The Bone Doll's Twin (44 page)

“Duke Rhius blessed the bond some time ago.”

Tharin spoke respectfully, but Tobin sensed an unspoken tension behind the exchange.

Lord Orun stared at Ki a moment longer, then motioned to the herald.

The herald laid his baton at Tobin’s feet, bowed again, and produced a rolled parchment heavy with seals and ribbons. “Prince Tobin, I bring word from your uncle, King Erius.”

He broke the seals and unrolled the parchment with a flourish. “From Erius of Ero, King of Skala, Kouros, and the Northern Territories, to Prince Tobin of Ero at Alestun Keep, written this the ninth day of Shemin month.

“Nephew, it is with a heavy heart that I write to you of the death of your father, our beloved brother Rhius. Your father was my most valued commander and while his death was a noble one, befitting a warrior, words cannot convey my despair at his loss.

“In honor of your mother’s dear memory-may Astellus guide her spirit to peace-and for the love I bear you, my nearest kin, I acknowledge you as my ward until you attain the age to govern the holdings left you by your esteemed parents and take your father’s place among my councilors. I appoint my trusted servant, Lord Orun, to oversee the stewardship of your lands until you reach the age of twenty-one years and I send him to act as your guardian until I return to Skala.

“I have instructed Lord Orun to escort you to Ero, where you shall take your rightful place among my son’s Royal Companions. It is my fondest wish that you will be a beloved brother to Prince Korin and he to you. In the Companions you will be trained to take your place at his side when he comes to rule, just as your father served me.

“How I long to embrace you again, as I did the night of your birth! Pray for our victory in Mycena.”

The herald looked up. “It is signed and sealed, ‘Your most loving and affectionate Uncle, Erius of Ero, King of Skala.’ My prince, here ends the message.”

Everyone was looking at Tobin, expecting some response, but his tongue had fixed itself to the roof of his mouth. When Tharin had said they’d go to Ero, he’d pictured himself riding with his friends to the house of his birth, or perhaps to grand Atyion.

He looked at his so-called guardian again, already hating the man. Anyone could see that this was no warrior, just a fat, sweating pig with eyes like two dried currants
pressed into dough. The arrival of the soldiers hadn’t frightened him at all; the thought of this man taking him away left him sick and cold all over.
No!
he wanted to cry out, but he was struck dumb as a stone.

Brother answered for him. Moving more quickly than even Tobin could follow, he snatched the scroll from the startled herald’s hand and ripped it in two, then knocked off Lord Orun’s silly hat. His servants scattered, some chasing the hat, others running for cover.

A strong wind swirled out of nowhere, whipping the soldiers’ hair into their eyes and snatching away badges and daggers. Some of the guardsmen flinched and broke formation. Lord Orun let out an unmanly squeal and dove for cover under a nearby table. Tharin’s men laughed aloud and Tobin nearly joined in, grateful for once for Brother’s tricks. Instead, he found his voice and shouted, “Enough!”

Brother ceased instantly and came to rest by the shrine, watching Tobin. The spirit’s face showed no emotion, but in that shared moment Tobin sensed that Brother was ready to do murder for him.

What would he do to Orun if I asked?
Tobin wondered, then hastily pushed the unworthy thought away.

Tharin’s men were still laughing. The chagrined guardsmen muttered among themselves and made warding signs as they moved back into formation. Among the few who’d stood fast was the blond man Brother had pointed out to him. He was watching Tobin with a smile that showed only in his eyes. Tobin didn’t know what to make of that, except that he already liked him better than Lord Orun, who was currently being helped out from under the table by his servants.

“I welcome you as guests in my house,” Tobin began, trying to make himself heard.

“Silence for the prince!” Tharin roared in a battlefield voice, making even Tobin jump. Silence fell and everyone turned their way.

“I welcome you as guests in my house,” Tobin said again. “Lord Orun, I extend to you the courtesy of my hearth. My servants will bring you water and wine. Your men can rest themselves in the meadow until a meal is prepared.”

Orun bristled visibly. “Young sir, the king’s orders—”

“Have taken Prince Tobin by surprise, my lord. He is still mourning the loss of his father,” Tharin interrupted. “I’m certain the king would not wish his only nephew discomforted further.” He leaned his head close to Tobin, as if listening to some whispered order, then turned back to Orun. “You must allow his highness to withdraw for a time and meditate on his uncle’s words. He will attend you when he has rested.”

Orun recovered enough to make a passable bow, though there was no mistaking the suppressed outrage in his face. Tobin stifled another laugh. Turning his back on the courtier and his men, he strolled up the stairs as nonchalantly as he could manage. Ki and Tharin followed. Behind him, he could hear Tharin’s second in command, old Laris, barking out orders for the visitors’ accommodations.

Arkoniel was waiting for them in Tobin’s bedchamber.

“I heard most of it from the top of the stairs,” he said, looking uncommonly grim. “Tharin, it seems the time has come to call upon your knowledge of court. Do you know Lord Orun?”

Tharin pulled a face like he’d eaten something bitter. “He’s Royal Kin, a distaff cousin of some degree. He’s no use in the field, but I’ve heard it said that he’s an able enough chancellor, and the funnel through which a great deal of information flows to the king’s ear.”

“I don’t like the looks of him,” Ki growled. “He can say what he likes about me, but he spoke to Tobin like he was a scullion.
‘My young sir’!
”

Tharin gave him a wink. “Don’t fret yourself. Orun’s a painted bladder, more wind than substance.”

“Do I have to go with him?” Tobin asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Tharin told him. “A king’s summons can’t be ignored, not even by you. I’ll be with you, though, and so will Ki.”

“I—I don’t want to go,” Tobin said, and was ashamed to hear the quaver in his voice. Clearing his throat, he added, “But I will.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Tharin said. “Your father and I served among Erius’ Companions when we were boys, you know. The Old Palace is a fine place and you’ll train with the best in the land. Not that they’ll have much to teach you, with all the training you’ve done here. The pair of you may even show those city-bred dandies a thing or two.” He grinned at them, warm and sure as ever. “Prince Korin is a good lad, too. You’ll like him. So don’t lose heart. You show everyone who Princess Ariani’s son is, and I’ll keep an eye on old Orun for you.”

L
eaving the boys to calm down, Arkoniel brought Tharin upstairs to his workroom and locked the door. From here they had a clear view of the soldiers waiting in the meadow.

“You and Tobin snubbed the reins nicely down there.”

“He did well, didn’t he, once he got started? A proper little princeling with his back up. And I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been pleased to have that demon of his show up.”

“Indeed. Tell me, when you were talking to the boys just now I had the impression you knew more about Orun than you let on.”

Tharin nodded. “The first time I met Lord Orun he was guesting with Rhius’ father at Atyion. I was about Ki’s age at the time. Orun stumbled out of the feast blind drunk and ran into me in a deserted passageway. He backed me into a corner and offered me a cheap gilt ring if I’d let him bugger me.”

Arkoniel sat down heavily on his stool. “By the Four! What did you do?”

Tharin gave him a humorless smirk. “I told him if he had to pay he couldn’t be much good at it and legged it out of there. A day or two later I saw that same ring on the hand of one of the kitchen girls. Guess she was less particular.”

Arkoniel gaped at him. “And
this
is who the king sends for his nephew?”

Tharin shrugged. “Creatures like Orun don’t prey on their own kind. They stick to servants and peasants, those who won’t complain or be listened to if they do.”

“I met with a few of that kind in my day, too. Iya taught me some choice spells to deal with them. But you were no peasant boy.”

“No. As I said, he was drunk. Luckily for him, I was too angry and shamed to say anything when I should have, and he was too far gone at the time to remember me later, so I let it pass. He’d never dare lay hands on Tobin, I’m certain of it.”

“But what about Ki?”

“That would be almost as foolish, given his station, but I’ll have a word with the boy. Don’t worry, Arkoniel. I’ll be with them every step of the way until they’re safely delivered to the companion’s quarters. Arms Master Porion is a good man and keeps a close eye on his boys. They’ll be safe with him. If Orun tries to get up to anything before then, I’ll be more than happy to reintroduce myself.” He paused. “Am I right in thinking you can’t come with us?”

“Iya wants me here, unnumbered by the Harriers. But it’s only a day’s ride if you need me.”

“That it should come to this.” Tharin ran a hand wearily back though his hair. “You know, I was right beside Rhius until that last bad moment. If my horse hadn’t been hit-If I’d been where I was supposed to be, where I’ve
always
been-” He pressed his hand over his eyes.

“You couldn’t control where the arrows went.”

“I know that! But by the Four, it should be Rhius here alive and talking to you, and not me! Or both of us dead together.”

Arkoniel studied the man’s grief-stricken face, thinking again of their conversation on the bridge after the vigil. “You loved him a great deal.”

Tharin looked up at Arkoniel and his expression softened a little. “No more than he deserved. He was my friend, just like Tobin is with Ki—”

A soft knock came at the door. “Tharin, are you there?” Nari called, sounding frantic.

Arkoniel let her in. The woman was in a terrible state, teary-eyed and wringing her hands. “Lord Orun is raising a fuss downstairs! He’s frightened to death of the demon and says Tobin is to leave with him within the hour. He says that the king’s order gives him the right to force the child. You mustn’t allow it! Tobin doesn’t even have anything proper to wear to court. Ki has his sword drawn and says he’ll kill anyone who comes in the bedchamber!”

Tharin was halfway out the door before she’d finished. “Has anyone tried?”

“Not yet.”

He turned to Arkoniel, eyes blazing. “What shall we do, Wizard? The bastard sees an orphaned boy surrounded by servants and thinks he can play the master in a dead man’s house.”

“Well, bloodshed won’t do.” Arkoniel pondered the situation a moment, then smiled. “I think it’s time Prince Tobin set a few terms of his own. Send Tobin up to me. Tharin, you go with Nari and calm Ki down. I need to speak with the prince privately.”

Tobin entered his chamber a few minutes later, looking pale but resigned.

“Ki hasn’t killed anyone yet, has he?” Arkoniel asked.

Tobin didn’t smile. “Lord Orun says we must go at once.”

“What do you think of Lord Orun?”

“He’s a fat, pompous bastard the king left behind because he’s not fit for battle!”

“You’re a fine judge of character. And who are you?”

“Me? What do you mean?”

Arkoniel folded his arms. “You’re Prince Tobin, son of Princess Ariani, who by right of Oracle should have been Queen of Skala. You are the first-born son of Duke Rhius, Lord of Atyion and Cirna, the richest lord and the greatest warrior in the land. You are the nephew of the king and the cousin of his son, the future king. No matter how many guardians and stewards they put between you and what is rightfully yours, you mustn’t forget one jot of that, or let anyone else forget it, either. You’re a true noble of the purest blood, Tobin, modest and brave and forthright. I’ve seen it proven a hundred times over in my time here.

“But now you’re going to court and must learn to wear a few masks besides. People like Orun must be fought with their own weapons: pride, arrogance, disdain, or whatever approximation you can summon from that honest heart of yours. You mustn’t imagine that your father would treat a cur like that with respect when none is offered in return. If someone slaps you in the face, you must slap him right back, and harder. Do you understand?”

“But—but he’s a lord and my uncle’s—”

“And you are a
prince
and a warrior. Your uncle will see that when he returns. In the meantime, you’re going to have to make your own reputation. Be gracious to those who respect you, but have no mercy on those who don’t.”

He could see Tobin taking all this in and weighing it. At last he set his jaw and nodded. “Then I don’t have to be polite to Lord Orun, even though he’s a guest?”

“He’s behaved offensively. You owe him nothing more than the assurance of safety beneath your roof. You’ve given him that already, calling off Brother.” Arkoniel smiled
again. “That was nicely done, by the way. Tell me, if you asked Brother to cause a stir, would he do it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never asked him to do anything, only to stop.”

“Would you like to find out?”

Tobin frowned. “I won’t have him hurt anyone. Not even Orun.”

“Of course not. But Lord Orun doesn’t need to know that, does he? You must go downstairs now and inform our guest that you will need until tomorrow to put your household in good order.”

“What if he says no?”

“Then I hope that Brother will be good enough to convey your displeasure. Is he here now? No? Why not call him?”

Tobin still looked faintly embarrassed as he spoke the summoning, although it wasn’t the first time the wizard had seen him do it. Arkoniel felt a change in the air, and knew by the way Tobin turned his head slightly that Brother had appeared behind him. The wizard shifted uneasily on his stool, not liking the thought of an unseen guest at his back.

“Will you help me?” Tobin asked.

“What does he say?”

“Nothing. But I think he will.” Tobin thought of something and frowned. “Where is Lord Orun to sleep, if he stays the night? The only guest chamber we have is next to your room up here.”