The Bone Doll's Twin (35 page)

“Then perhaps you can find a little forgiveness in your heart for me; you know perfectly well that’s why I’ve stayed away.” She took the Harrier’s brooch from a pouch at her belt and tossed it onto the table. “I was given this in Ero.”

Rhius eyed it with distaste. “Ah yes. Niryn’s badges.”

It was Iya’s turn to pace as she told him of her visit to the city, ending with the search made of her room at the inn and the spell the wizard had cast for the unknown girl.

Rhius let out a bitter bark of a laugh. “You’ve been too long away. Niryn has turned oracle and claims to dream of a usurper who’ll unseat Erius from the throne—a false queen raised by necromancy. It wasn’t enough to slaughter the innocents of royal blood. They go on looking for signs and wonders now.”

“I think he’s been sent the same vision that I was given, but he misinterprets it. Or chooses to. It wasn’t enough to slaughter the royal girls; none of them was the one and so the dream continues. Fortunately, he hasn’t yet seen Tobin clearly. I think we may thank Lhel’s magic for that. All the same, Niryn has an inkling of what’s coming, and the wizards of Skala are to be numbered and divided against themselves.”

“By the Light! If they discover Tobin before she’s old enough to fight, to lead—”

“I don’t believe there is any danger of that just yet. Clearly, however, they’ve had some inkling of wizardly protection, otherwise why should they have scoured my room looking for her?”

“Are you certain they found no clue there?”

“I saw no sign of it. Sooner or later, though, the king’s spies will recall the connection between your family and myself. I only hope that Arkoniel’s presence at the keep won’t bring undue attention on the household.”

“I’ve said nothing of him. Keep him away from the city and unnumbered.”

“I plan to. Has Niryn shown any interest in the child recently?”

“None at all. Of course, he’s had the Harriers and their work to occupy his attention. Quite a powerful little cabal he’s building up.”

“How so?”

Rhius laced his fingers together around one knee and stared down the black mourning ring on his left hand. “There are rumors of secret meetings being held somewhere outside the city.”

“And Erius says nothing to this? I can’t imagine even the rumor of such a thing going unchallenged.”

“They serve him, or so he believes. For all his caution about rivals, Erius has a true blind spot when it comes to Niryn and his followers.”

“Or has been given one. Tell me, how does the king seem to you these days? Do you see any of his mother’s madness growing in him?”

“On the face of it, he’s nothing like her. The business with the girl children—” He made a weary, dismissive gesture. “He’s not the first to take such ruthless measures to ensure a succession. For years now Niryn has filled his head with fears of traitors and rivals, then earned favor by rounding up people for execution. Mad Agnalain had no use for wizards; her son keeps his by him day and night. Niryn brags openly about his “visions,” but rages against Illiorans and wizards and anyone who might rise up and proclaim the Prophecy of Afra again.”

“How many Harrier wizards are there now?”

“Twenty, perhaps. Many of them are very young and he keeps them on a tight rein. But there are others at court
who recognize power when they see it and support him—Lord Orun among them. Tell me, Iya, in all your wandering, how many wizards can you claim to our cause?”

Iya held a finger to her lips. “More, but leave that to me until the moment arrives. And you know wizards alone won’t put Tobin on the throne. We must have armies. Are you still prepared to take the risk?”

Rhius’ face set like a grim mask. “What have I to lose that hasn’t already been taken from me? Tobin can’t remain hidden forever. He must reveal—” He rubbed at his eyelids and sighed.
“She
must reveal herself eventually and either take the throne or die. If she’s discovered before that, then none of us will survive Erius’ rage. Where there’s such certainty, a warrior sees no risk.”

Iya covered his hand with her own and squeezed it. “The Lightbearer chose you as much as Tobin. That trust sits well on you. As you say, we must continue to be cautious. Even Illior’s favor doesn’t guarantee success.” She sat back and studied the duke’s gaunt face. “If we had to fight today, how many men could you bring to the field? What nobles would back you?”

“Tharin, of course, and the men of his estate. Nyanis, I think, and Solari. They’d stand with me. My uncle bears the king no goodwill and has ships. Those who lost their women and girls to him—many of those might be willing to back a rightful queen in the field if they saw a chance of winning. Five thousand, perhaps more. But not for a child, Iya. I don’t think they’d fight for Tobin yet. Erius is a strong king, and a good one in many ways, and Plenimar is still restless. It’s the same as when his mother died and Ariani was so young.”

“Not entirely. Then they’d had a mad queen. Now they’ve had years of plague and famine and war, and whispers of prophecy. A sign will be given, my lord, and when it comes, the people will recognize it.”

Iya stopped, startled at how loud her voice had risen in the little room, and how hard her heart was suddenly
pounding. At Afra she’d seen so many possible futures—was the sign she waited for among these?

She went to the table and sat down by Rhius. “The king keeps you close, yet not on Tobin’s account. Why? What’s changed between you?”

“I’m not certain. You know my marriage to Ariani was a one-sided love match. I loved her and her brother loved my lands. I expect he thought I’d die first and leave it all to her and the Crown. Now I think he means to do it through Tobin. Erius speaks often of bringing Tobin to court to join the Companions.”

“He’s not of age yet.”

“But he soon will be, and even with the stories of Tobin being sickly and demon-cursed, Erius has always been anxious for the boys to know one another. Sometimes I honestly think that it is for love of his sister. All the same, once at court, Tobin will be little more than a hostage.” Rhius frowned down at the brooch. “You’ve seen what it’s like there; once he’s at the Palace, can you still protect my child?”

“With all my heart, I will, my lord,” Iya assured him, not daring to reveal the sudden doubt she felt at the prospect. Like a handful of unthrown dice, Tobin’s future still encompassed all possibilities.

T
he weeks following Ki’s arrival were happy ones. Arkoniel never learned what Iya said to Rhius during her visit to Atyion, but the duke returned to the keep soon after and promised to stay until Tobin’s name day in Erasin. Better still, Rhius seemed almost his old self again, praising the improvements to the house and inviting Arkoniel to game with him and Tharin in the evenings. Whatever rift had been between Rhius and his friend had healed. The two men appeared to be as close as ever.

The duke approved of Ki, as well, and praised Tharin’s training when Ki served at table or matched Tobin at sword and bow practice. When Tobin knelt in the hall on his tenth name day and requested that Ki be made his squire, Rhius granted his permission readily and allowed the boys to pledge their oath to Sakor at the house shrine that same night. Tobin gave Ki one of his finest carved horse charms on a neck chain as a symbol of the bond.

Yet in spite of all this, Rhius maintained a certain aloofness with Ki that cost both boys some discomfort.

On Tobin’s name day, Rhius had gifted Ki with a new suit of clothes and a fine roan horse named Dragon.

When Ki tried to thank him, Rhius said only, “My son should be well attended.”

Ki already worshipped Tharin and was clearly prepared to accord Tobin’s father the same regard; the man’s coolness left him awkward and a little clumsy.

Tobin saw this, too, and hurt for his friend.

Only Arkoniel and Nari understood the reason for the
duke’s distance and neither could offer the truth as comfort. Even among themselves they could not speak of the fatal possibility that hung by a spider’s thread over Ki’s young heart.

O
ne bright cold afternoon a few weeks later Arkoniel found himself sharing the parapet with the duke as they watched the boys at play in the meadow below.

Tobin was attempting to track Ki, who lay hidden in a shallow depression surrounded by snow-dusted grass and weeds. Ki somehow managed to keep the white fog of his breath from rising, but in the end he gave himself away when his foot bumped a dead milkweed stalk. Several dry pods still clung to the stem and when he jarred them, their silky white seeds burst forth and rose like a battlefield signal.

Rhius chuckled. “Ah, he’s done for now.”

Tobin saw and dashed over to pounce on his friend. The resulting wrestling match sent up another thick cloud of milkweed fluff. “By the Light, that Ki is godsent.”

“I believe he is,” Arkoniel agreed. “It’s amazing how they’ve taken to one another.”

At first glance, no two boys could have been more different. Tobin remained quiet and serious by nature; bold Ki couldn’t seem to sit still or keep quiet for more than a few minutes at a stretch. For him, talking seemed as necessary as breathing. He still spoke like a peasant and could be crude as a country tinker. Nari would have taken a switch to him a dozen times already if Tobin hadn’t pleaded for leniency. Yet the substance of what he said was for the most part intelligent if unschooled, and invariably entertaining if not always seemly.

And if Tobin hadn’t yet tried to emulate Ki’s boisterous nature, Arkoniel could tell that he gloried in it. He glowed like a full moon in Ki’s presence and delighted in the older boy’s tales of his large and colorful family. It wasn’t only Tobin who loved these, either. When the
household gathered around the fire each night, Ki was often their principal entertainment and would soon have everyone holding their sides as he described the foibles and mishaps of his various siblings.

He also had a substantial store of garbled fables and myths learned at his father’s hearth; stories of talking animals and ghosts, and fanciful kingdoms where men had two heads and birds shed golden feathers sharp enough to cut off the fingers of the greedy.

Endeavoring to follow Iya’s advice, Arkoniel sent for richly illustrated texts of the more familiar tales, hoping these would coax the boys into their reading lessons. Tobin was still struggling with his letters and Ki was little help. The older boy had proven resistant to such learning in the proud, backward way of a country noble who’d never seen his own name written out and didn’t care to. Arkoniel did not chide them; instead, he left a book or two open to particularly exciting illustrations, trusting curiosity to do his work for him. Only the other day, he’d caught Ki puzzling over
Gramain’s Bestiary.
Meanwhile, Tobin had quietly set to work on a history of his famed ancestor, Ghërilain the First, a gift from his father.

Ki proved a better ally when it came to magic. The boy possessed a child’s normal fascination with it, and his enthusiasm smoothed the way for Arkoniel to attempt to address Tobin’s odd fears. The wizard began with small illusions and a few simple makings. But while Ki threw himself into such pastimes with all his usual carefree abandon, Tobin’s reactions were less predictable. He seemed pleased with lightstones and firechips, but grew wary whenever Arkoniel suggested another vision journey.

T
harin was well pleased with Ki, as well. The boy had an innate understanding of honor and took happily to a squire’s training. He learned the rudiments of table service, though there was little formality at the keep, and eagerly strove to master the other arts of service, though
Tobin stubbornly resisted most efforts to be served. He refused any help in bathing or dressing, and much preferred to take care of his own horse.

In the end, it was at swordplay that Ki proved most useful. He was less than a head taller than Tobin, and had been fighting with his brothers and sisters since he could walk. He made a proper sparring partner, and a very demanding one, too. More often than not he emerged victorious, and Tobin bruised. To Tobin’s credit, he seldom sulked about it and listened willingly as Tharin or Ki explained to him what he’d done wrong. It perhaps helped that Tobin was Ki’s master at archery and horsemanship. Until he’d come here, Ki’s backside had never had a proper saddle beneath it. A knight’s son he might be in name, but he’d had the hard upbringing of a peasant. Perhaps because of this, he never balked at any task and was grateful for any favor. For his part, Tobin, who’d been kept too close to the women for too long, considered every new task a game and often insisted on helping out with chores that most noblemen’s sons would have been insulted to consider. As a result, he grew brighter and browner by the day. The men in the barracks gave Ki all the credit and made pets of them both.

When Nari or Arkoniel fussed over Tobin raking stalls and mending wall beside Ki, Tharin simply shooed them back into the house.

T
he demon has been quieter since he came,” Rhius murmured aloud, interrupting Arkoniel’s thoughts.

“Has it?” he asked. “I don’t suppose I’ve been here long enough to judge.”

“And it never seems to hurt Tobin anymore, not since—not since his poor mother died. Perhaps that was for the best, after all.”

“You can’t mean that, my lord!”

Rhius kept his gaze on the meadow. “You knew my
lady when she was happy and well. You didn’t see what she became. You weren’t here to see.”

Arkoniel had no answer for that.

The boys had reached a truce now. Lying side by side in the snowy grass, they were pointing up at the clouds drifting across the blue winter sky.

Arkoniel looked up and smiled. It had been years since he’d thought to play at finding shapes in the clouds. He suspected that this might be the first time Tobin had ever tried.

L
ook,” said Ki. “That cloud is a fish. And that one over there looks like a kettle with a pig climbing out of it.”

Tobin was unaware of the wizard watching him, but his thoughts were running along similar lines. It seemed that everything had changed again since Ki’s arrival, and this time for the better. Lying here with the sun on his face and the cold seeping up through his cloak, it was easy to forget about mothers and demons and all the other shadows that lurked at the corners of his memory. He could even almost ignore Brother crouched a few feet away, watching Ki with black, hungry eyes.