“You’re a man now, and a warrior,” said Korin, toasting him with a golden mazer. “It’s time you tasted a man’s pleasures!”
Caught in a nightmare, Tobin fought to hide his dismay. Alben was already smirking with Urmanis and Zusthra.
“I’m honored, my prince,” the girl said, settling close beside him and offering him sweetmeats from a gilded plate. She was perhaps eighteen, but her eyes were as old as Lhel’s as she looked him over. Her manner was demure, but there was hardness just behind her smile that curdled the dinner in Tobin’s belly.
He let her fill his cup again and drank deeply, wishing he could just vanish or sink through the ground. He could do neither, unfortunately, and at last the girls rose and took their chosen paramours by the hand, leading them off to the rooms at the back of the pavilion.
Tobin’s legs would hardly support him as the girl parted a curtain and drew him into a tapestry-walled inner chamber. A silver lamp hung from a chain overhead, and incense burned in a censer on a carved stand. Patterned carpets gave softly under his boots as she led him to a curtained bed. Still smiling her false smile, she began to unlace his tunic.
Caught between mortification and despair, Tobin kept his head down, praying she wouldn’t see him blush. To run away would make him the laughingstock of the Companions, but the alternative was unthinkable.
Tobin’s heart was hammering so hard in his ears that he hardly heard her when she stopped and whispered, “Would you rather not undress, my prince?”
She was waiting, but no words would come. He stared miserably at the floor and shook his head.
“Just this, then,” she murmured, reaching for the lacings of his trousers. He flinched away and she stopped. They stood like that for some time, until he suddenly felt the soft brush of lips against his cheek.
“You don’t want this, do you?” she whispered close to his ear. “I saw it the minute they dragged you in.”
Tobin shuddered, imagining what she’d tell Korin later. He’d cast Quirion out for cowardice in battle; would this amount to the same thing?
To his astonishment, she hugged him. “That’s all right, then. You don’t have to.”
“I—I don’t?” he quavered, and looked up to find her smiling, a real smile. The hardness had left her face; she looked very kind.
“Come, sit with me.”
There was nowhere to sit but on the bed. She curled up against the bolsters and patted the place beside her. “Come on,” she coaxed. “I won’t do anything.”
Hesitantly, Tobin joined her and pulled his knees up under his chin. By that time soft cries and louder grunting were coming from the other enclosures. Tobin resisted the urge to plug his ears; he recognized some of those voices and thanked the Four that the squires hadn’t come along, too. He couldn’t have stood hearing Ki going on like that. It sounded almost like they were in pain, yet it was strangely exciting, too. He felt his body responding and blushed more hotly than ever.
“The prince means well, I’m sure,” the girl whispered, not sounding as if she meant it. “He’s been quite the stag since he was younger than you, but he’s a different sort of fellow, isn’t he? Some boys aren’t ready so young.”
Tobin nodded. It was true enough, in its way.
“But you have your reputation among your friends to consider, I think?” she went on, and chuckled at Tobin’s groan of agreement. “That’s easily dealt with. Move over to the edge, if you please.”
Still wary, Tobin did as she asked and watched in amazement as she knelt in the middle of the bed and began to make those alarming sounds, moaning, laughing deep in her throat, and letting out little yelps very much like those that were echoing around them now. Then, to his complete consternation, she began to bounce on the bed like a child. Without breaking off her cries, she grinned and held out her hands to Tobin.
Understanding at last, he joined her and started bouncing on his knees with her. The bed ropes creaked and the rails rattled. She raised her voice in an impressive crescendo, then collapsed on the bed with a breathy sigh. Burying her face in the coverlet, she smothered a fit of giggling.
“Well done, coz!” Korin called drunkenly.
Tobin covered his mouth with both hands to stifle his own sudden laughter. His companion looked up at him, eyes bright with shared merriment, and whispered gleefully, “I believe your reputation is safe, my prince.”
Tobin lay down close beside her so he could keep his voice low. “But why?”
She rested her chin in her hands and gave him a sly look. “My task is to bring my customers pleasure. Did that please you?”
Tobin stifled another laugh. “Very much!”
“Then that’s what I shall report to your cousin and the king when they ask me. Which they will.” She gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “You’re not the first, my dear. A few of your friends out there share the same secret.”
“Who?” Tobin asked. She clucked her tongue at him and he blushed again. “How can I thank you? I don’t even have my purse with me.”
She stroked his cheek fondly. “You are an innocent, aren’t you? A prince never pays, my dear, not among my sort. I only ask that you remember me kindly and treat my sisters well when you’re older.”
“Your sisters—? Oh, I see. Yes, I will. But I don’t even know your name.”
She considered this, as if weighing the question. At last she smiled again, and said, “It’s Yrena.”
“Thank you, Yrena. I won’t forget your kindness, not ever.”
He could hear people moving around, the rustle of clothing and the rattle of belts.
“We’d better put on the finishing touches.” Grinning, she pulled the lacings of his tunic awry, tousled his hair, and pinched color into his cheeks with her fingers. Then, like an artist, she pulled back to inspect her work. “Nearly there, I think.” Going to a small side table, she took up an alabaster rouge pot and painted her lips, then kissed him several times on the face and neck. When she was done she wiped her mouth on the sheet and pressed a last kiss to his brow. “There now, don’t you look the proper wastrel? If your friends ask for details, just smile. That should be answer enough for them. If they insist on dragging you back, say you’ll have only me.”
“Do you think they might?” Tobin whispered, alarmed.
Laughing silently, Yrena kissed him again and sent him on his way.
Yrena’s ruse worked. The Companions carried him back to the keep in triumph and the squires listened enviously as the other boys bragged about their evening’s conquests. Tobin felt Ki’s eyes on him every time he avoided answering questions.
Alone in their room later, Tobin could hardly look him in the face.
Ki hiked himself up onto the windowsill, grinning expectantly. “Well?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Tobin told him the truth. Ki might laugh at him, but they could laugh together.
But his friend’s reaction wasn’t quite what he’d hoped. “You mean, you—couldn’t?” he asked, frowning. “You said she was pretty!”
Every time he’d lied to Ki, it had been because of the same secret, and every time it had felt like a betrayal.
Tobin struggled with himself a moment longer, then shrugged. “I just didn’t want to.”
“You should have said something. Korin would have let you pick another—”
“No! I didn’t want any of them.”
Ki stared down at his dangling feet for a long time, then sighed. “So it is true.”
“What’s true?”
“That you—” It was Ki blushing now, and he still wouldn’t look at Tobin. “That you don’t—you know—fancy girls. I mean, I thought when you got older and all—”
The panic Tobin had felt in the brothel tent crept back. “I don’t fancy anyone!” he shot back. Fear and guilt made the words come out angry.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” Ki slid off the sill and took him by the shoulders. “That is, well—Oh, never mind. I didn’t mean anything by
it, all right?”
“Yes, you did!”
“It doesn’t matter, Tob. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Tobin knew that wasn’t true, but that Ki wanted it to be.
If only I could tell him, Tobin thought. If he knew the truth. How would he look at me then? The urge to blurt it all out was so strong that he had to turn away and press his lips together to stop the words.
Somewhere nearby, he could hear Brother laughing.
Neither of them spoke of it again, but Ki didn’t join in with the others’ good-natured teasing when Tobin found excuses not to go back to the painted tent.
Tobin rode out alone more often after that, searching for Lhel and Arkoniel, but they were still nowhere to be found.
Chapter 45
The king kept his promise and at mid-Kemmin, the Companions rode out to hunt bandits in the hill country north of Ero. Korin talked as brashly as ever, but Tobin could tell that he was anxious to redeem himself in their eyes. According to Tharin, whispers about his previous falter had found their way around the Palatine.
The night before the Companions left, the king hosted a feast in their honor. Princess Aliya sat at her father-in-law’s right and played hostess. In spite of early fears, this pregnancy had progressed well. The birth was expected soon after the Sakor festival and her belly filled out the front of her gown like a great round loaf.
The king continued to dote on her, and she was all sweetness with him, and with everyone in public. In private, however, Ki’s prediction had proven true. She was still the same harridan she’d always been, and the discomforts of her state had not improved her temper. Tobin escaped her sharp tongue most days, though only because he was Kin. Korin wasn’t so fortunate; already exiled from his lady’s bed for months, he’d quietly gone back to his old ways. Aliya had learned of it, of course, and the ensuing rows had become legendary. According to her lady-in-waiting, the princess had a strong throwing arm and excellent aim.
None of this made Tobin like her any better, but he found himself fascinated by her all the same, for she was the first pregnant woman he’d known. Lhel said this was part of a woman’s secret power and he began to see what she meant, especially after Aliya insisted that he put his hand on her belly to feel the child move. Mortified at first, his embarrassment gave way to wonder as something hard and slippery skittered fleetingly against his palm. After that he often caught himself staring at her belly, watching for that mysterious play of movement. That was Korin’s child, and his own kin.
That winter started wet and unseasonably warm. The Companions and their men set out in drizzle and didn’t see the sun again for weeks. The roads were churned mud under their horses’ hooves. Inns and forts were sparse in this part of the country, so they spent most nights in waxed canvas tents—damp, cheerless encampments.
The first pack of bandits they found was a paltry one, just a few ragged men and boys who’d been stealing cattle. They surrendered without a fight and Korin hanged the lot.
A week later they found a stronger band entrenched in a hillside cave. They captured their horses, but the men were well armed and held out for four days before hunger forced them out. Even then, they fought fiercely. Korin killed the leader in the midst of a bloody melee. Tobin added three more to his score, and without any help from Brother. He hadn’t tried summoning the ghost or seen any sign of him since leaving the keep.
The soldiers stripped the bodies before burning them, and only then was it discovered that eight were women, including Ki’s second kill. She had grey in her hair and old scars on her arms.
“I didn’t know,” he said, troubled.
“She was a bandit, Ki, same as the others,” Tobin told him, but it gave him an odd feeling in his stomach, too.
Tharin and Koni had paused over another body. Tobin recognized the stained green tunic in Koni’s hands; this had been one of his own kills. This woman was older than the other. Her sagging breasts and the thick streaks of white in her hair made him think of Cook.
“I knew her,” Tharin said, draping a ragged cloak over the body. “She was a captain in the White Hawk Regiment.”
“I can’t believe I fought a woman!” Alben cried, rolling one of his kills over with his foot. He spat in disgust.
“There’s no shame in it. They were warriors in their day.” Tharin spoke quietly, but everyone heard the angry edge behind the words.
Porion shook his head. “No true warrior goes freebooter.”
Tharin turned away.
Korin spat on the dead captain. “Renegade trash and traitors, all of them. Burn them with the others.”
Tobin had no sympathy for lawbreakers—Una and Ahra had both found ways to serve without turning renegade and the women of Atyion were content to wait. But Tharin’s unspoken anger stayed with him, unsettling as the smell of burned flesh that clung to their clothing as they rode away.
The dead captain haunted Tobin’s dreams for weeks after, but she was not a vengeful spirit. Naked and bloody, she knelt weeping to lay her sword at his feet.
Chapter 46
The rains held steady through Cinrin. On Mourning Night high winds blew in off the sea, tearing the black shrouds from the bronze festival gongs and scattering them like funeral offerings through the rain-lashed streets. The gongs clashed against their posts, sounding a midnight alarm instead of the dawn triumph.
There were bad omens during ritual, as well. The Sakor bull resisted, tossing its head, and it took the king three strokes to make the critical gash. When Korin delivered the entrails and liver to the waiting priests, they found them riddled with worms. Propitiatory sacrifices were carried out at once, but a week later the portent was realized, or so it seemed.
Tobin was dining with Korin in his chambers that evening, a small affair in Aliya’s honor. Rain drummed hard on the roof, all but drowning out the harp player.
It was an informal meal, and everyone was reclining on couches. Aliya laughed as Erius endeavored to make her comfortable with extra cushions.
“You’re a carrack filled with treasure, my dear,” he said, patting the great swell of her belly. “Ah, there he is, the fine fellow, kicking at his grandfather. And again! Are you certain you only have one baby in there?”
“I’ve felt so many pokes and jabs, you’d think I’m bearing a whole regiment!” She cradled her swollen middle. “But it’s to be expected with a boy child, or so the drysians tell me.”
“Another boy.” Erius nodded. “The gods must favor a Skalan king, or the Maker would not send us so many. First Korin, then young Tobin here for my sister. And all the girls gone. A libation for my grandson, and a toast! To the kings of Skala!”
Tobin had no choice but to join in, and did so with mixed emotions. He wished the child no harm.
“That was a rather paltry libation, Tobin,” Erius chided, and Tobin realized with a start that he’d been watched.
“My apologies, Uncle,” he said, hastily pouring out half his cup on the floor. “Blessings on Korin and his family.”
“You mustn’t be jealous, coz,” Korin said.
“It’s not like anyone ever expected you to be the true second heir, is it?” Aliya said, and Tobin went sick all over, wondering if anyone else saw the flash of naked malice in her eyes. “You’ll always be Korin’s right hand, of course. And what greater honor could there be?”
“Of course.” Tobin forced a smile, wondering how she’d treat him once the child was born. “I never thought any differently.”
The feast went on, but Tobin felt as if the whole world had suddenly shifted out from under his feet. He was sure he saw Aliya’s father stealing hard looks at him, and the king’s smiles seemed false. Even Korin ignored him. The food was tasteless in his mouth, but he forced himself to eat, in case someone was still watching him, judging his demeanor.
The first dessert had just been served when Aliya let out a sharp cry and gripped her belly. “The pains,” she gasped, white with fear. “Oh Mother, the pains have c
ome, just like last time!”
“It’s all right, poppet. It’s close enough to your time,” the duchess said, beaming. “Come, let’s get you to your bed. Korin, send for the midwives and drysians!”
Korin took Aliya’s hands and kissed them. “I’ll be with you soon, my love. Tobin, call the Companions and have them keep the vigil for us. My heir is coming!”
* * *
By custom, the Companions kept watch outside the birthing room. They milled nervously among the other courtiers, listening nervously to the shrill cries that came with increasing frequency from within.
“Is that how she’s supposed to sound?” Tobin whispered to Ki. “It sounds like she’s dying!”
Ki shrugged. “Some holler more than others, especially the first time.” But as the night dragged on and the cries turned to screams, even he grew uneasy.
The midwives came and went with basins and grim faces. Just before dawn one of them summoned Tobin inside. As Royal Kin, he was required to be among the witnesses.
A crowd stood around the curtained bed, but a place was made for him by the king and Korin. His cousin was sweating and pale. Chancellor Hylus, Lord Niryn, and at least a dozen other ministers were there, together with priests of all four gods.
Aliya had stopped screaming; he could her ragged panting from the bed. Through a gap in the hangings Tobin caught sight of one bare leg, streaked with blood. He looked away quickly, feeling like he’d seen something shameful. Lhel had spoken of magic and power; this was more like torture.
“Soon now, I think,” the king murmured, looking pleased.
As if in answer, Aliya let out a shrill scream that raised the hair on Tobin’s neck. It was followed by several others, but the voices were not hers. Aliya’s mother tumbled out from between the bed hangings in a dead faint and he heard women weeping.
“No!” Korin cried, tearing the curtains aside. “Aliya!”