Читать книгу The Oracle’s Queen - Lynn Flewelling - Страница 10

In the dream she was still Tobin who’d lived at the keep, and the tower door was never locked.

He climbed the stairs to his mother’s ruined sitting room at the top and found Brother waiting for him. Hand in hand, the twins climbed onto the ledge of the window that looked west toward the mountains. Between the tips of his boots, Tobin saw the river below, surging black beneath the ice like a great serpent trying to break free.

The grip on his hand tightened; it was his mother with him now, not Brother. Ariani was pale and bloody, but she smiled as she stepped off the ledge, pulling Tobin down with her.

But Tobin didn’t fall. He flew up into the sky and far over the mountains to a cliff above the dark Osiat Sea. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the now-familiar hills, and snowy peaks beyond. As always in this dream, the robed man stood off in the distance, waving to him. Would he ever see the man’s face?

Then Ki appeared at Tobin’s side and took his hand, drawing him to the brink of the cliff to show him the fine harbor that lay below. Tobin could see their faces reflected down there, side by side, like a miniature painted on silver foil.

Tamír had experienced this dream so often now that she knew she was dreaming, and turned all the more eagerly to Ki. Perhaps this time …

But as always, she woke with a start before their lips could touch.

Ki lay curled up on the far side of the bed, and opened his eyes as soon as she stirred. “You were restless. Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes. And now I’m starving.” She lay there, watching with bittersweet fondness as Ki yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes. He’d left the front of his shirt unlaced and she could see the little horse charm she’d made him soon after they’d met, still hanging around his neck on its chain. He’d never taken it off since she’d given it to him, not even in the bath. For a fleeting moment it could have been any morning in the old days, the two of them waking up together to face a new day.

The illusion shattered as quickly as her dream had when he got up so quickly and made his way barefoot to the door.

“I’ll go find us something to eat,” he said, not looking back. “I’ll knock before I come back in.”

Tamír sighed, guessing he was anxious to give her time to get dressed.

A moment later there was a knock at the door and Lady Una stepped in, still in her mud-stained tunic and boots. She wore a new baldric with the colors of Tamír’s guard.

Baldus woke at last and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Go find yourself some breakfast,” Tamír told the boy.

“Yes, Highness.” The boy yawned and gave Una a curious look, his eyes lingering admiringly on her sword. Then he recognized her and made her a hasty bow. “Lady Una!”

Una looked down at the boy, then gave a little cry of surprise. She knelt and took his hand. “You’re Lady Erylin’s son, aren’t you? I bet you know my brother Atmir. He’s Duchess Malia’s page at court.”

“Yes, lady! We have lessons together, and sometimes we play—” Baldus trailed off and his face fell. “Well, we did—before.”

“Have you seen him, since the attack?”

He shook his head sadly. “I haven’t seen any of my friends since the enemy came.”

Una’s kind smile couldn’t cover her disappointment. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe. If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Baldus bowed to Tamír and went out.

Una straightened to attention. “Forgive me, Highness. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’ve had no word of any of my family.”

“No need to apologize. Poor Baldus. He doesn’t really understand what’s happened. I hope you both find your kin.” She paused expectantly. “Why are you here?”

Una began to look uncomfortable. “Lord Tharin thought you might need assistance, Highness.”

Suddenly self-conscious to be sitting there in nothing but a woman’s nightgown, Tamír found the robe and wrapped herself in it. “Better?”

Una made her another hasty bow. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to you, really, or how to act.”

“You and everyone else!” Tamír spread her arms. “Well, here I am. Take a good look.”

Una blushed. “It’s not that. You know, when I threw myself at you and kissed you that time? If I’d known, I’d never have done such a thing.”

Tamír still blushed at the memory. “It wasn’t your fault. Hell, I didn’t know either back then. Believe me, I don’t hold it against you. Let’s just forget it.” She raked a hand absently back through her tangled hair. “Look at you now, a warrior, after all! I guess those sword-fighting lessons were useful, after all.”

“It was a good start,” said Una, obviously relieved by the change of subject. “Although I think I was the only girl who wasn’t there just to make eyes at the boys.”

Ki hadn’t minded that at all, Tamír recalled. She pushed that thought aside at once. “So, Captain Ahra finished your education?”

“Yes. I remembered Ki’s stories about his sister, so I rode for Lord Jorvai’s holding the night I ran away and found her. I put all my trust in her, and she promised to make a soldier of me. Her methods weren’t quite as refined as yours, though.” Una grinned. “I must admit, I was a bit surprised when I met her. She’s much—rougher than Ki.”

Tamír laughed outright at that. “I’ve met his whole family, and that’s a very forgiving assessment. But tell me, why did you run away like that? There were rumors that you’d been killed by the king, or your father.”

“That’s not far from the truth. Father was terrified of losing favor with your uncle. He beat me and said I was to be sent off to live with some ancient aunt in the central islands until he could marry me off. So I ran away. All I took was this.” She touched her sword hilt. “It was my grandmother’s. Mother gave it to me with her blessing when I left. But things are different now, aren’t they? Women can be warriors again, even noblewomen.”

“Yes, even nobles.”

Forgetting her breeches and sword, Una made her a graceful curtsy. “You have my loyalty until death, Highness.”

Tamír bowed. “And I accept it. Now tell me honestly, do you think I look much like a girl?”

“Well—Perhaps if you combed your hair? And didn’t scowl so much?”

Tamír let out an unladylike snort, noting with a twinge of envy that Una really was quite pretty, with her smooth, dark hair and oval face.

Baldus peeked in just then. “It’s Mistress Iya, Highness. She wants to come in.”

Tamír frowned at the intrusion, but nodded.

Iya wore a gown of fine brown wool and a fancy leather girdle, and her long grey hair was combed loose over her shoulders, making her look younger and less severe than usual. She was carrying what looked like several dresses over one arm.

“Hello, Una. Good morning, Highness. Ki said you were awake. I hope you rested well?”

Tamír shrugged, eyeing the gowns with suspicion.

Iya smiled and held them up. “I’ve come to help you dress.”

“I’m not wearing those!”

“I’m afraid you must. There are already enough rumors flying about saying you’re only a boy playing at being a girl, without you adding to them. Please, Tamír, you must trust me in this. There’s nothing shameful about wearing a dress, is there, Lady Una? It hasn’t stopped you being a soldier.”

“No, Mistress.” Una shot Tamír an apologetic glance.

But there was still too much of Tobin in her for Tamír to give in so easily. “Ki and Tharin will laugh their heads off—and the rest of my guard, too! Damn it, Iya, I’ve worn breeches all my life. I’ll trip on the skirts. I’ll turn my ankles in slippers and look a fool!”

“All the more reason for you to get used to them now, before you have a great crowd of nobles and generals to impress. Come now, don’t make such a fuss.”

“I won’t ride in a gown,” Tamír warned. “And I sure as hell won’t ride sidesaddle! I don’t give a damn what anyone says.”

“Should a princess use such rough language?” asked Una, trying to stifle a smile and failing.

“One step at a time,” said Iya. “Besides, her grandmothers all swore like Scavenger men. Queen Marnil could make generals blush. For today, let’s just concentrate on appearances. Duchess Kallia will send her dressmaker to you. In the meantime, she was good enough to lend you some of her eldest daughter’s gowns. The two of you are close in size.”

Tamír blushed as she took off the nightgown, then felt a perfect fool as Iya and Una helped her into a linen shift and pulled a heavy green satin dress down over her head.

“What do you think of this one, before we lace it up?” asked Iya, turning her to face the mirror.

“I hate it!” Tamír snapped, barely glancing at her reflection.

“I admit that’s not a good color for you. Makes you look sallow. But you must wear something, and these are all we have.”

Tamír discarded one after another, grudgingly settling at last on a high-necked hunting gown of dark blue wool, mostly because it was plainer than any of the others, shorter in the front, and cut loose for easy movement. The laced sleeves were tied on at the shoulder, letting her move her arms easily. The style also allowed her to wear her boots rather than the soft shoes Iya had brought. When Una had laced it up, it was still loose through the bodice, but not as uncomfortable as she’d expected.

“This goes with it, I believe.” Iya handed her a leather girdle embossed with leaves and flowers. It fastened with a golden clasp and hung low on her slim hips, with a long gold-tipped end that hung down the front of the gown to her knees. Tamír picked it up, impressed with the workmanship. “This looks like Ylanti work.”

“You always did have an eye for fine things.” Una pulled out the sword pendant Tamír had made for her a few years earlier. “Are you still making jewelry?”

Tamír looked up, chagrined at being caught liking any part of this ridiculous outfit. “All my tools were lost in Ero.”

“You’ll find more, I’m sure,” said Iya. “You have the gift. You mustn’t ignore it. Now Una, see what you can do with that hair. My horse’s tail looks better.”

Tamír sat fidgeting as Una combed her hair. “Nothing too fancy. I don’t want to be fussing with it all the time like—like some girl!”

Una and Iya both chuckled at that.

“There’s no reason you can’t wear it as you always have,” Una told her, deftly replaiting the warrior braids. “All the women soldiers I know wear their hair loose, or in a long braid in back to keep it out of their faces. Let’s see how that looks.” She plaited Tamír’s hair back into a thick braid, then took a bit of red leather thong from her belt pouch. “See, no ribbons. And I promise not to make a bow, either. There. Have a look.”

Tamír faced the mirror again and was rather surprised at what she saw. “Hand me my sword belt.”

She buckled it on over the girdle, then checked her reflection again. The gown was actually rather flattering, making her look slender rather than skinny and angular. The small side braids and the sword still marked her as a warrior, but she looked less boyish than she had. She made an effort not to scowl. No one would call her a beauty, that was for certain, but her eyes seemed bluer, accented by the gown.

“I’ve been saving something for you. Your father entrusted it to me, years ago.” Iya produced a thin golden circlet from the folds of her robe and presented it to Tamír. It was beautiful, and very simple, just a band of gold engraved with a stylized wave pattern. “That’s Aurënfaie work. It was your mother’s.”

Tamír started to put it on, but Una stopped her. “No, it won’t look right with your hair back. Let me.”

She undid the large braid and combed the hair out with her fingers. Then she lifted the top layer and drew it up through the circlet before settling the ring around Tamír’s brow. She let the hair fall back over it, so that only the section of the band across Tamír’s brow showed. She smoothed the small braids back into place. “There! Now people will know you’re a princess.”

Tamír pulled the gold chain from around her neck and broke it, slipping off the two rings. She placed her father’s heavy black signet on her right forefinger, and the amethyst portrait ring on her left ring finger, where it fit perfectly. When she studied her reflection again, her expression was softer, almost wondering. This time, a girl was looking back at her, even if she did still feel like a boy in a dress.

Iya stood just behind her, one hand covering her mouth and a suspicious brightness in her eyes. “Oh, my dear girl, look at you—the true warrior queen returned at last. Una, call in Ki and Tharin, and Arkoniel, too, if he’s out there.”

Tamír stood nervously by the mirror as the men came in, with Baldus on their heels.

“You look pretty!” the little boy exclaimed.

“Thank you.” Tamír glared at Tharin and Ki, daring them to laugh.

“The lad’s right,” Tharin said, coming to her and turning her this way and that. “By the Flame! What do you say, Ki? Our girl polishes up well, doesn’t she?”

Ki had been staring at her all this time, not saying a word. At last he gave her a doubtful nod. “Better.”

“Better?” Tamír’s heart sank a little and she hated herself for it. Not in a dress for an hour yet and she was already acting like those girls at court!

“No, really,” Ki said quickly. “You’re much prettier with your hair fixed and all. That dress suits you, too. I bet you could fight in it if you had to.”

Tamír drew her sword and made a swift series of thrusts and feints. The skirts swirled around her legs, and she caught the hem with her bootheel once or twice. “It needs to be shorter.”

“You’ll start a new fashion,” Tharin said, grinning.

Una laughed. “Or a scandal!”

“Yes, it might be better if you put on breeches to fight,” mused Iya. “Failing that, though, if you’re caught off guard, try this.” She swept up the right side of her long skirt and tucked the hem into her girdle. “It’s easier to run like this, too.”

Tamír groaned, imagining a life hampered by gowns.

“Come along, Highness. Your court awaits,” Iya told her. “Let them see their queen and spread the word.”