The Bone Doll's Twin (25 page)

But this … As her search stretched dismally from weeks to a month, her opinion of ordinary children was not much improved. She found children enough among the country nobles, but not one who struck her as any more interesting than a turnip.

Lord Evir, whose house she had visited first, had six fine boys, two of them of an age and ability to serve, but they were thick, heavy-footed bullcalves, dull as moles.

She went to Lady Morial’s great holding next, recalling that some number of babes had been born there. The good widow had a son just turned ten who seemed lively enough, but when Iya brushed his mind with hers, she found it already stained with greed and envy. One could not well serve a prince, or a queen, if one coveted their station.

So she traveled on, moving slowly up the spine of
Skala, encountering yet more turnips, moles, and vipers-to-be. She was within a week’s ride of Ero when the first rains of Rhythin came. She wandered on through the cold, misty drizzle, searching for the estate of Lord Jorvai of Co-lath, whom she’d known as a youth.

Two days later, with the afternoon waning and no sign of estate or shelter in sight, the muddy road she’d been following ended abruptly at the bank of a swollen stream. She tried to urge her mare on, but the beast shied and sidestepped.

“Damnation!” Iya shouted, looking around at the empty barrens that surrounded her on every side. She couldn’t wade the flood and there was no inn nearby if she turned back. She had passed a side road an hour or so earlier, she recalled, wrapping her sodden cloak more closely around her. That had to lead somewhere.

She’d backtracked less than half a mile when a small band of riders appeared out of the mist, leading a string of fine horses. They were a hard-bitten lot, either soldiers or bandits by the look of their gear. Iya put on a brave face to meet them. As they drew up ahead of her, she noted that one of the riders was a woman, though she looked as rough and grim as any of the others.

Their leader was a tall, gaunt old man whose long grey moustaches framed a mouth full of broken teeth. “What’s your business on this road, woman?” he challenged.

“And who might you be to ask?” Iya retorted, already weaving a blinding spell at the back of her mind. There were only seven of them. From the dark looks she was getting, the horses they led were probably stolen.

“I’m Sir Larenth of Oakmount Stead, a tenant of Lord Jorvai, whose lands you’re on.” He jerked a thumb at the woman and two of the others. These are my sons, Alon and Khemeus, and my daughter Ahra. We guard Jorvai’s roads.”

“I beg pardon, then. I’m Iya of Maker’s Ford, a free
wizard of Skala. And as it happens, I was seeking your lord myself, but I believe I’ve lost my way.”

“By a good mark, too. His manor is half a day’s ride back the way you came,” Larenth replied, still brusque. “You may claim hospitality at my hearth tonight, if you’ve nowhere else to go.”

Iya had little choice. “Many thanks, Sir Larenth. I do claim it, and gratefully.”

“What business do you have with my lord?” Larenth asked as she fell in with them.

“I’m charged with seeking a companion for a nobleman’s son.”

The old knight snorted. “I’ve a houseful of whelps—four wives’ worth—and plenty of bastards. Good as any you’ll find in the capital. I could do with a few less mouths to feed. I suppose I’d be paid for the loss of labor?”

“The customary boon fee would be paid, of course.” Iya eyed the dour offspring present and doubted there was much chance of loosening her purse strings under his roof. All the same, he had a girl trained to arms, a rare and welcome sight these days. “Your daughter serves with you. That’s rather out of fashion these days, I hear.”

The young woman straightened in the saddle, looking offended.

“Fashion be damned, and the king, too, with his airs and laws,” Larenth snapped. “My mother earned her keep by the sword, and her mother before her. I won’t have my girl done out of a good living, by the Light I won’t! All of my children are trained to arms soon as they can walk. You’ll find Lord Jorvai is of a like mind, and not afraid to say so. You’re a wizard; you must hold with the old ways, too?”

“I do, but these days it’s not always wise to say so too loudly.”

Larenth blew out his moustaches with another snort. “Mark my words, Mistress. There’ll come a day when the king will be glad enough of my girl in his ranks, and all
the others like her he’s pushed out. Those bastards across the water won’t be content with raiding forever.”

S
ir Larenth’s steading proved to be nothing but a small, sparse-looking bit of land with a few outbuildings and corrals surrounding a rude stone house inside a stockade. A pack of barking hounds greeted their arrival and milled around their legs as they dismounted. Half a dozen muddy young children came running to do the same, hanging on their father and older siblings.

Larenth’s harsh face softened a little as he tossed a little girl up on his shoulder and ushered Iya into the damp, smoky hall with rough courtesy.

There was little in the way of comfort to be found here. Even with the doors open, the room was cramped and malodorous. The furnishings were plain and few, with no hangings or plate in sight. Sides of meat and ropes of sausages dangled from the rafters below the smoke hole in the roof, curing in the smoke of the fire that blazed in the center of the packed earth floor. Beside it a thin, pregnant young woman in a sack of a gown sat twirling a distaff. She was introduced as the old knight’s fourth lady, Sekora. With her were a few women, and an idiot stepson of about fourteen. Four bare-bottomed little children scrambled among the hounds at the women’s feet.

The rest of Larenth’s brood soon came straggling in for the evening meal. Iya lost count at fifteen. It was impossible to distinguish trueborn from bastard; in country households like this, where only the eldest stood to inherit the father’s rank, it didn’t much matter. The rest would have to make their own way.

Supper was a disorganized affair. Trestles were set up and pots hung on tripods over the hearth. Trenchers were brought in from a bake house and everyone sat where they could find space to eat. No one stood on ceremony here; more children arrived and elbowed the others out of the way to reach the hearth. It was not an elegant house
hold, or a particularly friendly one, and the food was vile, but Iya was grateful to be off the road. The drizzle had turned into a downpour and lightning lit the yard outside.

The meal was nearly over before Iya noticed the trio of boys standing by the open doorway. Judging by their wet clothes and small portions, they’d arrived late during the chaos of the meal. One of them, the muddiest of the lot, was laughing over something with his brothers. He was as wiry and sun-browned as all the others, with thick dark hair that was probably a good brown under the dirt and twigs. She wasn’t certain at first why she noticed him at all. Perhaps it was something in the tilt of his smile.

“Who is that?” she asked her host, trying to make herself heard over the chatter and the rain pounding on the thatch.

“That one?” Larenth frowned a moment. “Dimias, I think.”

“That’s
Ki
, Father!” Ahra chided.

“Is he trueborn or bastard?” asked Iya.

Stumped again, Larenth consulted his daughter. “True-born, of my third wife,” he said at last.

“May I speak with him?” asked Iya.

Larenth gave her knowing wink. “All you like, Mistress, but remember there’s other pups in the litter, if that one don’t suit you.”

Iya made her way over dogs and legs and babes to the trio in the doorway. “Are you called Ki?” she asked the boy.

Caught in midchew, he swallowed hastily and bowed. “Yes, Lady. At your service.”

Though he was not striking in any particular way, Iya knew at once that this was no turnip. His eyes, the color of chestnut hulls, shone with good nature and intelligence.

Iya’s heart skipped a beat; could he be wizard born? Taking his dirty hand in greeting, she touched his mind out of habit and found with a twinge of disappointment that he was not.

“Is that all there is to your name?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’s all I’m ever called.”

“It’s
Kirothius,”
one of the older boys reminded him, giving him a poke in the back. “He just don’t like it ’cause he can’t say it.”

“I can so!” Ki told Iya, blushing under the dirt that streaked his cheeks. From the smell of him, he’d spent his day tending pigs. “I like just Ki better. And it helps Father remember, with so many of us to keep track of.”

Everyone within hearing laughed, and Ki of the shortened name flashed a buck-toothed grin that seemed the brightest thing in this wretched hovel, or the whole wretched day.

“Well now, Ki, how old are you?”

“Eleven summers, Lady.”

“And are you trained to the sword?”

The boy’s chin rose proudly. “Yes, Lady. And the bow.”

“Trained to the pig-whacking stick, more like it,” the poking brother chimed in.

Ki turned on him angrily. “You just shut your mouth, Amin. Who broke your finger for you last month?”

Ah, so the pup has cut some teeth, too
, Iya noted approvingly. “Have you ever been to court?”

“I have, Lady. Father takes us to Ero for the Sakor festival most years. I seen the king and his son in their golden crowns, riding with the priests to the temple. I’ll serve at court one day, myself.”

“Tending the king’s pigs!” teasing Amin put in.

Outraged, Ki jumped on his brother and knocked him down onto a circle of children sitting on the floor behind them. Iya retreated hastily as the discussion devolved into a loud free-for-all involving an increasing number of children and dogs and wailing babies. A few minutes later, she spotted Ki and the offending brother perched in the rafters overhead, grinning at the mayhem they’d created. The current mother waded into the fray, wielding a ladle.

Iya knew she’d found her boy, but was surprised by a twinge of conscience. If the worst happened, there could be no hesitation, no mercy. Yet surely it was worth the risk. What future did the poor child have here? No land, no title; at best, he’d end up a foot soldier or mercenary and die on the end of a Plenimaran lance. This way, he at least had a chance to realize his dream of court and some title of his own.

After the children were asleep that night in scattered piles on the floor, Sir Larenth bound the boy over for a boon fee of five gold sesters and a packet of charms to keep his well sweet and his roof sound.

No one thought to ask Ki what he thought of the matter.

B
y the light of day, Iya worried that she might have acted rashly. Ki had cleaned up well enough, and even had on a clean suit of faded hand-me-down clothes. His hair, tied back with a thong today, was the same warm brown as his eyes. He came armed, too, with a knife at his belt and a decent bow and quiver over his shoulder.

But he showed none of the previous night’s sparkle as he bid his family good-bye and set off on foot beside Iya’s horse.

“Are you well?” she asked, watching him march doggedly along. “Yes, Lady.”

“You mustn’t call me ‘lady.’ You’re more nobly born than I am. You may call me Mistress Iya and I shall call you Ki, just as you like. Now, would you like to come up and ride behind me?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Did your father tell you where we’re going?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Are you glad to be the companion of the king’s nephew?”

He said nothing and Iya noted the grim set of his jaw. “Does the prospect displease you?”

Ki shrugged his little bundle higher on his shoulder. “I’ll do my duty, Mistress.”

“Well, you might be a bit happier about it. I should think you’d be glad to leave that wretched place back there. Nobody will expect you to tend pigs or sleep under a table in Duke Rhius’ house.”

Ki’s spine stiffened visibly, just as his half sister’s had the day before. “Yes, Mistress.”

Wearying of this strange, one-sided conversation, Iya let him be and Ki trudged along behind her in silence.

By the Light, perhaps I have made a mistake after all
, Iya thought.

Glancing back at him, she saw that he was limping now.

“Do you have a blister?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Then why are you limping?”

“I got a stone in my shoe.”

Exasperated, she reined her horse to a halt. “Then why in the world didn’t you say so? By the Light, child, you have a voice!”

He met her gaze squarely, but his chin was trembling. “Father said I was to speak only when spoke to,” he told her, trying desperately to keep up a brave front as the words spilled out. “He said if I give you any back talk or stepped wrong, you’d turn me back to him and make him give the gold back and he’d flay the skin off me and turn me out on the road. He said I must do my duty to Prince Tobin and never come home again.”

It was quite a speech, and boldly stated except for the tears spilling down his cheeks. He swiped at them with his sleeve, but kept his head up proudly as he waited to be sent home in disgrace.

Iya sighed. “Wipe your nose, boy. No one’s going to send you home for having a rock in your shoe. I don’t have a lot of experience of ordinary boys, Ki, but you strike me as a good sort, over all. You’re not going to hurt Prince Tobin or run away, are you?”

“No, La—Mistress!”

“Then I doubt there’ll be any need to send you home. Now empty your shoe and come up here.”

When he’d finished with his shoe she gave him a hand up and gave his knee an awkward pat. “That’s settled. We’ll get along just fine now.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And perhaps we can have a more interesting conversation. It’s a long ride to Alestun from here. You may speak freely, and ask me questions whenever you like. You won’t learn much in life if you don’t, you know.”

Ki shifted his knee against the leather sack, which hung against his leg. “What’s in here? You carry it around with you all the time. I seen you sleep with it, last night.”

Startled, she snapped, “Nothing you need to know of, except that it’s very dangerous and I
will
send you home if you ever meddle with it.”