The Bone Doll's Twin (54 page)

“My father says that’s what comes of consorting with wizards,” Zusthra put in. “Go messing about with magic too much and you end up with all sorts of creatures you don’t care for lurking about.”

“You wouldn’t want Lord Niryn to hear that opinion, I’m sure,” someone said, and Tobin realized that the would-be squire, Moriel, had been with them all along. He just hadn’t noticed him under the wig and paint until he spoke. “Lord Niryn believes that wizards can help strengthen the throne of Skala. What do you say, Korin? You see enough of the fellow.”

Korin took a long pull from the wineskin and laid his head in Aliya’s lap. “My father’s wizard has eyes like two brown stones polished by the sea surf. I can’t ever tell what’s going on behind those cold hard orbs. So long as he keeps us in lightstones and tricks, I’ve nothing against the man, but when I’m king I won’t need any wizards to win my wars for me, or to guard my throne. Just give me
you lot!” He waved the wineskin, spraying its contents liberally over those lying closest to him. “Skalan steel and a brave Skalan to wield it!”

This toast led to singing, and the singing to more drinking. Even Tobin let himself get a little drunk before Ki hauled him off to bed in disgust.

T
obin and Ki came off the training field a few days later to find Tharin and half a dozen of his men waiting for them. Tobin hardly recognized them at first. Koni and the others wore new uniforms similar to those of the King’s Guard, with silver badges instead of gold. Tharin was dressed like a lord in somber brown edged with black, and wore a silver chain.

“My prince,” said Tharin. “The steward sends word, asking if your highness will inspect your house today. Everything has been made ready for you.”

Tobin strode up to hug him, he was so glad to see a familiar face, but Tharin gently held him off and shook his head ever so slightly. Ki hung back, looking like he wanted to do the same.

They got leave from the arms master and followed Tharin into the labyrinth of noble dwellings that filled the grounds between the two great palaces.

The house that had belonged to Tobin’s mother was actually a small wing attached to the outer wall of the Old Palace, surrounded by its own walls and courts. The gardens inside the main courtyard had been well tended, but once inside the house itself Tobin felt a strange emptiness close in around him, even though the hall had fine carved furnishings and brightly painted walls. Half a dozen servants in livery bowed to him as he entered. The steward was a middle-aged man Tharin introduced as Ulies, old Mynir’s son.

“I grieve for your loss,” Tobin told him.

Ulies bowed again. “And I for yours, my prince. I am
honored that he served you and your family, and hope that I may do the same.”

Tobin turned slowly, taking in the great hall, with its ancient sideboards, hangings, and elegant carvings on the beams and walls. A broad staircase led up to his left.

“Your father carried you down those stairs the day you were named,” Tharin told him. “You should have seen this room, filled with all the great nobles of Skala. The king himself stood just there at the bottom of the stairs with Prince Korin on his shoulders. By the Four, how proud we all were!”

Tobin looked up at him. “Where was my mother? Was—was she well then?”

Tharin sighed. “No, Tobin, she wasn’t. From the night of your birth she wasn’t, but that’s no fault of yours. She stayed up in her room.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course. This is your house now and you can go anywhere you like. But the upstairs rooms haven’t been lived in since your mother left. Your father and I used chambers on this floor when we were in Ero, and the men have a barracks in the back court. Come on.”

Tobin looked around for Ki. “Well, come on!”

They were halfway up the stairs when Brother appeared above them, waiting for him at the top.

He shouldn’t have been there. Tobin hadn’t called him all day.

Actually, he hadn’t called him since that first night, he realized guiltily. There’d been so much to see and do here that he’d completely forgotten.

Yet Brother was there all the same, staring at him with black, accusing eyes. Tobin sighed inwardly and let him stay.

“Did you see my twin, Tharin?” he asked. “The one who died?”

“No, I was away at Atyion that night. By the time I returned all had been dealt with.”

“Why didn’t Father ever talk about that, and tell me what the demon really was?”

“I don’t know.” Tharin paused at the top of the stairs, not realizing that his hand brushed Brother’s shoulder as he spoke. “Perhaps out of respect for your mother? She couldn’t bear the mention of it, especially in the early days. It made her quite—wild. And then there was all the gossip around the city of ghosts and hauntings. After a while none of us spoke of it at all.” He shook his head. “I assumed he’d said something to you on his own. It wasn’t my place.”

He lifted the latch of a door just across from the head of the staircase. “This is it, Tobin, the room where you were born.”

The corridor floor was freshly laid with rushes, and smelled of strewing herbs and lamp oil. In the room beyond, however, Tobin recognized the stale smell of disuse. The shutters were open but the room was dismal and cold. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms as he stepped inside.

It had been a lady’s bedchamber. A few tapestries still hung on the walls—faded scenes of ocean creatures and forest hunts. There were fish of some sort carved on the mantel, very pretty, but the hearth was cold and full of soot, and there were no ornaments or dolls on the bare stone mantel.

Across the room Brother stood at the foot of a high, tall-posted bed with a bare mattress. He was naked now, and Tobin could see the line of blood-crusted stitching on his chest again. As Tobin watched he climbed onto the bed and lay down on his back. Then he was gone.

“Do you know how my brother died?” asked Tobin softly, still staring at the bed.

Tharin looked at him. “Stillborn, Nari said. Never drew breath. But it wasn’t a boy child, Tobin, it was a little girl.”

Ki gave him a questioning look; surely he’d speak the truth to Tharin? But here was Brother again, standing
between them with a finger to his lips. Tobin shook his head at Ki and said nothing.

Instead, he turned away, seeking some sign of his mother in this empty room. If she had changed so terribly the night he was born, then perhaps there was some trace here of who she’d been before—something to help him understand why she’d changed.

But he found nothing and suddenly he didn’t want to be here anymore.

The other chambers along the corridor were the same: long since deserted and emptied of all but the largest furnishings. The more he saw, the lonelier he felt, like a stranger wandering somewhere he did not belong.

Tharin must have sensed this. He put an arm around Tobin’s shoulders and said, “Come back downstairs. There’s a place I think you’ll like better.”

They went down through the hall and along a short corridor to a cozy, dark-paneled bedchamber that Tobin recognized at once as having been his father’s. Rhius hadn’t been here in months and would never return, but there was still a feeling of life in this room. The heavy dark red hangings around the bed were just like the ones at the keep. A pair of familiar shoes stood on a chest. A half-finished letter in a bold scrawl lay curling on the writing desk beside an ivory portrait of Tobin. Tobin breathed in the familiar mix of scents: sealing wax, oiled leather, rust, herbs, and his father’s own warm, manly smell. On a shelf by the writing desk Tobin found a collection of his wax and wooden sculptures—gifts to his father over the years—lined up and saved just as Tobin had saved the tokens his father had sent to him.

All at once the ache of loss he’d managed to hold at bay returned full force. He clenched his teeth against it, but the hot tears came anyway, blinding him as he sank down. Strong arms caught him; not his father, but Tharin holding him tight, patting his back as he had when Tobin was very small. There was another hand on his shoulder,
too, and this time he was not ashamed at showing weakness in front of Ki. He believed him now; even warriors had to grieve.

He wept until his chest hurt and his nose ran, but in the end he felt lighter, freed of some of the burden of sorrow he’d carried so deeply. He pulled away from them and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I’ll honor my father,” he said, looking around the room again with gratitude. “I’ll carry his name into battle and be as great a warrior as he was.”

“He knew that,” said Tharin. “He always spoke proudly of you.”

“May I have this room as mine, when I stay here?”

“You don’t have to ask, Tobin. It all belongs to you.”

“Is that why Koni and the others are wearing different uniforms now?”

“Yes. As your parents’ sole heir, you take the rank of your mother and all your father’s holdings fall to you.”

“My holdings,” Tobin mused. “Can you show me?”

Tharin opened a chest and took out a map. On it Tobin recognized the outline of the Skalan peninsula and the territories to the north of it. A tiny crown on the eastern coast marked Ero. He’d seen maps like this before, but on this one there were other places marked in red ink. Atyion lay to the north, and Cirna was a dot on the thin bridge of land that connected Skala to the mainland. There were red dots up there in the territories, too, and across the mountains on the northwestern coastline where there were almost no cities at all. Which ones would Ki like best, he wondered?

“All these belong to the Crown until you’re of age, of course,” Tharin said, frowning down at the map.

“That worries you.”

“It’s nothing we have to think about for now.” Tharin tried to smile as he put the map away. “Come and see my room.”

They walked to the next door along the passageway and Tharin showed them in.

This chamber was austere to the point of severity by comparison, with plain hangings and few comforts. The only exceptions were a fine collection of weapons hung on one wall, collected from many battlefields, and more of Tobin’s little creations on a table near the window. Tobin went over and picked up a lopsided wax man with a wood splinter sword in one round fist. He wrinkled his nose. “I remember this one. I threw it out.”

Tharin chuckled fondly. “And I saved it; it’s the only portrait ever done of me. These others were gifts from you, remember?” He pulled a crude little wooden Sakor horse on a knotted bit of string from the neck of his tunic. “This is the first one you ever made for me. All the other men have them, too. We wear them for luck.”

“You should have him make you a new one,” said Ki with a laugh. “He’s improved quite a lot since then.”

Tharin shook his head. “It was a gift from the heart. I wouldn’t trade this little fellow for all the horses of Atyion.”

“When can I go to Atyion?” Tobin asked. “I’ve heard tales of it all my life. Even Ki’s seen it, but not me! And Cirna and all the other estates and holdings?”

There was that hint of a frown again as Tharin replied, “You’ll have to speak to Lord Orun about that. He’s the one who must arrange any travel outside the city.”

“Oh.” Tobin made no effort to hide his dislike here. “When do you think the king will come back? I’m going to ask him to give me a new guardian before he goes away next time. I don’t care how rich or powerful Orun is, I can’t stand the sight of him!”

“Well, I’ve been hoping to have a talk with you about that. That’s one of the reasons I brought you here today.” Tharin closed the door and leaned against it, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin.

“You’re young, Tobin, and you’ve no experience of court life. I can’t say I’m sorry about how you’ve turned out because of that, but now that you’re here, it may hurt
you, not knowing how things are done. Illior knows, there hasn’t been much time to speak of all the changes—It took us all by surprise when he showed up. But now that we’re all split up this way, there are some things you need to hear. I swore to your father that I would watch over you, and I don’t know of anyone else who can tell you what I’m about to tell you. Ki, you listen well, too, and don’t you ever breathe a word of it to anyone.”

He sat the boys on the edge of his bed and pulled up a chair.

“I don’t care much for Lord Orun, either, but you keep that to yourselves. He’s the king’s friend, and one of his highest ministers, so it wouldn’t do you any good if that’s the first thing your uncle hears from you when you meet. Understand?”

Tobin nodded. “Prince Korin says I should be careful of him, because he’s a powerful man.”

“That’s right. At court you must say less than you think and only speak as much of the truth as will do you good. I’m afraid that’s something we didn’t teach you before, but you always were a good one at keeping quiet about things. As for you, Ki—”

Ki blushed. “I know. I’ll keep my mouth closed.”

“It’s for Tobin’s sake. Now, it costs me some pride to say it, but I want you both to keep on Lord Orun’s good side while you have to.”

“You sound like you’re scared of him!” Ki blurted out.

“You could say that. Orun was already a powerful lord at court when Rhius and I were in the Companions. He was only the third son of a duke, but his father was rich and had the mad queen’s ear. I mean no disrespect to your family, Tobin, but your grandmother Agnalain was mad as a cat in a high wind by the end and Orun still managed to come out alive and with power. Erius likes him, too, which is more than your father or I could ever fathom. So crossing Orun is only fouling your own nest. Keep peace between you. And …” He stopped, as if unsure what to say next.
“Well, if either of you has any trouble with him, you come to me. Promise me that.”

“You know we will,” Tobin replied, though it seemed to him that Tharin was looking at Ki as he said this.

A knock came at the door and Tharin went to deal with a courier who’d arrived. Tobin sat a moment, pondering all he’d been told, then rose to go back to the hall. When he came out into the passage, however, Ki tapped his shoulder and whispered, “I think our friend is here. I’ve been feeling him since we were upstairs.”