“What if he did?” To his astonishment, Tobin blushed. “You think Ki would think less of you for it?”
“Why do you think I had it up in the tower?”
“Well, I’ve seen it, and I certainly don’t.”
Tobin rolled his eyes. “You’re a wizard.” Arkoniel laughed. “Has my manhood just been insulted?”
“You’re not a warrior!” Some strong emotion shook Tobin now, making his eyes flash and his voice break. “Warriors don’t want dolls. I only have this one because Lhel says I must. For Brother.”
Arkoniel watched him closely. The way Tobin still clasped the lopsided doll belied every word he spoke.
She spoke, he amended. For the first time in a very long time, Arkoniel allowed himself to make the correction, though he saw little sign of the hidden princess in the angry youth before him—except perhaps for the way the strong, callused hands neither crushed nor threw away what they professed to be ashamed of.
“I believe you misjudge your friend,” he said quietly. “It’s a keepsake from your dead mother. Who would begrudge you that? But you must manage that as you see best.”
“But—” Confusion warred with stubbornness on the boy’s drawn face.
“What is it?”
“The night Ki came, Brother showed me. He showed me Ki finding the doll, and how disappointed and shamed everyone was that I had it. Just like Father told me. And everything else he’s shown me has come true. At least I think so. You remember the fox with the broken back? And I knew when Iya was coming. And—And he told me that Lord Solari wants to take Atyion away from me.”
“Does he, now? I’ll pass that along to Tharin. As for the rest of it, I don’t know. It’s possible that Brother could lie when he wants. Or that what he shows you can change with time, or that perhaps you don’t always understand what he shows you.” He reached to pat Tobin’s shoulder and this time the boy allowed it. “You’re not wizard born, but you’ve a bit of the sight in you. You should have shared your visions with Lhel or me. It’s our gift and our service.”
Tobin’s shoulders sagged. “Forgive me, Master Arkoniel. You’ve always helped me and I’ve shown you poor courtesy.”
Arkoniel waved aside the apology. For the first time since his arrival here he felt that a true link had been forged between them. “I don’t expect you to understand it yet, but I’ve pledged my life to protecting you. Perhaps one day you’ll remember what we’ve shared here tonight and know that I’m your friend. Even if I am only a wizard.” Grinning, he held out his hand in the warrior style.
Tobin clasped it. The old guarded look had not completely left him, but in his eyes the wizard saw a respect that hadn’t been there before.
“I’ll remember, Wizard.”
Exhausted beyond words, Tobin crept back to his bedchamber and hid the doll deep in one of the traveling chests.
He tried to slip into bed without disturbing Ki, but as he lay back he felt Ki’s hand on his arm.
“Are you sick, Tob? You were gone a long time.”
“No—” Arkoniel thought he should tell Ki about the doll, and suddenly he was badly tempted to. Maybe Ki wouldn’t care, after all. He hated having secrets between them and the doll was so close, just a few feet away. But the memory of Brother’s fury when he’d tried to show it to Nari was still too clear.
“I just wanted to say good-bye to Arkoniel,” he mumbled.
“We’re going to miss him. I bet he has a few spells up his sleeve that would shut Lord Orun up.”
It was too hot for blankets or shirts. Sprawled on their backs, they stared up into the shadows.
“It’s been a rotten few weeks, hasn’t it?” Ki said after a while. “With your father—” His voice choked off for a moment. “And old Slack Guts downstairs? Not quite the way we meant to go east.”
A lump hardened in Tobin’s throat and he shook his head. His father’s death, his mother’s ghost, the summons to Ero, Arkoniel’s warnings tonight, and the business with Brother, the pack of strangers waiting for them downstairs—
All the tears he hadn’t been able to find over the years suddenly seemed to find him and rolled silently down his cheeks into his ears. He didn’t dare sniff or wipe at them for fear Ki would know.
“’Bout time,” Ki muttered huskily, and Tobin realized his friend was weeping too. “I was starting to think you didn’t know how. You’ve got to mourn, Tobin. All warriors do.”
Is that what this pain was? Tobin wondered. But it felt so big. If he let it loose, it would sweep him away and he’d be lost. Easier to retreat again into the numbing silence that had protected him for so long. He imagined it flowing into him like liquid darkness, filling his lungs, spreading out to his limbs and head until he was nothing more than a black shape himself.
“That’s not good way, keesa.”
Tobin looked over to find Lhel standing in the doorway. It was dawn.
She beckoned to him, then disappeared in the direction of the stairs. He hurried after her, but caught only the sight of her ragged skirt as she slipped out the door of the great hall. Lord Orun was snoring loudly behind the curtains of his bed. Tobin hurried out through the open gate in time to see Lhel disappearing into the forest across the bridge.
“Wait!” he called, then clamped a hand over his mouth in alarm. The dew-soaked meadow below the keep was filled with Orun’s escort. He’d thought there were only two score or so yesterday, but now it looked like there were at least a hundred. A few sentries were gathered around the morning cook fire, but no one noticed him as he ran barefoot into the woods.
As soon as he reached the shelter of the trees he understood. This wasn’t the real forest; it was the one he’d come to so often in visions after his mother’s death.
This time he didn’t need Brother to guide him. He found the river path easily and followed it to the clearing where the two gentle deer grazed by the hole in the ground. When he entered the opening this time, he found himself inside Lhel’s oak.
The witch and his mother sat by the fire. His mother was suckling an infant at her breast. Lhel held the rag doll on her lap instead of the rabbit.
“This is a seeing dream, keesa,” Lhel told him.
“I know.”
Lhel gave him the doll and shook her finger at him. “Don’t you be forgetting him.”
“I won’t!” What else had he been worrying about all night?
His mother looked up from the baby, her blue eyes clear and sane, but full of sadness. “I want to be there, too, Tobin. Don’t leave me in the tower!” She held up the baby. “He’ll show you.”
Lhel jumped, as if startled to find her here. “Keesa can’t be worried about that. Go!”
Ariani and the baby disappeared, and Lhel drew Tobin down onto the pallet beside her. “Don’t you be worried about her. That’s not your burden now. You look out for you and Brother. And Ki.”
She cast a handful of herbs and bones into the fire and studied the pattern of their burning. “This hairless man? I don’t like him but you must go. I see your path. It takes you to the stinking city of the king. You don’t know this king yet. You don’t know his heart.” She threw in more herbs and rocked slowly back and forth, eyes narrowed to slits. Then she sighed, and leaned close until all Tobin could see was her face. “You see blood? Don’t tell nobody. Nobody.”
“Like the doll.” Tobin thought of his near slip with Ki.
Lhel nodded. “You love your friend, you don’t tell him. You see blood, you come here to me.”
“What blood, Lhel? I’m a warrior. I’m going to see blood!”
“Maybe you will, maybe not. But if you do—” She touched her finger to his heart. “You know here. And you come to Lhel.”
She poked him in the chest again, harder this time, and Tobin woke in his own bed in the hot darkness with Ki snoring softly beside him.
Tobin turned on his side, pondering the dream. He could still feel Lhel’s finger on his chest, and the softness of the furs he’d s
at on. A seeing dream, Lhel had told him.
Wondering if he should go ask Arkoniel if it had been a vision or just a regular dream, he drifted back to sleep.
Part Three
From the memoirs of Queen Tamír II.
Ero.
When I recall the city now, the actual place, so briefly known, is overlaid in my mind by the image of the simple model my father built for me. In my dreams wooden people, clay sheep, wax geese populate the crooked streets. Flat-bottomed boats with parchment sails slide whispering across a dusty painted harbor.
Only the Palatine survives in my memory as it was, and those who lived within its walls and mazes.
Chapter 38
Tobin rode out from the keep on the twenty-third day of Lenthin and didn’t look back. He’d said his farewells at dawn and let the women weep over him. With Ki and Tharin beside him, his father’s ashes at his saddlebow, and a column of men at his back, he set his face for Ero, determined to uphold the honor of his family as best he could.
He’d been surprised to learn from Lord Orun that the ride would take only a day. With no heavy baggage to slow them, they rode for long stretches at a gallop and soon left Alestun behind. Beyond it the familiar road joined another that wound back into the dark forest. After several hours the forest gave way to a vast rolling countryside netted with rivers and dotted with wide-flung farmsteads and estates.
Lord Orun insisted on courtly protocol, so that Tobin was forced to ride in front beside him, with Tharin and Ki behind with the herald and servants. The men from the keep, who were now to be called Prince Tobin’s Guard, rode in the column with the other soldiers. Tobin looked for the disguised wizard among them, but hadn’t caught sight of him before he had to take his own position.
At midmorning they came to a broad lake that reflected the clouds overhead and the fine stone manor house on the far side. A great flock of wild geese was swimming and grazing along its shores.
“That estate once belonged to an aunt of your mother’s,” Tharin remarked as they rode past.
“Who does it belong to now?” asked Tobin, marveling at the grandness of the place.
“The king.”
“Is Atyion as large as that?”
“Put ten of those together and you begin to match it. But Atyion has a town around it, with fields and proper walls.”
Looking back, Tobin saw that his mountains were already growing smaller behind him. “How much longer until we reach Ero?”
“If we push on, I should say before sunset, my prince,” Lord Orun replied.
Tobin spurred Gosi on, wondering how Alestun could have seemed so far away when the capital itself was only a day’s ride. Suddenly the world seemed a great deal smaller than it had.
They passed through a market town called Korma just after noon. It was larger than Alestun and had the usual sort of traders and farmers crowding the square, as well as a few Aurënfaie in elaborately wrapped purple head cloths. Several were performing on lyres and flutes.
Lord Orun stopped at the largest inn to rest the horses and dine. The innkeeper bowed low to him, and even lower to Tobin when he was introduced. Their host made a great fuss over Tobin, bringing him all sorts of foods to try and refusing to take any payment except Tobin’s kind remembrance. He wasn’t used to such a commotion and was very glad to set off again.
They rode at a more leisurely pace through the heat of the day and Lord Orun took it upon himself to keep Tobin entertained. He spoke of the Prince Royal’s Companions and their training and what Tobin could look forward to in the way of entertainments.
From him, Tobin learned that he might purchase anything a boy could desire simply by using his father’s seal, which he still wore around his neck. Koni had shortened the chain for him.
“Oh yes,” Orun assured him. “Fine clothes, a proper sword, sweets, hounds, gambling. A young man of your rank must have his pleasures. A new sport, falconry, has recently been introduced from Aurënen, who had it from the Zengati. Leave it to the ’faie to import such barbarian decadence! Oh well, they breed good horses. But it’s all the rage among the young bloods.”
He paused and his thick lips curved into a knowing smile. “Of course, any transaction of substance—say, to sell land or raise a levy of troops, the purchase of grain or iron, or the collection of rents from your lands—for that you must also have the seal of your uncle or myself until you are of age. But you’re too young to trouble yourself about such things! All will be managed for you.”
“Thank you, Lord Orun,” Tobin replied, but only because good manners seemed to demand it. He’d disliked the man on sight yesterday, and familiarity had only strengthened the impression. There was something greedy behind Orun’s smile; it made Tobin think of something cold and nasty stepped on in the dark.
More damning was the way he treated Ki and Tharin. Despite his fine manners to Tobin, Orun treated them as if they were his own servants, and managed to hint repeatedly that Tobin might consider finding a more suitable squire once he was at court. If it hadn’t been for Arkoniel’s warning, he might have summoned Brother again. Secretly, he made up his mind to find out how to make his friends into such rich lords that Orun would have to bow to them.
Ki could tell that Tobin was miserable riding with Orun, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it. The long ride did give him the first opportunity he’d had to speak with Tharin since he’d returned from Mycena.
Ki had seen from the first that Tharin was suffering but hadn’t known what to say to him, though in his heart he guessed the cause. Tharin believed he’d failed Rhius. A squire did not come home without his lord. Yet from what Ki had been able to glean from the other men in the days since their return, it had been no fault of Tharin’s. Rhius had fallen in battle and Tharin had tried to save him. Ki clung to that, unable to believe anything less of his hero.
Now they had a new kettle of trouble to stir, and Tharin looked hollow-eyed and exhausted.
Riding a respectful distance behind the nobles, he reined Dragon in close to Tharin’s horse and kept his voice low as he asked, “Are we going to have to live with him now?”
Tharin grimaced. “No, you’ll live in the Old Palace with the other Companions. You’ll only have to dine with Lord Orun now and then, so he can make reports to the king.”
Ki had glimpsed the Palace over the citadel walls. “It’s so big! How will we ever learn our way around?”
“The Companions have their own apartments. And the others will help you.”
“How many are there?”
“Seven or eight now, I think, and their squires.”
Ki fiddled with his reins. “The other squires—are they like me?”
Tharin looked at him again. “How do you mean?”
“You know.”
Tharin gave him a sad little smile. “I believe all of them are the sons of highborn knights and lords.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” The way Tharin said it let Ki know that he understood his fears. “Don’t let them bully you. Only one other of them can claim he’s squired to a prince. And I promise you, Ki, there’s not another boy there who surpasses you in honor.” He nodded in Tobin’s direction. “Keep him uppermost in your heart and you’ll always do what’s right.”
“I don’t want to fail him. I couldn’t bear it.”
Tharin reached out and gripped his arm hard enough to make Ki wince. “You won’t,” he said sternly. “You have to look after him for me now. You swear on your honor to do that.”
The challenge hurt more than the hold on his arm. Ki straightened in the saddle and cast all his shameful doubts aside. “I swear it!”
Tharin released him with a satisfied nod. “We’ll be his personal guard in name, but you’re the one who’ll be at his side. You must be my eyes and ears, Ki. If you smell any kind of trouble for him, you come to me.”
“I will, Tharin!”
For a moment Ki feared he’d gone too far and angered the man, but Tharin only c
huckled. “I know you will.”
But Ki could see that he was still worried, and that made him check the lacings on his scabbard. He’d never imagined that going to the capital would feel like riding into enemy territory. He only wished he knew why.
The day wore on. The road they followed took them into flat bottomland laid out in long strips and farmed by tenants. Some of the strips lay fallow, grown over with weeds. Others were planted, but sparsely grown, or spoiled by disease. Great swaths of grain lay grey and rotted and flat.
In the villages here Tobin saw children with skinny legs, big bellies, and dark circles under their eyes. They reminded him of the way Brother used to look. What few cattle remained were raw-boned, and there were carcasses bloating in the ditches with ravens picking at their eyes. Many of the cottages in the village were empty, and several had been burnt. Most of those that remained had the crescent of Illior painted or chalked on the front door.
“That’s odd,” he said. “You’d think they’d be praying to Dalna for healing or good crops.”
No one replied.
As the sun began its slow descent behind them, a cool breeze freshened out of the east, blowing their hair back and cooling the sweat on their brows. It carried the first hint of a sweet new smell Tobin didn’t recognize.
Orun noticed him sniffing and smiled indulgently. “That’s the sea, my prince. We’ll be in sight of it soon.”
A little further on they met a cart piled with the strangest crop he’d ever seen. A mass of some greenish brown plant quivered with every jounce and bump of the cart’s wheels. A queer odor rose from it, salty and earthy.
“What is that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Seaweed, from the coast,” Tharin explained. “Farmers manure their fields with it.”
“From the sea!” Urging Gosi closer, Tobin leaned over and plunged his hand into the smelly stuff. It was cold and wet underneath, and had a leathery feel like the surface of Cook’s calves’ foot jelly after it cooled.