Something struck him on the head and he toppled sideways, choking back a cry of alarm.
There was the doll on the floor beside him, where it most certainly had not been the moment before. Tobin couldn’t see the demon but he could feel it, watching him from the far corner.
Slowly, cautiously, Tobin picked up the doll and whispered, “Thank you.”
Chapter 13
Not daring to risk losing the doll again, Tobin moved it back to his room, tying it up in the flour sack and burying it deep in the unused clothes chest under his parchments, some old toys, and his second-best cloak.
He felt a little easier after that, but the dream of going into the forest came to him three more times over the next week, always ending before he could reach the woman in the chair.
It was the same each time in every detail except one. In these dreams he was bringing the doll back to his mother, knowing she would keep it safe for him in her room under the ground.
Another week passed, and the dream came again, growing so real in his mind that he knew at last that he must go see for himself if there really was such a place. This meant disobeying everyone and going out by himself, but the dream was too strong to be denied.
He bided his time and saw his chance one washing day in mid-Gorathin. Everyone would be busy in the kitchen yard all day. He worked with them in the morning, hauling buckets of water in from the river to fill the wash cauldron and dragging bundles of branches from the woodshed to start the fire. The eastern sky, so clear at dawn, was darkening ominously over the treetops and everyone was in a hurry to finish before the rain came.
He ate his midday meal with the others, then asked to be excused.
Nari pulled him close and kissed him on the top of his head. She always seemed to be hugging him these days. “What will you do with yourself, pet? Stay and keep us company.”
“I want to work on my city.” Tobin pressed his face against her shoulder so she wouldn’t see that he was lying. “Do you … do you think Father will be angry when he sees?”
“Of course not. I can’t imagine your father ever being angry with a boy as good as you. Isn’t that right, Cook?”
The woman nodded over her bread and cheese. “You’re the moon and sun to him.”
The ash shovel by the hearth jumped off its nail with a loud clatter, but everyone pretended not to notice.
Freeing himself from Nari’s embrace, Tobin ran upstairs and waited by his window until he could hear everyone out in the yard again. Then, hiding the doll beneath his longest cloak, he crept downstairs again and slipped out the front gate. He half expected to be magically transported to the forest, as he always was in the dream, but simply ended up outside the wall. As the gate swung shut behind him, he froze for a moment, overcome by the enormity of what he was about to do. What if Nari found him gone? What if he met with a catamount or a wolf?
A rising breeze stroked his face with the scent of rain as he crept between the courtyard wall and the riverbank toward the forest. Robins were singing of the storm somewhere nearby, and doves called mournfully to each other in the trees.
The gate of the kitchen yard was still open. He could see Nari and Cook at work there as he passed, laughing as they stirred the wash pot with their wooden paddles. It felt very odd, standing out here looking in.
He continued on, following the wall past the base of the tower. He kept his eyes down as he passed the boulders where his mother had died.
He reached the cover of the trees at last, and only now did it occur to Tobin that he had no idea where to go; in his dreams, he’d had the demon to guide him. But there had been a river in the dream and he had a river here, so he decided to follow it and hope for the best. He paused to check the sun’s position over his shoulder the way Tharin had taught him. It wasn’t so easy today. The sun was little more than a bright blur behind the haze.
The river is as good as a path, he thought. All I have to do is follow it home.
He’d never been this way before. The riverbank was steep and the trees grew down close to the water. To follow it, he had to clamber over rocks and wriggle through thick stands of willow and alder. In low places he found animal tracks in the mud and scanned these nervously for signs of prowling catamounts. He found none, but still wished he’d thought to bring his bow.
The sky grew darker as he toiled on, and the wind began to toss the branches around overhead. There were no doves or robins calling now, just some ravens croaking nearby. Tobin’s arm cramped from carrying the doll. He thought of all the hiding places he’d seen on his rides, but the few holes he found here were all too wet. Even if he did find a dry hiding place, he wasn’t sure if he’d dare come out and visit it very often. On the heels of that thought came the realization that he did not want to be parted from it at all.
Better to keep going and look for that hidden room, he told himself.
But nothing looked the way it had in his dream. There was no clearing, no friendly deer waiting for him, just rocks and roots that caught his feet, little biting flies that buzzed in his ears, and mud that soaked his shoes. He was almost ready to give up when he struck a clear trail leading up to a pine grove on higher ground.
The way was much easier here. Fragrant rust-colored needles lay thick underfoot and his feet hardly made a sound as he walked. He followed this path eagerly, certain it would lead him to the clearing and the deer. Instead, it gradually grew fainter until it disappeared altogether beneath the thick, straight trunks of the pines. Turning around, he couldn’t see his way back. His feet had left no impression in the thick needles. He couldn’t even hear the sound of the river anymore, just the first patter of rain through the boughs. No matter what direction he turned, it all looked the same. The bit of sky he could see through the thick branches was an even blanket of grey with no hint of the sun.
The breeze had died and the day had turned close. Flies with big green eyes joined the clouds of tiny midges buzzing around him, biting him on the neck and behind his ears. The grand adventure was over. Tobin was hot, frightened and lost.
He cast around frantically to find the path but it was no use. At last, he gave up and sat on a rock, wondering if Nari had noticed that he was gone yet.
It was quiet here. He heard a red squirrel’s angry trill and the sounds of small creatures creeping in the undergrowth around him. Little black ants toiled in the needles around his feet, carrying their eggs and bits of leaves. Exhausted, he leaned forward to watch them. One had a shiny beetle’s leg in its pinchers. A long black snake as thick as Tobin’s wrist emerged from a hole under a nearby tree and slithered past his foot, paying no attention to him at all. Rain fell softly through the branches, and he could hear the different sounds the drops made, striking dead leaves, plants, rocks, and the needles on the ground. Tobin wondered uneasily what catamount’s feet sounded like on pine needles, or if they made any sound at all.
“I thought you come today maybe.”
Tobin nearly toppled off his rock as he whirled around. A small, black-haired woman sat on a mossy log just a few yards away, hands clasped in her lap. She was very dirty and wore a ragged brown rag of a dress decorated with animal teeth. Her hands and bare feet were stained, and there were sticks and bits of leaf tangled in her long, curly hair. She grinned at him, but her black eyes held no mockery.
Tobin thrust the doll behind him, shamed at being caught with it, even by a stranger. He was scared, too, noting the long knife sheathed at her belt. She didn’t look like one of his father’s tenants, and she spoke strangely.
She gave him a broad smile that lacked several teeth. “Look what I got, keesa.” She moved her hands and he saw that she held a young rabbit on her lap. She stroked its ears and back. “You come see?”
Tobin hesitated, but curiosity overcame caution. He rose and slowly walked over to stand before her.
“You rub her,” the woman said, showing him how to pat the rabbit. “She like.”
Tobin stroked the rabbit’s back.
Its fur was soft and warm under his hand and, like the deer in his dream, it wasn’t the least bit skittish.
“She like you.”
Yes, thought Tobin, this woman didn’t speak like anyone he’d met in Alestun. He was close enough now to tell that she didn’t smell very good, either, but for some reason he wasn’t afraid anymore.
Keeping the doll hidden under his cloak, he knelt and patted the rabbit some more. “She’s soft. Dogs don’t let me pet them.”
The woman clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Dogs don’t understanding.” Before Tobin could ask what she meant, she said, “I waiting for you long time, keesa.”
“My name isn’t Keesa. It’s Prince Tobin. I don’t know you, do I?”
“But I knowing you, keesa called Tobin. Knowing your poor mama, too. You got one was her thing.”
So she had seen the doll. Blushing, Tobin slowly brought it out from under his cloak. She took it and passed him the rabbit to hold.
“I Lhel. You don’t be scared me.” She held the doll on her lap, smoothing it with her stained fingers. “I know you born. Watch for you.”
Lhel? He’d heard that name somewhere before. “How come you never come to the keep?”
“I come.” She winked at him. “Not be see.”
“How come you don’t talk right?”
Lhel touched a finger playfully to his nose. “Maybe you teach? I teach, too. I wait be your teaching, all this time out in trees. Lonesome time, but I wait. You ready learn some things?”
“No. I was looking for—for—”
“Mama?”
Tobin nodded. “I saw her in a dream. In a room under the ground.”
Lhel shook her head sadly. “Don’t her. Be me. That mama don’t be need now.”
Sadness overwhelmed Tobin. “I want to go home!”
Lhel patted his cheek. “Not so far. But you don’t come just get lost, no?” She patted the doll. “This give you some troubles.”
“Well—”
“I know. You come, keesa.”
She got up and walked off through the trees with the doll. Tobin had little choice but to follow.
The washing didn’t take as long when Rhius and the men were away. With rain threatening, Nari and Cook made quick work of the clothing and linens while Mynir strung lines up in the hall for drying.
They were finished in time to start a proper supper.
“I’ll do the bread,” Nari said, surveying the lines of dripping linen with satisfaction. “Just let me go see if Tobin wants to help.”
The truth was, she didn’t feel easy in her mind leaving the child alone so much, not since the mess in the toy room. It could have been the spirit that tore the room up—the thought of Tobin heaving over that heavy wardrobe scared the liver out of her—but it had been Tobin she’d seen throwing toys and torn tapestries around, and he who’d attacked her, bloodying her nose before she could hold him. It was getting harder to tell when to blame the spirit, and when Tobin was in one of his fits. He’d been so strange since the death, keeping to himself and always acting as if he had some great secret he was keeping.
Nari sighed as she climbed the stairs. Ariani had never been much use as a mother, except perhaps for those last quiet months. And Rhius? Nari shook her head. She’d never been able to puzzle that one out, and all the more so since his wife’s death. If Tobin was a bit strange—well, who was to blame for that?
She found Tobin kneeling beside his toy city, his black hair hanging in a tangled mess around his face as he worked on a broken ship.
“Would you like to help with the baking, pet?” she asked.
He shook his head, struggling to fit the tiny mast back into place.
“Want some help with that?”
He shook his head again and turned away, reaching for something beside him.
“Suit yourself, then, Master Silence.” Giving him a last, fond look, Nari headed back for the kitchen, already pondering what sort of bread they ought to have tonight.
She didn’t hear the sound of the little ship falling to the floor in the empty room behind her.
Tobin cradled the rabbit in his arms as he followed Lhel deeper into the forest. There was no path that he could see, but she picked her way through the trees as swiftly as if she could see one. The forest grew darker, and the trees here were larger than any Tobin had seen before. Soon they were walking between huge oaks and hemlocks. Wide swaths of yellow lady slippers, wintergreen, and foul-smelling purple trillium covered the ground like a colorful rag quilt.
Tobin studied Lhel as he followed her. She wasn’t much taller than he was. Her hair was black like his mama’s, but coarse and curly, with thick locks of silver mixed in.
They went on for a very long time. He didn’t want to go this deep in the woods, not with her, but she had the doll and she didn’t even look back to see if he was following. Blinking back fresh tears, he promised himself he would never come out alone again.
She stopped at last by the largest oak tree Tobin had ever seen. It towered over them as high as the tower and its trunk was nearly as thick. It was festooned with animal skulls, antlers, and hides tacked up to cure. A few small fish hung on drying racks beside it, and there were baskets made of woven grass and willow. Just beyond these a spring welled up in a clear, round pool that sent a trickling streamlet down the hill. They drank from their hands at the pool, and then Lhel led him back to the great tree.
“My house,” she said, and vanished into the trunk.
Tobin gaped, wondering if the tree had eaten her, but she peeked out at him from its side and beckoned him to follow.
Coming closer, he saw that there was a crack in the trunk large enough for him to walk through without stooping. Inside the ancient tree was a hollow place almost as big as Tobin’s bedchamber, with a floor of packed, dry earth. The smooth silvery wood of the walls went up into darkness, and a second crack a few yards above the door let in enough light for Tobin to make out a pallet bed piled with furs, a firepit, and a small iron pot beside it. The pot looked just like the ones Cook used.
“Did you make this place?” he asked, forgetting his fear again as he gazed around. This was even better than a room under the ground.
“No. Old grandmother trees open up hearts, make good place inside.” She kissed her palm and pressed it to the wood as if she was thanking the tree.
Lhel settled Tobin on the pallet and kindled a small blaze in the firepit. He put the rabbit down, and it settled beside him and began cleaning its whiskers with its paws. Lhel reached into the shadows near the door and brought out a basket of wild strawberries and a braided loaf of bread.
“That looks like the bread Cook made the other day,” Tobin observed.
“She good maker,” Lhel replied, setting the food down in front of him. “Tell you I go your home.”
“You stole the bread?”
“I earn it, wait for you.”
“How come I’ve never seen you there, then?” Tobin asked again. “How come I’ve never heard of you, living so close?”
The woman scooped a handful of berries into her mouth and shrugged. “I don’t want folks be see me, they don’t see. Now, we fix this hekka, yes?”
Before Tobin could object, Lhel drew her knife and cut the shiny black cord from the doll’s neck. Once severed, the cord unwound into a thin hank of black hair.
“Mama’s.” Lhel tickled Tobin’s cheek with it, then cast it into the fire. Using her knife again, she picked open a seam on the doll’s back and shook some brown, crumbling flakes into the fire, then replaced them with sprigs of herbs from a basket. Among them Tobin recognized the spiky tips of rosemary and rue.
Producing a silver needle and some thread from the pouch at her belt, she held out her hand to Tobin. “Need bitty of you red, keesa, hold the charm. Make this you hekka.”
“It’s already mine,” Tobin protested, shrinking back.
Lhel shook her head. “No.”
Not knowing what else to do, Tobin
allowed her to prick his finger and squeeze a drop of his blood into the body of the doll. Then she stitched it all up again, set it upright on her knee, and wrinkled her nose into a comic grimace. “Need face, but you maker for that. I done last thing now. Little thing.”
Humming to herself, Lhel cut a lock of Tobin’s hair, rubbed the strands with wax like a bowstring, and twisted them into a new neck cord for the doll. Tobin watched her fingers as she secured it with a fancy knot that seemed to knit the ends of the strand together. “Are you a wizard?”
Lhel snorted and handed him the finished doll. “What you think this be?”
“Just—just a doll?” Tobin replied, already suspecting it wasn’t. “Is it magic now?”
“Always be magic,” Lhel told him. “My folk call this hekkamari. Got spirit in it. You know the one.”
“The demon?” Tobin stared down at it.
Lhel gave him a sad smile. “Demon, keesa? No. Spirit. Ghost. This be your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother!”
“You do, keesa. Born with you but die. I teaching your mama be make this for his poor mari. He be wait, too. Long time. You say—” She paused, pressing her palms together beneath her chin as she thought. “You say, ‘Blood, my blood. Flesh, my flesh. Bone, my bone.’”
“What will that do?”
“Bind him to you. You see then. He need you. You need him.”
“I don’t want to see it!” Tobin cried, thinking of all the monsters he’d conjured up trying to put a form to the presence that had overshadowed his life.
Lhel reached out and cupped his cheek in her rough palm. “You being scared long enough. Be brave now like warrior. You got things coming of you, you don’t know. You always being brave, all the time.”
Always being brave, like a warrior, thought Tobin. Feeling anything but brave, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Blood, my blood. Flesh, my flesh …”
“Bone, my bone,” Lhel prompted softly.