The Bone Doll's Twin

  Orun bristled visibly. “Young sir, the king’s orders—”

  “Have taken Prince Tobin by surprise, my lord. He is still mourning the loss of his father,” Tharin interrupted. “I’m certain the king would not wish his only nephew discomforted further.” He leaned his head close to Tobin, as if listening to some whispered order, then turned back to Orun. “You must allow his highness to withdraw for a time and meditate on his uncle’s words. He will attend you when he has rested.”

  Orun recovered enough to make a passable bow, though there was no mistaking the suppressed outrage in his face. Tobin stifled another laugh. Turning his back on the courtier and his men, he strolled up the stairs as nonchalantly as he could manage. Ki and Tharin followed. Behind him, he could hear Tharin’s second in command, old Laris, barking out orders for the visitors’ accommodations.

  Arkoniel was waiting for them in Tobin’s bedchamber.

  “I heard most of it from the top of the stairs,” he said, looking uncommonly grim. “Tharin, it seems the time has come to call upon your knowledge of court. Do you know Lord Orun?”

  Tharin pulled a face like he’d eaten something bitter. “He’s Royal Kin, a distaff cousin of some degree. He’s no use in the field, but I’ve heard it said that he’s an able enough chancellor, and the funnel through which a great deal of information flows to the king’s ear.”

  “I don’t like the looks of him,” Ki growled. “He can say what he likes about me, but he spoke to Tobin like he was a scullion. ‘My young sir’!”

  Tharin gave him a wink. “Don’t fret yourself. Orun’s a painted bladder, more wind than substance.”

  “Do I have to go with him?” Tobin asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” Tharin told him. “A king’s summons can’t be ignored, not even by you. I’ll be with you, though, and so will Ki.”

  “I—I don’t want to go,” Tobin said, and was ashamed to hear the quaver in his voice. Clearing his throat, he added, “But I will.”

  “It won’t be so bad,” Tharin said. “Your father and I served among Erius’ Companions when we were boys, you know. The Old Palace is a fine place and you’ll train with the best in the land. Not that they’ll have much to teach you, with all the training you’ve done here. The pair of you may even show those city-bred dandies a thing or two.” He grinned at them, warm and sure as ever. “Prince Korin is a good lad, too. You’ll like him. So don’t lose heart. You show everyone who Princess Ariani’s son is, and I’ll keep an eye on old Orun for you.”

  Leaving the boys to calm down, Arkoniel brought Tharin upstairs to his workroom and locked the door. From here they had a clear view of the soldiers waiting in the meadow.

  “You and Tobin snubbed the reins nicely down there.”

  “He did well, didn’t he, once he got started? A proper little princeling with his back up. And I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been pleased to have that demon of his show up.”

  “Indeed. Tell me, when you were talking to the boys just now I had the impression you knew more about Orun than you let on.”

  Tharin nodded. “The first time I met Lord Orun he was guesting with Rhius’ father at Atyion. I was about Ki’s age at the time. Orun stumbled out of the feast blind drunk and ran into me in a deserted passageway. He backed me into a corner and offered me a cheap gilt ring if I’d let him bugger me.”

  Arkoniel sat down heavily on his stool. “By the Four! What did you do?”

  Tharin gave him a humorless smirk. “I told him if he had to pay he couldn’t be much good at it and legged it out of there. A day or two later I saw that same ring on the hand of one of the kitchen girls. Guess she was less particular.”

  Arkoniel gaped at him. “And this is who the king sends for his nephew?”

  Tharin shrugged. “Creatures like Orun don’t prey on their own kind. They stick to servants and peasants, those who won’t complain or be listened to if they do.”

  “I met with a few of that kind in my day, too. Iya taught me some choice spells to deal with them. But you were no peasant boy.”

  “No. As I said, he was drunk. Luckily for him, I was too angry and shamed to say anything when I should have, and he was too far gone at the time to remember me later, so I let it pass. He’d never dare lay hands on Tobin, I’m certain of it.”

  “But what about Ki?”

  “That would be almost as foolish, given his station, but I’ll have a word with the boy. Don’t worry, Arkoniel. I’ll be with them every step of the way until they’re safely delivered to the companion’s quarters. Arms Master Porion is a good man and keeps a close eye on his boys. They’ll be safe with him. If Orun tries to get up to anything before then, I’ll be more than happy to reintroduce myself.” He paused. “Am I right in thinking you can’t come with us?”

  “Iya wants me here, unnumbered by the Harriers. But it’s only a day’s ride if you need me.”

  “That it should come to this.” Tharin ran a hand wearily back though his hair. “You know, I was right beside Rhius until that last bad moment. If my horse hadn’t been hit-If I’d been where I was supposed to be, where I’ve always been-” He pressed his hand over his eyes.

  “You couldn’t control where the arrows went.”

  “I know that! But by the Four, it should be Rhius here alive and talking to you, and not me! Or both of us dead together.”

  Arkoniel studied the man’s grief-stricken face, thinking again of their conversation on the bridge after the vigil. “You loved him a great deal.”

  Tharin looked up at Arkoniel and his expression softened a little. “No more than he deserved. He was my friend, just like Tobin is with Ki—”

  A soft knock came at the door. “Tharin, are you there?” Nari called, sounding frantic.

  Arkoniel let her in. The woman was in a terrible state, teary-eyed and wringing her hands. “Lord Orun is raising a fuss downstairs! He’s frightened to death of the demon and says Tobin is to leave with him within the hour. He says that the king’s order gives him the right to force the child. You mustn’t allow it! Tobin doesn’t even have anything proper to wear to court. Ki has his sword drawn and says he’ll kill anyone who comes in the bedchamber!”

  Tharin was halfway out the door before she’d finished. “Has anyone tried?”

  “Not yet.”

  He turned to Arkoniel, eyes blazing. “What shall we do, Wizard? The bastard sees an orphaned boy surrounded by servants and thinks he can play the master in a dead man’s house.”

  “Well, bloodshed won’t do.” Arkoniel pondered the situation a moment, then smiled. “I think it’s time Prince Tobin set a few terms of his own. Send Tobin up to me. Tharin, you go with Nari and calm Ki down. I need to speak with the prince privately.”

  Tobin entered his chamber a few minutes later, looking pale but resigned.

  “Ki hasn’t killed anyone yet, has he?” Arkoniel asked.

  Tobin didn’t smile. “Lord Orun says we must go at once.”

  “What do you think of Lord Orun?”

  “He’s a fat, pompous bastard the king left behind because he’s not fit for battle!”

  “You’re a fine judge of character. And who are you?”

  “Me? What do you mean?”

  Arkoniel folded his arms. “You’re Prince Tobin, son of Princess Ariani, who by right of Oracle should have been Queen of Skala. You are the first-born son of Duke Rhius, Lord of Atyion and Cirna, the richest lord and the greatest warrior in the land. You are the nephew of the king and the cousin of his son, the future king. No matter how many guardians and stewards they put between you and what is rightfully yours, you mustn’t forget one jot of that, or let anyone else forget it, either. You’re a true noble of the purest blood, Tobin, modest and brave and forthright. I’ve seen it proven a hundred times over in my time here.

  “But now you’re going to court and must learn to wear a few masks besides. People like Orun must be fought with their own weapons: pride, arrogance, disdain, or whatever approxima
tion you can summon from that honest heart of yours. You mustn’t imagine that your father would treat a cur like that with respect when none is offered in return. If someone slaps you in the face, you must slap him right back, and harder. Do you understand?”

  “But—but he’s a lord and my uncle’s—”

  “And you are a prince and a warrior. Your uncle will see that when he returns. In the meantime, you’re going to have to make your own reputation. Be gracious to those who respect you, but have no mercy on those who don’t.”

  He could see Tobin taking all this in and weighing it. At last he set his jaw and nodded. “Then I don’t have to be polite to Lord Orun, even though he’s a guest?”

  “He’s behaved offensively. You owe him nothing more than the assurance of safety beneath your roof. You’ve given him that already, calling off Brother.” Arkoniel smiled again. “That was nicely done, by the way. Tell me, if you asked Brother to cause a stir, would he do it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never asked him to do anything, only to stop.”

  “Would you like to find out?”

  Tobin frowned. “I won’t have him hurt anyone. Not even Orun.”

  “Of course not. But Lord Orun doesn’t need to know that, does he? You must go downstairs now and inform our guest that you will need until tomorrow to put your household in good order.”

  “What if he says no?”

  “Then I hope that Brother will be good enough to convey your displeasure. Is he here now? No? Why not call him?”

  Tobin still looked faintly embarrassed as he spoke the summoning, although it wasn’t the first time the wizard had seen him do it. Arkoniel felt a change in the air, and knew by the way Tobin turned his head slightly that Brother had appeared behind him. The wizard shifted uneasily on his stool, not liking the thought of an unseen guest at his back.

  “Will you help me?” Tobin asked.

  “What does he say?”

  “Nothing. But I think he will.” Tobin thought of something and frowned. “Where is Lord Orun to sleep, if he stays the night? The only guest chamber we have is next to your room up here.”

  Arkoniel knew that Rhius and Ariani’s bedchambers could be offered, but hated the thought of that creature so close to the boys. “I suppose we could put him in the tower.” He’d meant it as a joke, but Tobin’s stricken look killed the smile on his lips. “It was only a jest, Tobin, and a bad one. He can make do with the hall. Have the servants set up a good bedstead with hangings for him, and a decent one for the herald, as well. They can hardly complain about that in a country house.”

  Tobin turned to go, but a sudden pang of fear and affection made Arkoniel call him back. When Tobin stood before him, however, he hardly knew where to begin. Laying a hand awkwardly on Tobin’s shoulder, he said, “You will have to go with him, you know. And life will be different in the city. You’ve led such a quiet life here, with people you could trust. It isn’t that way at court.” He groped for the right words. “If anyone should—”

  Tobin’s face betrayed little, but his rigid stance and the darting glance he stole at the hand on his shoulder made the wizard draw back in confusion. “Well, you must have a care for strangers,” he finished lamely. “If anything confuses you, you should speak of it to Tharin or Ki. They both have a wider experience of the world than you.” With a final burst of false heartiness, he waved Tobin off to the door. “You’ll soon find your feet.”

  As soon as the door closed behind the boy, Arkoniel sank his face into his hands. “That was a fine send-off!” he berated himself, wondering why the god’s will and two years of good intentions had gotten him no further into Tobin’s good graces than this. He’d fought Iya to be here, to help Tobin see what a normal life might be. He wanted nothing more than to protect him from treacherous men like Orun, or at least to warn him. A fine attempt he’d made, too, just now. He might just as well have summoned snakes from the walls and grown himself a second head.

  Chapter 37

  Tobin forgot all about Arkoniel’s last cryptic advice, pondering instead the revelation that he was within his rights to defy the unpleasant man downstairs. By the time he reached his room, he was looking forward to putting this newfound bit of knowledge to the test.

  Brother still shadowed him silently. For years Tobin had been too scared of the spirit to do anything but avoid him. Once they’d established their uneasy truce Brother had sometimes offered information, like the unexpected tattling on Lord Solari, but Tobin had never thought to seek any from him.

  He paused at the far end of the corridor and whispered, “Will you help me? Will you scare Lord Orun if he insults me again?”

  Brother gave him what might have been meant as the mocking semblance of a smile. Your enemies are my enemies.

  At his own door he could hear Nari weeping. Inside, he found her and Ki packing their small collection of belongings into chests. His father’s arms and sword were lashed into a bundle in a corner. Tharin stood by the foot of the bed, looking uncommonly dour.

  Everyone looked to him as he came in.

  “I’ve laid out your best tunic,” Nari told him, wiping her eyes on her apron. “You’ll be wanting your carving things, and your books. I suppose we can always send along anything we miss.”

  Tobin drew himself up and announced, “I’m not going tonight. Our guests should be made comfortable in the hall.”

  “But Lord Orun ordered …”

  “This is my house and I give the orders in it.” Seeing the way they stared at him, he added sheepishly. “At least that’s what Arkoniel says. I have to go tell Lord Orun now. Will you come with me, Tharin?”

  “We’re yours to command, my prince,” Tharin replied; then, aside to Ki, “We wouldn’t want to miss this.”

  Grinning, Ki followed them as far as the top of the grand staircase, where he gave Tobin a wink of encouragement before hiding himself to watch.

  With Tharin on his left and Brother before him, Tobin felt a bit bolder as he descended into the great hall again. Orun was pacing around the hearth, looking very put out. The herald and several soldiers were sitting nearby at a wine table, the blond wizard among them.

  “Well, then, are you prepared to leave?” Orun demanded.

  “No, my lord,” said Tobin, trying to sound like his father. “I must put my household in order and see that my things are properly packed for the journey. I’ll go with you tomorrow as early as can be arranged. Until then, you shall be my guest. A feast will be prepared for the evening and a bed set up for you here by the hearth.”

  Orun halted and stared up at him, grey brows rising toward his hat. “You’ll what?”

  Brother began to stalk the man, flowing down toward him smooth and low as fog on the river.

  “I did not come all the way to this benighted backwater to be answered back to by—”

  Lord Orun’s ill-fated hat flew off again. This time it landed in the middle of the smoldering hearth behind him, where it blossomed into a malodorous crimson burst of burnt silk and feathers. Orun’s hands flew to his bald pate, then curled into angry fists as he rounded on Tobin. Brother yanked at his sleeve, scattering golden beads, then crouched to spring at him, teeth bared.

  “Stop,” Tobin whispered in alarm, hoping he didn’t have to speak the command spell in front of all these people. Brother subsided and faded from view.

  “Have a care, my lord!” The blond wizard took Orun’s arm, steadying him.

  Lord Orun pulled away from him, then turned to give Tobin a false smile. “As you wish, Your Highness. But I fear the spirit that haunts this hall! Haven’t you a more hospitable chamber to offer a guest?”

  “No, my lord, I do not. But I assure you by my honor that none who wish me well will come to harm under my roof. Will you ride with me until the feast is prepared?”

  It was frustrating to hide himself away at the top of the house, but Arkoniel contented himself with keeping watch. Since he’d seen no evidence of the wizard Brother had spoken of,
he allowed himself the occasional sighting, following Tobin as he and his companions led Orun and a few of his escort a merry chase over a torturous mountain trail.

  He was drafting a letter to Iya when Nari knocked on his door and stuck her head in. “There’s someone here I think you’d best speak to, Arkoniel.”

  To his alarm, she ushered in one of Orun’s armed escort. He was a pleasant-looking young fellow, but all Arkoniel noticed at first glance was the red-and-gold badge the man wore, and his sword. Readying a killing spell, he slowly stood up and bowed.

  “What is it you want with me?”

  The guardsman shut the door and bowed. “Iya sends her greetings and told me to give you this as a token of good faith.” He held out his hand.

  Arkoniel approached cautiously, still expecting violence, and saw that his visitor held a small pebble in the hollow of his palm.

  Arkoniel took it and closed his fist around it, feeling Iya’s essence infused into the stone. It was one of her tokens, the sort she left only with those she felt would be of use to Tobin’s cause later. How this man had come by it remained to be learned.

  When he looked back at him, however, he let out a startled gasp. Instead of a soldier, he found himself facing a man who only slightly resembled the one he’d just been looking at. He was fair-skinned and blond, and his features showed a strong strain of Aurënfaie blood. “You’re a shape-shifter?”

  “No, just a mind clouder. My name is Eyoli of Kes. I met your mistress last year while passing myself off as a beggar and picking pockets. She caught me at it and told me she had better work for me to do. I didn’t know, you see.”

  “You didn’t know you were wizard born?”

  Eyoli shrugged. “I knew I could cloud minds and make ignorant people do as I wished. She sent me to study with a woman named Virishan at Ilear. You remember her?”

  “Yes, we spent most of a winter with her, a few years back. I’ve met mind clouders before, but this—” Arkoniel shook his head in admiration as Eyoli resumed the form of the soldier. “And to carry it off without detection. It’s a rare gift.”