Read The Bone Doll's Twin Online
Authors: Lynn Flewelling
The Bone Doll's Twin (8 page)
“It’s Niryn leading them,” Arkoniel said, thinking again of the way the wizard had watched him the night of Tobin’s birth. Had he been seeking out followers even then? And what had he found in his Harriers that he hadn’t seen in Arkoniel?
From the private journal of Queen
Tamír II, recently discovered in
the Palace Archives
[Archivist’s note: passage undated]
My father moved us to that lonely keep in the mountains not long after my birth. He put it about that my mother’s health required it, but I’m sure by then all Ero knew she’d gone mad, just as her mother had. When I think of her at all now, I remember a pale wraith of a woman with nervous hands and a stranger’s eyes the same color as my own.
My father’s ancestors built the keep in the days when hill folk still came through the passes to raid the lowlands. It had thick stone walls and narrow windows covered by splintery red-and-white painted shutters—I remember amusing myself by picking off the scaling flakes outside my bedchamber window as I stood there, watching for my father’s return.
A tall, square watchtower jutted from the back of the keep, next to the river. I used to believe the demon lurked there, and watched me from the windows whenever Nari or the men took me outside to play in the courtyards or the meadow below the barracks house. I was kept inside most of the time, though. I knew every dusty, shadowed
room of the lower floors by the time I could walk. That crumbling old pile was all the world I knew, my first seven years—my nurse and a handful of servants my only companions when Father and his men were gone, which was all too often.
And the demon, of course. Only years later did I have any inkling that all households were not like my own—that it was unusual for invisible hands to pinch and push, or for furniture to move about the room by itself. One of my earliest memories is of sitting on Nari’s lap as she taught me to bend my little fingers into a warding sign—
T
obin knelt on the floor in his toy room, idly pushing a little ship around the painted harbor of the toy city. It was the carrack with the crooked mast, the one the demon had broken.
Tobin wasn’t really playing, though. He was waiting and watching the closed door of his father’s room across the corridor. Nari had closed the door when they went in to talk, making it impossible to eavesdrop from here.
Tobin’s breath came out in a puff of white vapor as he sighed and bent to straighten the ship’s little sail. It was cold this morning; he could smell frost on the early morning breeze through the open window. He opened his mouth and blew several short breaths, making brief clouds over the citadel.
The toy city, a gift from his father on his last name day, was his most treasured possession. It stood almost as tall as Tobin and took up half of this disused bedchamber next to his own. And it wasn’t just a toy, either. It was a miniature version of Ero itself, which his father had made for him.
“Since you’re too young to go to Ero, I’ve brought Ero to you!” he’d said when he gave it to him. “You may one day live here, even defend it, so you must know the place.”
Since then, they’d spent many happy hours together, learning the streets and wards. Houses made from wooden blocks clustered thickly up the steep sides of the citadel, and there were open spaces painted green for the
public gardens and pasturage. The great market square had a temple to the Four surrounded by traders’ booths made of twigs and bright scraps of cloth. Baked clay livestock of all sorts populated the little enclosures. The blue-painted harbor that jutted from one side of the city’s base outside the many-gated wall was filled with pretty little ships that could be pushed about with a pole.
The top of the hill was flat and ringed with another wall called the Palatine Circle, though it wasn’t exactly round. Inside lay a great clutter of houses, palaces, and temples, all with different names and stories. There were more gardens here, as well as a fish pool made from a silver mirror and an exercise field for the Royal Companions. This last interested Tobin very much; the Companions were boys who lived at the Old Palace with his cousin, Prince Korin, and trained to be warriors. His father and Tharin had been Companions to King Erius when they were young, too. As soon as Tobin had learned this, he wanted to go at once but was told, as usual, that he must wait until he was older.
The biggest building on the Palatine was the Old Palace. This had a roof that came off, and several rooms inside. There was a throne room with a tiny wooden throne, of course, and a tiny tablet of real gold beside it, set in a little wooden frame.
Tobin lifted this out and squinted at the fine words engraved on it. He couldn’t read them, but he knew them by heart: “So long as a daughter of Thelátimos’ line defends and rules, Skala shall never be subjugated.” Tobin knew the legend of King Thelátimos and the Oracle by heart, too. It was one of his father’s favorite stories.
The city was populated by scores of little wooden stick people. He loved these the best of anything in the city, and smuggled whole families of them back to his bed to hold and talk to under the covers at night while he waited for Nari to come up to bed. Tobin put the golden tablet back, then lined up half a dozen stick people on the
practice ground, imagining himself among the Companions. Opening the flat, velvet-lined box his father had brought home from another journey, he took out the special people and lined them up on the palace roof to watch the Companions at their exercises. These people—The Ones Who Came Before—were much fancier than the stick ones; all but one was made of silver. They had painted faces and clothes and each carried the same tiny sword at their side, the Sword of Queen Ghërilain. His father had taught him their names and stories, too. The silver man was King Thelátimos and next to him in the box was his daughter, Ghërilain the Founder—made queen of Skala because of Oracle’s golden words. After Ghërilain came Queen Tamír, who was poisoned by her brother who’d wanted to be king, then an Agnalain and another Ghërilain, then six more whose names and order he still mixed up, and then Grandmama Agnalain the Second. The first and last queens were his favorites. The first Ghërilain had the finest crown; Grandmama Agnalain had the nicest painting on her cloak.
The last figure in the box was a man carved of wood. He had a black beard like Tobin’s father, a crown, and two names: Your Uncle Erius and The Present King.
Tobin turned the king over in his hands. The demon liked to break this one. The little wooden man would be standing on the Palace roof or lying in his place in the box when suddenly his head would fly off or he’d split right down the middle. After many mendings, Your Uncle was all misshapen.
Tobin sighed again and put them all carefully back in the box. Not even the city could hold his attention today. He turned and stared at the door, willing it to open. Nari had gone in there ages ago! At last, unable to stand the suspense any longer, he crept across the corridor to listen.
The rushes covering the floor were old and crunched beneath his slippers no matter how carefully he tiptoed. He looked quickly up and down the short passage. To his
left lay the stairs to the great hall. He could hear Captain Tharin and old Mynir laughing about something there. To his right, the door beside his father’s was tightly shut and he hoped this one stayed that way; his mama was having another one of her bad spells.
Satisfied that he was alone for the moment, he pressed his ear to the carved oak panel and listened.
“What harm can there be, my lord?” That was Nari. Tobin wiggled with delight. He’d nagged for weeks to get her to do battle on his behalf.
His father rumbled something, then he heard Nari again, gently cajoling the way she did sometimes. “I know what she said, my lord, but with all respect, he’s growing up strange kept apart like this. I can’t think she wants that!”
Who’s strange?
Tobin wondered. And who was this mysterious “she” who might object to him going to town with Father? It was his name day, after all. He was seven today; surely old enough at last to make the journey. And it wasn’t so far to Alestun; when he picnicked on the roof with Nari, they could look east over the valley and see the cluster of roofs beyond the forest’s edge. On a cold day he could even make out smoke rising from the hearth fires there. It seemed a small thing to ask for a present, just to go, and it was all he wanted.
The voices went on, too soft now to make out.
Please!
he mouthed, making a luck sign to the Four.
The brush of cold fingers against Tobin’s cheek made him jump. Turning, he was dismayed to find his mother standing right there behind him. She was almost like a ghost herself, a ghost Tobin could see. She was thin and pale, with nervous hands that fluttered about like dying birds when she wasn’t sewing the pretty rag dolls, or clutching the ugly old one she was never without. It was tucked under her arm just now and seemed to be staring at him, even though it had no face.
He was as surprised to find her here as he was to see her free. When Tobin’s father was home, she always kept to herself and avoided him. Tobin liked it better when she did.
It was second nature for him now to steal a quick look into his mama’s eyes; Tobin had learned young to gauge the moods of those around him, especially his mother’s. Usually she simply looked at him like a stranger, cold and distant. When the demon threw things or pinched him, she would just hug her ugly old doll and look away. She almost never hugged Tobin, though on the very bad days, she spoke to him as if he were still a baby, or as if he were a girl. On those days Father would shut her up in her chamber and Nari would make the special teas for her to drink.
But her eyes were clear now, he saw. She was almost smiling as she held out a hand to him. “Come, little love.”
She’d never spoken to him like that before. Tobin glanced nervously at his father’s door, but she bent and captured his hand in hers. Her grip was just a little too tight as she drew him to the locked door at the end of the corridor, the one that led upstairs.
“I’m not allowed up there,” Tobin told her, his voice hardly more than a squeak. Nari said the floors were unsound up there, and that there were rats and spiders big as his fist.
“You may come up with me,” she said, producing a large key from her skirts and opening the forbidden door.
Stairs led up to a corridor that looked very much like the one below, with doors on either side, but this one was dusty and dank-smelling, and the small, high-set windows were tightly shuttered.
Tobin glanced through an open door as they passed and saw a sagging bed with tattered hangings, but no rats. At the end of the corridor his mother opened a smaller door and led him up a very steep, narrow stairway lit by a
few arrow slits in the walls. There was hardly enough light to make out the worn steps, but Tobin knew where they were.
They were in the watchtower.
He pressed one hand to the wall for balance, but pulled it away again when his fingers found patches of something rough that scaled away at his touch. He was scared now, and wanted to run back down to the bright, safe part of the house, but his mother still held his hand.
As they climbed higher, something suddenly flittered in the shadows overhead—the demon, no doubt, or some worse terror. Tobin tried to pull free, but she held him fast and smiled at him over her shoulder as she led him up to a narrow door at the top.
“Those are just my birds. They have their nests here and I have mine, but they can fly in and out whenever they wish.”
She opened the narrow door and sunlight flooded out. It made him blink as he stumbled over the threshold.
He’d always thought the tower was empty, abandoned, except perhaps for the demon, but here was a pretty little sitting room furnished more nicely than any of the rooms downstairs. He gazed around in amazement, never imagining his mother had such a delightful secret place.
Faded tapestries covered the windows on three sides, but the west wall was bare and the heavy shutters open. Tobin could see sunlight shining on the snow-covered peaks in the distance, and hear the rush of the river below.
“Come, Tobin,” she urged, going to a table by the window. “Sit with me a while on your name day.”
A little spark of hope flared up in Tobin’s heart and he edged further into the room. She’d never remembered his birthday before.
The room was very cozy and comfortable. A long table stood against the far wall, piled with doll-making goods. On another table, finished dolls—dark-haired and mouthless as
always, but dressed in tunics of velvet and silk fancier than any Tobin owned—sat propped in a double rank against the wall.
Perhaps she brought me here to give me one for my name day
, he thought. Even without mouths, they were very pretty. He turned hopefully to his mother. For an instant he could almost see how she’d smile, telling him to pick whichever one he liked best, a special present just from her. But his mama just stood by the window, plucking restlessly at the front of her skirt with the fingers of her free hand as she stared down at the bare table in front of her. “I should have cakes, shouldn’t I? Honey cakes and wine.”
“We always have them in the hall,” Tobin reminded her, casting another longing glance at the dolls. “You were there last year, remember? Until the demon knocked the cake on the floor and—”
He faltered to a stop as other memories of that day came back. His mother had burst into tears when the demon came, then started screaming. His father and Nari had carried her away and Tobin had eaten his broken bits of cake in the kitchen with Cook and Tharin.
“The demon?” A tear rolled down his mother’s pale cheek and she hugged the doll tighter. “How can they call him that?”
Tobin looked to the open doorway, gauging an escape. If she started screaming now, he could run away down the stairs, back to people who loved him and could be counted on to do what he expected. He wondered if Nari would be angry with him for going upstairs.