The king’s room lay next to the one that had belonged to Tobin’s parents. Pausing outside his door, Erius clasped hands with Tharin, then took Tobin’s chin in his hand again, gazing into his eyes. “By the Light, it is almost like seeing your mother again. So blue! Blue as the evening sky in summer.” He sighed. “Ask me a boon, child. For my sister’s sake.”
“A boon, Uncle? I—I don’t know. You’ve already been too generous.”
“Nonsense, there must be something.”
Everyone was staring at him. Tharin shook his head slightly as if in warning. Standing with the other squires, Ki grinned and gave Tobin a tipsy little shrug.
Perhaps it was the wine that made Tobin bold, or seeing Mago smirk just then. “I don’t need anything for myself, Uncle, but there is something I’d like.” He didn’t dare look at Ki as he plunged on. “Could you please ennoble my squire’s father?”
“It’s a fair boon,” Korin chimed in drunkenly. “Ki’s as good as any of us. It’s not his fault he’s only a grass knight.”
Erius raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” said Tobin, encouraged. “I’m not yet of age to grant it, so I humbly ask Your Majesty to do so in my name. I wish to make Sir Larenth Duke of—” He searched his memory for all the lands he owned but had never seen. One seemed as good as another. “Of Cirna.”
As soon as the words were out he knew he’d taken a serious misstep of some sort. Tharin went pale, and Lord Niryn made a faint, strangled noise. Several of the others gasped.
The king’s smile disappeared. “Cirna?” He released Tobin and stepped back. “That’s an odd parcel to make a gift of. Did your squire ask this of you?”
The black look he shot Ki send a thrill of dread through Tobin. “No, Uncle! It was just the first place that came into my head. It—it could be any holding, so long as it comes with a title.”
But Erius was still staring from Tobin to Ki, and something unpleasant had crept into his eyes. Tobin knew he’d made a grave error but couldn’t imagine what it had been.
To Tobin’s surprise, it was Niryn who came to his rescue. “The prince has his mother’s noble soul, my king, generous to a fault. He does not know his lands yet, and so could not know what he offered.” Something in the way he looked at the king just then unsettled Tobin even more, though the wizard was apparently trying to help him.
“Perhaps not,” Erius said slowly.
“I believe Prince Tobin owns a very suitable tract north of Colath,” Niryn offered. “There’s a fortress there, at Rilmar.”
Erius brightened noticeably. “Rilmar? Yes, a very good choice. Sir Larenth shall be Marshal of Roads. What do you think, Squire Kirothius? Will your father accept?”
It was a rare thing for Ki to be speechless, but all he managed was a jerky nod as he sank to one knee. Erius drew his sword and rested it across Ki’s right shoulder. “On behalf of your father and all his descendents, do you swear fealty to the throne of Skala, and to Prince Tobin as your liege lord?”
“I do, my king,” Ki whispered.
Erius held the point before Ki’s face and he kissed the tip of it.
“Then rise, Kirothius, son of Larenth, Marshal of Rilmar. Give the kiss of fealty to your benefactor before these witnesses.”
Everyone clapped, but Tobin could feel Ki’s fingers shaking as he took his hand and kissed it. Tobin’s were, as well.
When they’d bidden the king good night, Tharin followed Tobin and Ki to their room. He sent their page off for hot water, then dropped into a chair and held his head in his hands, saying nothing. Ki kicked off his boots and sat cross-legged on the bed. Tobin settled on the hearthrug and poked at the embers, waiting.
“Well, that was unexpected!” Tharin said, recovering himself at last. “And when you tried to give away Cirna—By the Light, did you have any idea what you were doing?”
“No. Like I said, it was the first place I thought of. It’s only a small holding, isn’t it?”
Tharin shook his head. “In acreage, perhaps, but the man who holds Cirna holds the bulwark of Skala, not to mention the Protector’s share of revenues collected in your name. And at the moment, Lord Niryn is that man.”
“Niryn?” Ki exclaimed. “What’s Fox Beard doing with a commission like that? He’s no warrior.”
“Never mock him, Ki, not even in private. And whatever the reason, it’s between him and the king.” He stopped and rubbed at his beard, thinking. “I suppose it’s between you and Niryn, too, Tobin. Cirna is yours, after all.”
“Does that make Niryn my liegeman?” Tobin shivered at the thought.
“No, and neither is Solari. They’re the king’s men. But don’t worry. You’ll hardly see either of them, and you’re under the king’s protection. He has say over you before anyone else.”
“That’s good,” said Ki. “Korin thinks the sun rises and sets on Tobin, and now the king likes him, too, doesn’t he?”
Tharin stood and ruffled Tobin’s hair. “I’d say so.”
“But I did do something wrong, didn’t I? I saw it in the king’s face.”
“If you’d been a few years older—?” Tharin shook his head, casting off some dark thought. “No, he saw you spoke from an innocent heart. It’s nothing to worry about. You two get to bed, now. It’s been a long day.”
“You could sleep here tonight,” Tobin offered again. There was more to the king’s reaction than Tharin was letting on and it still scared him.
“I promised Lytia I’d visit with her tonight,” Tharin said. “But I’ll check on you on my way back. Sleep well.”
With the door safely closed behind him, Tharin sagged against the wall, hoping the sentries down the corridor would put his sudden weakness down to too much wine. He’d recognized the look in Erius’ eyes—suspicion. If Tobin had been sixteen, instead of twelve, his request might have marked him and Ki both for death. But he was only a child, and an unworldly one at that. Erius still had enough good left in him to see that.
All the same, Tharin spent a long time in aimless conversation with the sentries, keeping an eye on the king’s door, and Niryn’s.
You didn’t have to do that, you know. Waste a king’s boon on me,” Ki said when Tharin was gone. Tobin was still sitting on the rug, hugging his knees the way he did when he was feeling troubled. “Come get into the bed. The fire’s out.”
But Tobin stayed where he was. “Will your father be angry?”
“Not hardly! But what made you think of it, Tob? My old dad’s a lot of things, but noble isn’t one of them. I can see it now, him and my brothers using the king’s warrant to steal horses.”
Tobin looked around at him. “You always said he wasn’t a horse thief!”
Ki shrugged. “Guess I’ve lived around decent folk long enough to know what my people are.”
“They can’t be so bad, Ki. You’re as good as any of us. Anyway, now no one can call you grass knight.”
But they still will, some of them, thought Ki.
“I made you a promise the day we left the keep,” Tobin said earnestly.
“I don’t remember any promise.”
“I didn’t say it out loud. Remember how hateful Orun was being to you and Tharin? I promised Sakor that day that I’d make you and Tharin great nobles so Orun would have to bow to you and be polite.” He clapped a hand to his forehead. “Tharin! I should have asked something for him, too, but I was so surprised I couldn’t think. Do you think I hurt his feelings?”
“I think he was probably glad you didn’t.”
“Glad? Why?”
“Think about it, Tob. You gave my dad Rilmar fortress, and off he goes; nothing changes for me in that. But if you made Tharin lord of some important holding, like he deserves, he’d have to go and administer it. That means leaving us—you, I mean, and he wouldn’t like that much.”
“Us,” Tobin corrected, coming to join him on the bed. “I never thought of that. I’d miss him, too. Still—” He pulle
d his boots off and settled back against the bolsters. His mouth had that stubborn set to it that Ki knew so well. “Bilairy’s balls, Ki! Tharin deserves better than to be just a captain of my guard! Why didn’t Father ever promote him?”
“Maybe Tharin asked him not to,” Ki said, then wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Why would he do that?”
Now I’ve done it, thought Ki, but it was too late to take it back.
“Why would Tharin do that?” Tobin demanded again, reading his face like a book.
You couldn’t hide much from Tobin, that was certain. So it was either tell or lie, and he’d never lie to Tobin. It’s not like Tharin cares who knows. He said so himself.
Ki pushed himself up against the footboard, squirming inwardly as he tried to make a start on it. “Well, it’s just that—Well, when they were young, in the Companions, they—your father and Tharin, that is—uh—loved each other and—”
“Well, of course they did. You and I—”
“No!” Ki held up a hand. “No, Tobin, not like us. That is, not just like us.”
Tobin’s eyes widened as he caught Ki’s drift. “Like Orneus and Lynx, you mean?”
“Tharin told me so himself. It was only when they were young. Then your father married your mother and all. But Tharin? Well, I don’t think his feelings ever changed.”
Tobin was staring at him now, and Ki wondered if they’d fight over it, they way Ki used to fight people who accused his father of horse thieving.
But Tobin only looked pensive. “That must have been sad for Tharin.”
Ki recalled Tharin’s expression when he’d spoken of it that rainy night. “You’re right about that, but they stayed friends all the same. I don’t think he could’ve stood being parted from your dad any more than I could’ve if Orun had sent me away.” Tobin was watching him again, looking a little odd. “Not that I—Well, you know. Not like that,” Ki hastily amended.
Tobin looked away quickly. “No! Of course not.”
The silence drew out so long between them that Ki was grateful when the page banged back in with the water pitcher.
By the time the boy had built up the fire and gone out again, Ki could look Tobin in the face. “So, what was it like, meeting your uncle?”
“Strange. What do you think of him?”
“He’s not how I expected, exactly. I mean Korin always speaks well of him, but he’s his father, right?” Ki paused, lowering his voice just to be safe. “My dad never had much good to say about the king, on account of him keeping women out of the ranks. And there’s all that with the female heirs and the Harriers and such. You notice we weren’t the first to greet him, either? There’s Old Fox—Niryn, I mean—riding close as his shadow. How’d he get to the king before we did?”
“He’s a wizard.” Tobin had that distant, guarded look again, the one that came over him whenever Fox Beard was around.
Seeing it, Ki crawled up beside him. Not touching, but close enough to let him know he wasn’t alone, being scared of the man. “I think if I met the king at some tavern and didn’t know who he was, I’d take him for a good fellow,” he offered, going back to the subject at hand.
“So would I, after today. All the same …” He trailed off and Ki realized he was trembling. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “My mother was so afraid of him!”
Tobin almost never spoke of his mother.
“Brother hates him, too,” he whispered. “But still, after today? I hardly know how to feel except—Maybe the stories aren’t true? I mean, Mother was mad, and Brother lies … I just don’t know!”
“He likes you, Tob. I could tell. And why wouldn’t he?” Ki settled closer, shoulder to shoulder. “About the stories, though, I don’t know … I’m just glad you weren’t born a girl.”
Tobin’s sudden stricken look dropped the bottom out of Ki’s belly. “Oh hell, I’m sorry, Tob. I let my tongue run away from me again.” He took his friend’s hand. In spite of the fire, it was ice-cold. “Maybe they are just stories.”
“It’s all right. I know what you meant.”
They sat a moment like that, and the quiet between them felt good. The room was warming and the bed was soft. Relaxing back against the bolsters, Ki closed his eyes and chuckled. “I know someone who is going to have trouble with the king, and soon. Did you see the looks Erius was giving the butler toward the end, when Korin was so drunk?”
Tobin let out a rueful laugh. “He was well down into it, wasn’t he? I’m afraid I was, too. Who knew Atyion made so many kinds of wine, eh?”
Ki yawned. “Mark my words. Now that the king’s back, Master Porion is going to get his way and there’ll be no more drink in the mess for any of us.” He yawned again. “And that’s fine with me, if it means not having to watch Korin and the others drink themselves stupid every other night.”
Tobin grunted sleepy agreement.
Ki felt himself drifting. “Room’s spinning, Tobin.”
“Mmmm. Guess Korin wasn’t the only one who had too much. Don’t sleep on your back, Ki.”
They both chuckled.
“You say Brother hates the king, too?” Ki mumbled, thoughts wandering toward sleep. “Good thing he didn’t show up at the feast, eh?”
Ki’s sleepy mutterings drove the sleep from Tobin’s mind. Perhaps Brother could see into the king’s heart, know if he was kind or evil? Deeper than that, however, lay the ever-present, lonely knowledge that liar and demon that he was, Brother was the only other one Tobin could completely confide in.
When Ki was snoring, Tobin blew out the night lamps and took the doll from his pack. Feeling his way to the hearth, he knelt, heart pounding in his ears. Did he dare call him at all? The day the king had come to the keep Brother had gone wild, thrashing around like a whirlwind. What would he do now, with Erius just down the corridor?
Tobin clutched the doll tightly, as if that would restrain Brother. “Blood, my blood. Flesh, my flesh. Bone, my bone,” he whispered, then braced for violence. But Brother simply appeared, kneeling in front of him like a reflection. The only sign of his anger was the terrible, bone-aching chill he brought with him.
“The king is here,” Tobin whispered, ready to order him away if Brother moved.
Yes.
“You aren’t angry with him?”
The chill grew unbearable as Brother leaned forward. Their noses almost touched; if he’d been alive, Tobin would have tasted his breath as he hissed, “Kill him.”
Pain shot through Tobin’s chest, as if Brother had torn the hidden stitching open.
He fell forward on his hands, willing himself not to faint. The pain slowly faded. When he opened his eyes again, Brother was gone. He listened fearfully, expecting some outcry nearby, but all was silent. He whispered the spell again to make certain Brother was actually gone, then hurried back to the bed.
“Did he come?” Ki asked softly, awake after all.
Tobin was glad he’d blown out the lamps. “You didn’t hear?”
“No, nothing. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”
“He came,” Tobin said, relieved Ki hadn’t overheard the dangerous words. He shifted, bumping Ki’s bare foot with his.
“Damn, Tobin, you’re chilled through! Get under the covers.”
They shucked off their clothes and pulled the blankets and counterpanes over them, but Tobin couldn’t seem to get warm. His teeth chattered so loudly that Ki heard and moved over to warm him.
“Bilairy’s balls, you’re cold!” He chafed Tobin’s arms, then felt his brow. “Are you sick?”
“No.” It was hard to talk with his teeth chattering like that.
A pause, then, “What did Brother say?”
“He—He still doesn’t like the king.”
“No surprises there.” Ki rubbed Tobin’s arms again, then settled close against him, yawning again. “Well, like I said—it’s a lucky thing you’re not a girl.”
Tobin squeezed his eyes shut, glad again of
the sheltering darkness.
That night the woman pains returned. He sometimes felt a dull ache under his hipbones when the moon was full, but this was the same stabbing ache he’d felt before he’d run away. He’d forgotten the sack of leaves Lhel had given him. Scared and miserable, he curled himself tighter, grateful for Ki’s warmth against his back.
Niryn was about to let his valet undress him when he felt it again, that strange little shiver of energy. As usual, it was gone before he could tell what it was, but this was the first time he’d encountered it outside Ero. Waving the man away, he fastened his robe again and went in search of the troubling magic.
He thought he caught a whiff of it again outside Prince Tobin’s door, but when he cast a sighting inside, he found the boys fast asleep, curled up together like puppies.
Or lovers.
Niryn’s lip curled into a sour smile as he stored away this nugget of information. One never knew when such knowledge might prove useful. Prince Tobin was too young to be a threat, but the king was already showing signs of favor. And there was that embarrassing moment when the stupid brat had tried to take Cirna from him. Niryn would not forget that. No indeed.
Chapter 21
The king was in no hurry to return to Ero. The following day he announced that the royal retinue would honor his nephew by spending the next fortnight in Atyion. Within the week Chancellor Hylus and the other chief ministers arrived and the castle hall became the Palatine in miniature, with the king conducting business between hunting parties and feasts. Only the most pressing matters were allowed and Hylus carefully evaluated each petition and suit, sending away those that could wait. Even so, the hall was filled from dawn to dusk.
With the truce in force, most of the business centered on strife within Skala’s own borders. Loitering with the other boys, Tobin heard reports of new outbreaks of plague, bandit raids, tax disputes, and failed crops.
He was also keenly aware of his dependent status among the nobles. His banner might hang highest beneath the king’s and Korin’s, but the adults paid him little mind except at banquets.