself, but it proved short-lived.

 

Niryn gave him a withering glance. "However, I do find in both of them a strong loyalty to Prince Tobin. I fear their love for him outweighs their loyalty to you, Majesty."

 

"No, that's not true!" Lutha cried, but even as he said it, he feared it might be true. "Please Korin, you must understand. He was our friend! He was your friend! We only wanted you to talk with him, as he asked—"

 

Korin's eyes went hard again. "How do you know of that?"

 

"I—That is, Cal and I—" The words died on his lips.

 

"He admits to his spying, Majesty," Niryn said, shaking his head. "And now Caliel has gone to Tobin, no doubt to give him all the particulars of your strength here."

 

"No, Caliel wouldn't," Lutha said weakly, cringing under the hostile looks from Korin and the other Companions. He knew then that he was lost. He would never be allowed to stand with them again.

 

Barieus stirred and opened his eyes, then shivered as he saw Niryn standing over them.

 

Korin stood and advanced on them. "Lutha, son of Asandeus, and Barieus, son of Malel, you are cast out of the Companions and condemned as traitors."

 

"Korin, please!"

 

Korin drew his dagger, his face harsh as winter. The guards held Lutha and Barieus tightly as Korin stepped down from the dais. He cut off their braids and cast them at their feet, then spat in both their faces.

 

"You are nothing to me, and nothing to Skala. Guards, take them back to their cell until I decide their sentence."

 

"No, Niryn's lying!" Lutha howled, struggling as the guards dragged him and Barieus away. "Korin, please, you have to listen to me. Niryn's evil. He's lying to you. Don't believe him!"

 

He got no further before his head exploded with pain again and the world went black.

 

His head still hurt terribly when he came to, and for a moment he thought he'd been struck blind. He could feel that he was lying with his head in someone's lap and heard the sound of Barieus' soft weeping, but he couldn't see a thing. As his mind cleared he recognized the smell of moldy hay and knew they were back in the cell. Looking up, he found the chinks in the wall, but the light was much fainter now.

 

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, sitting up. He felt gingerly at the back of his head and found a sizable lump, but no blood.

 

Barieus wiped hastily at his face, probably hoping Lutha hadn't heard him crying. "A few hours. It's past midday. I heard the drum beat for the guard change."

 

"Well, looks like we're for it now, eh? Cal was right, all along. Niryn has just been biding his time." Lutha clenched his fists in helpless anger.

 

"Why—" Barieus paused, shifting uncomfortably. "Why do you think Caliel left us behind?"

 

"He wouldn't desert us, not if he meant to go over to Tobin's side. I still think he's dead." He'd rather that was the truth than think that Caliel had betrayed them.

 

Nalia lingered on her balcony, waiting nervously to see what was going to happen to the poor boys who'd been dragged out to the cells.

 

Tomara had brought word of the uproar with the morning tea. Shortly after she arrived with the tray, they heard the clatter of hooves and watched as parties of armed men rode off north and south at a gallop.

 

"They're after Lord Caliel," said Tomara, shaking her head. "We'll see his head on a spike before the week's out."

 

"How horrible!" Caliel had been particularly kind to her. He was handsome, too, with his golden hair and dark eyes. Korin had always spoken of Lord Caliel as his dearest friend. How could he give such an order?

 

Nalia had little appetite for her bread and eggs that morning. For the past several days she'd had spells of dizziness and moments of hot nausea that nearly sent her to the basin. She'd said nothing to Tomara or Korin. She'd learned enough from her woman's prattling to realize what such distemper might signify. Her next moon flow was due in a few days and she was counting the days with a heavy heart. If she were with child, then Korin would never let her go.

 

Late-afternoon sunlight streamed down through the forest canopy, painting shifting patterns across the moist earth of the game trail Mahti had been following.

 

Lhel and the Mother had been drawing him north and west instead of south this past week, toward the great bridge. At night, hidden away from prying eyes in forests or deep meadows, he played Sojourner softly and let the songs bring visions of landmarks and vistas to guide him. By day he let his feet take him where his heart guided, and he found them.

 

Mother Shek'met's voice was stronger now, so strong that he stopped beneath the spreading arms of a grandmother oak and closed his eyes, swaying slightly as the witch marks tickled and burned under his skin. The sounds of the breeze and birdsong faded around him, obscured by the slow, deep beat of his heart. He brought the oo'lu to his lips and let the song take its own form. He did not hear it, but saw the pictures it made.

 

He saw a great sea, the one that lay on the other side of the great bridge. He'd heard tales of it and knew it by the lighter blue of its waters. Gulls flew in great flocks over it, and in the distance he saw a huge stone house with high walls.

 

The song told him of deep sorrow in that house, of spirits broken, and a cold heart that could not be warmed. His path lay in that direction, and he must hurry.

 

Quickly! the Mother whispered in the silences under the oo'lu's song.

 

Mahti lowered the instrument and opened his eyes to find the sun nearly gone from the sky. Shouldering the oo'lu and his food bag, he hurried on. The swift-footed deer that made this path had marked the earth with their cloven hooves. The double-pointed marks guided his bare feet long after the stars came out.

 

Lutha and Barieus marked the passing of the day by the thin rays of light that tracked across the far wall. Darkness fell, but no one brought them food or water. They could hear guards outside shifting restlessly and muttering among themselves.

 

Moving slowly to spare his aching head, Lutha crept to the door, hoping for some word of Caliel, but the men outside talked only of gaming and women.

 

He explored the confines of the cell, even climbing up on his squire's shoulder to reach the beams and thatch overhead. There was a bucket to piss in, and another for water, but no way out, not even for a clever rat like him.

 

Past hope, they fell asleep with their backs to the wall and woke the next morning to the grating of the bar. They blinked in the midmorning glare as another man was dragged in and slung down in the straw. He landed facedown, hands bound behind his back, but they knew Caliel by his blood-matted hair. From the looks of him, he'd been beaten and dragged, and probably put up a good fight besides. Two ragged tufts of hair at his temples marked where his braids had been.

 

The door slammed and for a moment Lutha couldn't see a thing, still dazzled by the sudden light, but he crawled to Caliel and ran his hands over him, looking for wounds. There was a sizable lump on the side of his head and bloody abrasions on his arms and legs. He didn't move, but moaned as Lutha felt his chest and sides. His breathing was labored.

 

"They cracked a rib or two, the bastards," Lutha muttered. He freed Caliel's hands and chafed the cold flesh to get the blood moving, then settled down beside him, with nothing left to do but await their fate. The light had shifted to midafternoon on the wall when Caliel finally stirred.

 

"Cal? We're here with you. What happened?" Lutha asked.

 

"They caught me," he whispered hoarsely. "Grey-backs—and one of those cursed wizards." He struggled up, blinking in the dim light. The right side of his face was dark with dried blood and his lip was split and swollen. "They wouldn't fight me properly, but came at me with cudgels. I think the wizard cast a spell on me in the end. I don't recall anything after that." He shifted painfully, favoring his side. "What are you two doing here?"

 

Lutha quickly told him what had happened.

 

Caliel groaned again. "But that's why I left the way I did, so you wouldn't be tied into it and get into trouble!"

 

"The Toad's been carrying tales to his master. We're accused of conspiring with you against Korin."

 

Caliel sighed. "Tanil and Zusthra die, but a serpent like Moriel wiggles through and survives. Sakor's fire, where's the justice in that?"

 

"It's Korin's justice we're facing now, and I don't like our odds," Lutha replied sadly. "Niryn's cut us off from him, neat as a tailor."

 

"I should have expected this. Damn, if only I'd been able to get away and talked sense to Tobin!"

 

"I'm sorry you got caught, but I'm glad to know that you didn't just run off," Barieus said softly. "At least I can think of that before they hang us."

 

"Do you think they will, Cal?" asked Lutha.

 

Caliel shrugged. "I imagine they'll hang me but you two didn't do anything! It's not right."

 

"Nothing's been right since we left Ero," Lutha said glumly.

 

Niryn stood by Korin in the council chamber. He remained silent as the handful of lords debated the traitors' fates, but he was not idle. The corridors of the young king's mind were familiar territory, but he still found surprising twists and turns there, walls of resistance that even his insinuations could not breach. Lord Caliel had been the catalyst for far too many of these, and that little rat-faced one was no better. Deep in his heart, Korin still loved them.

 

"Your Majesty, they have betrayed you," Duke Wethring urged. "You cannot be seen as weak! They must be punished for all to see. All of them."

 

Korin still clutched three slender braids in his hand: one blonde, one ruddy, and one dark.

 

Such loyalty, even after his friends have turned their backs on him, thought the wizard. A pity it is so misplaced. Niryn focused again and concentrated on the images it brought him of a younger Prince Korin, lost in the shadow of his family. Sisters who would be queen. Brothers with stronger arms, swifter feet. A father who'd favored this one or that, or so it had seemed to a little boy who was never quite certain of approval until plague carried away his competition. And then the guilt. Even with the others out of the way, he still wasn't good enough. Niryn had long since found memories of overheard conversations—Swordmaster Porion instructing the other Companions to let Korin win. A deep wound, that, rubbed with salt. Caliel had known.

 

Niryn gently tended that deep-buried hurt. Korin didn't suspect a thing, only felt his heart harden as he tossed the braids aside and gritted out, "Yes, you're right, of course."

 

Niryn was pleased.

 

At was evening when the door swung open again, and Niryn himself stood there, gloating. "You're to be brought before Korin for judgment. Come now, or would you prefer to be dragged, as you deserve?"

 

"Be brave," murmured Caliel as he rose unsteadily to his feet. Lutha and Barieus were already up. No matter what anyone said, they were Royal Companions; they cowered for no man, not even the king.

 

They stepped from the cell to find a tribunal waiting for them in the courtyard. The garrison was formed up in a hollow square around the yard, and Korin stood on the far side, flanked by Porion and his chief generals.

 

Their guards marched them to the center of the square. Niryn went to stand at Korin's right hand, among the generals and nobles.

 

Lutha glanced around, searching faces. Many simply glared back at him, but a few could not meet his eye.

 

Korin was dressed in full armor and held the Sword of Gherilain unsheathed before him.

 

Porion spoke the charges. "Lord Caliel, you stand accused of desertion and treason. You were expressly forbidden to go to the usurper prince, yet you stole away like a thief in the night to join his camp. What do you have to say for yourself?"

 

"What can I say, Korin, if you're too blind to see the truth for yourself?" Caliel replied, lifting his chin proudly.

 

."If you think I deserted you, then you never knew my heart as I thought you did. There's nothing I can say now to change that."

 

"Then you admit you were making for Prince Tobin's army?" Niryn demanded.

 

"Yes," Caliel replied, still speaking to Korin, and Korin alone. "And you know why."

 

Lutha saw Korin's hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. His eyes went flat and dead as he proclaimed, "Disloyalty against one's lord is the greatest crime for a warrior at any time, but in these dire days, when I expect those closest to me to set an example, it is all the more unforgivable. Caliel and Lutha, you have both questioned my will since we left Ero. I have shown forbearance, hoping you would mend your ways and be the loyal Companions I have known. Instead, you have fomented unrest and doubt among others—" "What others?" Lutha demanded. "We were worried for you, because—"

 

A crushing force closed around his heart and throat, choking off his protest. No one else seemed to notice, but once again he found Niryn watching him with amusement. This was magic! Why couldn't anyone see what he was doing? He swallowed hard, wanting to denounce the man, but the more he tried to force the words out, the harder the pain closed around his throat. He fell to his knees and clutched his chest.

 

Korin mistook his distress. "Stand up! Shame your manhood no more than you already have."

 

It was hopeless. Niryn knew what Lutha wanted to say and was stopping the words in his throat. Staggering to his feet again, he croaked, "Barieus knew nothing of this. He's guilty of nothing."

 

Beside him, Barieus threw back his shoulders and said loudly, "I am Lord Lutha's squire and follow him in all things. If he is guilty, then so am I. I am ready to share any punishment."

 

"And so you shall," said Korin. "For the crime of disloyalty, you shall first be flogged before this company. Twenty lashes of the cat for Lutha and his squire, and fifty for Caliel, for his greater crime. At dawn tomorrow you shall be hanged, as befits your false friendship and treachery."

 

Lutha kept his head high, but he felt like a horse had kicked him in the belly. Despite his harsh words in the cell, he hadn't really believed Korin would go so far. Even Alben looked shocked, and Urmanis had gone pale.

 

"All of them hanged?" asked Master Porion, his tone carefully guarded. "Lutha and Barieus, as well?"

 

"Silence! The king has spoken," Niryn snapped, fixing the old swordsman with a sharp look. "Would you challenge His Majesty's wisdom, as well?"

 

Porion flushed angrily, but bowed to Korin and said nothing more. "If Master Porion won't speak, then I will!" Caliel cried angrily. "Before these witnesses, I say that you are unjust. Hang me if you must, but in your heart, you know I was acting on your behalf. You say you are punishing treachery, but I say you are rewarding it." He cast a scornful look at the wizard. "If you hang these two boys, who have done nothing but serve you loyally, then let this company witness your justice and see it for the evil it is! You have forgotten who your true friends are," he finished angrily, "but even if you kill me, I will not stop being yours."

 

For just a moment Lutha thought Korin might relent. A hint of pain crossed his face, but only for an instant.

 

"Let the lesser infractions be punished first," he ordered. "Companions, see to your duty."

 

Alben and Urmanis avoided his eyes as they stepped forward and roughly stripped off Lutha's shirt. Garol and Mago took charge of Barieus and did the same.

 

A feeling of unreality settled over him as they were led back toward the stone building that housed the cells. There, large iron rings were set high on the wall. Soldiers were already busy, fixing short lengths of rope through them.

 

Lutha held his head up and looked straight ahead, refusing to give any show of fear. From the corner of his eye, the massed ranks of silent warriors were nothing more than a dark, ominous blur.

 

He'd witnessed floggings enough to know that twenty lashes was a serious sentence, but the threat of it paled beside the proof that all their years of loyalty and friendship meant nothing to Korin. Not if they could be wiped away so brutally, on nothing more than the word of a wizard.

 

The other Companions strung them up, binding their hands to the rings with their faces pressed to the rough wall. The rings were so high that Lutha's feet scarcely touched the ground. It felt like his arms were being pulled from their sockets. He turned his head, looking at Barieus. He had his lips pressed grimly together, but his eyes were wide with fear.

 

"Courage," Lutha whispered. "Don't let them hear you cry out. Don't give them the satisfaction."

 

He heard movement behind him, and what sounded like a collective intake of breath. A burly, shirtless man with a cloth mask obscuring his face stepped close and showed them the knotted cat they would be punished with. A dozen or more long lengths of cord were fixed to a long wooden handle.

 

Lutha nodded and looked away. Gripping the iron ring, he braced for the first blow.

 

It was worse than he could have imagined. Nothing he'd experienced on the practice field or in combat compared to that first brutal stripe. It stole the breath from his lungs and burned like fire. He felt a trickle of blood under his shoulder blade, tracking down his side like a falling tear.

 

Barieus took the next stroke and Lutha heard his strangled grunt of pain.

 

The man wielding the cat was well versed in the art. He carefully distributed the stripes, marking them evenly down both sides of their backs and crosshatching the welts, so that every new strike hit already torn skin to cause more pain.

 

Lutha managed the first few well enough, but by the time the first ten had been meted out he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Barieus cried out at each stroke now, but to the boy's credit, he was not weeping or begging. Blood blossomed bright and metallic across Lutha's tongue as he bit his lip and forced himself to silently count down the last few strokes.

 

When it was over at last, someone cut the rope securing his hands to the ring, leaving his wrists bound together. Lutha's legs betrayed him and he ended up in a trembling heap in the dirt. Barieus collapsed, too, but was up almost at once. He bent down, holding his bound hands out to Lutha. His face was streaked with tears and blood was running down his sides, but his voice was steady as he said, loud enough for all to hear, "Let me help you up, my lord."

 

It gave Lutha the strength he needed. They turned and stood shoulder to shoulder, facing Korin, and Lutha realized that any love he'd felt for him was dead.

 

Guardsmen pulled them aside roughly and made them stand and watch from close range as Caliel was stretched against the wall. Everyone heard his sharp hiss of pain as his arms were pulled over his head, straining his broken ribs.

 

How will he stand it? Twenty strokes had left Lutha limp and weak, his back a throbbing mess. Fifty strokes could strip the flesh from a man's bones, perhaps even kill him, and Caliel was already badly hurt.

 

Caliel was taller, with-longer arms. He gripped the iron ring easily and braced his feet, head bowed. And it began again.

 

Caliel shuddered under the first few stripes. After ten strokes he was bleeding. After twenty, he was shaking visibly. Each stroke of the cat opened bloody lines across his skin, and after several complete passes over his back the skin was raw and streaming blood.

 

Perhaps Niryn had secretly instructed the man with the whip not to ruin Cal for the hanging, for he did not open him to the bone, but after the thirty-ninth lash Caliel fainted. Men came forward with buckets of seawater. The cold and the sting of the salt brought Caliel around. He writhed against the wall, biting back a cry, and the punishment proceeded to its conclusion. Caliel bore the rest in the same stubborn silence. When they cut him down he fell insensible to the ground, bleeding into the dirt.

 

"The king's justice has been served," Porion announced heavily. "Take them back to their cell. Tomorrow, they shall be hanged. Let the king's justice be done."

 

Every warrior around the yard struck their sword hilt or bow to his chest. The sharp clatter of obedience went through Lutha's belly like a knife thrust.

 

He and Barieus managed to make it back to the cell on their feet, but Caliel was roughly dragged by the arms and dropped facedown in the straw. Lutha fell to his knees beside him, fighting back tears of pain and betrayal.

 

"Sakor's Flame, he'll bleed to death!" he gasped, looking down helplessly at the bloody mess the cat had made of Caliel's back. "Tell the king he needs a healer, please!"

 

"Not much point," one of their gaolers muttered.

 

"Shut up, you!" the other one snapped. "I'll ask, Lord Lutha, though I don't know what he'll allow. Maker's Mercy be with you all, whatever happens."

 

Lutha looked up in surprise at this kindness. The man wore the red hawk insignia, but his eyes were filled with a mix of pity and disgust. He sent the other man away to ask for a healer but lingered a moment.

 

"It's not my place to say anything, my lord," he whispered, "but all three of you did yourselves proud out there. And—" He paused and stole a nervous glance at the door. "And there's them that don't hold with the king's idea of justice. Maker's Mercy be with you all." He stood and hurried out. Lutha heard the heavy bar fall into place.

 

No healer came. Working painfully with their bound hands, Lutha and Barieus managed to tear strips from the legs of their breeches and laid them across the worst wounds on Caliel's back to staunch the bleeding. Lutha's own back burned every time he moved, but he didn't stop until they'd done what little they could for Caliel.

 

It was too painful to sit with their backs to the wall, so they stretched out on either side of Caliel, trying to sleep.

 

Lutha was just slipping into a fitful doze when he felt a foot nudge his own.

 

"You were brave," Caliel rasped.

 

"Not half as brave as you," Lutha replied. "By the Four, Cal, you spoke your mind and you never cried out, not once!" "Really? I—I don't recall much of it." He mustered a rusty chuckle. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about the scars, eh?"

 

"I guess not." Lutha rested his head on his arm. "Are you frightened?"

 

"No, and you shouldn't be, either. We'll walk up to Bilairy's gate together, with our heads up. I'm just sorry I got you both into this. Can you forgive me?"

 

"Nothing to forgive," Barieus whispered. "All any of us tried to do was our duty. Fuck Korin if he'd rather listen to Old Fox Beard."

 

It hurt to laugh, but it felt good, too. "Yeah, fuck him!" Lutha gasped. Raising his voice, he yelled hoarsely, "You hear that, Korin? Fuck you, for not knowing how to treat those who loved you! You can just go to—"

 

"That's enough," Caliel croaked. "Both of you, that's no way to be remembered. It's not—I don't think this is all Korin's fault."

 

"How can you still say that?" Barieus hissed bitterly. "He's going to hang us tomorrow. Are you saying you still care about him?"

 

"I wasn't lying out there," Caliel replied softly. "I should have killed Niryn when I had the chance. I'd rather have hanged for that than die like this. At least that would have done some good. This will be a damn useless death."

 

Nalia had watched in horrified fascination as Lord Lutha and his squire were strung up, but after the first few lashes she'd run from the sight and vomited into the basin. Tomara held her until she was finished, then helped her to bed.

 

"Close the doors!" Nalia begged, pulling the pillows around her ears. She could still hear the sounds of the whip and the cries that drifted up.

 

Tomara closed the balcony door and all the shutters, then returned to sponge Nalia's temples with rosewater. "Poor dear, you shouldn't see such things. You're too tender for such sights."

 

"Those were the king's Companions!" Nalia gasped. "Why would he do such a thing?"

 

"There, there. You mustn't spare any tears for traitors, my dove," Tomara soothed. "If that's the worst that happens to them, then King Korin is a more merciful ruler than his grandmother or father ever were. Queen Agnalain would have had them drawn and quartered."

 

"Then it's true?" Korin's friends had turned against him. She could still almost feel sorry for him, knowing how deeply such betrayal cut, but it frightened her to see what he was capable of. "Tomara, go down among the guards and see what you can learn."

 

All too pleased to be sent gossiping again, Tomara hurried off.

 

Nalia lay back among the pillows, anxious for news. When Tomara did not immediately return, curiosity won out and she went to the window overlooking the courtyard again, and cracked the shutters open.

 

Lord Caliel hung there now. His back was already bloody and the man wielding the whip was still beating him. At once repelled and fascinated, Nalia began to count the strokes. She reached thirty-one before the flogging was done.

 

As she watched, Nalia had a revelation. If this was how Korin served his dearest friend, what might he do to her if he ever discovered how, deep in her heart, she now loathed him?

 

Mahti had walked all night and all day without stopping. He chewed dried snakeroot berries and sang softly under his breath, a tuneless chant that kept fatigue and hunger at bay. By the time he stopped he could see the huge water of his vision shining in the distance, the Sunrise Sea. He stopped, gazing at it in wonder. In the days before the coming of the pale-skinned lowlanders, before his people had been driven back to become mountain dwellers, the Retha'noi had traveled between the two seas and worshipped the Mother. There were sacred places on this lost coast. He wondered if anyone was left to tend them.

 

He ate a little of the food he'd taken from a house he'd passed, slept for a while in the shelter of an abandoned shed, then walked on, drawn by the shimmer of the sea.

 

There were no forests here to protect him, only open fields and the scattered houses of lowlanders. In the darkness he saw clusters of light in the distance that marked a town and kept well away from that place.

 

The Mother's voice pulled him on until he reached a lowlander's road. It shone pale in the moonlight and he paused at the edge of it as if it were a swift river that would carry him away if he stepped too carelessly into it. His witch marks tingled and itched again and his eyes closed, but his feet moved. He let them, trusting in Mother Shek'met, whose pale, comforting face looked down on him from the clear night sky. Her light was like cool springwater, soothing his aching legs and parched lips.

 

He walked on the road for a long time, the dusty packed earth strange under his feet. No deer had walked here, only horses, and their marks gave him nothing. He walked until something hard pressed into the arch of his foot, making him stumble.

 

He stooped down, surprised by the glint of gold in the hoofprint he'd just stepped in. It was a ring. He'd seen such ornaments on the hands of lowlanders before. This one was damaged, bent in on itself and flattened.

 

Perhaps a horse stepped on it, he thought. As he turned the bit of metal over in his hand, he saw that part of it was made to look like a bird.

 

Lhel appeared ahead of him in the road, waving for him to follow. Hurry, she whispered on the night breeze. Hurry, or you will be too late. In the distance the road divided like a river around a rock. One way went along the cliffs to the east. The other way was narrower, and headed toward the dark shape of a forest. Lhel gestured in that direction and he was glad. It would be good to be among trees again.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 25

 

  

 

 

 

Caliel and Barieus fell silent as the night dragged on. Lutha didn't know if they were asleep or not and didn't have the heart to disturb them.

 

Pain was a good distraction, or perhaps he really was brave, for he couldn't muster much fear. Perhaps that would come later, when he was climbing the gibbet? He tried to picture his own head on a pike, beside those already rotting on the battlements, but felt nothing but a numb disinterest. When he imagined the others dead, though, especially Barieus, it broke his heart.

 

He had no idea how close dawn was when he heard a laugh and the murmur of voices, then a soft thud against the door. He lay very still, like a rabbit frozen in front of a fox.

 

A moment later he heard the grating of the door bar. Fear found him then, as the door swung open with a small creak of hinges.

 

It was still dark outside and the guards had no torches. Lutha could make out nothing more than the indistinct outline of a smallish figure standing there.

 

"Who is it?" Lutha demanded, throat so dry he could scarcely get the words out.

 

"A friend." Lutha didn't recognize the whispered voice, but it sounded like a young man. "Get up, all of you. Hurry!"

 

Lutha struggled painfully to his knees. There was a faint rattle, then the sudden brightness of a small, shuttered lantern. A fair-haired young man stood holding it, and a bundle of clothing. "Hurry, put this on," he urged, shaking out his bundle and handing them each a shirt and plain cloak. He looked down at Caliel and gasped. Caliel hadn't stirred. His back was black with dried blood and raw wounds.

 

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Lutha whispered, gingerly pulling on the shirt.

 

"A friend of the queen's," the young man replied impatiently. "She'd be very unhappy if you died. Please, hurry before someone comes."

 

"Caliel, wake up," Lutha urged softly, shaking him by the foot.

 

Caliel groaned. Barely conscious, he was too weak and disoriented to stand by himself. With the stranger's help, Lutha and Barieus got him on his feet. His skin was hot and dry, and he let out another ragged groan when the stranger draped the cloak around him. "What—What's happening?"

 

"I'm getting you out of here before Korin hangs three more good men," the stranger told him. He shuttered the lantern again and opened the door a crack to peer out. "Clear. Go now. The guard is about to change."

 

"No, can't!" Caliel muttered, confused. "Won't desert—"

 

Lutha tightened his grip around him. "Please, Cal, don't fight us. We're helping you."

 

Between the three of them they managed to get him out the door. The yard lay in shadow, the torch by the door extinguished, but Lutha could make out two prone forms on the ground. He wondered how this slight young man had overpowered them, and if one of them was the man who'd spoken kindly to him before. He hoped not.

 

Keeping to the shadows and avoiding the guards stationed at the main gate, they made it to a small postern gate on the west side of the wall. Another guard lay dead or unconscious there.

 

"There was no way to get horses for you, so you'll have to get him away on foot as well as you can. Take the path along the cliffs and stay clear of the encampments. If you hear anyone coming after you, you can hide—or jump."

 

Lutha was less shocked by the advice than he might have been a few days ago. "At least tell me your name."

 

The fellow hesitated, and then whispered, "I'm Eyoli. Please tell Tamir that I'm still here, and will get word out as soon as I can. Go on now, hurry! Steal horses if you can find them, but get from here before the sun comes up."

 

With that, Eyoli all but shoved them through the postern and closed the door after them before Lutha thought to thank him.

 

The outer walls reached almost to the cliffs. A narrow strip of grassy, uneven land lay below, and in the starlight a well-worn goat path showed in a pale line, winding away between the rocks and hummocks. Not far away lay the outer watch fires of the southern encampment. Lutha squinted around in the darkness, praying they didn't meet anyone on this trail so late at night. They were in no shape to run or fight.

 

They had to all but carry Caliel—not an easy task. He wasn't heavy, but he was taller than either of them and half-dead on his feet. Lutha could feel the warmth of blood soaking through the cloak under his arm and running down his own back as the effort pulled the lash cuts open again. By sheer determination, they managed it; but Lutha scarcely dared breathe, expecting an outcry from above or the angry hiss of arrows.

 

But luck was with them, it seemed. They got away from the keep and met no one on the trail. Carefully skirting the outlying tents, they followed it for a mile or so, resting often as their strength threatened to give out and Caliel drifted in and out of consciousness. When they were past the last of the pickets, they cut across to the road leading into the small forest in the distance.

 

Lutha was in terrible pain and had had no water in nearly a day. He felt increasingly light-headed as they went along, and Barieus was in no better condition. "What are we going to do?" Barieus whispered, voice filled with pain and fear. The trees still seemed very far away and the first hint of dawn was visible on the eastern horizon.

 

"To Tobin," Caliel rasped, lurching deliriously along between them. "We must—we have to find out—"

 

"Yes." This would mark them as traitors for sure, but their lives weren't worth a lead sester if Korin caught them. Ah well, he can only hang us once.

 

Still, he found himself looking across Caliel's shoulder at Barieus. They'd known each other since birth. If anything more happened to Barieus because of him—

 

Barieus caught him looking and rasped out, "Don't say it. I go where you go."

 

Lutha grinned to hide his own relief. Atyion was a very long way off. He wasn't certain they could even make it to the forest ahead.

 

There were no steadings or villages on this stretch of the isthmus, nowhere to steal a horse. As dawn slowly lit the sky, they struggled on, and finally managed to get Caliel into the cover of the trees as the first bright edge of the sun appeared over the sea. A narrow dirt road wound away into the dark wood. Brambles and cane berry bushes lined the road, too thick to get through. For now at least they had to keep to the road.

 

The birds woke around them and sang to welcome the new day, their calls mingling with the sigh of a freshening breeze through the leaves overhead.

 

They didn't hear the sound of horses until the riders were quite close.

 

"They're right behind us!" Barieus moaned, staggering and nearly dropping Cal as he looked back over his shoulder.

 

Despair overwhelmed Lutha. They couldn't escape, except by hiding, and if the riders were from the keep, they were probably being guided by the same wizardry that had found Cal so quickly. "Leave me. Run for it," Caliel mumbled, struggling weakly in their grasp.

 

"We won't leave you." Lutha looked in vain for some sort of cover.

 

"Don't be stupid!" Caliel groaned, sinking to the ground.

 

They could hear the jingle of harness clearly now, and the staccato beat of hooves. "Bilairy's balls, there's at least a score," Barieus said.

 

"Help me get him off the road," Lutha ordered, trying to drag Caliel's limp body into the brambles.

 

"Too late!" Barieus moaned.

 

The sound of the horses was louder, drowning out the early birdsong. They could see the glint of metal through the trees.

 

Suddenly they were startled by the strangest sound they'd ever heard. It was close by and seemed to come from all sides at once. To Lutha it sounded like the combination of a bullfrog's croak and a herons call, but blended and drawn out in a weird pulsing drone.

 

He and Barieus closed in to protect Caliel from this new threat. The sound grew louder, rising and falling, and making the hair on the backs of their necks stand up.

 

The horsemen rounded the bend and came on hard in a pack. There was a wizard in the front rank, his white robe unmistakable. Lutha and Barieus tried to drag Caliel into a bramble brake, but it was so thick they couldn't get through. Huddled there, thorns piercing painfully through the backs of their cloaks, Lutha crouched over Caliel.

 

The riders thundered past, some of them so close Lutha could have reached out and touched their boots. Not one of them spared a glance for the ragged fugitives watching incredulously as they all but rode them down.

 

The weird drone went on until the last rider had disappeared around another bend and the last jingle of harness had faded in the distance, then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. In its wake Lutha could hear the cries of the gulls and the hammering of a lone woodpecker.

 

Caliel was awake again, and shuddering with exhaustion. His wounds had opened; dark patches of blood and sweat stuck the coarse material to his back.

 

"What in the name of all the Four just happened?" whispered Barieus.

 

"Your guess is as good as mine," Lutha muttered.

 

A moment later they all heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the forest beyond the bramble brake. Whoever it was made no attempt at stealth. Along with the loud, careless snapping of twigs underfoot, the traveler was whistling.

 

A moment later a dark little man appeared out of the brambles in the road behind them. He had a small sack strung over one shoulder and was dressed in the long, belted tunic and ragged leggings of a peasant farmer. He didn't appear to be armed, apart from a long sheath knife at his belt and the odd-looking staff he carried over his other shoulder. It was about a yard and a half long, and covered with all sorts of designs. It seemed overly ornate for a weapon and too thick for a quarterstaff.

 

As he came closer, Lutha realized this was no Skalan. The man's wild, black hair hung in a mass of coarse curls past his shoulders. That, together with his dark, nearly black eyes marked him as a Zengati. Lutha watched him warily, trying to tell if he was facing friend or foe.

 

The fellow must have guessed what was on Lutha's mind. He stopped a few yards away, balanced his staff in the crook of one arm, and held both hands out to show that they were empty.

 

Then he smiled and said, in a thickly accented voice, "Friends, you need help."

 

Now Lutha could see that what he'd taken for a staff was a wooden horn of some sort. The man wore a necklace made of decorated animal teeth on a leather thong, and bracelets of the same design.

 

"What do you want with us?" he demanded.

 

The man gave him a puzzled look. "Friend." He pointed in the direction Niryn's men had gone. "I help, yes? They gone."

 

"That noise, you mean? You did that?" asked Barieus.

 

The man raised his horn for the others to see, then puffed his cheeks out and set his lips to the top of it. There was a sort of broad mouthpiece made of a ring of wax. A throbbing blat issued from the other end. He made a few more of those odd noises, like a piper warming up his instrument, then the sound changed and settled into the deep drone they'd heard before. Lutha found his gaze drawn to the man's feet as he listened. They were very dirty and callused, as if he'd never worn boots. His hands were grubby, too, but less so, and the nails were carefully trimmed. There were bits of dead leaves and twigs caught in his hair.

 

The music was as odd as the man, and there was no question that this is what they'd heard before.

 

"It's magic, isn't it?" Barieus exclaimed. "You're a wizard!"

 

The man stopped playing and nodded. "They don't hear, those riders. Don't see."

 

Lutha laughed outright. "That's some good magic. Thank you!"

 

He started forward to clasp hands with their savior, but Caliel caught his arm. "No, Lutha! Don't you see?" he gasped. "He's a witch!"

 

Lutha froze. He'd have been less shocked to encounter a centaur mage, come down from the Nimra Mountains. They were more commonly met than hill witches, and a good deal more welcome. "Is that true?"

 

"Witch, yes. I Mahti." He touched his chest, as if Lutha might not understand. "Maaaah-teee? Retha'noi. What you call 'heeel fok'." "Hill folk," Caliel grated out. "Don't trust him—Probably scouting for a raid."

 

Mahti snorted and sat down cross-legged on the dusty road. "No raid." He walked two fingers across the ground. "Walk long days."

 

"You're on a journey?" asked Lutha, intrigued in spite of Caliel's reaction.

 

"Long walking, this 'joor-nay'?"

 

"Yes. Many days."

 

Mahti nodded happily. "Joor-nay."

 

"Why?" Caliel demanded.

 

"Watch for you."

 

The three Skalans exchanged skeptical glances.

 

Mahti dug into a greasy pouch at his belt, popped something dark and wizened into his mouth, and began to chew loudly. He offered the pouch to the rest of them and smirked when it was quickly declined. "See you in my dream song—" He paused and held up two dirty fingers. "These nights."

 

"Two nights ago?"

 

He held up three fingers and pointed at each of them. "See you, and you, and you. And I find this."

 

He dug into another small pouch and held out a bent gold ring. Caliel stared at it. "That—that's mine. I lost it when they caught me."

 

Mahti leaned over and placed it in the dirt in front of Caliel. "I find. I run hard to get here." Mahti held up one bare foot, showing them a few dirt-caked cuts in the thickly callused sole. "You run, too, from friend who has—" He paused again, searching for the right word, then looked sadly at Caliel. "Your friend, he who turns his face away."

 

Caliel's eyes went wide.

 

Mahti shook his head, then touched a hand to his chest above his heart again. "You have pain from that friend."

 

"Shut your mouth, witch." "Cal, don't be rude," Lutha murmured. "He's only speaking the truth."

 

 "I don't need to hear it from the likes of him," Caliel shot back. "It's just some trick, anyway. Why don't you ask him what he wants?"

 

"I tell you," Mahti replied. "You my guides."

 

"Guides? To what?" asked Lutha.

 

Mahti shrugged, then cocked his head at Caliel and frowned. "First I heal. Friend who turn face away hurt you."

 

Caliel leaned back, too weak to do more. But Mahti didn't try to approach him. He didn't move at all, except to raise his horn to his lips. The open end rested on the ground in front of him, pointing at Caliel. Puffing out his cheeks again, he warmed the horn.

 

"Stop him!" Caliel tried to struggle away, eyes fixed on the horn as if he expected it to spew fire.

 

Mahti ignored his protests. Fitting the horn more comfortably against his mouth, he began the spell drone. To Lutha's horror, black lines appeared on the man's skin as he played, crawling like centipedes across his skin to form intricate, barbaric patterns of lines and circles.

 

"You heard him. He doesn't want your magic!" Barieus cried, jumping between the witch and Caliel. Lutha did the same, ready to fend off who knew what sort of attack.

 

Mahti glanced up at them, amusement clear in his eyes, and the horn made a rude, laughing sound. Then the tone changed to a completely different sort of sound.

 

It began with a drone, but immediately fell to a deeper, softer sound. The symbols completely covered his face, hands, and arms now, and the exposed skin of his chest, too. It reminded Lutha of the markings he'd seen on Khatme people, but these markings were different, more angular and crude. The designs etched into the animal teeth and fangs that decorated his neck and wrists were the same. Barbaric; there was no other word for it. The sight of that reminded him of all the gruesome tales he'd heard of the hill folk and their magic.

 

Yet in spite of his instinctive alarm, the sounds coming from the horn were strangely soothing. Lutha slowly succumbed to its mesmerizing effect and felt his eyelids grow heavy. On some level he realized that he was bespelled but was helpless to resist. Barieus was blinking and wavering where he stood. Caliel was still panting, but his eyes had fluttered shut.

 

The buzzing went on for a few minutes, and to Lutha's surprise, he found himself sitting on the ground beside Caliel, urging him to lie down and rest his head on his thigh. Caliel stretched out on his side, grimacing as the lacerations on his back pulled and caught on his bloodstained cloak.

 

The horn sound had shifted again without Lutha even noticing. Now it was lighter and higher, quick little bursts of sound followed by long trills. Caliel sighed and went limp against him. Lutha couldn't tell if he'd fallen asleep or fainted, but his breathing was easier than it had been. He looked over at Barieus; the squire was fast asleep where he sat, a peaceful smile on his lips.

 

Lutha fought off sleep and kept guard over the others, watching the witch with a mix of suspicion and wonder. He might look dirty and ordinary, but clearly he was a man of power. He'd gained control over the three of them with nothing more than this strange music, if you could call it that.

 

Stranger still was the way it seemed to draw the pain from Lutha's back. His skin itched and burned, but the worst of the pain from the lash cuts grew muted, almost bearable.

 

The sound died away at last and Mahti came over and rested a hand on Caliel's brow for a moment, then nodded. "Good. He sleep. I come back."

 

The witch left his bundle on the ground but took the horn with him as he wandered off into the trees across the road. The brambles there looked as thick as the ones that had stymied Lutha, but the witch passed through easily and disappeared into the trees beyond.

 

Now that the spell was broken, Lutha was chagrined at how easily they'd been snared. Not wanting to wake Caliel, he threw a pebble at Barieus to wake him.

 

The boy started and yawned. "I was dreaming. I thought—" He looked blearily around and spied the witch's bag. "Oh. Oh!" He leaped to his feet. "Where is he? What did he do to Cal?"

 

"Quiet. Let him sleep," Lutha whispered.

 

Barieus started to object, then a look of utter amazement spread across his face. "My back!"

 

"I know. Mine, too." He gently shifted his leg out from under Caliel's head and tucked his own cloak under his friend's head in its place. Standing, he lifted Barieus' cloak and shirt to examine his back. It didn't look much better, but there was no fresh blood. "I don't know what he did, but Caliel is resting easier for it. Mahti said he was going to heal him. Maybe he did?"

 

"He could be some kind of drysian."

 

"I don't know. The stories I heard never said anything about witches doing healing. What he did, magicking the ones chasing us; that's more like what I'd expect."

 

"What do you think he meant about us guiding him somewhere?" asked Barieus, looking around nervously for the man.

 

"I don't know." It could be that Cal was right about him and it was some kind of trick, but if so, why would he help them?

 

"You think he saw us in a dream, like he said?"

 

Lutha shrugged. If the man was a witch, then anything was possible, he supposed. "Maybe he's a madman and wandered off from his own kind. He acts a bit crazy."

 

A snort of laughter made them both jump and turn;

 

Mahti emerged from the brambles with a handful of small plants and squatted beside Caliel. Cal didn't wake as Mahti rolled him gently onto his stomach and lifted the filthy cloak away from his back. The lacerations had scabbed and broken open again many times in the night, and were already red and swollen.

 

Mahti opened his bag and pulled out a wrinkled homespun shirt. He tossed it to Lutha, along with his knife. "Make to put on," he ordered, clearly intending for him to make bandages.

 

While Lutha cut up the shirt, Mahti took something else from his bag and began chewing it as he rubbed the young plants briskly between his palms. After a moment he spat a dark juice into the crushed leaves and kneaded it all together with some water from a flask, then began patting the crude poultice onto Caliel's wounds.

 

"Are you a drysian?" Barieus asked.

 

Mahti shook his head. "Witch."

 

"Well, at least he makes no bones about it," muttered Lutha.

 

Mahti picked up on the tone of the words and raised an eyebrow at him as he finished bandaging Caliel's back and ribs. "My people? We scare our babies with stories of you." He looked down at Cal and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No Retha'noi do this." He finished with Caliel's back, then touched the swollen bruises over the damaged ribs. "I mend bone now. Take out sick water."

 

"What's that mean?" Barieus asked.

 

"I think he means pus," said Lutha. "And you heal with that, don't you?" Lutha pointed at the horn lying next to them on the ground.

 

"Yes. Oo'lu."

 

"And that's what you used to hide us earlier?"

 

"Yes. Witch men Retha'noi all play oo'lu for their magic."

 

"I've heard stories of your kind using them in battle."

 

Mahti just turned back to tending Caliel. Lutha exchanged a worried look with Barieus. The squire had noticed the lack of answer, too. "We appreciate what you've done for our friend. What payment do you require?" asked Lutha.

 

"Payment?" Mahti looked amused.

 

"You helped us, so we give you something in return?"

 

"I tell you. You guide me when your friend can joor-nay."

 

"Oh, so we're back to that?" Lutha sighed. "Where do you want to go?"

 

"Where you go."

 

"No! I'm asking where it is you want us to guide you. Not that it matters. We are already going somewhere. I don't have time to wander off with you."

 

It was impossible to know how much of this the hill man understood, but he nodded happily. "You guide."

 

Barieus chuckled.

 

"Fine, we guide," Lutha muttered. "Just don't complain to me if we don't end up where you intended!"

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 26

 

  

 

 

 

Thanks to her wizards and spies, Tamir now knew the hearts of six nobles who had estates within a few days' ride of Atyion. Four were against her, all well within striking distance if they chose to make trouble.

 

This was cause for concern. Tamir's army still numbered less than ten thousand warriors, and many were untrained farmers and merchants' sons and daughters. Disenchanted nobles who'd fled Korin's northern court brought reports of twice that number. If Korin moved in force, Tamir would have to rely on the strong walls and carefully stocked supplies of her new capital.

 

Something had to be done.

 

She met with her generals and wizards around the great round table in the map chamber. This room had been used since the time of the castle's founding to plan battles. Racks of maps and sea charts filled the walls. In quiet moments Tamir had searched through the excellent collection, finding many that bore notations in her father's hand.

 

At the moment Lytia was reading out castle inventories of armaments, and the number of various kinds of craftsmen. Tamir tried hard to concentrate on the lists of farriers and armor makers, but her mind wandered. It was hot and still today, and the steady drone of the cicadas made her eyelids heavy. She was sweating in her summer gown. It was close to her moon time again, too, and the heat seemed to bother her more. Or maybe it was these wretched long skirts!

 

She drifted over to a large open window, trying to cool herself with a delicate sandalwood-and-ivory fan. She'd found a box of them in one of the wardrobes in her dressing room and decided to put them to use. She'd felt a bit odd at first, as she did with most feminine accoutrements, but the scented breeze it created more than made up for any embarrassment. No one seemed to think it odd.

 

With no battles to fight, she wore dresses most of the time. Lytia had set the castle seamstresses to making over her mother's gowns into the newer fashion. This one, light blue linen trimmed with silver stitching, had been one of Princess Ariani's favorite summer riding habits. Looking at herself in the mirror, Tamir thought of that night during her first visit here, when she'd snuck in and put on her mother's cloak, trying to imagine what she'd look like as a girl.

 

The sound of childish laughter from the garden below caught her attention. Some of Arkoniel's youngest wizards were splashing in a fountain with some of the castle children. A few others were sitting on the grass, playing with some kittens. She envied them. Only last summer she and her friends would have been off swimming naked in the sea on a day like this, or lying in a shady corner somewhere with their shirts off.

 

Illardi broke in on her reverie. "Majesty? What do you think?"

 

She sighed and walked back to the table. "I was woolgathering. About what?"

 

Nyanis had another map spread out. On it Tamir's known allies were marked with blue ink, those loyal to Korin in red, and those whose intentions remained unknown in green. The red and green marks outnumbered the blue and were heavily concentrated to the north, where some of the largest holdings lay. The blue marks to the south were mostly towns and the holdings of lesser lords and knights.

 

"You've shown great forbearance, Majesty," Illardi said. "It's time to show that the true queen has power and a limit to her patience."

 

"I'd start here, with Lord Erian," Nyanis advised, pointing to a location two days' ride north. "He has a strong keep, but less than two hundred warriors, and his holding was hard hit by the famine. He shouldn't be able to hold out long in a siege. Send a company up there and make an example of him. The same tactic can be used against Duke Zygas and Lady Alna. Word will soon spread."

 

"So it's come to this finally, has it? Skalans fighting Skalans. Still, if I am to be accepted as a warrior queen, then I must be seen acting like one."

 

"No, Majesty. Because you are queen, you must let your captains and generals take care of small fish like these," Illardi explained.

 

"What? Stay here while you go fight?"

 

"He's right, I'm afraid," said Nikides. "These small holdings are below your notice. I'll draft an ultimatum to be read out at the gates. That will give them a chance to change their minds if they think better of it."

 

"What did I train for, then?"

 

"To lead battles, not skirmishes," said Tharin. "Your father and I carried out these little fights in the king's name. He didn't have to be there. We were his arm and his will." He smiled at her obvious disappointment. "You've already proven yourself, Tamir, from your very first fight. Word of your victories against the Plenimarans is spreading. Besides, as you say, this is Skalan against Skalan. Better you keep your hands clean. Let your warriors go make an example of these upstarts. Perhaps that will be enough for others, especially those who remain undeclared."

 

Tamir suddenly realized that she'd been using the fan rather emphatically. Bilairy's balls, no wonder they were telling her to stay home, standing here in a dress like some fluttery courtier! "We'll talk about this more after lunch," she muttered. She was hungry, but if she didn't get out of this dress and bathe, she was going to go mad. The others bowed and took their leave, except Ki and Tharin.

 

"Could I have a word, Majesty?" Tharin murmured before she could escape, giving her a look that said it was important. "Alone?"

 

She sighed. "Oh, all right. But let's talk in the garden. It will be cooler there. Ki, have Baldus order a cold tub in my room, would you? I'll eat with you shortly."

 

Ki shook his head. "That's your third bath this week. People will take you for Aurenfaie if you keep this up."

 

The sun had moved behind the west tower and there was a breath of a breeze. Patterned beds of flowers scented the air, and the tinkling of fountains mingled with the droning of bees busy among the blossoms.

 

Tharin seemed glad of the shade, too. He dressed like a proper courtier here, his tunic and short cape somber in tone but of a fine cut and trimmed with embroidery. A duke at last, he wore the gold chain and signet of his rank, and tied his hair back with a black silk ribbon instead of a greasy leather cord, but he cared no more for titles and fine things than he ever had. And he remained at her side, un-movable as a barnacle on a rock and her most trusted source of counsel.

 

She could tell he had something on his mind now as they strolled along under a line of flowering trees. There were courtiers and servants all around, though, and he waited until they'd reached the relative seclusion of a' thickly overgrown grape arbor to speak.

 

Dappled shade played over his face as he sat down on the wooden bench. "You may not like what I have to say."

 

"You know I'll listen, though." She sat down and pulled her skirt up over her knees to cool her legs. Ringtail emerged from a clump of flowering roses and jumped into her lap. She scratched his ears, then winced as he kneaded sharp claws into her thigh. "Go on, then. What is it?" "It's about Ki. The way things are now? It's not good for him."

 

That caught her off guard. She'd expected talk of war. "Has he said something to you?"

 

"No, and he wouldn't thank me for interfering if he knew. But I've been at court longer than either of you, and I don't like how the talk is running. He's already labeled as your favorite, and more. That breeds jealousy, and that can lead to trouble for both of you." He paused, plucking a few ripe grapes and passing some to her. "I'm guessing your feelings for him haven't changed?"

 

She ducked her head, blushing, and said nothing. They had; they were stronger than ever.

 

"I know you try to hide it, but the mere fact that you keep him so close is enough for the gossips—That and the fact that he's not highborn."

 

"You know I don't care about that!"

 

"No, but you're at court now, and things are as they are; too many people with too much time to wonder." He ate a grape, chewing slowly. "But there's more to it than that. You've got him acting like a lady-in-waiting. That's no position for a warrior."

 

"I do not!" But Tharin's words stung in a way that told her he was right. "He's my squire. If I was still a boy, they wouldn't be talking like that, would they?"

 

"People were talking before. But that's neither here nor there. You are a young queen, and he's a squire from a family no one knows of except as rough characters. When you were just a prince and still a child, it didn't matter as much. Things have changed, and they're never going back to what they were."

 

"What would you have me do? I don't want Ki suffering on my account, but I can't just send him away." When Tharin said nothing, she bridled angrily. "No, I won't do that, not for anyone!"

 

"I'm not saying discharge him, but have a care for his feelings, too. Ki's a fine warrior and a smart young man. If he'd risen under some other lord—Jorvai say, like his sister—then he'd be praised for his ability. As it stands now, no matter what he does, some will see it as your favor rather than him rising on his own merits."

 

"And Ki's said nothing about all this to you?"

 

"No. As long as you want him at your side, he'll be there, no matter what's made of it. But is this what you want for him?"

 

"Of course it isn't! I wish—Oh, Tharin, why does it have to be so damn difficult? Ki's changed, too, and I've changed and—"

 

Tharin regarded her knowingly. "You want him for your consort, don't you?"

 

Tamir reddened miserably. "Illardi and Nik both say I must have one soon, and that I have to think about proving that I can provide an heir." Her stomach tightened in fear at the thought of what that meant. "It's bad enough, thinking of—that, but I can't imagine being with anyone but him! I love him, Tharin! I always have. But he doesn't love me. Not that way."

 

"Has he said so?"

 

"He doesn't have to. He still treats me like a boy most of the time."

 

"Sometimes when we're so close to someone all the time, we can't really see them anymore. Perhaps what you both need is a bit of distance."

 

"Then you are saying I should send him away?"

 

"No, I'm thinking of what Nyanis was saying. Ki needs to prove himself. He's trained to fight and lead, just as you are. Have him take a force of his own against some of those lords."

 

"But won't people still say that he got his commission because of me?"

 

"When a princess becomes a queen, her Companions almost always become her commanders and councilors, like your father and Erius. Once Ki leads and wins on his own, that will be to his credit." Tamir nibbled a grape as she considered this. It snapped between her teeth, flooding her mouth with sweet juice. "He won't like it."

 

"Doesn't matter if he does or not. He's your liegeman, and honor-bound to obey your orders. Your father would be telling you the same if he were here now."

 

Tamir popped another grape into her mouth. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. "If I make him a commander, then he can't be just my squire anymore. He's been fighting me on that, but he'll have to accept a title. He's more stubborn than you on that account. Oh, but wait. Does this mean I have to take another squire in his place?"

 

"No. You don't need one around here, and when you do go into battle he'll ride with you, as I did with your father."

 

Tamir grinned. "That's all right, then! Let's go tell him."

 

Ki was in her chamber, helping Baldus oversee the filling of the silver-lined tub. Tamir sighed inwardly at the sight. Tharin was right; she had reduced him to duties far below his worth.

 

"That's enough," she told the girls with the buckets though the tub was scarcely a quarter full. "You can leave us. You too, Baldus. Go play with your friends. I don't need you until after supper."

 

The boy bowed and dashed off. Ki moved to follow, assuming she was going to bathe.

 

"No, wait. We have something to talk to you about."

 

"Oh?" Ki cast a curious look at Tharin.

 

"Well, I think—And Tharin agrees…" It was much harder than she'd expected, with him giving her that suspicious look. "I've decided to give you a commission."

 

Ki folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. "What sort of commission, exactly?"

 

"You'll go after these local lords for me. You could take a company from the garrison and support Jorvai for starters, and then—"

 

Ki bridled at once. "You're sending me away?"

 

"No, of course not! You shouldn't be gone more than a few weeks, barring sieges. Listen, Ki, I trust you. And since I can't go out on these raids, I need someone I trust to do it for me. Besides, I need a few commanders who aren't old enough to be my grandfather."

 

Ki said nothing, but she saw interest warring with that stubborn gleam in his eye.

 

"You can take Lynx with you, and the men from Alestun. They know you and they'll set an example for the others."

 

"I see." He shot another look at Tharin and shrugged. "Thank you. I'm honored." Then, just as she'd expected, his eyes narrowed again. "Will you be replacing me with another squire?"

 

"Never, Ki. When I go to battle, you'll be at my side, I promise. Tharin will stay with me while you're gone. Hell, he's worse than a burr on a wool sock."

 

Tharin chuckled. "I am that. Don't worry, Ki. You know I'll look after her for you. It's time you showed your mettle."

 

Tamir punched Ki lightly on the shoulder. "You'll have all the fun, while I have to stay here—in a dress!"

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 27

 

  

 

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"What's wrong, didn't your dinner agree with you?"

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"That was the idea."

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

She smiled back at him and shook her head. "Don't be silly. Go on and get your rest. I'll be there to see you off. Good night, Ki." He could think of nothing more to say, or even what he wanted to say. "Thank you for my commission," he said at last. "I'll make you proud."

 

"I know you will."

 

"Well—good night."

 

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

 

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

 

"Nothing!" Ki exclaimed quickly.

 

Too quickly from the way Tharin's eyes narrowed. "You were just with Tamir?"

 

"Yes. I wanted to—to thank her, and she's worried about me and—" He faltered to a halt.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"You're really going to do it this time, aren't you?" Nikides asked.

 

"He can't very well refuse this time," she murmured with a wry smile. The mounted companies had already formed up when they reached the courtyard, and hundreds of courtiers lined the walls and stairways to see them off.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Tamir took his hand and turned him to face the assem- bly. "My people, welcome Lord Kirothieus, my friend and my right hand. Honor him as you honor me."

 

A cheer went up and Ki blushed harder. Tamir clapped him on the shoulder and mouthed, "Be careful."

 

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

 

Ki did the same, shouting "For Tamir and Skala!" and a thousand throats behind him took it up.

 

"I hope you appreciate how jealous I am," Tamir said, when the shouting died down.

 

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

 

"Good. Go show them this 'mad boy in a dress' is not to be trifled with."

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"The herald speaks for me," Jorvai called back.

 

"Your grace, I bear a letter from Tamir Ariani Gherilain, Queen of Skala," the herald announced.

 

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

 

"The banners of Lord Jorvai of Colath and Lord Kirothieus of Oakmount and Queen's Mercy fly at your gates, the liegemen of Tamir Ariani Gherilain, Queen of Skala by right of blood and birth.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"You watch your tongue, you young upstart!"

 

"He's right, Zygas," Jorvai chided. "I never put you down as anything but a solid man, but it seems you're growing indecisive in your old age." The duke glared at them both for a moment, then shook his head. "I've waited months for Korin to march and defend his throne, but he sends me nothing but excuses. Instead here you two are. You were always an honest fellow, Jorvai. Can I trust this offer of hers?"

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"She requires hostages, does she?"

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"Tamir wants nothing from you but your loyalty," Ki assured him.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"You were summoned more than once and given every chance to align yourself with the true queen," Ki replied, keeping his temper in check. She sniffed at that. "True queen! Ariani had no daughters."

 

"She did and you have heard the tale of her changing, I'm sure."

 

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

 

"It wasn't dark magic…" Ki began, but she cut him off angrily.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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Chapter 28

 

  

 

 

 

Tamir's heart leaped at the sight of every herald. At last the first came in, bearing greetings and apologies from Duke Zygas, now on his way to swear allegiance. He'd been the one most likely to hold out and she took it as a good omen. He and his family arrived a few days later by cart. Tamir received him sternly, but he was so fearful for his children and so earnest in his oath that she gladly upheld his title.

 

A few days later Jorvai's second herald brought word of another bloodless victory. Lord Erian had come out to surrender the moment Jorvai's force appeared over the horizon, apparently not knowing if it was to Korin or Tamir he was surrendering. Jorvai's letter was disdainful. '"Keep this one well under your thumb. It's the cowardly dog that most often bites.'"

 

But still no word from Ki. The nights were long, knowing the room next door was empty, and Brother had returned to trouble her dreams again.

 

At last, on the last day of Shemin, a herald arrived with word that Ki had been victorious and was close behind.

 

He arrived just after nightfall with his cavalry and came straight to the great hall, flanked by Grannia and Lynx. All three looked tired and grim, and their tabards still carried the dark stains of battle.

 

"Welcome back," she said, trying to maintain her dignity before the court when all she really wanted was to jump off the dais and hug Ki. "What do you have to report?" "Majesty, Lord Ynis surrendered and is on his way to you. Lady Alna refused." Ki nodded to Lynx.

 

Lynx took a leather sack from under his cloak and opened it. Ki reached in and pulled out a woman's head by its bloodstained blond hair.

 

Tamir did not flinch at the sight of those slack lips and dull, milky eyes, but the sight saddened her. "Mount it on the battlements above the gate, near Solari's remains, with a sign giving her name and crime. Did you kill her, Ki?"

 

"No, Majesty, she died by her own hand on the fourth day of the siege. She killed her two daughters and her son as well, or had them killed. We found them lying together in her chamber."

 

Tamir had no doubt that Ki would have done it himself if it had been necessary, but she was secretly relieved that he hadn't had to. In any case, Alna had spared her the trouble of an execution.

 

"Let the heralds carry the news to every town and holding," she ordered. "Have the town criers spread the word. I have been merciful to those who gave me their loyalty. The traitor was not spared. Lord Kirothieus, you have my thanks, and the gratitude of the land. I hereby grant you all the lands of Lady Alna, in honor of your first victory under your own banner."

 

She smiled to herself as Ki bowed again. There could be no murmuring about that. Such were the spoils of war.

 

Instead, it was Ki who complained, as soon as they sat together at the feast that night.

 

"You didn't have to do that," he grumbled. "You've already saddled me with enough land and rents, as well as a title."

 

"And now you have men-at-arms and riders of your own to draw on, the next time I need you," Tamir replied happily. "No more taunts of 'grass knight' for you, my lord."

 

Ki folded his arms, acknowledging defeat. "Just so long as you let me fight again, I suppose I can bear up un-der the strain."

 

"Tell us about your first command!" Una urged. "And you, too, Lynx. How do you like being Ki's captain?"

 

"It's Ki's story to tell," Lynx demurred modestly, but Tamir caught sight of his squire standing by the kitchen doorway, talking excitedly to Lorin and Hylia.

 

"I'll make him tell his part, don't worry." Ki laughed. "He and Captain Grannia did me proud."

 

"Maybe, but you were in the forefront, every step—," Lynx pointed out.

 

Tamir studied Ki's face as he went through the details. The keep had been a strong one, and prepared for a siege. Ki outlined the fight, using bits of bread and dishes to illus-trate. He was modest in the telling, giving away much of the credit. He grew grim, though, when he finally came to the moment they'd found Alna and her kin.

 

"It was just as well," Grannia put in from her place at the lower table. "More honor in that than being hanged for a traitor."

 

"I wouldn't have harmed her children," Tamir said sadly.

 

As Ki and the Companions accompanied her back to her room that night, she thought the looks he got from the var-ious courtiers they met along the way were more respectful than they had been before. All the same, she was mindful of prying eyes as she invited him into her chamber.

 

They looked at each other for a moment. The week apart only seemed to have strengthened the awkwardness between them. Tamir sighed and gave him a hug, and he returned it, but it was brief and they quickly moved to the gaming table by the window.

 

"So, you're a blooded commander now," she said, toying with a carved pawn. "How does it feel?"

 

Ki smiled as he ran a finger over the lines on the board. "I didn't like fighting without you there, but otherwise?" He grinned at her, eyes warm again. "Thank you."

 

"I'm sorry about Alna."

 

Ki nodded sadly. "It wasn't a very pretty sight. The children's throats were cut. I wonder if the keep will be haunted now?"

 

"Probably, with those kinds of deaths."

 

"Well, I don't mean to live there. You're not going to force me, are you?"

 

"No, I want you here," she said, then cursed herself for blushing. "But now that you're back, with no fighting to do, won't you be bored?"

 

Ki took out his bag of bakshi stones. Rattling them in challenge, he said, "There are other kinds of fighting we can do here. And now I have gold of my own to wager."

 

They played half a dozen games, not really caring who won or lost, and when they were done he rose to go. Fidgeting nervously with the stone bag, he said, "I meant what I said, about it not feeling right to be fighting without you." He leaned down and gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek. Before she recovered, he was gone.

 

She sat for some time, fingers pressed to her cheek where his lips had touched, wondering what to think of it and trying not to give in to false hope.

 

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Chapter 29

 

  

 

 

 

Niryn had spied Nalia peeking down from her balcony the night of the floggings and was pleased with how the spectacle had cowed her. She'd been very quiet since. Even Korin had remarked on it.

 

She'd still had some spirit when Korin first arrived. Her hatred and anger had been palpable, as well as her despair. Concerned, Niryn had gone so far as to bespell the balcony and windows to prevent her from leaping to her death.

 

Time and Korin's attentions had calmed her, and the sight of her husband's hard justice seemed to have dampened the last of her resistance. She was meek at table and during her evening strolls on the walls. Niryn was careful to make sure she passed the heads of the traitors displayed there. The only one missing was that of whoever had let Caliel and the others escape.

 

Korin, however, grew increasingly difficult to manage. Drink was taking its toll, and Alben and Urmanis were helpless to stop him. At his worst Korin was by turns restless and morose. The treachery of his Companions had hurt him deeply; Niryn had carefully nurtured that pain to his own ends. Several new gibbets had to be built outside the fortress walls. The bodies bloating there served as a good reminder for the rest.

 

What Niryn could not control, however, was the demand among Korin's allies for battle, which only grew stronger when spies brought word that Tobin had sent his army against some of the nobles who refused to recognize his claim, and that his generals were having one success after another.

 

Korin's warlords were equally successful once the lead was slipped against a few minor nobles who opposed him. Some fought for the king's honor, but more were in it for the spoils. There was some grumbling over their shares of the lands and gold captured, but Korin had an army to pay and men to feed. Northern taxes flowed into Cirna, but without a royal treasury to draw from, Korin took the full royal share of all spoils.

 

Reading through the day's reports one evening in his chambers, Niryn saw a few familiar names. Lord Jorvai was with Tobin at Atyion, and the forces he'd left behind at his estate were no match for Duke Wethring and his army. The keep and town had been put to the torch and the fields burned.

 

Nevus currently had a smaller holding under siege. It was a miserable little keep in the hills called Rilmar, but Niryn smiled as he read the name of the old knight who held it: Marshal of the Roads, Sir Larenth.

 

"Dear me," he smirked, showing the report to Moriel. "I do believe that's young Ki's family, isn't it?"

 

Moriel's gloating smile was poisonous. "Yes, my lord. King Erius granted him those very lands as a favor to Prince Tobin."

 

"Well then, it's only right that the king's son should take them back."

 

Earlier, Korin had given in to a momentary regret over that. "Father sent the Companions there to get us blooded against some bandits. Sir Larenth was a fine old fighter in his day and a good host in his way."

 

"He was offered terms, Majesty, and he refused in the most colorful terms," Master Porion assured him.

 

"You cannot afford to show them mercy, any more than you could those rebel Companions. False friends make the bitterest enemies," Niryn reminded him. All the same, Niryn caught a flicker of guilt in Korin's eyes and pursued it, winding his way into the young man's memory. There was shame there, some failure involving Rilmar. Niryn crooked hidden fingers into a spell, fanning the pain of the buried memory.

 

"You're right, of course," Korin whispered, rubbing his eyes. "There can be no mercy for rebels, no matter what." He summoned a herald. "Go to Lord Nevus. Tell him it is my will that he spare the girls who aren't trained to arms and the little children. Hang the rest."

 

"Look there," Korin said as they strolled the walls later that evening, pointing up at the constellation just above the eastern horizon. "There's the Hunter. Summer's nearly gone and still I lurk here, tied down by the tide in a womb! By the Flame, it's as if I have no use but to get babies on a woman."

 

"It's not for lack of trying, now is it?" Alben chuckled. "You're up there often enough. I hope for your sake she's not barren—"

 

"My lord!" Niryn made a sign against ill fortune. "It's said the women of her family kindle slowly, but that they bear healthy babes, and they tend to girls."

 

Korin sighed. "I must face Tobin on the battlefield before the snow comes and defeat him once and for all!"

 

A little longer, my king, thought Niryn. According to old Tomara, Nalia was having trouble keeping her breakfast down.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 30

 

  

 

 

 

News of Tamir's actions against the recalcitrant nobles spread quickly and heralds bearing conciliatory letters soon began to arrive from nobles up and down the coast. The powerful lords of the north and some of the west remained staunch in their support of Korin, however. Jorvai had been one of the few from that region to support her. According to Tamir's spies and Arkoniel's wizards, Korin was still stubbornly sitting at Cirna.

 

Tamir wasn't certain what to make of that. In his place, with superior forces, she'd have marched long since, yet there was still no sign of movement. Ki was of the opinion that Korin was scared to fight, but Tamir was certain there must be something else.

 

Whatever the case, they now found themselves in a period of relative peace and Imonus seized the opportunity once again to urge Tamir to go to Afra.

 

"It's time, Majesty. If nothing else, you must be seen honoring the Lightbearer as your ancestors always have."

 

"He's right, you know," said Illardi. "Every new queen has gone there and brought back a prophecy for the people."

 

Tamir needed no convincing. She'd had her fill of court life, and if she couldn't fight a battle, then the prospect of a journey had its appeal.

 

On Imonus' advice, Tamir set the date for their departure for the first week of Lenthin. That would bring them to Afra during the moon's first waxing—a most fortuitous time, according to the priests.

 

There was no question of taking a large force. The shrine lay high in the mountains west of Ylani, and was reached by a single, switchback road, which, according to Imonus and Iya, was barely wide enough in places for a single rider to pass.

 

"The place is sacred ground. Not even Niryn would dare defile it by attacking you there," Imonus assured her. "And no one would follow Korin if he committed such a sacrilege."

 

"I hope you're right," said Tharin. "All the same, she must take a sufficient guard to protect her on the road."

 

"My personal guard should be enough, especially with Iya and Arkoniel with us," said Tamir. "With any luck, I'll be back before Korin's spies can carry the news that I was gone."

 

"Saruel has asked to accompany us," said Iya. "The Aurenfaie hold the Oracle in high regard, and she would like to visit the place."

 

"I'm glad to have her," Tamir replied. "She's one of your more powerful wizards, isn't she? I'll feel that much safer, with her along."

 

The night before their departure Tamir was too restless to sleep. She sat up late, gaming with Ki and Una, then sat by the window as they played the final game, watching the last waning half-moon rise and tugging absently at a braid. Una won at last and took her leave, eager to be off tomorrow.

 

"What's the matter? I thought you'd be anxious to go," said Ki as he scooped their bakshi stones back into their respective bags and put away the wooden board.

 

"I am."

 

"Well, for someone who's cool as springwater before a battle, you seem awfully fretful over a little ride. Are you afraid of the Illiorans? I know I am."

 

She turned to find him grinning at her. "Stop teasing. You're not the one god-touched. It was eerie, that vision I had, and that was just a little one! This is the greatest Oracle in the land."

 

"And who could be safer there, than you?" Ki countered. "Come on, there's something else, isn't there?"

 

"What if I don't like what she tells me? What if I'm destined to fail, or go mad like the rest of the family or—I don't know."

 

"And?"

 

"And Brother. He's still after me about his death. I want to know the truth, but I'm afraid to, too. I can't explain it, Ki. It's just a gut feeling."

 

"Which are you more afraid of? That he won't go away once you've satisfied him or that he will?"

 

"I want him gone. I just don't know if I can give him what he wants to do it."

 

They set off early the next day, riding at a trot through the sleeping town. Tamir felt a stir of excitement as the southern high road stretched away before them. It wasn't just the anticipation of at last meeting with the Oracle who'd defined her life. To ride at full gallop with armed riders at her back was one of the finest feelings she knew.

 

Lain, youngest of the Afran priests who'd come north with Imonus, rode in the forefront with her as their guide, though Iya and Arkoniel knew the way as well. He was a quiet sort, and Tamir hadn't paid him much mind, but he was positively glowing today.

 

"It's a great honor, Majesty, to conduct a new queen to Afra. I pray you receive a clear answer there, and comfort."

 

"So do I," she replied.

 

Arkoniel had brought Wythnir with him this time, and the boy rode proudly on a pony of his own, dressed in a fine new tunic and boots. It made him look older. The wizards spent much time riding together and though the boy said little, as always, Tamir could see that he was taking in every word his master said. He bore the long hours of riding without complaint, apparently content to be near Arkoniel rather than left behind again.

 

They slept at Ero on the second night, and the following day Illardi's steward proudly showed her the new town springing up along the northern edge of the harbor. Many people were still in tents and makeshift shelters, but men were at work everywhere, hauling stone and hammering away at new house frames, and the air was sweet with the scents of lime and raw lumber. She paused frequently to watch the craftsmen.

 

Arkoniel smiled as she lingered to watch a woodcarver at work on a fancy lintel. "Do you ever wish you'd been born into a craftsman's family instead?"

 

"Sometimes. I lost all my carving tools and haven't had time to find any new ones."

 

Arkoniel reached into his purse and handed her a small lump of fresh beeswax. "Will this do, for now? You never used to be without it."

 

Tamir grinned; Arkoniel had been among the first to recognize and support her gift.

 

But not the first.

 

The sweet aroma brought back a few precious moments of peace with her mother—a rare smile as her mother had warmed a bit of wax between her hands. It smells of flowers and sunshine, doesn't it? The bees store up all of summer for us in their waxen houses.

 

 

The sting of tears behind her eyelids surprised her. Tamir had so few good memories of her. She looked down at the serene carved countenance on her ring, wondering what Ariani would think, to see her in her true form? Would she love her at last, as much as she'd loved Brother? Would she have loved them both and not gone mad if Brother had lived?

 

Tamir shook off the bittersweet thought and strode on, hoping Arkoniel and the others hadn't noticed her weakness. They soon left the sea road behind, striking south and west toward the mountains for the next few days. This was the same road she'd taken the first time she'd come to Ero. She and Ki shared a silent look of longing as they passed the crossroads that would have taken them to the Alestun keep. Who knew when they would have the time to go there again? Her old nurse, Nari, wrote often, and Tamir always answered, but she couldn't promise a visit.

 

Beyond the Alestun road, Lain led them along back roads that avoided the larger towns, moving ever inland. The first few nights they slept in small roadside inns, where people greeted her with respect and wide-eyed amazement, especially when their new queen was content to dine with them in the common room. She and the Companions joined in songs around the hearth at night, and Iya and Arkoniel entertained with simple, colorful spells and cast mendings for those who dared ask.

 

In return, the villagers spoke to Tamir of crops and bandits. Rogues of all sorts had grown bolder since Ero fell. Tamir sent a rider back with word for Illardi to have some of their idle warriors sent out to deal with brigands.

 

The great range that formed the spine of the Skalan peninsula loomed closer each day, the jagged peaks still snow-capped.

 

On the afternoon of the seventh day Lain guided them onto a well-traveled road that led into the mountains. Evergreen forest gradually gave way to thinner groves of quakeleaf and oak.

 

The way grew steep and began to twist, forcing them to rein their horses back to a walk. The air grew steadily cooler around them and carried the scents of plants Tamir did not recognize. Stunted, wind-twisted trees clung to the rocky slopes, and hardy mosses and small plants lined the road. It was still summer in Atyion but the air here already carried the first hint of autumn, and the quakeleafs were showing golden edges to their round leaves. Far above them the snow-capped peaks shone so brightly against the clear blue sky it hurt to look at them for long.

 

"It reminds me of my home. Many of these plants are the same," Saruel remarked, riding beside Tamir.

 

"You're from the mountains?"

 

"Yes. As a child I saw level ground only when we traveled to Sarikali for the clan gatherings." She inhaled deeply, and the black tracery around her eyes pulled and bunched as she smiled. "I've missed these smells, and the coolness. I enjoyed my time in your capital, but it was very different than what I'm used to."

 

Tharin chuckled. "Stinking Era. It came by the name honestly, for certain."

 

"I understand. I grew up in the mountains, too," Tamir said.

 

"This feels like one of our hunting trips, doesn't it, Tharin?" Just then something caught Ki's eye and he leaned far over in the saddle to pluck a blossom from a clump of bell-shaped pink flowers growing from the cliff face. He kept a precarious grip on his horse's sides with his knees, and came back up with a grin to present the flower to Tamir. "Look. Heart's Ease, for better memories."

 

Tamir sniffed at it, savoring the familiar heady scent, and tucked it behind her ear. Ki had never done such a thing before. The thought sent a giddy flutter through her chest and she nudged her horse into a trot so the others wouldn't catch her blushing.

 

 

They camped beside a stream in a high, windswept valley that night. The stars showed large in the velvet sky, just as they had at Alestun, so bright they turned the snow on the peaks to silver.

 

Samel and Lain gathered handfuls of small blue berries and brewed a sweet, resinous tea from them.

 

"Most of you haven't traveled such high passes. The air grows thinner as we climb," the priest explained. "Some feel ill with it, but this tea will help." Tamir had felt no ill effects so far, but Nikides, Una, and the new squires admitted to feeling a little dizzy toward the end of the day.

 

The owls here were numerous and larger than the ones in the lowlands, with tufts like a cat's ears on their round heads and bands of brilliant white on the ends of their tail feathers. Ki found a few fallen feathers in the gorse by their campsite, and gave them to Tamir. She cast a few into the campfire with a murmured prayer for luck.

 

They slept on the ground, wrapped in their cloaks and blankets, and woke to find the valley in a thick, chilly mist that coated their hair and their horses' coats with jeweled droplets. Sounds carried oddly. Tamir could hardly hear the conversation of those standing across the campsite, but the knocking of a woodpecker sounded as close as over her shoulder.

 

After a cold breakfast and more of Saruel's tea, they continued on, walking their mounts until the mist cleared.

 

The peaks closed in around them and the way narrowed. To their right sheer rock face bore down on them, even overhanging the narrow trail in places so they often had to duck and lean precariously as they rode in single file behind the wizards and priest. On their left a sheer precipice fell away into the lingering mist below. Tamir cast a stone over the edge, but never heard it strike.

 

The afternoon was waning when Tamir noticed the first crescent shapes and bits of writing scratched into the bare rock face, left by other wayfarers and pilgrims.

 

"We're getting close," Iya told her as they rested their horses and let them graze on the sparse grass that lined the trail. "A few more hours will bring us to the painted gate you saw in your vision. Afra lies just beyond."

 

Arkoniel scrutinized the inscriptions as they rode on. Presently he reined and pointed to one in particular. "Look, Iya, here's the prayer I left the first time you brought me up here." "I remember," Iya said with a smile. "I must have a few marks around here somewhere, too."

 

"Why do you do this?" asked Saruel.

 

"Custom, I suppose. For luck, too," Iya replied.

 

"Isn't that what people always say about such things?" said Lynx, still a staunch Sakoran despite all he'd seen.

 

"You'd do well not to mock the devotions of the Illior, young lord," Lain said, overhearing. "These prayers last far longer than any charm burned up in a fire. They shouldn't be taken lightly, or made thoughtlessly." He turned in the saddle. "You should write something, Queen Tamir. All your forebears have done so, somewhere along this route."

 

The thought was a comforting one, and gave her a sense, once again, of being connected to the line of women who'd come before her.

 

Everyone dismounted and hunted for sharp stones to scratch their names and messages.

 

Saruel joined them, but instead passed her hand across the stone. A small silver crescent and words in fine script appeared. "It's a good thing, to honor the Lightbearer on the way to his sacred place," she murmured, watching approvingly as Lynx's young squire made his mark.

 

"You've 'faie blood in you, Tyrien i Rothus," Saruel said. "I see it in the color of your eyes."

 

"So my grandmother told me, but it's a long way back, so I can't have much," the boy replied, those grey eyes alight with pleasure that she'd noticed. "I'm no wizard, anyway."

 

"The amount makes no difference, but the lineage, and even that's no sure thing," Iya told him, overhearing. "A good thing, too. If every Skalan with a drop of 'faie blood in their veins was wizard-born, there'd be little for warriors to do."

 

"Were your parents mages?" Saruel asked Wythnir, who was making his mark a little way on.

 

"I don't know," the boy replied softly. "I was just little when they sold me off." That was more than Tamir had ever heard him say at one go, and the most he'd ever confided. Tamir smiled at the way Arkoniel's hand rested on the boy's shoulder, and the worshipful look it earned him. Tamir found herself wishing she'd given him more of a chance as a child. He'd been just as kind with her, then and now. He was her friend.

 

Ask Arkoniel! Brother's challenge still sent an uneasy chill through her.

 

Tamir pushed the thought aside for later and stared at the bit of flat wall she'd chosen, at a loss as to what she should write. Finally she scratched in simply, "Queen Tamir II, daughter of Ariani, for Skala, by the will of Illior." She added a small crescent moon under it, then passed the stone she'd used as a stylus to Ki.

 

He leaned in beside her and scratched his name and a crescent moon under hers, then drew a circle around both their names.

 

"Why'd you do that?" she asked.

 

It was Ki's turn to blush as he said softly, "To ask the Lightbearer to keep us together. That was my prayer."

 

With that he hurried away and busied himself checking his girth strap. Tamir sighed inwardly. First the flower, and now this, but he still kept his distance. Once she'd thought she'd known his heart to the core. Now she had no idea what was held there, and feared to hope.

 

The sun was sinking behind the mountains when Tamir rounded a bend and was struck with a dizzying sense of familiarity.

 

The vista before her was the exact scene from her vision in Ero. The narrow track twisted out of sight, then back into view in the distance. There stood the incongruous gate straddling the road, painted with bright colors that glowed in the fading light. She knew it was real, but it still seemed like something from a dream. As they rode closer, she made out stylized dragons painted in brilliant shades of red, blue, and gold twined around the narrow opening, as if they were alive and guarding this sacred way with fangs and fire.

 

"Illior's Keyhole."

 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Arkoniel. "Do you recognize the style?"

 

"I saw work like that in the Old Palace. It's centuries old. How long has this been here?"

 

"At least that long, and it's only the most recent one," said Iya. "Others have fallen to ruin and been replaced. Legend says a gate already stood here when the first Skalan priests followed a vision to the sacred place. No one knows who built the first gate, or why."

 

"We are taught that a dragon built the first gate, from the stones of the mountain, to guard Illior's sacred cavern," Lain told them.

 

"My people tell the same tale of our sacred places," said Saruel. "Of course, dragons still do things like that in Aurenen."

 

"Dragon bones are sometimes found in the higher valleys. Now and then we even get little fingerlings at the shrine." Lain turned back to address the others. "I should warn you, if any of you see what appears to be a little lizard with wings, pay it proper respect and don't touch it. Even fingerling dragons have a nasty bite."

 

"Dragons?" Wythnir's eyes lit up with a child's excitement.

 

"Tiny ones and very rarely seen," Lain replied.

 

They had to dismount at the gate and lead their horses along a narrow, rocky trail. Afra lay up a narrow pass less than a mile or so beyond. Presently the cleft opened into a deep, barren place. It was already shrouded in shadow, but several red-robed priests and a handful of young boys and girls carrying torches were waiting for them. Behind them, the trail twisted away into the shadows.

 

Ki sniffed the air, which carried the smell of cooking. "I hope they saved us some dinner. My belly thinks my throat's been slit."

 

"Welcome Queen Tamir the Second!" the lead priest cried; bowing low with his torch. "I am Ralinus, high priest of Afra in Imonus' absence. In the name of the Oracle, I welcome you. She has watched long for your coming. Praise to you, the Lightbearer's chosen one!"

 

"Did Imonus send you word?" asked Tamir.

 

"He did not have to, Majesty. We knew." He bowed to Iya next. "The Oracle bids me welcome you, too, Mistress Iya. You have been faithful and accomplished the difficult task set for you, all those years ago."

 

The priest caught sight of Saruel and held out his tattooed palms in welcome. "And welcome to you, daughter of Aura. May you be of the same heart with us, here in the Lightbearer's place."

 

"In the darkness, and in the Light," Saruel replied with a respectful nod.

 

"Quarters have been prepared for you, and a meal. This is most fortuitous, Majesty. A delegation of Aurenfaie arrived three days ago, and await your coming at the guesthouse across the square from your own."

 

"Aurenfaie?" Tamir glanced suspiciously at Iya and Saruel. "Is this your doing?"

 

"No, I've had no contact with anyone there," Saruel assured her.

 

"Nor have I," said Iya, though she looked very pleased with this news. "I did think some might show up, one place or another."

 

The torchbearers took charge of their horses and led them around the final bend in the trail.

 

Pinched in a deeper cleft between two towering peaks, Afra at first glance was nothing more than a strange configuration of deep-set windows and doorways carved into the cliffs on either side of a small paved square. This was ringed with tall torches set into sockets in the stone. Carved fretwork and pillars of some ancient design framed the doors and windows, similar to the decorative work on the Keyhole, Tamir noted absently.

 

What captured her attention at the moment, however, was the dark red stone stele standing at the center of the square between two brightly burning braziers. There was a bubbling spring at its base, just as the wizards had described, welling up in a stone basin and flowing away through a paved channel into the shadows to her left. In the waning daylight, the leaping flames cast dancing shadows across the inscriptions that covered it.

 

She touched the smooth stone reverently. The Oracle's words to King Thelatimos were carved there in Skalan and three other languages. She recognized one of them as Aurenfaie.