Ki colored a bit as he bowed and Tobin recognized her as one of the girls Ki had danced with at Caliel’s birthday ball.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Una asked.
Tobin shrugged and turned away, the lie burning in his cheeks.
Two more girls joined them after that, and Tobin brought in Nikides, who needed more practice than any of them. Of course, Lutha couldn’t be left out for long, or their squires. Ki dubbed the group “Prince Tobin’s Sword Fighting Academy.”
Tobin rather enjoyed having his own secret cabal, and was grateful to Una for another reason, as well. The roof was a safe place to call Brother. He stole up alone at least once a week and spoke the words.
He did it unwillingly at first. The scar on Ki’s forehead served as a reminder of one transgression, and Orun’s death still haunted Tobin’s dreams. The first few times he called Brother here he brought the doll and wouldn’t let Ki come with him, not yet trusting the ghost to behave.
But Brother was very quiet these days, and showed no interest in Tobin or their surroundings. Tobin wondered if he’d fade again, the way he had before their father’s death. But as the weeks passed Brother retained his strangely solid appearance. Was it the new binding, Tobin wondered, that had given him the strength to kill?
When he brought Ki up at last, they discovered that he couldn’t see Brother unless Tobin told Brother to show himself.
“Just as well. I don’t much want to see him,” said Ki.
Tobin didn’t, either. Ki’s scar might be fading, but not the memory of how it got there.
As the winter went on it became clear to Tobin that some of the girls in his “Academy” were more interested in meeting with boys than in the lessons, and that the boys had no objection to this situation. Kalis and Ki occasionally wandered off among the chimney pots, and returned sharing secret smiles. Barieus stopped pining for the unattainable Lynx; he lost his heart to red-haired Lady Mora after she broke his finger during a bout and was much more cheerful after that.
Una didn’t try to kiss Tobin again, but he sometimes sensed she wanted to. Grappling during practice fights, he couldn’t help noticing the emerging. curves of her body. Girls ripened sooner, Ki said, and got ideas sooner, too. That was all well and good for him, Tobin thought miserably.
Even if he’d wanted girls to like him, he couldn’t imagine what Una saw in him. Sparring on the roof, or dancing at a ball, he could feel her waiting for some sign that her feelings were returned. It made him feel guilty, though he was certain he’d done nothing to mislead her. It was all very confusing, and he only made things worse when he made her a gold pendant in the shape of a sword. Mistaking the gesture, she wore it openly like a love token.
During lessons, at least, he could offer her something honest. They were well matched in size and often paired off against each other. She learned quickly, surprising them all with her progress.
Tobin found a more formidable opponent in Arengil. Though the ’faie appeared no older than Urmanis, he had years more training than any of them. He didn’t lord it over anyone, though, but taught them the Aurënfaie style of dueling, which relied more on skillful dodging than grappling. Before long Tobin and the other boys were putting Arengil’s techniques to good use during practices with the other Companions. The others began to remark on it, especially after Ki managed to split Mago’s lip with his elbow. Ki grinned about that for two days and gifted Arengil his best dagger the next time they met.
Chapter 15
As the last storms of Klesin blew themselves out across the sea, the Companions waited anxiously for news of renewed fighting; surely the king couldn’t keep Korin hidden away like a daughter, now that he was grown? Reports came of a few skirmishes along the frontier, but neither King Erius nor the Plenimaran Overlord seemed in any hurry to rejoin the battle.
As always, Nikides was the first to hear news. “Grandfather says there’s talk of a truce,” he informed the others glumly over breakfast one morning.
Everyone groaned. Peace meant no chance to prove themselves in battle. Korin said nothing, but Tobin knew his cousin suffered more than the rest of them, knowing that he was the reason they’d all been held back for so long.
Wine flowed ever more freely in the mess after that, and the boys grumbled and snapped at each other at practice.
No more news came, but within the week Tobin had a nightmare he hadn’t had in months.
In it, he huddled in a corner, watching his mother pace the tiny room at the top of the watchtower. Ariani rushed from window to window, clutching the rag doll to her breast like an infant. Brother crouched in the shadows, staring at Tobin with knowing black eyes.
“He’s found us again!” Ariani cried, then she was grasping Tobin by the arm, pulling him across the room, toward the west window, the one that overlooked the river.
“He’s coming,” Brother agreed from his corner.
Tobin woke to find Brother watching him from the foot of the curtained bed.
He’s coming. The ghost’s thin lips did not move as he echoed his dream self.
Ki stirred beside him, mumbling blearily into the pillow.
“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” His head throbbed from all the wine he’d drunk at mess that night, but it wasn’t that making his stomach so queasy.
“The king is really coming back?” he whispered to Brother.
The ghost nodded and faded away.
Too upset to sleep, Tobin slipped out of bed and wrapped himself in the woolen robe Molay always left ready for him on a nearby chair. The draperies were still pulled across the balcony windows, but early light was creeping in around the edges, Outside, crows were arguing somewhere in the garden.
“Do you need me, my prince?” Baldus called sleepily from his pallet.
“No, go back to sleep.”
Tobin went out onto the balcony. Three crows sat in a budding oak just below the rail, fluffing their breasts against the cold. All over the city, smoke from breakfast hearths rose straight up in the still air, threads of blue against the pink-and-gold sky. Beyond the harbor mouth the sea sparkled with whitecaps. Tobin gazed out at the horizon, imagining the king out there somewhere, maybe even now sailing for home.
But we’d have heard! The king wouldn’t just sneak into Ero like some raider in the night. He’d been gone for years; there would be fanfare and festivals.
Tobin sat down on the stone balustrade, waiting for the oppressive feel of the dream to pass. Instead, it grew stronger, making his heart beat so fast that dark spots began to dance in front of his eyes.
He tried Arkoniel’s mind-clearing trick, concentrating on the crows’ shining feathers. Gradually the panic receded, leaving him with the more immediate problem of Brother’s warning.
Chilled through, he went inside and curled up in an armchair by the banked hearth. Someone walked quickly past his room, but otherwise the Companions’ wing was still quiet. The daily bustle of palace life hadn’t yet begun.
What if he comes today? Tobin wondered, hugging his knees. Then a happy inspiration came to him. Tharin knew the king! He’d know what to do.
“What could he do?” Brother hissed at him from the shadows behind his chair.
Before Tobin could think of an answer a loud slam and a string of laughing curses came from the direction of the dressing room. Someone had come through the secret passage that connected Tobin’s room to Korin’s. He ordered Brother away just as Korin and Tanil burst in, still dressed in their nightshirts. Baldus leaped up with a startled squeak and Ki let out a muffled complaint from the bed.
“Father’s coming home!” Korin shouted, pulling Tobin from his chair and dancing him around the room. “A messenger just arrived. His ship put in at Cirna three days ago.”
He’s found us again!
“The king? Today?” Ki stuck his head out through the bed curtains, shaking tangled brown hair out of his eyes.
“Not today.” Releasing Tobin, Korin flung back the bed curtains an
d vaulted in beside Ki. “The seas are still rough, so he’s coming the rest of the way overland. We’re to meet him in Atyion, Tob. Looks like you’re going to get your birthday wish at last!”
“Atyion?” The good news barely registered.
Tanil flopped down on Ki’s other side and used him for an armrest. “Finally, a reason to get out of the city! And we all get to be part of the king’s procession back to the city!” Tanil looked as pleased as Korin.
“Why Atyion?” Tobin asked.
“To honor you, I imagine,” Korin replied. “After all, Father hasn’t seen you since you were born.”
No, but I’ve seen him, thought Tobin, remembering the glint of sunlight on a golden helm.
Korin jumped up and began pacing like a general planning a campaign. “The messenger came to me first, but it won’t be long before everyone knows. The whole city will be in an uproar within the hour, and half the damn court will want to come with us.” He tousled Ki’s hair and yanked the coverlet off him. “Up now, squire, and to your duty. You and Tobin help wake the others. Tell everyone light packs only; no servants or baggage. We can be gone before anyone’s the wiser.”
“Now? Right now?” Tobin stammered, wondering if he’d have time to speak with Tharin before they left.
“Why not? Let’s see. My guard and yours should satisfy Lord Hylus—” Korin headed back toward the dressing room. “With an early start, we can be there by supper tomorrow.” He paused, beaming at Tobin. “I can’t wait for him to meet you!”
The expected uproar was already beginning as Tobin and Ki went to wake the others. Lutha and Nikides were up, but it took some pounding to rouse Orneus.
Ki grinned at the string of muffled curses that greeted them from inside. A moment later the door inched open and Lynx peered out at them. Even wine sick, he was his usual agreeable self. “What’s going on?” he asked, yawning. “Orneus is still, uh—asleep.”
“Asleep?” Ki wrinkled his nose as a whiff of sour vomit floated into the corridor.
Lynx gave a rueful shrug, but brightened when he heard their news. “Don’t worry, I’ll have him ready!”
Master Porion praised Korin’s plan. “Meet the king like warriors, boys, not a pack of soft courtiers!” he said, slapping the prince on the back.
Molay and Ki insisted on overseeing everything. Baldus was dispatched to Tharin with orders to ready the men and horses. While everyone else was busy, Tobin slipped into the dressing room.
If leaving the doll behind meant being free of Brother for a few days, it would have been an easy choice, but the ghost’s new habit of showing up where and when he pleased was getting out of hand. Tobin took the doll down from its hiding place and shoved it to the bottom of his pack. As he yanked the straps tight, it occurred to him that Atyion should have been Brother’s home, too.
Despite their haste, it was almost noon before Korin had his column properly formed up in the front courtyard. The Companions wore the colors and arms of their own houses, as was the custom when riding out from the city, and lord and squire alike wore the scarlet baldric bearing the Prince Royal’s white dragon crest. Their helms and shields shone bravely in the midday light.
Korin’s guard was resplendent in scarlet and white, and Tobin’s wore blue. Tharin, as always on such occasions, wore noble dress and a baldric of Tobin’s colors.
A crowd of courtiers had gathered to see them off, cheering and waving scarves and hats.
“Look Tobin, there’s your lady,” Korin called. Una stood with Arengil and several girls from the secret sword school. The other Companions heard and laughed. Blushing, Tobin followed Ki over to say good-bye.
Arengil made them an exaggerated bow. “Behold the glorious warriors of Skala!” He stroked Gosi’s nose, admiring the golden rosettes that adorned the gelding’s new harness. “So much for the peasant prince, eh? You look like you just stepped out of a tapestry.”
“Yes,” said Una. “I suppose we’ll have to let our dancing lessons go for now. How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know,” Tobin told her.
“Come on!” Korin shouted, wheeling his horse about and brandishing his sword. “Let’s not keep my father waiting. To Atyion!”
“To Atyion!” the others cried, leaping into the saddle.
As Tobin turned to go, Una kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared into the crowd.
Swept up in the excitement of the preparations, Tobin had been able to forget his fears for a little while, but the inevitable boredom of a long ride gave them space to creep in again.
He was going to meet the king. Because of this man, his mother had never been queen. Perhaps if she’d worn the crown, she wouldn’t have gone mad. And perhaps Brother wouldn’t have died and they could have grown up together at court, or in Atyion, instead of hidden away in the mountains.
If not for him, Tobin thought with startling bitterness, I’d have grown up knowing my true face.
Chapter 16
Word of the king’s return had reached Niryn by secret messenger a week earlier. It seemed his business in Ilear would have to wait; the king’s brief letter ordered the wizard to meet him quietly at Cirna.
Nothing could have suited Niryn better. Under cover of darkness, he left the city with a small contingent of Harrier Guard, riding north.
Situated at the narrowest point of the isthmus, the fortress at Cirna belonged to Prince Tobin, at least in name. After Orun’s timely death, the king had seen fit in his wisdom (and with some subtle manipulation) to make Niryn Lord Protector here. Built on a rocky, windswept scrap of ground inhabited by a few goatherds and fishermen, bounded on either side by precipitous cliffs, the Cirna fortress was, in its own way, as important as Atyion. Its power lay not in resources, but in location. The master of Cirna guarded the only land route into Skala.
The massive walled fortress stood at the center of the isthmus, straddling the only road. On either side stone walls twice the height of a man and thick as a house ran from its outer walls to the cliffs on either side, and had withstood the attacks of Plenimaran armies, Zengati raiders, even the witches of the hill folk. The tolls collected at its gates were not inconsiderable, and Niryn’s share had already enlarged his own coffers.
But gold was not what made his heart swell as the grim fortress loomed out of the salt-laden mist ahead of him. Cirna represented the consolidation of his power over the king.
It had not been easy to turn the king against Rhius. But turning him against the odious Orun had been another matter entirely. In the latter case, there had been more than enough evidence against the man’s character. But Duke Rhius’s life had been above reproach, and the bonds forged between the men as Companions seemed to hold for life. Perhaps Erius had pressed Rhius to marry his only sister, thus safely binding the powerful holdings at Cirna and Atyion to the throne, but his affection for the man had been genuine. That had presented a significant obstacle in the early days of Niryn’s rising influence. But at last Rhius had been so unwise as to speak openly against the killing of female Kin, and the king’s patience had worn thin. When Rhius was finally killed in battle, only Niryn guessed at the relief behind the king’s extravagant show of grief.
That had removed one obstacle from Niryn’s path. Today he would deal with an even greater threat.
The isthmus road took Niryn and his riders along the top of the eastern cliffs and from here, through a lowering curtain of drizzle, he saw the royal flagship and her escorts riding at anchor in the little harbor below.
Crossing the Inner Sea so early in the spring was a risky undertaking and the vessels all showed signs of damage. Aboard the king’s ship sailors were swarming busily at their repairs in the sheets.
Riding down the muddy switchback road to the village, Niryn found several men of the King’s Guard waiting for him on the shingle. They rowed him out in a longboat and Lord General Rheynaris was there to greet him as he hoisted himself over the ship’s rail.
“Welcome aboard, Lord
Niryn. The king’s waiting for you below.”
Niryn glanced around as he followed Rheynaris. Across the deck a cluster of younger nobles was watching him with apparent curiosity. One of them made a warding sign when he thought Niryn wasn’t looking.
“Tell me, Rheynaris, who is that young fellow there?”
“With the yellow hair? That’s Solari’s oldest son, Nevus. He’s one of the king’s new equerries.”
Niryn frowned; he’d heard nothing of this. Lord Solari had been one of Rhius’ liegemen.
“How is the king?” Niryn inquired when they were out of earshot of the others.
“Glad to be home, I’d say.” Rheynaris paused as they neared the cabin. “He has been more—changeable since we left Mycena. It’s always worse when he’s away from battle.”
Niryn nodded his thanks for the warning and the general tapped lightly at the door.
“Enter!” a gruff voice called.
Erius reclined on the cabin’s narrow bunk, writing on a lap desk propped across his knees. The wizard waited at respectful attention, listening to the busy scratch of the goose quill. The cabin was unheated; Niryn could see his breath, but Erius had his tunic unbuttoned like a common soldier. His hair and beard were greyer, the wizard noted, and framed a face more careworn.
Finishing with a flourish of the quill, Erius set the desk aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. “Hello, Niryn. You’ve wasted no time. I didn’t expect to see you before tomorrow.”
The wizard bowed. “Welcome home, Majesty.”
Erius pushed a stool his way with one foot. “Sit, and give me news from home.”
Niryn quickly touched on general news, downplaying a recent wave of plague that had decimated several northern towns. “The high priest of the Achis temple is being held for treason,” he went on, moving on to more important business. “He was heard on at least three occasions speaking of that mythical queen they keep seeing in their fever dreams.”