Authors: Lynn Flewelling
Light streamed in through tall windows set high overhead, but even with the bright midday light flooding in, the peaks of the ceiling vaults were lost in shadow. Rows of stone columns supported the roof and cordoned off side chambers. The floor was made of colored bricks set in zigzag patterns, and the walls were hung with enormous tapestries. Gold and silver seemed to glint at him from all directions—plates on high shelves, shields and other war trophies hanging on the pillars, statues, and gracefully shaped vessels on the shelves of a dozen or more long sideboards. A company of servants in blue livery stood waiting at the center of the room.
A white cat lay beneath a nearby table, nursing a litter of yellow and white kittens. Across the hall two more cats—one black and white, the other striped yellow—were leaping and rolling in play. A huge black tom with a white blaze on its chest sat washing its hind leg among the silver vessels on a nearby sideboard. Tobin had never seen so many cats indoors. Atyion must be plagued with mice, to need so many.
Tharin chuckled softly beside him, and Tobin realized he’d been gaping like a yokel. And he wasn’t the only one.
“By the Flame!” Lutha gasped, and got no further than that. Even Alben and his friends were impressed.
“I’ve assigned servants to each of the Companions, since none of you are familiar with the house,” Eponis informed them. “It’s very easy to get lost if you don’t know your way around.”
“I can believe that!” Lutha exclaimed, and everyone laughed.
“Sir Tharin can guide me,” Tobin said, anxious to keep his friend close by.
“As you wish, my prince.”
“Any word of my father?” asked Korin:
“He’s expected tomorrow, my prince,” Solari replied. “All has been made ready.” He turned to Tobin and smiled. “The servants can take you to your chambers if you’d like to rest. Or perhaps you’d like to see some of your castle, first.”
Your castle
. Tobin couldn’t help grinning. “Yes, I would!”
T
hey spent the afternoon exploring, with Solari and Tharin as their guides. The main living quarters lay in this tower and a wing flanking the gardens between it and the second. The other one served as fortress, granary, armory, and treasury. Tobin was amazed to learn that an army of several thousand men could be quartered there in time of siege.
A second wing parallel to the other closed the rectangle of ground and housed the servants’ quarters, kitchens, laundries, brewing rooms, and other household offices. One large chamber was filled with weavers working at great clacking looms; in the next scores of women and girls sat singing together as they spun flax and wool into thread for the weavers.
Inside the rectangle formed by the towers and wings lay an expanse of gardens and groves, with an elegant little temple dedicated to Illior and Sakor. Pillared galleries on the upper floors of the main tower overlooked the grounds.
Tobin and the others were footsore and dazzled by the time Solari left them at their chambers to prepare for the evening feast.
The Companions had rooms high in the royal wing, along a gallery overlooking the gardens. Tobin and Korin
were given private chambers. The rest were divided between two large guest rooms.
Alone with Ki and Tharin, Tobin looked around his room, heart beating faster. It had belonged to some young man of his family, he could tell. The bed hangings were worked with running horses, and there were weapons and shields on the walls. A few toys lay carefully arranged on a chest: a miniature ship, a wheeled horse, and a wooden sword.
“These are just like the ones Father gave me!” Then his heart skipped a beat. “These were his, weren’t they? This was my father’s room.”
“Yes. We slept here until—” Tharin paused and cleared his throat roughly. “It would have been yours. It should have been.”
Just then a woman appeared in the doorway. She was dressed like a courtier and her faded golden hair was arranged in braids around her head. A heavy bunch of keys hung on a golden chain at her girdle. She was accompanied by a battle-scarred yellow tom, who stalked over to sniff at Tobin’s boots.
The woman’s face was lined with age, but she stood straight as a warrior and her pale eyes were bright with joy as she dropped gracefully to one knee before Tobin and kissed his hand. “Welcome home, Prince Tobin.” The cat rose on his hind legs and butted his scabby head against their hands.
“Thank you, my lady,” Tobin replied, wondering who she was. Her face seemed familiar somehow, though he was certain he’d never met her before. Then, as Tharin stepped to her side, Tobin realized that they had the same pale eyes and hair, the same straight, strong nose.
“Allow me to present my aunt Lytia,” Tharin said, obviously trying hard not to laugh at the look on Tobin’s face. “I still have a few cousins about the place, too, I think.”
Lytia nodded. “Grannia oversees the pantries, and Oril is Master of Horses now. I was a lady-in-waiting to your
grandmother, my prince, and to your mother, too, while she lived here. Afterward, your father made me keeper of the keys. I hope you’ll accept my service?”
“Of course,” Tobin replied, still looking from one to the other.
“Thank you, my prince.” She looked down at the cat, who was winding himself around Tobin’s ankles and purring loudly. “And this rude fellow is Master Ringtail, Atyion’s chief rat slayer. He recognizes the master of the house, I see. He doesn’t go to many except for me and Hakorte, but he’s certainly taken a liking to you.”
Tobin knelt and gingerly stroked the cat’s striped back, expecting it to turn on him the way dogs did. Instead, Ringtail thrust his whiskered muzzle under Tobin’s chin and kneaded long sharp claws into his sleeve, demanding to be picked up. He was a strong, heavy animal, and had extra toes on each foot.
“Look at that! Seven toes. I pity the rat that comes in reach of them,” Tobin exclaimed, delighted. The cats he’d seen in barns and stables were wild, hissing things. “And look, he must be a great warrior. All his wounds are in the front. I accept your service, too, Master Ringtail.”
“There’s another room he should see, Tharin,” Lytia murmured. “I asked Lord Solari to leave it to us to show him.”
“What room is that?” asked Tobin.
“Your parents’ chamber, my prince. It’s been kept just as they left it. I thought you might like to see it.”
Tobin’s heart knocked painfully against his ribs. “Yes, please. You, too, Ki,” he said when his friend hung back.
Still cradling the heavy cat against his chest, Tobin followed Lytia and Tharin down the corridor to a large door carved with fruit trees and birds with long, flowing tails. Lytia took a key from her belt and unlocked the door.
It swung open on a handsomely appointed room bathed in late afternoon light. The bed hangings were dark blue worked with pairs of white swans in flight; the tapestries covering the walls echoed the theme. The balcony
doors stood wide, overlooking the gardens below. Someone had burned incense and beeswax within recently. Tobin caught the underlying staleness of a room where no one had lived for a long time, but it had none of the musty rot smell he’d known at home. It was nothing like the sad, half-empty rooms at the Ero house, either. This room had been well tended, as if its occupants would soon return.
There were a number of fancy boxes and caskets arranged on a dressing table, and the usual implements on the writing desk that stood in front of one of the tall, mullioned windows. Brightly enameled mazers lined a wine board across the room, and carved ivory figures stood ready on a gleaming game board by the hearth.
He let Ringtail down and the cat trailed after him as he walked around the room, touching the bed hanging, picking up a game piece, running a fingertip over the inlaid lid of a jewel box. He ached to find some echo of his father here, but he was too aware of the others watching him.
“Thank you for showing me,” he said at last.
Lytia gave him an understanding smile as she placed the key in his hand and folded his fingers around it. “All this is yours now. Come here whenever you like. It will always be kept ready.”
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and Tobin guessed that she knew what he’d been seeking, and that he hadn’t found it.
T
hey feasted in the great hall that night at three long tables arranged in a half circle. Solari and his family sat with Tobin and Korin. His eldest son by a previous wife was off serving with the king. Savia’s children, two young boys and a pretty little daughter named Rose, sat with them. The little girl spent most of the meal on Korin’s knee. The rest of the company was made up of the Companions, Solari’s friends and generals, and a number of rich merchants from the town. It was a raucous, clattering affair made louder by a steady procession of minstrels and bards.
Tobin had the seat of honor at the canopied head table, but it was clear that Solari was the host. His men served at table, and he ordered the courses, wines, and the minstrels and entertainers. He fussed over Tobin and Korin throughout the evening, choosing the choicest bits from each platter and extolling the quality of each wine, the fruit of Atyion’s fine vineyards.
Course followed course, each a banquet in itself. Lady Lytia stood by the servers’ entrance and inspected each dish closely before it was carried to the head table. The first course alone was made up of beef with mustard, roast woodcock, partridge, plover, and snipe. A fish course followed: eels in jelly, gurnard with syrup, fried minnows, smoked pike in pastry, and boiled mussels stuffed with bread and cheese. The desserts included cakes of three kinds, pies both sweet and savory, with brightly decorated pastry crusts.
Dozens of the castle cats kept them company, leaping
onto the tables in search of scraps and getting under the servers’ feet. Tobin looked for his new friend, but Ringtail was nowhere to be seen.
“The cooks here put the royal kitchens to shame, my lady!” Korin exclaimed to Savia, licking his fingers happily.
“The credit belongs to Lady Lytia,” the duchess replied. “She oversees the menus and the cooks, even the buying of the food. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
“Ah, and here she comes now with tonight’s centerpiece!” cried Solari.
Lytia led in two servers bearing a huge pastry on a litter. At her command, they placed it before Tobin. The golden crust was decorated in fine detail with Atyion’s oak flanked by two swans, all fashioned of pastry and colored glazes.
“For your amusement on your first night with us, Prince Tobin,” she said, offering him a long knife decorated with blue ribbon.
“It’s a shame to spoil it,” Tobin exclaimed. “You have my compliments, lady!”
“Cut it, cut it!” little Rose cried, bouncing on Korin’s lap and clapping her hands.
Wondering what the filling could be, Tobin thrust the knife into the center of the crust. The whole elaborate creation fell to pieces, releasing a flock of tiny blue-and-green birds that fluttered up to circle the table. The cats sprang onto the table after them, much to the amusement of the guests.
“Your esteemed aunt is a true artist!” Solari called down the table to Tharin, who acknowledged the praise with a nod.
Lytia waved in a second litter and presented them with an identical pastry filled with plums and brandy custard.
“All from your estate and cellars, my prince,” she told him proudly, serving Tobin the first helping.
A half-grown black-and-white kitten leaped into his lap and sniffed at his plate.
Tobin stroked its soft fur. “I’ve never seen so many cats!”
“There have always been cats at Atyion.” Lytia gave the kitten a bit of custard on the end of her finger. “They’re favored by Illior because they love the moon.”
“My old nurse told me that’s why they sleep all day and can see to hunt in the darkness,” Korin said, coaxing the kitten into Rose’s lap. “It’s too bad Father can’t bear the sight of them.”
The kitten jumped back into Tobin’s lap but just then Ringtail appeared from under the table with a growl. Leaping onto the arm of Tobin’s chair, he cuffed the kitten out of the way and took its place.
“You must be well favored with the Lightbearer, if that one comes to you,” Solari observed, eyeing Ringtail with distaste. “I can’t get near the brute.” He reached to scratch his head but the big cat laid his ears back and hissed at him. Solari hastily withdrew his hand. “You see?” He shook his head as the tom licked Tobin’s chin, purring loudly. “Yes, well favored indeed!”
Tobin stroked the cat’s back, thinking once again of Brother’s warning.
Nuts and cheese followed the pastry, but Tobin was too full to manage more than a few sugared almonds. A new set of minstrels was introduced with the sweets and some of the guests began to play dice among the wine cups. No one showed any sign of going to bed.
Exhausted and dizzy from too many wines, Tobin excused himself as soon as he could politely do so, pleading weariness.
“Good night, sweet coz!” Korin cried, rising to clasp him in an unsteady embrace. Not surprisingly, he was far drunker than Tobin.
Everyone rose to bid him good night. Tobin guessed that the feast would continue well into the night, but they’d have to do so without him. Tharin and Ki escorted him out,
with Ringtail trotting ahead as vanguard, his striped tail straight as a standard pole.
Tobin was more grateful than usual for Tharin’s company as he guided them through the warren of corridors and staircases. Reaching an unfamiliar junction, Tharin paused. “If you’re not too tired, Tobin, there is someone else I’d like you to meet.”
“Another relative?”
“Practically. Hakone has served your family since your great-grandfather’s time. He’s longed to meet you ever since word came of your birth. It would mean a great deal to him to see you.”
“Very well.”
Turning aside, they left the main tower, descended a staircase, and made their way through the gardens to an entrance leading to the kitchens. The aroma of baking bread filled the passageway. Passing an open door, Tobin saw an army of cooks at work over pastry boards. He caught sight of a tall, grey-haired woman across the room, discussing something with another as she stirred something in a large cauldron.