"'So long as a daughter of Thelatimos' line defends and rules, Skala shall never be subjugated,'" Ralinus said, and all the priests and acolytes bowed deeply to her. "Drink from the Lightbearer's spring, Majesty, and refresh yourself after your long journey."

 

Tamir again felt that deep sense of connection and welcome. Suddenly the air around her stirred, and from the corner of her eye she caught the faint, misty shapes of spirits. She couldn't tell who they were, but their presence was comforting, nothing like Brother's cold anger. Whoever they were, they were glad she'd come.

 

There was no cup. She knelt and rinsed her hands, then scooped up a handful of icy water. It was sweet, and so cold it made her fingers and teeth ache.

 

"Can the others have some?" she asked.

 

The priests all laughed at that. "Of course," Ralinus told her. "The Lightbearer's hospitality knows no rank or limit."

 

Tamir stood back as her friends and guard all took a ritual sip.

 

"It's good!" Hylia exclaimed, kneeling to drink with Lorin and Tyrien.

 

Iya was the last to drink. She moved a bit stiffly after the long ride, and Arkoniel gave her his arm to help her back to her feet. The old woman pressed her hand to the stele, then to her heart.

 

"The first Gherilain was called the Oracle's Queen," she said, and Tamir was amazed to see tears in her eyes. "You are the second queen foretold here."

 

"And yet you took the name of a different queen, and one of the lesser ones, at that," Ralinus noted. "I've wondered about that, Majesty."

 

"The first Tamir appeared to me in Ero, and offered me the great Sword. Her brother murdered her, just as so many of my female kin were murdered by my uncle, and her name was all but forgotten in my uncle's time. I took it to honor her memory." She paused, staring down at the silvery ripples of the spring. "And to remind myself and others that such ruthlessness must never be repeated in the name of Skala."

 

"A worthy sentiment, Queen Tamir," a richly accented man's voice said from the shadows across the square.

 

She looked up to see four men and a woman approaching. Tamir knew them for Aurenfaie at once by the sen'gai they wore, and the fine jewelry at their throats, ears, and wrists. They all had long, dark hair and light eyes. Three of the men were dressed in soft-looking tunics of woven white wool, over deerskin trousers and low boots. The woman wore similar clothing, but her tunic reached below her knees and was slit up both sides to her belt. The fifth, an older man, wore a long black robe. His fringed, red-and-black sen'gai, facial markings, and the heavy silver earrings dangling against his neck marked him as a Khatme. The woman and one of the younger men wore the bright red and yellow Tamir recognized as the colors of Gedre. The others wore dark green of some other clan.

 

As they came into the brighter light by the stele, Ki let out a happy whoop and ran to embrace the younger Gedre. "Arengil!" he exclaimed, lifting their lost friend off his feet in his excitement. "You found your way back to us!"

 

"I promised I would, didn't I?" Arengil laughed, regaining his feet and clasping Ki by the shoulders. Ki 'was half a head taller than he was now, though they'd been the same height when Arengil had been sent home. "You're bigger, and you've sprouted a beard." He shook his head, then caught sight of Una among the Companions. "By the Light, is that who I think it is?"

 

She grinned. "Hello again. Sorry I got you into so much trouble that day. I hope your father wasn't too angry."

 

His aunt arched an eyebrow at that. "He was, but Arengil survived, as you see."

 

Tamir took a hesitant step forward, wondering what his reaction would be to the changes in her appearance. Arengil's smile only widened as he closed the distance between them and hugged her.

 

"By the Light! I didn't doubt the seer, but I didn't know what to expect, either." He held her at arm's length and nodded. "You look very good as a girl."

 

The Khatme man looked scandalized by such familiarity, but the others only laughed.

 

"My nephew had a great deal to do with our coming, and would not be left behind," the other Gedre told her. Her Skalan was perfect, with only the slightest accent. "Greetings, Tamir, daughter of Ariani. I am Sylmai a Arlana Mayniri, sister of the Khirnari of Gedre."

 

"I'm honored, lady," Tamir replied, not sure what to make of all this, or how to address them. The Aurenfaie used no formal titles, apart from the clan chief, or khirnari.

 

"Greetings to you, as well, my friends," Sylmai said to Iya and Arkoniel. "It has been some time since we saw you in our land."

 

"You know each other?" asked Tamir.

 

Iya clasped hands with Sylmai and kissed her on the cheek. "As she says, it has been years, and only a single visit. I'm honored that you remember us. Arkoniel was only a boy."

 

Sylmai laughed. "Yes, you're much taller now. And this?" She touched her chin as if stroking a beard and grimaced playfully. "Even so, I'd know you by your eyes. The blood of our people shows there. And you have more of our cousins, too, I see," she added, smiling at Tyrien and Wythnir.

 

Tamir extended her hand to the dour Khatme. "And you, sir? Welcome to my land."

 

"I am honored, Tamir of Skala. I am Khair i Malin Sekiron Mygil, husband of our khirnari." His voice was deep and his accent much thicker. "One of my clan stands with you, I see."

 

Saruel bowed. "I am honored to meet you, Khair i Malin. It has been many years since I've been home."

 

The two men wearing dark green sen'gai came forward last. The older one looked no older than thirty, and the younger one was hardly more than a boy, but that was no measure with the 'faie. They might be two hundred years old, for all she knew. They were also two of the handsomest men she'd ever seen, and her heart tripped a beat as the taller of the two smiled and bowed to her in Skalan fashion.

 

"I am Solun i Meringil Seregil Methari, second son of the Khirnari of Bokthersa. This is my cousin, Corruth i Glamien."

 

Corruth took her hand and bowed, giving her a shy smile. "I am honored to meet a queen of Skala. My clan stood with your ancestor against Plenimar in the Great War."

 

"I am honored to meet you," Tamir replied, feeling a bit shy herself. The beauty of these men, even their voices, seemed to weave a spell, making her heart race. "I—that is, I understand you are not here by chance?"

 

"Our seers claimed there was a queen in Skala again, one who bears the mark of Illior," Solun replied. "I see for myself that you are indeed a woman," said Khair of Khatme. "Do you still bear the mark?"

 

"Your birthmark," Arengil explained. "It's one of the signs we're to know you by. That, and that moon-shaped scar on your chin."

 

Tamir pushed back her left sleeve, showing them the pink birthmark on her forearm.

 

"Ah, yes! Is it as you remember, Arengil?" the Khatme asked.

 

"Yes. But I'd have known her without it by those blue eyes."

 

"But you've only just arrived, and you have business of your own here," Solun interjected. "You should eat and rest before we talk."

 

"Please, won't you join us?" Tamir said a bit too hastily, and saw the annoyed look Ki gave her.

 

Solun's answering smile made her heart beat that much faster. "We would be delighted."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 31

 

  

 

 

 

Ralinus ushered Tamir across the square to another of the guesthouses. Beyond a thick, age-blackened oak door lay a spacious chamber carved into the cliff. Other doors led deeper into the cliff to the guest rooms. Young acolytes showed them to their rooms along one of the corridors.

 

These were very small, hardly more than cells, and simply furnished: just a bed, washstand, and a few stools. But the walls were whitewashed and painted with bright colors, like the Keyhole. Tamir's chamber had one tiny window covered with a screen of fretted stone. Ki took the room next to hers, and the rest of her people were distributed along the same corridor. There appeared to be a veritable warren of little rooms stretching back into the rock.

 

Tamir washed quickly and let Una help her change her travel-stained tunic for one of her gowns. Ki came in as they finished.

 

"That's something, those 'faie turning up like that," said Una, folding Tamir's tunic away on top of a chest.

 

"After all the stories I've heard of them, it doesn't really surprise me," Tamir replied, tugging a comb through her hair. "What do you think of them so far, Ki?"

 

He leaned on the doorframe, picking at a hangnail. "Good-looking folk, I guess."

 

Una laughed. "Beautiful is more like it! And I liked the way that young Bokthersan blushed when you greeted him, Tamir."

 

Tamir grinned. "I haven't met an ugly Aurenfaie yet. Do you think there are any?" she asked, still struggling with the comb.

 

Ki strode over and took it, then worked the tangle free, muttering, "Maybe they don't send the ugly ones abroad."

 

Una gave him an odd look, and Tamir realized that no one had ever seen Ki do this for her. Suddenly self-conscious, she retrieved the comb and said lightly, "Maybe the ones they think are ugly are still good-looking to us."

 

Ki made a noncommittal noise and strode to the door. "Come on, Your Majesty, I'm starving."

 

As Tamir rose to follow, Una caught her by the arm and whispered, "He's jealous! You should flirt with the handsome 'faie."

 

Tamir gave her an incredulous look and shook her head. She'd never played those court games and wasn't about to start now. She and Una followed Ki out to the hostel's large front chamber, where the rest of the company were already mingling with the Aurenfaie and temple folk. She doubted Una was even right about Ki's odd behavior; such a thing had never happened between them before. He wasn't even interested in her, not that way!

 

All the same, she felt self-conscious again as Solun bowed to her from across the room. She glanced at Ki, and though he was neither smiling nor frowning, his gaze did seem to keep wandering back in the direction of the handsome 'faie.

 

"Please, Majesty," Ralinus said, indicating a seat for her at the center of one of the tables. He sat with her, together with her wizards, Tharin and Ki, and the Aurenfaie. Young boys in white robes brought basins for them to dip their fingers in, while others poured wine. More introductions were made among Tamir's people as they took their places at the tables. Tamir was not displeased to be seated across from the handsome Bokthersans.

 

She poured a libation to Illior and the Four, and the meal began. They exchanged pleasantries as they ate. Tamir questioned the 'faie about their homeland and watched them as they talked with the others. Una and Hylia were both making eyes at Solun, and Lynx was looking a little flustered as he tried to make small talk with Corruth, seated beside him.

 

They truly were beautiful people, but Tamir would not let that blind her. They would not have come so far if they didn't want something in return. Beside her, Ki was giving Arengil an abbreviated description of the fighting they'd seen so far.

 

"If the king hadn't caught us that day, I'd have been with you," Arengil grumbled. "We train for war in Gedre, but all we get to fight are Zengati pirates."

 

"My nephew was quite taken with Tirfaie life," Sylmai said, giving him a fond look. "Perhaps he needs to see a real battle so that he will not be so hasty to seek them out."

 

The tables were cleared, and warm tarts and cheese were set before them, with a sweet wine.

 

"Ralinus said you came to meet me," Tamir said to Sylmai, who appeared to be the highest in rank among them. "Was it only curiosity that brought you all this way?"

 

The woman smiled knowingly, nibbling a bit of cheese, but it was Khair who answered. "It was foretold that you would set right what the usurper wrought against the faithful. This gives us hope that Skala might yet give up the blasphemies."

 

"Our clan and Bokthersa have some of the closest ties to Skala, so the khirnaris decided to send representatives to meet with you and learn the whole truth," Sylmai said, cutting him off rather abruptly.

 

"I took no offense," Tamir assured them. "My uncle's actions against followers of Illior were unforgivable. Do you wish to reestablish ties with my country?"

 

"Perhaps," the Khatme replied. "Our first task was to ascertain the validity of your claim and discover whether you mean to properly honor the Lightbearer, as your ancestors always have."

 

"I witnessed the acts of my uncle firsthand. I would never continue such policies. All the Four are honored in Skala, and Illior is our special patron."

 

"Please forgive Khair's bluntness," Solun said, narrowing his eyes at the man. It seemed the others found their companion as abrasive as Tamir did.

 

To her surprise, the Khatme touched his brow. "I meant no disrespect. Your presence here speaks well of your intentions."

 

"My clan would welcome reestablishing ties with Skala," Solun said. "There are still those living among us who remember your Great War, the children of the wizards who joined the great queen Gherilain against the necromancers of Plenimar. We have paintings of her at Bokthersa. Arengil is right. You have her eyes, Tamir a Ariani."

 

"Thank you for saying so." She felt herself blush again, mortified at the effect the man had on her. "Are you offering to ally with me against my cousin, Prince Korin?"

 

"Yours is the true claim to the throne," said Khair.

 

"Will it really come to fighting?" asked Arengil. "Korin was not his father. We were good friends."

 

"He's changed since you left, and not for the better," Ki told him. "He's taken up with Lord Niryn. You remember Old Fox Beard, don't you?"

 

"This Niryn is the wizard who gathered the Harriers, is he not?" asked Khair.

 

"Yes," Tamir told him. "By all reports, he's attached himself to Korin. I've tried to contact my cousin, but he refuses to parley. He claims I'm either mad or a liar."

 

"Clearly you are neither," said Solun. "We will tell the Iia'sidra so."

 

Just then something flittered from the shadows overhead, just beyond the glow of the broad stone hearth.

 

"Master, look!" Wythnir exclaimed. Una flinched back. "Bats?"

 

"I think not." Ralinus held up his hand, as if calling a falcon. A tiny winged creature fluttered down and settled on his outstretched finger, clinging with delicate clawed feet and a long slender tail. "Look, Majesty. One of the Lightbearer's dragons comes to greet you, after all."

 

Tamir leaned closer, remembering the warning not to touch. The dragon was beautiful, a perfect miniature of the huge beasts she'd seen in manuscripts and pictured on tapestries and temple walls around Ero. Its wings were similar in form to a bat's, but nearly translucent and faintly iridescent, like the inside of a mussel shell.

 

"I didn't think there were any dragons left in Skala," said Arengil.

 

"They are rare, but these little ones have been more common around Afra in recent years. The Lightbearer must have sent them to greet their new queen." Ralinus held the little creature out to Tamir. "Would you like to hold it? I'm sure it will come to you if you're very calm."

 

Tamir held up a finger. The dragon crouched lower on the priest's finger for a moment, baring tiny fangs and drawing its snaky neck back as if to strike. Its eyes were tiny golden beads, and spiky whiskers bristled out from its muzzle and head, fine as jeweler's work. She noted every detail, already thinking how she could re-create it with wax and silver.

 

She'd worked with hawks enough to know that she must make no sudden moves and show no fear. Instead, she slowly brought her finger against the priest's. The dragon flicked its wings nervously, then slowly climbed across to perch there, wrapping its tail around her fingertip. Its claws were sharp as thistle spikes. She'd expected its body to be smooth and cold, like a lizard's, but instead felt an astonishing heat where its belly rested against her skin.

 

She slowly moved her hand so that Wythnir could get a better look. She'd never seen him look so happy. "Can it breathe fire?" he asked.

 

"No, not until it's much larger, assuming it survives. Most of the little ones don't, even in Aurenen," said Solun.

 

"These little fingerlings are hardly more than lizards," Corruth added. "They change as they grow, and get quite dangerous in the process. One of our cousins was killed by an efir last year."

 

"What's an effer?" asked Ki, equally entranced by the little creature.

 

"A young dragon about the size of a pony. Their minds are still unformed, but they're very fierce."

 

"This one doesn't look all that dangerous," Ki chuckled, leaning in for a closer look. Perhaps he moved too quickly, for the fingerling suddenly lashed out and nipped him on the cheek just under his left eye.

 

Ki jerked back with a yelp, clapping a hand to his cheek. "Damnation, that stings like snakebite!"

 

Tamir sat very still but the dragon tensed, bit her, too, and fluttered away into the shadows where it had come from. "Ow!" she cried, shaking her finger. "You're right, it does hurt."

 

"Hold still, both of you," laughed Corruth. The young Bokthersan took a clay vial from his purse and quickly dabbed a bit of dark liquid on both bites.

 

The pain lessened at once, but when he wiped away the excess, Tamir saw that it had stained the tiny imprints left by the teeth. She had four dark blue spots on the side of her finger, just below the first knuckle. Ki had a matching mark on his cheek, and it was swelling.

 

"We match," she noted wryly.

 

Arengil chided Corruth in their language and the other boy blushed. "Forgive me, I didn't think," he said, abashed. "It's what we always do."

 

"Corruth meant well, but I'm afraid the marks are permanent now," Solun explained. "Lissik is meant to stain the bites and make them permanent." He showed her a much larger mark between his thumb and forefinger. "They're considered very lucky, signs of the Lightbearer's favor. But perhaps you'd rather not have had them?"

 

"No, I don't mind," Tamir assured him.

 

"That's quite the beauty mark for you, Ki." Nikides laughed.

 

Ki polished the blade of his knife on his leg and held it up as a mirror to see the mark. "It's not so bad. Makes for a good story if anyone asks about it."

 

"Dragons are rare here, and so are the bites," said Ralinus, inspecting the mark on Ki's cheek more closely. "Would you teach me the recipe for that unguent, Solun i Meringil?"

 

"The plants we use don't grow here, but perhaps I could send you some of our mixtures."

 

Khair took Tamir's hand gently between his own and looked closely at the mark. "It is the belief of our people that after it is grown to the size of intelligence, a dragon remembers the names of anyone it bites and has a bond with them."

 

"How long does that take?" asked Ki.

 

"Several centuries."

 

"Doesn't do us much good, then."

 

"Perhaps not, but you both will have a place in the dragon's legends."

 

"Should you ever come to Aurenen, a mark like that will gain you respect. There aren't many Tirfaie who have them," offered Corruth, still regretting his hasty act.

 

"Then it's worth the bite. Your medicine's already taken the worst of the sting out of it. Thanks." Ki grinned and shook hands with him. "So the little ones can't talk, either?"

 

"No, that comes only with great age."

 

"Only the Aurenfaie have dragons that large living in their land," said the priest. "No one knows why. They were in Skala long ago."

 

"Perhaps because we are the most faithful," Khair replied, reverting to his earlier bluntness. "You worship the Four, while we acknowledge only Aura, whom you call Illior."

 

Ralinus said nothing, but Tamir caught a flash of dislike in his eyes.

 

"That's an old argument, and one better left for another time," Iya interjected quickly. "But surely even the Khatme cannot question the Lightbearer's love for Skala now, as evidenced by Tamir herself."

 

"She's already been granted a true vision, a warning before the second Plenimaran assault," Saruel told him. "With respect, Khair i Malin, you've not lived among the Tir as I have. They are devout and Aura has blessed them."

 

"Forgive me, Tamir a Ariani," Khair said. "Once again I gave offense without meaning to."

 

"I grew up among soldiers. They're a plainspoken lot, too. I'd much rather you speak your mind openly to me than worry about etiquette and court manners. And you can expect the same from me."

 

Solun chuckled—a warm, friendly sound—and Tamir found herself blushing again for no good reason.

 

Solun exchanged an amused look with his Gedre companions, then took a heavy golden bracelet set with a polished red stone from his wrist and rose to present it to her. "Bokthersa would be the friend of Skala, Tamir a Ariani."

 

Tamir accepted the bracelet, and saw from the corner of her eye that Iya was motioning for her to put it on. She slipped it on her left wrist, trying to recall all his different names and failing. The gold was warm from his skin, a fact that did not help her composure. Still she managed not to stammer as she thanked him. "I am honored to accept, and hope you will always consider me to be your good friend."

 

Sylmai presented her with a golden neck chain of tiny leaves set with some sparkling white stone. "May the ships of Gedre and Skala share ports once again."

 

The Khatme was the last to come forward and his offering was different. He gave her a small leather pouch, and inside she found a pendant made of some dark, waxy green stone and set in a frame of plain silver. The stone was covered with tiny symbols or letters, surrounding the cloud eye of Illior.

 

"A talisman of Sarikali stone," he explained. "That is our most sacred place, and these talismans bring true dreams and visions to those who honor Aura. May it serve you well, Tamir a Ariani."

 

Tamir guessed from the surprised expressions among the others that this was an uncommon gift for an outsider. "Thank you, Khair i Marnil. I will treasure it and the memory of your honesty. May all my allies be so forthright."

 

"A noble hope, if a slim one," he said with a smile. With that he rose and bade her good night. The others lingered behind.

 

Solun took her hand in his and examined the blue dragon bite mark again. His touch sent a pleasant tingle up her arm. "By this mark we will know you from now on, Aura's Chosen One. I believe my father will be well disposed to your support. Send word to us if you are in need."

 

"Gedre, as well," said Sylmai. "We've missed trading with your land." She turned to Iya and Arkoniel, who'd stayed close by, and spoke quietly with them.

 

"I'll come and fight for you, too," said Arengil, looking hopeful.

 

"And me!" Corruth said.

 

"You'll always be welcome, war or not. If your khirnaris are willing, you'll both have an honored place among my Companions," Tamir replied.

 

A young acolyte came in from outside and whispered something in the head priest's ear.

 

Ralinus nodded and turned to Tamir. "The moon is well up over the peaks now. This would be the best time for you to go to the Oracle, Majesty."

 

Tamir fought down the nervous flutter his words sent through her chest and slipped the Khatme talisman into her purse. "All right, then. I'm ready."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 32

 

  

 

 

 

The sky was a thin strip of brilliant stars between the towering cliffs, and the white-sliver moon hung overhead. Gazing up at it, Tamir felt a thrill of anticipation.

 

"Isn't there some sort of ceremony?" Nikides asked as the other Companions and wizards gathered by the spring. Wythnir was clinging to Arkoniel's hand again, as if he feared he'd be left behind.

 

Ralinus smiled. "No, my lord. There is no need, as you will see if you choose to descend."

 

A linkboy hoisted his lantern pole and led the way from the square up to a well-worn path that continued into the deeper darkness of the narrow cleft beyond.

 

The way grew steeper almost at once, and the path soon dwindled to a faint track winding up between boulders. Ahead of them, the lantern bobbed and swayed, making shadows dance in crazy patterns.

 

The way was surprisingly even underfoot, and slick in places, worn by the feet of thousands of pilgrims over the centuries.

 

The cliffs closed in around them, and the way ended in a small cul-de-sac where the shrine lay. A low stone well stood beside a small open-fronted shack, just as Arkoniel had described.

 

"Come, Majesty, and I will guide you," Ralinus said softly. "You have nothing to fear."

 

"I'm not afraid." Going to the well, she peered into the black depths below, then nodded to the rope bearers. "I'm ready."

 

The men passed the looped end of the rope over her head and down to settle behind her knees. It was a bit awkward in a skirt. She wished she'd kept to trousers. The priests secured the rope behind her thighs and showed her how to sit on the edge of the hole, gripping the slack against her chest.

 

Ki watched with poorly concealed alarm as she dangled her legs into the hole. "Hang on tight!"

 

She gave him a wink, gripped the rope with both hands, and pushed off into the darkness. The last thing she saw was Wythnir's solemn little face.

 

She couldn't help a gasp as the rope took her weight. She grasped it tightly, twirling slowly as the priests lowered her.

 

Utter darkness closed over her like water. She could see nothing at all, now, except a dwindling circle of stars overhead. Iya had said the cavern was very large, and Tamir began to understand what she'd meant.

 

It was uncommonly silent; no sounds of a breeze or water moving, not even the twitter of bats—or dragons, for that matter. There was no sign of walls or floor, just the dizzying sensation of an endless void. It was like being suspended in the night sky.

 

The air grew colder the lower she went. She stole another glance upward, using the shrinking circle of stars above the wellhead as a visual anchor. After what felt like quite a long time, her feet touched solid ground. She got her balance with some difficulty and stepped free of the rope. Looking up, she couldn't find the wellhead anymore. She was in complete darkness.

 

She turned slowly, still unsure of her balance, and was glad to see a faint glimmer of light off to her left. The longer she looked at it, the brighter it became, until she could see just enough of the cavern floor to be certain of her way. Gathering her courage, she made her way toward it.

 

The light was coming from a crystal orb set on a tripod. At first that was all Tamir could see, but when she drew nearer she saw a dark-haired young woman sitting beside it on a low stool. Her skin was deathly pale in the cold light, and her hair fell over her shoulders and pooled on the floor on either side of her. Despite the chill, she wore nothing but a plain linen shift that left her arms and feet bare. She sat with her palms on her knees, her gaze fixed on the ground before her. All the oracles were mad, or so Tamir had been taught, but the woman only seemed pensive—at least until she slowly raised her eyes.

 

Tamir froze where she was. She'd never seen eyes so empty. It was like looking at a living corpse. The shadows closed in closer, even though the glow of the orb remained steady.

 

Her voice was equally devoid of emotion as she whispered, "Welcome, second Tamir. Your ancestors told me of your coming."

 

A silvery nimbus brightened around the woman's head and shoulders and her eyes found Tamir's again. They were no longer empty, but filled with light and a frightening intensity.

 

"Hail, Queen Tamir!" Her voice was deep and resonant now. It filled the darkness. "Black makes white. Foul makes pure. Evil creates greatness. You are a seed watered with blood, Tamir of Skala. Remember your promise to my chosen ones. Have you cared for the spirit of your brother?"

 

It was too much to take in at once. Tamir's legs felt like they'd turned to water. She sank to her knees before the fearful presence of the Lightbearer. "I—I have tried."

 

"He stands behind you now, weeping tears of blood. Blood surrounds you. Blood and death. Where is your mother, Tamir, Queen of Ghosts and Shades?"

 

"In the tower where she died," she whispered. "I want to help her, and my brother. In a vision, he told me to come here. Please, tell me what to do!"

 

Silence fell around them, so complete it made her ears ring. She couldn't be certain if the Oracle was breathing or not. She waited, knees aching on the cold stone. Surely she hadn't come all this way just for this? "Blood," the Oracle whispered again, sounding sad. "Before you and behind you, a river of blood bears you to the west."

 

Tamir suddenly felt a tickling sensation on her chest, where the old scar lay hidden. Pulling open the neck of her gown, she gasped at the sight that greeted her there.

 

The wound she'd inflicted on herself that day in Atyion, cutting out the shard of bone and Lhel's careful stitching, had healed itself during the transformation, leaving only a thin pale line where it had been. But it had come open again now, so deep she could see bone, and blood was flowing down between her breasts. It welled over her hands and ran down the front of her gown, spattering on the floor at her knees. Oddly enough, there was no pain, and she felt strangely detached as the blood spread into a round pool before her.

 

When it was the size of a shield, the dark surface rippled and shapes began to form there. The loss of blood must have overtaken her then, for she grew faint, and the images in the blood swam in a dizzying blur of color.

 

"I—I'm going to…" She was about to faint.

 

The touch of a cold hand in hers brought her back. Opening her eyes, she found herself standing with Brother on a windswept cliff above the sea. It was the place she'd visited so often in her dreams, but it had always been Ki with her, and the sky was blue. This sky promised rain, and the sea was the color of lead.

 

Then she heard the clash of arms, just as she had at the temple in Atyion. In the distance she saw two armies fighting, but she had no way to reach them. A rocky gully lay between her and the field of battle. Far beyond them, she could just make out what looked like the towers of a great city.

 

Korin's banner rose from the shadows at her feet, floating in the air as if held by invisible hands.

 

You must fight for what is rightfully yours, Tamir, Queen of Skala a low voice whispered in her ear. By blood and trial, you must hold your throne. From the Usurper's hand you will wrest the Sword.

 

More blood! she thought despairingly. Why must it be so? There must be another way, a peaceful way! I will not spill a kinsman's blood!

 

You were bom of spilled blood.

 

"What are you talking about?" she cried aloud. The wind caught the banner and blew it in her face, blinding her. It was nothing but a length of silk and embroidery, but it wrapped itself around her throat like a living thing, cutting off her breath.

 

"Brother, help me!" she wheezed, clawing at it but finding no purchase in the elusive, wind-torn fabric. .

 

A chilling laugh answered her. Avenge me, Sister. Avenge me, before you ask any more favors of the one wronged!

 

"Illior! Lightbearer, I call on you!" she cried, struggling desperately. "How can I help him? I beg you, give me a sign!"

 

The silken banner evaporated around her like mist at dawn, leaving her in darkness again.

 

No, not darkness, for in the distance she saw a cool white glow, and realized she was back in the Oracle's cavern. Somehow, caught in the vision, she'd wandered away from the light. Her hands felt sticky. She raised them, squinting in the uncertain light and saw that they were bloody to the elbow.

 

"No!" she whispered, wiping them hastily on her skirts.

 

Slowly, on unsteady legs, she made her way back toward the Oracle's seat, but as she drew closer, she saw someone else in her place, a robed figure with a long, familiar grey braid, kneeling with bowed head before a much younger Oracle. Tamir recognized Iya even before the wizard raised her head. When had she come down, and why? The priest had said only one person was allowed down into the chamber at a time.

 

Iya held something in her arms. Coming closer, Tamir saw that it was an infant. The child was limp and silent, and its dark eyes were vacant.

 

"Brother?" Tamir whispered.

 

"Two children, one queen," the child Oracle whispered in a voice too ancient and deep for her small frame. "In this generation comes the child who is the foundation of what is to come. She is your legacy. Two children, one queen marked with the blood of passage."

 

The girl turned to Tamir, her eyes full of searing white light that seemed to bore into Tamir's very soul. "Ask Arkoniel. Only Arkoniel can tell you."

 

Terrified without knowing why, she fell to her knees and whispered, "Ask him what? About my mother? Brother?"

 

Cold hands closed around her neck from behind, choking her as the banner had. "Ask Arkoniel," Brother whispered in her ear. "Ask him what happened."

 

Tamir's hands flew to her throat; she didn't really expect to touch Brother or stop him, any more than she'd ever been able to. But this time her hands found cold flesh and hard, corded wrists. She grabbed at them as a terrible stench rolled over her, making her gag.

 

"Give me peace!" a thick, gasping voice moaned close to her face. It 'was not Brother's ghost behind her anymore, but his corpse. "Give me rest, Sister."

 

He released her and she fell forward on her hands, then twisted around to face the horror behind her.

 

Instead, she found herself looking at the Oracle again, the woman she'd been speaking with. She sat just as Tamir had left her, hands open on her knees, eyes wide and empty again.

 

Tamir raised her own hands, and found them dry and clean. Her bodice was still laced. There was no sign of blood anywhere.

 

"You've told me nothing," she gasped.

 

The Oracle gazed stupidly past her, as if Tamir wasn't even there.

 

A rage she'd never experienced before came over her. She grabbed the Oracle by the shoulders and shook her, trying to find the god's intelligence again in those blank eyes. It was like shaking a doll.

 

It was a doll, large as a woman, but made of cotton-stuffed muslin, with a crudely painted face and uneven limbs. It weighed nothing and flopped limply in her hands.

 

Tamir dropped it in surprise, then stared down in renewed horror. It was just like her old doll, the one her mother had sewn Brother's bones into. It even had a twisted cord of black hair tied tightly around its limp neck. There was no sign of the Oracle. Tamir was alone in the dark chamber and the light of the orb was slowly failing.

 

"What are you trying to show me?" she cried out, clenching her fists in desperation. "I don't understand! What has any of this got to do with Skala?"

 

"You are Skala," the voice of the god whispered. "That is the one truth of your life, twin of the dead. You are Skala, and Skala is you, just as you are your brother, and he is you."

 

The light was nearly gone when she felt something tighten around her chest. She looked down in a panic, wondering if the terrible doll had come to life, or if it was Brother's grisly corpse again. Instead, she saw that it was the priest's rope, somehow looped around her body again. Someone had taken up the slack and she just had time to grab on for purchase when she was lifted bodily off the ground to spin up through the solid darkness. She looked up frantically, found the circle of stars overhead, and kept her eyes fixed on it as it grew larger and closer. She could see the dark outline of heads there now, and hands were reaching down to help her up over the lip of the hole. It was Ki, and his arms were strong and sure around her as her knees gave out.

 

"Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously, helping her to a seat on the edge of the stone enclosure. "We waited and waited, but you gave no sign." "Brother," she gasped, clutching at the neck of her gown.

 

"What? Where?" Ki cried, alarmed, still holding her.

 

Tamir leaned gratefully into that embrace. "No—It was only—only a vision." But she couldn't stop shaking.

 

"The god spoke to you," said Ralinus.

 

Tamir let out a harsh laugh. "If you could call it that. Riddles and nightmares."

 

Suddenly she heard a scratching sound behind her. Turning, she was horrified to see Brother gazing up at her from the cavern entrance, his face a mask of hate. His pale skin slowly shriveled on his skull, and hands like claws emerged and scrabbled at the ground as he began to pull himself from the hole.

 

You are he, and he is you, the Oracle whispered from below.

 

The words followed Tamir into darkness as she fainted.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 33

 

  

 

 

 

Tamir was as cold as a corpse when they lifted her from the Oracle's chamber. Ki pulled her away from the others and sat down, cradling her head against his chest.

 

"Master, did the Oracle hurt her?" Wythnir whispered.

 

"Hush! It's only a faint." Iya took charge, pushing Arkoniel and the priests aside as she knelt and rested a hand on the girl's clammy brow.

 

"It's a good sign," Ralinus told the others, trying to calm them. "She must have had an important vision, to be so overcome."

 

Tamir's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Iya. A chill went through the wizard; those eyes looked as black as the demon's in the moonlight, and just as accusing. Tamir pushed Iya's hand away and struggled from Ki's arms to sit up.

 

"What—what happened?" she asked in a quavering whisper. Then she looked back at the well and began to tremble uncontrollably. "Brother! I saw—"

 

"Companions, carry your queen back to her lodging," Iya ordered.

 

"I don't need anyone to carry me!" Tamir gave Iya another dark look as she staggered unsteadily to her feet. "I have to go back down there. Something went wrong. I didn't understand what the Lightbearer showed me."

 

"Be patient, Majesty," the priest replied. "Though the vision may not be clear at first, I assure you, whatever you were shown is true. You must meditate on it, and in time you will see the meaning."

 

"In time? Damn it, Iya, did you know this would happen? Why didn't you warn me?" She turned an accusing look on Arkoniel. "Or you?"

 

"All experience the Oracle in their own fashions. We couldn't risk coloring your expectations."

 

"Let your friends help you back," Iya told her sternly. "We don't need you falling and cracking your skull in the dark."

 

Tamir opened her mouth to protest, but Ki stepped in and put an arm firmly around her waist. "Calm down and stop being so damn stubborn!"

 

Tamir took a deep, shuddering breath, then grudgingly let him help her back to the guesthouse.

 

He's the only one who can sway her like that, Iya thought. The only one she trusts so deeply. The look she'd given Iya told a different story.

 

At the guesthouse, however, not even Ki could convince her to go to bed. "Ralinus, I must speak with you now, while the vision is still fresh in my mind."

 

"Very well, Majesty. The temple is just next door—"

 

"Iya, you and Arkoniel wait for me," she ordered. "I'll speak with you later."

 

The sharpness in her voice surprised Iya, just as that dark look had. She pressed her hand to her heart and bowed. "As you wish, Majesty."

 

"Ki, come with me." Tamir strode away, with Ralinus and Ki hurrying along behind her.

 

Arkoniel watched her go, then turned to Iya with a worried look. "She knows, doesn't she?"

 

"If it's Illior's will." Iya walked slowly into the guesthouse, ignoring the confused looks of the young priests and Companions, who'd witnessed the exchange.

 

I kept my word, Lightbearer. I will keep it still.

 

Che temple of Illior was a tiny, low-ceilinged chamber carved into the cliff face. Inside, it was dank and ill lit by a single brazier burning before a large, painted carving of the Eye of Illior. The walls, or what Ki could see of them, were stained with smoke.

 

"Are you certain you want me here for this?" he whispered, watching as Ralinus put on a smooth silver mask.

 

Tamir nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the priest.

 

"But wouldn't it be better to have the wizards, too? I mean, they know about this sort of thing."

 

Her eyes went hard again at the mention of them. "No. Not now."

 

Ralinus knelt before the brazier and gestured for Tamir to join him there. "What did you see, daughter of Thelatimos?"

 

Ki stood awkwardly by as Tamir haltingly related what the Oracle had shown her.

 

"She said that I must take the Sword from the usurper's hand," Tamir said, her eyes filled with sorrow. "That means war with Korin, doesn't it? She was showing me that there's no peaceful way to settle this."

 

"I fear that is so," the priest replied.

 

"It's what we've been telling her all along," Ki said. "You've had it from a god now."

 

"It seems I have no choice," Tamir murmured.

 

"That was not all the Oracle showed you," said the priest. "Something else upset you."

 

She shivered again, as she had at the cavern. Ki moved closer and took her hand. She held his so tightly it hurt. "My brother—I saw him down there, but not—Not the way I usually do. He's always looked like me, or at least how I looked as a boy. He's a young man now, as I should have been." She let out a humorless little laugh. "He even has the beginnings of a beard. But this time-—" She was shaking. Ki wanted to put his arms around her but he didn't dare interrupt.

 

"It was as if—as if his grown body was a corpse. I could feel him. He was real."

 

Ki felt a chill and looked around nervously, wondering if Brother could appear in a temple. "And I saw him following me up from the hole, too. That's when I fainted," she whispered, embarrassed. "Please, honored one, I have to understand. Everything she showed me seemed to be mixed up with Brother and how he and I are Skala, whatever that means."

 

"I don't know, Majesty, except that the link between you has not been severed yet. Put that aside if you can, and turn your thoughts to the throne. The queen is the land, as the Lightbearer told you. Your life is dedicated to the protection and preservation of your people, and you must be willing to sacrifice anything to do that, even if it means your own life."

 

Tamir frowned, tugging at one of her braids. "I'm supposed to fight Korin. But if the banner in my vision represented him, then I didn't know how! It was choking me. I was losing."

 

"But you saw no defeat."

 

"I didn't see anything. It just ended." She paused. "Well, it was choking me and I called on Illior to help me. Brother wouldn't; he just kept telling me I must avenge him."

 

"The vision ended when you called upon the Lightbearer?"

 

She nodded.

 

The priest pondered this. "You must keep this in your heart, Majesty. Illior guides your steps and keeps his hand above you."

 

"The Oracle called me a 'seed watered with blood.' She said she saw blood all around me, like a river. Am I to be like my uncle, for the sake of Skala? How can any good come out of evil?"

 

"You must find that out for yourself, when the time comes."

 

"What do I say to the people, when I go back to Atyion? They're all expecting some great pronouncement from Illior, like the one given to Queen Gherilain. But I have nothing I'd want engraved in gold." She shook her head. "A river of blood."

 

Ralinus was quiet for a moment, then he leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Blood is not only what's spilled but also what runs in your veins, Majesty. That same blood will live on in your children, as it lives in you, joining past and future. Is that not a river, too?

 

"Allow me to explain something very important to you. Lord Kirothieus, you are her good friend, so you must learn this as well, since she includes you in her confidence. What I tell you now, every priest of Illior knows. You, as queen, receive the revelations of the gods because you are strong and the chosen one. But what you reveal to your people should be no more, and no less, than what they would profit most by hearing."

 

Tamir exchanged a startled look with Ki. "Are you saying I should lie to them?"

 

"No, Majesty. You will tell them that Illior has confirmed your right to the crown 'by blood and trial.' You will warn them of the strife ahead, but you will also call upon them to lend you their strength to do the Lightbearer's will."

 

"And they don't need to know that I'm haunted by my dead brother?"

 

"That is no secret, Majesty. It is swiftly becoming a legend among the people, that you have a guardian spirit."

 

"A demon," Ki corrected.

 

The priest raised an eyebrow at him. "And what would it profit the people, to think their queen accursed? Let them weave your story for you, Tamir."

 

Tamir let go of Ki's hand and rose. "Thank you, honored one. You've helped me see more clearly."

 

"It is customary for the high priest to commit a vision to a scroll for you to carry back. I will have it ready for you in the morning."

 

As Ki walked out into the square with her he could tell that Tamir was still deeply troubled. She stood a long time by the spring, lost in thought. Ki waited silently, arms folded against the chill. The stars were so bright here that there were shadows on the ground.

 

"What do you make of it?" she asked at last.

 

"A worthy warrior knows the difference between good and evil, honor and dishonor." He stepped closer and carefully laid his hands on her shoulders. She didn't look up, but she didn't pull away, either. "You're the kindest, most honorable person I know. If Korin is too blind to see that, then it's his own weakness showing again. If you are Skala, then that's a good thing for everyone."

 

She sighed and covered one of his hands with her own. Her fingers were very cold.

 

Ki unclasped the brooch at his throat and draped his cloak around her shoulders, over her own.

 

Tamir gave him a wry smile. "You're as bad as Nari."

 

"She's not here, so it's up to me to look after you." He chafed her arms to warm her. "There, that's better."

 

She pulled away and just stood there, eyes downcast. "You—that is—I appreciate—" She faltered to a halt, and he suspected she was blushing.

 

There'd been too many of these moments of sudden shyness between them these past few months. She needed him. Not caring who might see, Ki pulled her into a rough hug.

 

Her cheek was cold and smooth against his. He tightened the embrace, wishing he could give her his warmth. It felt good, holding his friend like this again. Her hair was softer than he remembered, under his hand.

 

Tamir sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. His heart swelled and tears stung his eyes. Swallowing hard, he whispered, "I'll always be here for you, Tob."

 

He'd hardly realized his mistake before she jerked away and strode back toward the guesthouse.

 

"Tamir! Tamir, I'm sorry. I forgot! It doesn't mean anything. Come back!"

 

The door slammed firmly behind her, leaving him there in the cold starlight, confused by feelings he wasn't ready to claim and calling himself nine kinds of fool.

 

An ominous feeling weighed on Arkoniel's heart as he and Iya sat waiting in Tamir's little chamber. Iya would say nothing, and he was left to unhappy imaginings.

 

When she came in at last, the look on her face made his heart sink even further. Tamir glanced at Iya, then crossed her arms and fixed a hard look on Arkoniel. "I want you to tell me what really happened to my brother. What made him the way he is?"

 

And there it was, the question he'd dreaded for so long. Even before he opened his mouth, Arkoniel could feel the fragile new trust between them tearing like worn silk. How could he justify to her what had been done in the Lightbearer's name, when in his heart he'd never forgiven himself for his part in her misery?

 

Before he could find the words, a dank chill like marsh fog closed in around them. Brother appeared at Tamir's side, glaring at Iya. The demon looked very much as he had the few other times Arkoniel had seen him; a thin, evil, wraithlike mockery of Tobin, grown to young manhood. They looked much less alike now, and Arkoniel took strange comfort in that, though the anger in those eyes made them twins again.

 

"Well?" Tamir demanded. "If I am truly your queen, and not just a puppet you play with, then tell me the truth."

 

Iya still said nothing.

 

Arkoniel felt as if a part of him was dying as he forced the words out. "Your infant brother was sacrificed to protect you."

 

"Sacrificed? Murdered, you mean! That's why he became a demon?"

 

"Yes," said Iya. "What has he told you?"

 

"Nothing, except that you would tell me, Arkoniel. And the Oracle showed me—" She turned slowly back to Iya. "You. 'Two children, one queen,' the Oracle said to you, and I saw the dead baby you held. You killed him!"

 

"I didn't take his life, but I was most certainly the instrument of his death. What you saw is what I was shown. You and your brother were still safe in your mother's womb then. But you were already the one ordained to save Skala. You had to be protected, especially from Niryn's magic. I could think of only one sure way to do that."

 

Brother crept toward Iya, and Arkoniel was horrified by the dark joy on that unnatural face.

 

Tamir stayed the demon with a look. "What did you do, Iya?"

 

Iya met her gaze levelly. "I found Lhel. I know the kind of magic her kind practices. Only a witch could accomplish what had to be done. So I brought her to Ero and into your mother's house the night you were born. You were the firstborn, Tamir, and you were beautiful. Perfect. You would have grown into a strong, dark-haired girl with too much of your mother's looks ever to be hidden away from prying eyes. While you lay in your nurse's arms, Lhel brought your brother from your mother's womb. She meant to smother him before he drew breath. That's the secret, you see, the thing she knew how to do. If that little body had remained empty of breath, there would have been no killing and this abomination you call Brother would never have been. But there was an interruption, and you know the rest." She shook her head sadly. "So it was necessary."

 

Tamir was trembling. "By the Four! That room, at the top of the stairs. He tried to show me—"

 

Brother pressed close to Tamir and whispered, "Sister, our father stood by and watched."

 

She recoiled from him so fast she slammed into the wall behind her. "No! Father would never do that. You're lying!"

 

"I wish he were," said Arkoniel. After all these years of silence, the words finally tumbled out like water from a burst dam. "Your father didn't want to do such a thing, but he had no choice. It was to be a quick, merciful act. We promised him that, but we failed."

 

Tamir covered her face with shaking hands. "What happened?"

 

"Your uncle arrived with Niryn and a pack of swordsmen just as he was born," Arkoniel said softly. The memory had been burned into his mind, every detail knife-edge sharp, and with it all the horror of that night. "The noise startled Lhel, distracting her at the critical moment. The child drew breath and his spirit was sealed in flesh."

 

The demon's face twisted in a cold snarl. Arkoniel braced, expecting an attack, but to his amazement, Tamir turned to him and said something in a low voice. The demon remained at her side, his face resolving back into, a blank mask, all but the eyes. The eyes still burned with hate and desire.

 

"Your mother was never meant to know," Iya told her. "I drugged her, to spare her that, but somehow she knew. It destroyed her."

 

Tamir wrapped her arms around her thin chest, looking as if she was in physical pain. "My brother. Mother—The Oracle was right again. I am 'the seed watered with blood.'"

 

Iya nodded sadly. "Yes, but not for spite or evil. You had to survive, and rule. To do that, you had to live and claim your true form. And so you have."

 

Tamir wiped a stray tear from her cheek and drew herself up. "So it was by your will that my brother died?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Lhel killed Brother and worked the magic, but it was you who made it happen?"

 

"I alone bear the responsibility. That's why he has always hated me so bitterly. I see it in him still, the desire for my death. Something holds him back. You, perhaps?" She bowed low, hand on her heart. "My work will be done, Majesty, when the Sword of Gherilain is in your hand. I ask for no mercy after that."

 

"And you, Arkoniel?" Tamir's eyes were almost pleading now. "You said you were there that night."

 

"He was only my pupil then. He had no say—" Iya began.

 

"I claim no absolution," said Arkoniel. "I knew the prophecy and I believed in it. I stood by while Lhel worked her magic."

 

"Yet Brother doesn't attack you. He hates you, but no more than most. Not the way he hates Iya."

 

"He wept for me," Brother whispered. "His tears fell on my grave and I tasted them."

 

"He cannot love," Iya said sadly. "He can only not hate. He doesn't hate you, Tamir, or Arkoniel. He didn't hate your mother, or Nari."

 

"Nari, too?" Tamir whispered as the grief sank deeper.

 

"Hated Father!" Brother snarled. "Hated Uncle! Mother hated and feared him! I knew her fear in the womb, and the night of my birth. She hates and fears him still. You forgot to hate, Sister, but we don't. Not ever."

 

"You wept over his grave?" Tamir's eyes were almost imploring now. "He was buried—But his bones were in Mother's doll."

 

"I buried him that night," Arkoniel replied sadly. "Sometime soon after, Lhel and your mother took him up again and put the bones in that doll. I suppose it was to control the spirit, or to keep him by your mother. She saw him as a living child."

 

"Yes. She saw him." Tamir drew a shaky breath. "Iya, you and Lhel are the ones who spilled my brother's blood?"

 

"Yes."

 

She nodded slowly, then, with tears spilling slowly down her cheeks, she said, "You are banished."

 

"You can't mean it!" gasped Arkoniel.

 

"I do." More tears fell, but her eyes blazed with an anger he'd never seen before. "I have sworn before the people that anyone who spills the blood of my kin is my enemy. You knew that, and yet you said nothing. You, who murdered my brother! Destroyed my mother. My—my life!" She caught a sobbing breath. "My whole life—a lie! A river of blood. All those girls my uncle killed? Their blood is on my hands, too, because he was looking for me. Niryn—he was looking for me!"

 

"Yes." Iya still hadn't moved.

 

"Get out!" Tamir hissed, sounding like the demon in her anger. "You are banished from Skala forever. I never want to see either of you again!"

 

But Iya didn't move. "I will go, Tamir, but you must keep Arkoniel with you."

 

"You don't order me around anymore, wizard!"

 

Iya still did not move, but the air thickened around her and the room darkened. The hair on Arkoniel's arms prickled uncomfortably as her power filled the tiny chamber.

 

"I gave you my life, you foolish, ungrateful child!" Iya snapped. "Have you learned nothing? Seen nothing these past months? Perhaps I do not merit your gratitude, but I will not let you undo all I have wrought for you just because you don't like how the world works. Do you imagine I liked what I had to do? Well, I didn't! I hated it; but we don't choose our destinies, people like you or me, unless we turn coward and run away. Yes, I am responsible for all that has happened to you, but I have not one kernel of regret!

 

"Is one life, or a hundred, not worth the sacrifice, to lift the curse from the land? What else do you think you were born for? Go on, then. Stamp your foot and shout at me of murder and justice, but where would Skala be if Erius' line of monster-spawning sons still ruled? Do you think Korin is up there in Cirna, planning your coronation? Do you think he will welcome you with open arms if you go to him? It's time for you to stop being a child, Tamir of Ero, and be a queen! "I will go, as you decree, but I will not allow you to put Arkoniel aside. He is touched by Illior, just as you are. But more than that, he has loved and served you since your birth, and would have stayed Lhel's hand if he could have. He must remain by your side to do the Lightbearer's will!"

 

"And what is that?" Tamir asked grudgingly. "I've survived. You've made me queen. What is there left for him to do?"

 

Iya folded her hands and the tension in the room lessened just a bit. "You need him, and you need the wizards he and I have gathered for you. That shining palace of wizards we told you of is not some idle pipe dream. It was a true vision, and it is as much a part of Skala's future strength as you are yourself. Do you imagine the other wizards will stay with you if you do this now? I promise you, most of them will not. It is only because of you that they have banded together, but they are free wizards, beholden to no one, not even you, and they will not serve you if they believe you are your uncle come again. It was Arkoniel and I who convinced them to go against their nature and become the Third Oreska. It is a more fragile confederation than you know, and it is Arkoniel's fate to nurture it. I saw that for myself the day I was shown your future. The two are intertwined."

 

Tamir stared at them for a moment, fists clenched at her sides. At last she nodded. "He stays. And I acknowledge what you have done for this land, Iya, you and all your kind. It is because of that that I spare your life. But I tell you this: If I lay eyes on you again after dawn, I will have you executed. For the good of the land, do not imagine that to be an idle threat."

 

"As you wish." Iya bowed and swept from the room without so much as a parting glance in Arkoniel's direction.

 

Stunned, he watched in horror as Brother smiled an evil smile and slowly faded away.

 

"Tamir, please, call him back. He'll kill her!" "I've already told him not to, but that's all I can do. You and Lhel saw to that." She wiped her face on her sleeve, not looking at him. "Brother spoke for you. Because of that, I will let you remain in my court. But right now I—I—" Her voice broke. "Just get out!"

 

There was nothing he could do for her now. He made a hasty bow and hurried out. Lynx and Nikides were on guard at the door and had heard enough to eye him suspiciously.

 

"Where's Ki?" he asked.

 

"Outside, I think," said Lynx. "What the hell happened in there just now?"

 

Arkoniel didn't stay to answer. Iya's chamber was empty, and he found only Wythnir in his own.

 

"Master?"

 

"Go to bed, lad," he said as kindly as he could. "I'll be back later."

 

Hurrying outside, he spotted Ki leaning on the stele. "Tamir needs you."

 

To his amazement, Ki just shrugged. "I'm the last person she wants to see right now."

 

With a snarl of frustration, Arkoniel seized him by the collar and propelled him in the direction of the guesthouse. "She does. Go!"

 

Without waiting to see if Ki obeyed, he ran down to the stable.

 

It can't end like this! Not after all she's done!

 

Iya was there, saddling her horse.

 

"Wait!" he cried, stumbling through the muck. "It was the shock. She's upset. She can't really mean to banish you."

 

Iya slapped her horse's side and tightened the girth strap. "Of course she does, and so she must. Not because she is ungrateful, but because she is the queen, and must stand by her word."

 

"But—"

 

"I've always known this day would come, just not when or what form it would take. To be honest, I'm relieved. I had assumed it would mean my death when she learned the truth. Instead, I'm finally free." She touched a gloved hand to his cheek. "Oh really now, Arkoniel. Tears at your age?"

 

He hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve but it was no good. They kept coming. He clung to her hand, unable to believe this was the last they would ever see of each other. "This is wrong, Iya! What will I do without you?"

 

"You've done perfectly well without me these past few years. Besides, it's the natural way of things. You're not my apprentice anymore, Arkoniel. You are a strong and powerful wizard, with a mandate from the Lightbearer and more ideas about magic than I've ever seen. You are too modest, my dear, to realize what you've already accomplished, combining Lhel's magic with our own. Few would risk such a thing, but you just forged ahead. I'm more proud than I can say."

 

She blinked and turned back to adjusting her saddle. "So, between your new Oreska and looking after our little queen, I'm sure you'll be too busy to miss me very much. Besides, we're both Guardians and that is not an easy path, either."

 

"Guardians?" He scarcely thought of the bowl as more than a piece of his usual baggage. Iya's use of the formal title sent an unpleasant chill through him, as he recalled the prophecy old Ranai had passed on to him before she died, the dream of the Guardian Hyradin: And at last shall be again the Guardian, whose portion is bitter, bitter as gall. He shivered again, feeling those words fulfilled for Iya. "What does that have to do with any of this?"

 

"Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything. It's Illior's will that you have the burden of both the bowl and the queen. You are up to the task, you know. I never would have given either of them into your keeping if I didn't believe that."

 

"Will I ever see you again?" She patted his arm. "I'm only banished, my dear, not dead. I'll send word."

 

"Brother will come after you. I think he followed you." Arkoniel searched the shadows nervously.

 

"I can handle him. I always have."

 

He watched forlornly as she led her horse out to the mounting block and climbed slowly into the saddle. "Your pack! Wait and I'll go fetch it. Tamir said you have until dawn."

 

"No need, Arkoniel. I didn't bring anything important." She reached for his hand again. "Promise me you'll stay. It was time she knew the truth, but now she must accept it and get on with things. Help her do that, Arkoniel. You may not believe it tonight, and perhaps she wouldn't either, but she does trust you. You, Tharin, and Ki are all she has left of anything like family. Love her as you always have and don't hold this against her."

 

He clung to her hand a moment longer, feeling a bit like Wythnir. "At least let me fetch you a cloak. It's cold."

 

"All right then, but hurry!"

 

Arkoniel ran back to the guesthouse and grabbed Iya's old traveling cloak from a peg by her door. He was gone no more than a few moments, but when he came back the square was empty. There was no sign of her, not even the sound of her horse's hooves. He ran down the track that led to the Keyhole, hoping to catch her. The whole valley was bright with starlight, but the road was empty in both directions.

 

He had no doubt she was there somewhere, but she'd always been adept at not being seen. She'd used the same magic the night they'd brought Lhel to the keep, but she'd never before used it to hide from him.

 

"Good luck!" he shouted at the empty road, standing there with her cloak knotted in his hands. His voice echoed hollowly across the pass. "I'll do all you said. I will! And—and thank you!" His voice failed him as fresh tears made the stars dance overhead. "I won't forget you," he whispered.

 

His only answer was the distant hunting cry of an owl.

 

Not caring what sentries there might be watching, he pressed his face into his beloved teacher's abandoned cloak and wept.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 34

 

  

 

 

 

Spurred by the fear and anger in Arkoniel's voice, Ki forgot his own trepidation and hurried to Tamir's chamber. Lynx and Nikides stood listening at the door with obvious concern.

 

"Now what's happened?" he whispered.

 

"She banished Mistress Iya, I think, and maybe Arkoniel," Lynx told him. "There was a lot of shouting and I swear the floor shook. Then we heard her yelling at them to get out—"

 

"Yes, I saw him just now. Arkoniel sent me."

 

"She doesn't want to see anyone. She gave orders," Nikides told him apologetically.

 

"She'll see me."

 

Lynx stepped back, motioning for Nikides to do the same. Ki nodded his thanks and lifted the latch.

 

Tamir sat on a low stool in front of the fire, arms locked tightly around her knees. Brother was crouched beside her, his face a mask of fury, and he was hissing angrily at her, too low for Ki to hear. The air was thick with menace. As he watched, Brother slowly reached out to her. Ki drew his blade and rushed the demon. "Don't touch her!"

 

Brother whirled and flew at him.

 

"No!" Tamir shouted.

 

Brother leered as he continued his rush, and Ki felt a deadly chill surround him. The demon disappeared. Ki's sword fell from numbed fingers and he fought to stay on his feet as a wave of weakness passed over him.

 

Tamir sprang to his side, gripping his arm to steady him. "Did he hurt you?" "No, just gave me a scare."

 

"Good." She released him and sat down again, turning her face away. "Go away, Ki. I don't want to see anyone now."

 

Ki pulled another stool close to hers and sat down. "That's too bad, because I'm staying."

 

"Get out. That's an order."

 

Ki stubbornly folded his arms.

 

She glared at him, then gave up and buried her face in her hands. "Iya and Lhel killed my brother."

 

Somehow, that didn't surprise him. He kept quiet, waiting for her to go on.

 

"It's because of me that he is as he is now."

 

"It's not your fault: Bilairy's balls, Tamir, you were only a baby yourself! I'm sure they only did it because they had to."

 

"For Skala," she said, her voice heavy with grief.

 

"I won't say it was right, to use a baby so, but what if your uncle had found you and killed you? Where would Skala be then?"

 

"You sound just like them! I should have killed Iya for what she did. He was a prince of the blood. But—I couldn't!" Her shoulders shook. "I just banished her and now Brother is more hateful than ever, and I don't know how I'll ever look at Arkoniel again—and I was just starting to trust him again, and—" She curled forward in a knot of misery.

 

Ki forgot the earlier tension between them and pulled her into his arms again. She didn't weep, but her body was rigid and shaking. He stroked her hair again, and after a moment she relaxed just a little. Another moment and she put her arms around his waist and hid her face against his neck.

 

"Am I a monster, Ki? An unnatural thing?"

 

He tugged at a lock of her hair. "Don't be stupid."

 

She let out a choked laugh and sat up. "But you still see Tobin, don't you?" She looked fragile again, the way she had that night before he left to fight. "I see my friend, who I've loved from the day we met."

 

"Loved. Like a brother," she said bitterly. "What does that make me now? Your sister?"

 

The pain in her eyes twisted his heart. If not a sister, then what? Fear and confusion still held his tongue, but he hadn't forgotten the look on her face when he'd called her by her boy's name tonight, or how it had felt when she'd smiled at that handsome Aurenfaie over supper. Do I—? Could I—?

 

Those dark eyes widened as he leaned forward and tentatively touched his mouth to hers, trying to give her what she needed.

 

Her lips trembled against his for an instant, then she turned her face away. "What are you doing? I don't need your pity, Ki."

 

"It's not." Isn't it? He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

 

She sighed and rested her face in her hands again. "I can't ask you to feel differently than you do."

 

That was the problem. He didn't know his own feelings. She's a girl, damn it! You know how to please a girl! He pulled her to her feet, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her more decisively this time.

 

She didn't push him away, but her arms stayed at her sides, fists clenched. It wasn't like kissing a boy, exactly, but it wasn't a good kiss, either. There were tears and mistrust in her eyes when Ki released her.

 

"What are you going to do now, throw me on the bed?"

 

Defeated, he shook his head miserably. "I'm sorry."

 

"Stop saying that!"

 

"Damn it, Tamir, I'm trying!"

 

"I'm sorry it's such a chore!"

 

They glared at each other for an instant, then Ki turned and slammed out of the room, telling himself it was a strategic retreat. Before he could escape, Lynx caught him by the arm and propelled him right back into the chamber. "Get back in there, you coward!"

 

His unbalanced forward rush caught her on her feet, and they tumbled together onto the bed. The ropes groaned under them as they struggled to get free of each other. Panting and blushing, they retreated to opposite ends.

 

"Lynx pushed me," Ki mumbled.

 

"I know." She pulled her disheveled skirts down over her knees.

 

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the snapping of the fire. Ki could just imagine the others outside, ears pressed to the door. He started to apologize again, but she silenced him with a look.

 

After another excruciating moment she sighed and held out her hand. "You'll always be my best friend, Ki."

 

Ki clasped it and blurted out, "I do love you! I always will."

 

"But not as—?"

 

He looked down at their joined hands, searching his heart for some spark of desire. But he still couldn't imagine lying with her as he had with all those serving maids and scullery girls. It was as if some wizard had hexed him, sapping the heat from his loins. "I'd give everything I have to feel that way for you."

 

Her soft sob and the sight of the fresh tears sliding down her cheeks twisted Ki's heart again. Swallowing hard, he shifted over and pulled her close. This time she did cry.

 

"I'm cursed, Ki. Brother says so."

 

"Well, you don't want to believe anything he says. You know what a liar he is."

 

"You don't think I was wrong, to let Iya go, do you?"

 

"No. I think it would have been wrong to kill her."

 

Tamir sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve, giving him a trembling, shamefaced grin. "I really have turned into a woman, haven't I? I never used to cry like this."

 

"Don't let Una catch you talking like that."

 

She managed a weak smile. "Your friendship means more to me than anything. If that's all we ever have—"

 

"Don't say that." He looked earnestly into her sad eyes, wanting to cry himself. "You hold my heart. You always have and you always will."

 

Tamir let out a shaky sigh. "And you have mine."

 

"I know that, so don't—Well, don't give up on me yet, all right?"

 

She started to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, she sat back and wiped her face again. "I guess we'd better get some sleep."

 

"Do you want me to stay?"

 

She shook her head and Ki knew by the way she did not look at him that things had changed between them tonight in a way that neither of them could take back.

 

He ignored his friends' questioning looks as he went out. A room had been set aside for him just down the low stone corridor, but the thought of lying alone in the dark drove him in the opposite direction.

 

Tharin was still in the large room, playing bakshi with Aladar and Manies. Ki nodded in passing and went outside. He was halfway across the empty square when he heard the door behind him open and close. He turned, arms locked across his chest, and waited as Tharin joined him.

 

He didn't stop, just brushed Ki's arm and said, "Let's take a walk," then strolled off toward the trail that led to the Oracle's chamber.

 

They picked their way among the tumbled boulders and over the slick spots. Tharin seemed to be looking for something. It turned out to be a sheltered overhang above the trail. He settled there with his back to the rock face and motioned for Ki to sit beside him.

 

Ki pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, heart beating too fast as he waited for whatever Tharin had to say. "How much did you hear?"

 

"Bits and pieces. Iya's been sent away and Arkoniel may have gone with her. I haven't seen him since he sent you racing back in. What can you tell me?"

 

Ki poured it all out to him, about Iya and Brother and his own ham-handed failures at comfort. "I even tried to kiss her," he admitted miserably. "She wants me to be more than just her friend, Tharin."

 

"I know."

 

Ki stared at him in surprise.

 

Tharin smiled. "She told me, months back."

 

Ki felt his cheeks go hot in spite of the cold night air. "Why didn't you tell me?"

 

"To what end? I've got eyes, Ki."

 

"Do you want to smack me? I deserve it."

 

Instead Tharin just clapped him on the knee.

 

"What am I going to do?" He clutched his head and groaned. "I'm failing her when she needs me most."

 

"You can't change your heart, Ki, or order it, like a warrior into battle."

 

"People will still talk."

 

"There's no escaping that. People like to talk."

 

"They've always gossiped about us. Even when Tamir was a boy, they thought we were bedmates."

 

"It might have been easier now if you had been. But I figured out long since that you don't bed boys."

 

"So why can't I feel the way she wants me to now that she's a girl? Bilairy's balls, Tharin, I do love her, but when I think of lying with her, I just can't imagine it."

 

"You've been with other girls. Did you treat them badly?"

 

"What? Of course not!"

 

"Did you love any of them?"

 

"No, it was just a tumble."

 

"So you can't think of tumbling our Tamir?"

 

Ki cringed at the thought. "Of course not!" He waited for Tharin to chastise him or at least give him some advice, but the man just jerked a thumb in the direction of the Oracle. "Have you thought of going down there yourself?"

 

"No, I don't go messing about with all that moon smoke and magic. Sakor is a damn sight cleaner to follow. You fight, and you live or die. No messing around with blood and ghosts."

 

Tharin stood and stretched. "Well, things change," he said quietly, then turned and gave Ki a look he couldn't quite interpret. "Sometimes you just have to be patient. Let's go back. It's cold."

 

Ki had to pass Tamir's door on the way to his own chamber, and endured Lynx's accusing look. Later, as he lay on his narrow bed, knowing sleep would be a stranger, he wished he had more faith in Tharin's words. Some things just couldn't be changed, no matter how much you wanted them to.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 35

 

  

 

 

 

Arkoniel spent the remainder of the night sitting on a stone by the road. Wrapped in Iya's cloak, he watched the stars wheel and fade.

 

The first hint of daylight was casting a pink tinge across the snow-capped peaks when he heard the sound of riders behind him.

 

It was the Aurenfaie, muffled in cloaks and wearing the plain white sen'gai they used for traveling.

 

"You're up early, wizard," Solun greeted him.

 

"So are you," replied Arkoniel, rising on stiff legs. "Are you leaving so soon?"

 

"I 'wanted to stay," Arengil said at once, looking a bit sulky. "Tamir offered me a place in the Companions."

 

"And me," said Corruth, looking no happier.

 

Sylmai gave them both a reproving look. "That is for your parents to say."

 

"You haven't seen much of Tamir," Arkoniel observed, concerned.

 

"We've seen enough," Solun assured him.

 

"Will Aurenen recognize her claim?"

 

"That is the decision for each of the clans to make, but I will urge Bokthersa to accept Tamir as the true queen."

 

"I'll do the same in Gedre," said Sylmai.

 

"She means to declare war, you know."

 

"We will take that into consideration. Our ships are swift, should the need arise," Sylmai replied. "How will you get word to us?"

 

Arkoniel showed her the window spell. "If I can find you, I can speak to you through this, but you must not touch it."

 

"Look for me in Gedre, then. Farewell, and good luck."

 

The others nodded to him and rode on, disappearing quickly into the morning mist. The Khatme, Arkoniel noted, had said nothing of support.

 

Unsettled, he walked slowly back up to the guesthouse.

 

Tamir and the Companions were sitting around the main hearth with their breakfast. Neither she nor Ki looked rested, but at least they were sitting together. She glanced up as he came in, but didn't call him to join her. He wondered dully if she'd reconsidered his banishment. With an inward sigh, he went to the sideboard and helped himself to bread and cheese and went to his room.

 

The fire had gone out and the tiny cell was cold as a tomb. Wythnir was still asleep, curled up tightly under the blankets. Arkoniel placed a few logs on the hearth and cast a spell. He seldom wasted magic on anything as mundane as a morning fire, but he was too dispirited to make the effort with flint and tinder. The logs caught and a bright blaze flared up.

 

"Master?" Wythnir sat up, looking worried. "Did the queen really send Iya away?"

 

Arkoniel sat on the edge of the bed and handed him a bit of his breakfast. "Yes, but it's all right."

 

"Why did she do that?"

 

"I'll tell you another time. Eat. We're leaving soon."

 

Wythnir nibbled dutifully at the cheese.

 

Arkoniel was still wearing Iya's cloak. Her scent clung to the wool. That, and the worn old bag lying next to his bed, were all he had left of a lifetime together, it seemed.

 

Iya had been right, of course. Under normal circumstances he would have left her at the end of his training and gone his own way; but events had kept them together and, somehow, he'd always imagined that they would remain so, especially once they began gathering other wizards to them.

 

A small hand closed over his. "I'm sorry you're so sad, Master."

 

Arkoniel gathered him close and rested his face against the boy's hair. "Thank you. I'll miss her."

 

He couldn't find much of an appetite. As he threw his uneaten bread into the fire, Tamir slipped in without knocking.

 

"Good morning." He attempted a smile, but it did not come easily, not with his heart still aching at her treatment of Iya. "Wythnir, the queen and I must speak alone. Go finish your breakfast in the big room." The boy slid out of bed at once, still in his long shirt. Arkoniel wrapped him in Iya's cloak and let him go.

 

Tamir closed the door after him and leaned against it, arms folded tight across the front of her tunic. "I've sent Una and some riders to muster the southern holdings. I'm readying for war as soon as we reach Atyion."

 

"That's good."

 

She just stood there a moment, then sighed. "I'm not sorry, you know, about Iya. Brother wanted me to kill her. Sending her away—it was the best I could do."

 

"I know. She understood."

 

"But I guess—well, I'm glad you're still here, even if we can't be friends any longer."

 

Some part of him wanted to reassure her, but the words would not come. "Is that why you're here?"

 

"No. She said I had to keep you because of the vision you had here. I'd like to hear more about that."

 

"Ah. It was Iya who was given the vision of the white palace. But she saw me there. I was a very old man, with a young apprentice by my side. The great house was filled with wizards and wizard-born children, all gathered there to learn and share their power in safety, for the good of the land."

 

"Your Third Oreska." "Yes."

 

"Where is it to be? In Atyion?"

 

"No. Iya said she saw a new, beautiful city on a high cliff overlooking the sea, above a deep harbor."

 

She looked up at that. "Then you think this city doesn't exist yet?"

 

"No. As I said, I was a very old man in her vision."

 

She looked disappointed.

 

"What is it, Tamir?"

 

She rubbed absently at the small scar on her chin. "I keep dreaming of being on cliffs, looking down on a deep harbor. It's somewhere on the western shore, but there's no city. I've seen it so often I feel like I've been there, but I don't know what it means. Sometimes there's a man in the distance, waving to me. I've never been able to make out who it is, but now I think maybe it's you. Ki's in the dream, too. I—" She broke off and looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you think Iya and I saw the same place?"

 

"Perhaps. Did you ask the Oracle about it?"

 

"I tried to, but got only the answer I told you of already. It wasn't much help, was it?"

 

"Perhaps more than you think. Iya had no idea what her vision meant at the time. Only now does it begin to make any sense. But it's encouraging if you and she saw the same place. I suspect it is."

 

"Do you hate me, for sending her away?"

 

"Of course not. I'll miss her, but I understand. Do you hate me?"

 

She laughed sadly. "No. I'm not even sure I hate her. It's Lhel who actually killed Brother, but I can't hate her at all! She was so good to me and helped me when I was all alone."

 

"She cares a great deal for you."

 

"I wonder when I'll see her again? Maybe we should go to the keep on the way home and look for her. Do you think she's still there?" "I looked for her when I went to fetch your doll that night, but I couldn't find her. You know how she is."

 

"So, what was your vision, when you came here before?"

 

"I saw myself, holding a young, dark-haired child in my arms. Now I know that it was you."

 

He could see how her lips trembled as she whispered, "That's all?"

 

"Sometimes the Lightbearer can be very straightforward, Tamir." She looked so lost and young that he held out his hand. She hesitated, frowning, then came and sat stiffly beside him on the edge of the bed.

 

"I still feel like an imposter in this body, even after all these months."

 

"It hasn't been all that long, compared to your life before. And you've had so much to worry about, too. I'm sorry it's had to be this way."

 

She stared into the fire, blinking hard to keep from crying. At last she whispered, "I can't believe my father just stood by. How could he do that to his own child?"

 

"He didn't know the full extent of the plan until that night. If it's any comfort to you, he was devastated. I don't think he ever recovered. Illior knows, he had his punishment, watching what it did to your mother and you."

 

"You and Iya knew him well?"

 

"We had that honor. He was a great man, a kind man, and a warrior beyond compare. You're very much like him. You have all his boldness, and his great heart. I already see his wisdom in you, young as you are. But you have all your mother's best qualities, too, as she was before you were born." He touched the ring that bore her parents' paired likenesses. "I'm glad you found this. You possess all that was best in both of them and the Lightbearer did not choose you by chance. You are Illior's chosen one. Don't ever forget that, no matter what else happens. You will be the finest queen Skala has known since Gherilain." "I hope you're right," she said sadly, and took her leave.

 

Arkoniel sat for a while, staring into the fire. Relieved as he was at the accord that had survived between them, his heart still ached, both at the loss of Iya and at seeing how strong and fragile Tamir still was. A heavy burden lay on those narrow shoulders. He resolved to do a better job of helping her to bear it.

 

With that in mind, Arkoniel slipped out and made his way back to the Oracle's chamber. For the first time in his life, he went there alone, with his own questions firmly in mind.

 

The masked priests let him down and he found himself engulfed in the familiar darkness. He felt no fear this time, only resolve.

 

When his feet found the ground again he started off at once toward the soft glow nearby.

 

The woman sitting on the Oracle's stool might have been the same girl he'd spoken to. It was difficult to say, and no one but the high priest of Afra knew how the Oracles were chosen or how many there were at a given time. It wasn't always a girl or woman. He knew wizards who'd spoken with young men here. The only common factor seemed to be a touch of insanity or simpleminded-ness.

 

She shook back her tangled hair and gazed at him as he took his place on the stool facing her. Her eyes were already bright with the god's power, and her voice, when she spoke, held that strange timbre that was more than human.

 

"Welcome back, Arkoniel," she said, as if reading his thoughts. "You stand at the side of the queen. Well done."

 

"My task has only begun, hasn't it?"

 

"You did not need to come here to know that."

 

"No, but I want your guidance, great Illior. What must I do to help her?"

 

She waved a hand and the darkness beside them opened like a huge window. There was the city on the cliffs, full of great houses and wooded parks and broad streets. It was far larger than Ero and looked cleaner and more orderly. At its heart stood two palaces. One was low and forbidding, a fortress built into the curtain wall. The other was a huge, soaring, graceful four-sided tower, with thinner domed towers at each of the four points. This was guarded by nothing more than a single wall, and the land inside was planted with gardens. He could see people walking there, men and women and children, Skalan and 'faie, even centaurs.

 

"You must give her this."

 

"This is the new capital she must found?"

 

"Yes, and the Third Oreska will be the secret guardians."

 

"Guardians? I've been given that title already."

 

"You keep the bowl?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"Bury it deep in the heart of the heart. It is nothing to you, or to her."

 

"Then why must I keep it at all?" he asked, disappointed.

 

"Because you are the Guardian. By guarding it, you guard her and all of Skala and the world."

 

"Can't you tell me what it is?"

 

"It is nothing by itself, but part of a great evil."

 

"And this is what you would have me bury at the heart of Tamir's city? Something evil?"

 

"Can there be good, without the knowledge of evil, wizard? Can there be existence without balance?"

 

The vision of the city faded away, replaced by a large golden scale. In one pan lay the crown and sword of Skala. In the other lay a naked, dead infant: Brother. Arkoniel shivered and resisted the urge to look away. "Evil will always lie at the heart of all she accomplishes, then?"

 

"Evil is always with us. The balance is all."

 

"I think I must do great good, then, to keep your balance. That child's blood is on my hands, no matter what anyone says." The chamber went very dark around them. Arkoniel felt the air thicken and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Yet the Oracle only smiled and bowed her head. "You are not capable of doing otherwise, child of Illior. Your hands and heart are strong, and your eyes see clearly. You must see what others cannot allow themselves to accept and speak the truth."

 

A pair of naked lovers appeared on the floor between them, writhing in passion. It was Arkoniel, driving between Lhel's thighs as she clung to him. Her head was thrown back, her wild black hair spread around her ecstatic face. As he watched, his own face flushed and hot, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. "You have my love always, Arkoniel. Never grieve for me."

 

The vision faded quickly. "Grieve?"

 

"You delved in her body, and she has left you pregnant with magic. Use it wisely and well."

 

"She's dead, isn't she?" Grief closed like a fist around his heart. "How? Can't you show me?"

 

The Oracle just looked at him with those shining eyes and said, "It was a willing death."

 

That took none of his pain away. All this time, he'd looked forward to going back and finding her waiting for him.

 

He pressed his face into his hands, tears hot behind his eyelids. "First Iya, and now her?"

 

"Both willing," whispered the Oracle.

 

"That's no comfort! What will I tell Tamir?"

 

"Tell her nothing. It serves no purpose now."

 

"Perhaps not." Arkoniel had long since grown used to carrying secrets and pain for the girl. Why should now be any different?

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 36

 

  

 

 

 

Niryn returned from his afternoon stroll among the encampments to find Moriel and Mistress Tomara waiting for him in his private chamber. The woman held a small white bundle against her belly and she was positively beaming.

 

"She's with child at last, my lord!" She opened her bundle and displayed a collection of Nalia's linen undergarments.

 

Niryn eyed them closely. "Are you certain, woman?"

 

"Not a sign of blood these past two full moons, my lord, and she hasn't kept her breakfast down since the night of the floggings. I thought at first it was only her gentle spirit, but it's kept on. She's green as a marrow until noon and the heat makes her faint. I've been a midwife, as well as a lady's maid, these forty years and I know the signs."

 

"Well, that is happy news. King Korin will be delighted, I'm sure. You must come tomorrow and announce it before his court."

 

"You don't want to, my lord?"

 

"No, let's not spoil it for him. Let him think he's the first to know." He drew two gold sesters from the air with a conjurer's flourish and presented them to her. "For the king's sake?"

 

Tomara took the coins and winked at him. "As you say, my lord."

 

Tomara was as good as her word, and didn't so much as glance in the wizard's direction as she came to Korin the following morning as he held court. He was in the midst of reports from his generals, but looked up in surprise to see her here at this hour. "Yes, what is it? Do you have word for me from your mistress?"

 

Tomara curtsied. "I do, Majesty. Her Highness bids me tell you that she is with child."

 

Korin stared at her a moment, then let out a happy whoop and pounded Alben and Urmanis on the back. "That's it! That's our sign. Master Porion, send out the word to all my generals. We march on Atyion at last!"

 

Men in the crowded hall began to shout and cheer. Niryn stepped to Korin's side.

 

"Are you certain the time is right?" he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. "After all, she can't be more than a moon or two along. Wouldn't it be wiser to wait a little more, just to be safe?"

 

"Damn you, Niryn! You're worse than an old woman," Korin exclaimed, pulling away. "Do you hear that, my lords? My wizard thinks we should wait a month or two more. Why not say until next spring? No, the snows will come and the seas will be harsh. If we move now we may even catch them with their crops in the fields. What do you say, my lords? Haven't we waited long enough?"

 

Another thunderous cheer went up as Niryn hastily made Korin a chagrined bow. "You know best, I'm sure, Majesty. I worry only for your safety and your throne."

 

"My throne is in Ero!" Korin cried, drawing his sword and brandishing it. "And before the fall harvest is in, I will stand on the Palatine and claim it properly. On to Ero!"

 

The rest of the company took up the rallying cry, and soon it was passed from throat to throat out into the castle yards and beyond to the encampments.

 

Niryn exchanged a pleased look with Moriel. His little shew had worked out well, and with the desired effect. No one could question that it had been the king's will to proceed, rather than his wizard's. Nalia heard the shouting and hurried out onto the balcony to see if they were celebrating her news.

 

Korin's army was spread out on both sides of the fortress, a vast sea of tents and corrals. She could see runners fanning out, and men emerging from tents in their wake. She listened for a moment, trying to make out the chanted words. When she did, she felt a stab of pique.

 

"To Ero? Is that all this means to him?" She went back to her needlework.

 

Not long after, however, she heard Korin's familiar step on the tower stair.

 

He burst in, and for the first time since she'd met him, his dark eyes were alight with genuine joy. Tomara came in behind him and gave Nalia a happy wink over his shoulder.

 

"Is it true?" he asked, staring as if he'd never seen her before. "You carry my child?"

 

Our child! Nalia thought, but she smiled demurely and pressed a hand to her still-flat belly. "I do, my lord. By all the signs, I'm nearly two months gone. The child will be born in the spring."

 

"Oh, that's wondrous news!" Korin fell to his knees at her feet and put his hand over hers. "The drysians will watch over you. You'll want for nothing. You have only to ask and it's yours!"

 

Nalia stared down at him in amazement. He'd never spoken to her like this before—like she really was his wife. "Thank you, my lord. I would like more than anything to have more freedom. I'm so confined here. Couldn't I have a proper room down in the fortress?"

 

He nearly balked at that, but she'd chosen her moment well. "Of course. You'll have the brightest, most cheerful room in this benighted place. I'll have painters in to decorate it to your taste, and new tapestries—Oh, and I brought you this."

 

He took a silken pouch from his sleeve and laid it in her lap. Nalia untied the silk drawstring and a long strand of lustrous sea pearls cascaded out into her lap. "Thank you, my lord. They've very pretty!"

 

"They're said to bring luck to pregnant women and to keep the child safe in the waters of the womb. Wear them for me, won't you?"

 

A shadow fell across Nalia's heart as she dutifully put on the necklace. The pearls were beautiful, with a lovely pink luster, but the necklace was a talisman, not an ornament. "I will wear them, as you say, my lord. Thank you."

 

Korin smiled at her again. "My first wife craved plums and salted fish when she was pregnant. Have you had any urges? Can I send for anything special that you don't have?"

 

"Only more room to walk around," Nalia said, pressing her advantage.

 

"You shall have it, as soon as a room is prepared." He took her hands in his. "You won't always be shut up in this dreary place, I promise you. I march on Prince Tobin soon, to reclaim my city and my land. Our children will play in the gardens of the Palatine."

 

Ero! Nalia had always longed to go there, but Niryn would never hear of it. To see a great city at last, to be consort there… "That will be very nice, my lord."

 

"Have you swung the ring yet?"

 

"No, we thought you'd want to see, Majesty," Tomara . lied, giving Nalia another wink. Of course they had, the moment Tomara had guessed that she'd kindled.

 

Pretending ignorance, Nalia lay back in her chair and handed Tomara the ring Korin had given her on their wedding day. Tomara took a length of red thread from her apron pocket and hung the ring on it, then dangled it over Nalia's lap. After a moment the ring began to move in tiny circles. These early motions meant nothing. If the midwife were a proper dowser, the ring would begin to swing back and forth for a boy child, or go in greater circles for a girl.

 

The ring made wide circles over her belly, just as it had the first time.

 

"A daughter for sure, Majesty," Tomara assured him. "A girl. A little queen! That's good." His smile faltered a little as he placed the ring back on her finger.

 

He's worried that she'll look like me. Nalia pushed the hurtful thought away and squeezed his hand. She couldn't blame him, she supposed. Perhaps the child would favor him instead. His coloring would make for a pretty girl.

 

Korin surprised her again, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. "Perhaps you can forgive me the difficult beginning we've had? With a child, and the throne secure, I will try to be a better husband to you. I swear by Dalna."

 

She had no words to describe how his kindness affected her, so she kissed his hand. "I will be a good mother to our children, my lord."

 

Perhaps, she thought, I can come to love him, after all.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 37

 

  

 

 

 

Ki hadn't been sorry to leave Afra. Far from helping Tamir, the Oracle seemed to have left her more troubled than ever. She was very quiet as they set out, and the treacherous going required too much attention for long conversations. Still, Ki sensed the deep sadness she carried.

 

He knew he couldn't lay all the blame on the Oracle. He'd failed her badly in his own clumsy way and left them both wounded. Wrapped alone in his blankets each night, he dreamed of their disastrous kisses and woke feeling tired and guilty.

 

On those rare occasions when his dream self managed to enjoy the kiss, he woke feeling even more confused. On those mornings, as he watched her washing her face in a stream and combing out her hair, he wished more than ever that things had stayed the same between them as when they were children together. There had been no shadow, no doubt between them. He could look at Tobin or touch him without all this turmoil inside. He didn't doubt the love between them, but it wasn't the kind of love Tamir wanted or deserved.

 

He kept all this locked away in his heart, knowing that she needed him strong and clearheaded, not moping around like some poetry-reading courtier. Despite his best efforts, the others had heard enough that night in the guesthouse to make them worry. No one asked Ki anything directly, but he often caught them watching him and Tamir. Arkoniel was nearly as much a mystery as Tamir. No doubt he was still unhappy about Iya's banishment, yet he and Tamir seemed on closer terms than they had been in months. He rode beside her every day, talking of his wizards and their magic, and of the new capital Tamir was planning. She'd mentioned her dreams of a place on the western coast to Ki before, but something in her visions at Afra had caught her imagination and Arkoniel seemed eager to foster such plans, despite the obvious impediments.

 

Ki didn't care about the difficulties. He only knew that the sadness left her eyes when she spoke of it, planning ways to make it a grander place than Ero. She got the same look she used to while working on some new design for a ring or breastplate. She was always happiest when planning a new creation.

 

Arkoniel had traveled a great deal, and spoke of sewers and drainage as readily as he talked of magic. Saruel told her of Aurenfaie cities, and the innovations they used for ventilation and heat. The 'faie seemed particularly good at anything related to bathing. They devoted whole chambers to it, with channels for heated water and special raised tile floors that could be heated from underneath. Some of the larger houses had bathing pools large enough for a whole crowd to linger in. Apparently business was even conducted there.

 

"It sounds like your people spend more time bathing than anything else," Una noted with a grin.

 

"More than Skalans, certainly," Saruel replied wryly. "It's not only hygienic, but good for the spirit. When taken together with massage and the proper Herbs, it is very healing, as well. In my experience, the 'faie not only smell better, but are a healthier people."

 

Nikides chuckled at that. "Are you saying that we stink?"

 

"I am merely stating a fact. When you come to build this new city of yours, Tamir, you might find it beneficial to provide proper bathing facilities for all, not only for your privileged classes. Send your builders to Bokthersa to learn their methods. They are particularly good at such things."

 

"I wouldn't mind going there myself, if all of them look like that Solun and his cousin!" Una murmured, and more than one among the Companions nodded.

 

"Ah, yes." Saruel smiled. "Even among the 'faie, they are considered particularly beautiful."

 

"I'll have to make a point of visiting there," Tamir said with a little smile. "To learn of the baths, of course."

 

That earned an outright laugh from everyone. Everyone except Ki. He'd seen how interested she'd been in the handsome Aurenfaie. He'd tried to ignore it at the time, but to hear her joke of it, like this with all the others sent a fresh twinge of jealousy through him. He shook it off, but for the first time, he had to confront the fact that she must marry someone, and soon. He tried to imagine that and couldn't. All he could think of was the way she'd looked at Solun, and how it had made Ki want to drive the fellow and his pretty face from the room.

 

And yet I can't even kiss her? he thought in disgust. What right do I have to be jealous?

 

He had little to offer on the subject of architecture or hypocausts, but found his own imagination caught by the thought of seeing a new city take shape, especially one guided by Tamir's creative mind. She was already thinking about gardens and fountains, as well as defenses. A western capital made military sense, if they could overcome the trade route problem.

 

"There must be a way to make a good road through the mountains," he mused aloud as they made camp beside a river in the foothills their third day out. "I suppose it depends on where the city actually is, but there are roads already. I heard Corruth talking about the route they took to Afra. They sailed across from Gedre, but rode the rest of the way." "There are several, but not ones suited to trade," Saruel replied. "And the passes are only open for a few months of the year. The Retha'noi still control some of the better ones, too, and do not welcome outsiders, 'faie or Tir. Anyone with goods to sell must go by boat. There are pirates on both seas: Zengati in the Osiat and brigands of all sorts among the islands of the Inner Sea. And, of course, the clans on the southern coast must go by way of the strait below Riga, a somewhat risky passage in the best of weather. But it's still safer than the overland route."

 

"It's no better for Skalan trade," said Tamir. "I don't suppose it would do to have a capital entirely isolated from the rest of the country."

 

Even as she said it, though, Ki could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that she was seeing it anyway, from the fancy sewer channels all the way up to the tall towers of Arkoniel's house of wizards.

 

"It would be shorter and safer to go around to the north, if the isthmus wasn't in the way," he noted.

 

"Well, until someone finds a way to move that, I'm afraid we're stuck with a long sail or bad roads." Laughing, Tamir turned to Arkoniel. "What do you say? Can your Third Oreska solve that problem for me with your magic?"

 

To Ki's surprise, and everyone else's, Arkoniel just looked rather thoughtful for a moment, then replied, "It's certainly worth considering."

 

Tamir was aware of how Ki was suffering, but there was nothing she could do to help him, or herself. As the days passed and they put the high mountains behind them, she tried to turn her thoughts to other things, but her nights were haunted.

 

"Where is your mother, Tamir?"

 

The Oracle's question had chilled her in that dark cavern, and those words followed her, stained even darker by what Iya had confessed. The Oracle had offered Tamir nothing but silence, yet in that silence she'd sensed expectation.

 

So, as she and her small entourage neared the crossroads that led to Alestun, she made up her mind. She had to screw her courage, reminding herself that no one but Arkoniel and Ki knew the shameful secret of Brother's death, or the angry presence in the tower.

 

"I want to stop at the keep for the night," she announced as they came in sight of the river road turn.

 

Tharin raised an eyebrow at that, and Ki gave her a questioning look but no one else seemed more than mildly surprised. "It's not far out of our way, and it will be better than an inn or sleeping in the open," she went on, making light of it.

 

"A day or two difference shouldn't matter," said Arkoniel. "It's nearly a year since you've visited there."

 

"I can't wait to see Nari's face when we ride over the bridge!" Ki exclaimed. "And you know Cook will make a fuss over not having enough food prepared."

 

The thought of something as familiar as being scolded by her old cook warmed Tamir, driving away some of her unease over the true task before her. Grinning, she replied, "Probably, but the surprise will be worth a cold supper. Come on, let's go give them a start!"

 

She and Ki kicked their horses into a gallop, laughing over their shoulders as the others lagged behind. Tharin soon caught up and there was no mistaking the challenge in his grin. The three of them led the pack, racing each other up the road and thundering by laden carts and startled villagers as they reached the meadows surrounding Alestun.

 

Tamir looked across the fields to the walled hamlet, standing on a bend of the river. She'd thought it was a city, the first time her father brought her to see it. It wasn't a completely happy memory; she'd foolishly tried to choose a doll for her name day treat, rather than a proper boy's toy, and her father been shamed before the whole marketplace. She understood better now why he'd reacted the way he did, but the memory still made her cringe after all these years.

 

She shook her head, letting the wind in her face scour away the bad feelings. He'd given her Gosie, her first horse that day, as well, and Tharin had given her that first wooden practice sword. All her early memories were like that, a mix of darkness and light, but the darkness always seemed so much greater. Black makes white. Foul makes pure. Evil creates greatness, the Oracle had said. That summed up her life.

 

They streaked through the forest and came out at last in the broad, steep meadow. On the rise above it, the old keep loomed against the mountains, its square tower pointing like a blunt finger at the sky. Her royal banner flew from a pole on the roof, but that wasn't what caught her eye.

 

The tower window that faced the road had lost one of its red-and-white-striped shutters. The other one, weathered and peeling, hung askew by one hinge. It was too easy to imagine she saw a pale face framed there.

 

Tamir looked away, slowing Midnight to a walk as she took in signs of life all around her.

 

The meadow had been mown and small haystacks dotted the slope. Sheep and goats grazed around them, cropping the new growth. There were wild geese and swans on the river, and a young servant boy fishing on the bank just below the plank bridge. He jumped up and stared at them as they approached, then bolted for the gate.

 

The barracks had a new roof, and the herb and flower beds she and Ki had helped Arkoniel plant beside it had been well tended and expanded. Bright flowers blossomed along the edges and there were rows of vegetables, too. Two young girls with baskets on their hips stepped around the corner of the barracks, then darted back out of sight as the boy had.

 

"Who are all these people?" asked Ki.

 

"New servants from the village," Arkoniel told him, catching up in time to overhear. "When I was here with the children, Cook needed more help. It appears she's hired a few more since I left."

 

"And Brother not here to scare them away," murmured Tamir. Then, whispering to the wizard, "Did my mother trouble them?"

 

"No," Arkoniel assured her. "I was the only one who ever saw her."

 

"Oh." Tamir glanced up again, and something else drew her attention: an expanse of blank wall where several windows should have been. "What happened there?"

 

"Oh that?" said Arkoniel. "I made a few changes a while back, to hide my presence. Don't worry, it's only magic. Nothing permanent."

 

They reined in at the front gate just as it swung open. Nari and Cook stood there, staring up at her with their hands pressed to their mouths. Nari was the first to recover.

 

Throwing her arms wide, she burst into happy tears and cried, "Oh, pets, come down for a hug!"

 

Tamir and Ki swung down from the saddle and she gathered them both into her arms at once. Tamir was amazed at how tiny Nari seemed. She was a head taller than her nurse now.

 

Nari rose on her toes and kissed them both soundly. "How you've grown this past year, the pair of you. And Ki with a bit of beard. And you, child!" She released Ki into Cook's waiting arms and took Tamir's face between her hands, no doubt searching for the boy she'd known. Tamir saw nothing but love and amazement in the woman's eyes. "Maker's Mercy, look at you, my darling girl! Slim as a wand and the image of your dear mother. Just as I always imagined." "You recognize me?" Tamir blurted out, relieved. "I'm not so different?"

 

"Oh, pet!" She hugged Tamir again. "Boy or girl, you're the child I nursed at my breast and held in my arms. How would I not know you?"

 

Cook hugged her next, then held her at arm's length to look at her. "You've sprouted up like a weed, haven't you?" She kneaded Tamir's upper arm and shoulder. "Not an ounce of meat on either of you. Tharin, doesn't that aunt of yours feed them anything? And poor Master Arkoniel! You look like a scarecrow again, after I got you all fed up proper before. Come in, all of you. We've kept the house ready and the larder's full. None of you will go to bed hungry tonight, I promise you!"

 

Tamir strode up the worn stone stairs to the great hall. It was just as she remembered from her birthday visit, In good repair, but with a dusty, tarnished air about it. Even with the afternoon sun shining in through the open doors and windows, there were still shadows lurking in the corners and up in the carved rafters. There were good smells on the air, though: warm bread and apple pie and spices.

 

"You've been cooking. Did you know we were coming?"

 

"No, Majesty, though you might have sent someone ahead," Cook chided. "No, I've been trading with the town and making a bit of profit for you. I've laid down some good wines and the buttery's full. By the time your people are settled I'll have a proper spread on for you. Miko, go and start the fire for me, there's a good boy! Girls, you see to the linens."

 

The servants they'd seen by the bridge emerged from the shadows by the door and hurried off on their assigned tasks.

 

As Tamir headed for the stairs she heard Tyrien whisper to Lynx, "The queen grew up here?"

 

Smiling to herself, Tamir took the stairs two at a time, with Ki close behind. She wondered when she could steal away to find Lhel, or if the witch would even show herself. And if she did, then what would Tamir say to her now?

 

Their old room was neat and well aired as if they still lived there. There was the wardrobe Brother had tried to crush Iya with, and the carved clothes chest where Tamir had hidden the doll. She felt a familiar pang, looking at that wide bed with its faded hangings and thick coverlet. She caught a look of the same pain in Ki's face as he stepped next door to the toy room.

 

"The extra bed's still here," he called. "The Companions and I can use this room."

 

Tamir leaned in the doorway, looking at the toy city and the other bits and pieces of her childhood, lying about. The only things missing were the old rag doll and Brother's sullen presence. Before Ki came to live with her, the demon had been her only playmate. She hadn't felt or seen Brother since Afra.

 

She went across the corridor and stood a moment in her father's room, trying to imagine she could still sense his spirit or catch his scent. But it was just a room, long abandoned.

 

Arkoniel paused in the doorway, with his traveling bundle in his arms. "I'll take my old room upstairs, if that's all right with you."

 

"Of course," she replied absently, thinking of a different room. She would visit that one later, and alone.

 

She lingered a moment longer, and Tharin quietly stepped in to join her. He had his saddlebags over one shoulder and looked slightly baffled.

 

"The guard will take the barracks. I still have my old room there, but—Well, perhaps you'd rather I take one of the guest chambers upstairs?"

 

"I'd be honored if you'd sleep in Father's room." Before he could object, she added, "I'd feel better, knowing you're so close by." "As you wish." He set his bag down and looked around. "It's good to be back. You should come more often, when things settle down. I miss the hunting here."

 

She nodded, understanding all he couldn't say. "Me, too."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 38

 

  

 

 

 

Cook was as good as her word; the supper was ample and well received. Everyone gathered around one long table and the squires helped the serving girls carry the dishes back and forth from the kitchen.

 

Nari sat on Tamir's left and asked endless questions about her battles and Ero and all that was going on at Atyion in preparation to meet Korin, but not once did she ask about the change. She treated Tamir just as she had treated Tobin, not in the least troubled by the alteration. She didn't even forget and call her Tobin. Not once.

 

They sat around the fire with their wine afterward and told more stories of the fighting they'd seen. Then Tharin and the women began reminiscing about Tamir and Ki when they were children here, much to the amusement of the other Companions. Arkoniel joined in, embellishing with apparent relish on what a poor student Ki had been. There was no mention of the death and tragedy these walls had witnessed, but Tamir caught the younger squires glancing around nervously as night closed in.

 

"I've heard this keep is haunted," Lorin ventured at last. Nikides gave him a warning look and the boy shrank down on the bench, murmuring, "That's only what I heard."

 

With no proper entertainment, there was little to keep them up late. Tamir kissed Nari and Cook good night and sent her guardsmen off.

 

"It's time we got some sleep, eh?" Nikides said, gathering the others.

 

They said good night outside their rooms, but Ki lingered at her door. "I'll stay, if you want. No one here cares." The temptation to say yes was so strong it took her breath away, but she shook her head. "No, better not."

 

"Good night, then." He turned for the door, but not before she caught the hurt look in his eyes.

 

It's for the best. This is my task. He can't help and it would only endanger him needlessly. It's for the best…

 

She kept telling herself that as she sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for the others to settle next door.

 

Someone laughed. A low murmur of voices followed, and the sounds of a good-natured argument as the unlucky squires were relegated to the pallets on the floor. She heard the shuffle of feet, the creak of bed ropes, then a dwindling murmur.

 

Tamir waited a bit longer and wandered over to the window. The moon was bright over meadow and river. She rested her chin in her hands, thinking of all the times she'd played there with Ki, the snow soldiers they'd fought, the fishing and swimming, and just lying on their backs in the tall grass, finding shapes in the clouds.

 

Satisfied that all was quiet next door, she took her night lamp and stole from the room. There was no sound from Tharin's room, either, and no light beneath his door.