“I suspect not.”
The words sent a stab of dread through him. “I don’t know what you mean, Iya, but believe me, you’ll be welcome anywhere I go. It will probably be you who builds that white palace. You just saw too far, that’s all.”
Iya tucked her hand under his arm as they walked back up the hill. “Perhaps you’re right. Whatever it means, I know what I was shown, and I am content.”
Neither of them said anything for a while. As they reached the bridge, she asked, “How are you coming along with that doorway spell of yours? You still have most of your fingers, I see.”
“Actually, I have some exciting news. I showed it to Vornus and he saw something similar practiced by a centaur mage in the Nimra Mountains. He calls it translocation magic. I think that describes it better than doorway. It isn’t anything as simple as that, but rather a vortex that sucks objects away like a whirlwind. The problem is that the vortex spins too fast. If I can slow it somehow, I might even be able to transport people.”
“Be careful, dear boy! That’s a dangerous path you’re on. I’ve thought so since you first showed it to me.”
“Don’t worry, we’re using rats and mice for now.” He smiled wryly. “Given our latest attempts, I suspect the keep will be free of vermin before we’re through. All the same, I have hope.”
“That’s not the only danger I was thinking of. You must always consider the consequences of such power. Promise me that you’ll keep this a secret for now.”
“I will. I trust Vornus and Lyan, but I’m not so sure about Malkanus. He has power enough as it is, and seems to enjoy it for it’s own sake.”
“You have a discerning heart, Arkoniel. I’ve always thought so. If you don’t let yourself be blinded by pity, it will serve you well.”
Arkoniel flinched at the hint of reproach behind her words. Though she’d never said as much, he knew that she’d never entirely forgiven him for sparing Ki.
Chapter 40
Korin and the Companions returned to Ero with the autumn rains and were overjoyed to find Lutha and Barieus waiting on the quay to greet them when they’d sailed in. Lutha was not only well again, but had grown a full three inches.
“Almost dying agreed with me,” he said, laughing as everyone exclaimed over him. “I still can’t seem to catch up with you, though, Tobin.”
Tobin grinned shyly. He’d grown so quickly over the past year that he’d needed new clothes made. He stood as tall as Korin, now, but even though he was nearly fifteen, he was still slender and beardless, a fact the others chafed him about unmercifully.
Tobin did his best to laugh, but inwardly he was increasingly dismayed. All of his friends were filling out like men. Ki was broader through the shoulders and now sported a sparse moustache and narrow chin beard, a fashion Korin had set in the spring. Nik and Lutha both boasted “double arrows,” respectable points of silky hair above the corners of their mouths.
Even Brother had changed. They’d always been nearly identical, but over the past year Brother had taken on a more man-grown look, with shoulders as broad as Ki’s. Soft black hair shadowed his upper lip and the middle of his chest, while Tobin’s remained smooth as a girl’s.
Over the summer he’d even found himself making excuses not to go bathing with the others; in spite of his new height Tobin still looked like a child compared to most of them.
Worse yet, he had a hard time not staring at their well-muscled bodies and privates. Wrestling matches, a favorite sport since he’d joined the Companions, evoked unsettling feelings, too, especially with Ki.
Tharin had guessed part of the problem as Tobin sulked around the ship’s deck one hot day in Lenthin. Everyone else was ashore, swimming in a cove, but Tobin had stayed behind, pleading a headache. Even Ki had abandoned him.
“I was a skinny thing at your age, too,” Tharin said kindly, sitting with him in the shade of the sail. “Any day now you’ll have hair on your lip and muscles like a wrestler.”
“Was it that way with my father?” Tobin asked.
“Well, Rhius grew faster, but you may take after your mother’s side. Her father was a slim man, but strong like you.” He gave Tobin’s upper arm an appraising pinch. “You’re all whipcord and wire, just like he was. And quick as a cat, too. I saw you get under Zusthra’s guard yesterday. Quickness can overcome bulk any day if you’re smart. And you are.”
None of this made Tobin feel much better. He couldn’t tell Tharin about the moonflow pains that plagued him more often now. Even knowing the truth, he felt left behind. No wonder the girls had all stopped flirting with him.
That’s not why, a small secret voice whispered deep in his heart. They know. They can tell.
He knew what was whispered about Ki and him, whispers they both ignored for their own reasons. But sometime over the summer when he wasn’t even looking, something had changed; something he didn’t dare let himself think about when Ki was around, for fear it would show in his face.
Ki loved him as much as ever, but there was no question how his fancies ran. A few of the servant girls had given him a tumble back in Ero, and there’d been more opportunities on the voyage. Ki was handsome and easygoing; girls were drawn to him like cats to cream. He wasn’t above bragging about his exploits to the other boys, either.
Tobin was always silent during these conversations, tongue locked to the roof of his mouth. Just Tobin being shy, as usual, everyone thought, and Ki saw no further than that. In his mind they were brothers, as they’d always been. He never said a word to Tobin about the whispers or treated him any differently. In return, Tobin swallowed the confused yearnings that assailed him at odd moments and did the same.
It was always worst on the full moon, when the moontide pangs tugged at his belly, reminding Tobin who he really was. Sometimes he even caught himself watching young women with envy wondering what it felt like to stride about in flowing skirts, with strands of beads woven into your hair and scent at your wrists—and to have the boys look at you that way.
Someday, Tobin thought, hiding his burning face in the pillow on such nights, trying not to think about Ki lying so close beside him, close enough to touch. Someday he’ll know, and then we’ll see.
Other times, alone and naked he looked down at his narrow hips and flat bony chest, took in the plain face reflected in his mirror, and wondered if he’d ever be a proper woman, either? Cupping his small penis in his hand, he tried to imagine the loss of it and shuddered, more confused than ever.
As they turned toward home at last, he vowed he’d find some way to visit Lhel.
Back in Ero at last, Tobin and Ki found themselves masters of a new suite of rooms in Korin’s wing of the new palace. The other boys were assigned quarters nearby.
There was the usual round of balls and salons, and the pleasure of returning to their old haunts in the city. They’d only been home for a few weeks, however, when the king announced another execution in the square. Tobin had nearly forgotten the incident with the young priest, and the way people had looked at Korin that day, but now they rode out under double guard.
There were three wizards burned this time; Tobin kept as far from the platform as he could, fearful of being recognized; but, unlike before, the condemned went passively, silent behind their ugly iron masks.
Tobin wanted to look away when they burned, but he knew the others were watching him, and wondering. No doubt a few of them still hoping that he’d make a spectacle of himself again. So he kept his eyes open and his face turned to the blinding white fires, trying not to see the dark figures writhing within.
There was no dissent this time. The crowd roared its approval and the Companions cheered. Tobin blinked his smarting eyes and looked over at Korin. As he suspected, his cousin was watching him and gave Tobin a proud grin. Tobin’s stomach lurched, and he had to swallow hard as bile rose in his throat.
Tobin could only pretend to eat during the banquet that followed. The nausea had passed, but he felt the stir of the pains
deep in his belly, like a reminder. They grew stronger as the evening went on, as bad as they’d been that day he’d bled. Lhel had promised him that wouldn’t happen again, but every new pain sent his heart racing. What if there was blood again? What if someone saw?
Niryn was at the king’s side, as always, and more than once Tobin was certain he felt the man’s cold gaze on him. Serving with the squires, Ki gave him a questioning look. Tobin hastily busied himself with the slab of lamb going cold on his trencher, forcing down a few mouthfuls.
As soon as they were released from the feast, he fled to the nearest privy and checked his trousers for blood. There wasn’t any, of course, but it was still hard to meet Ki’s worried gaze as he emerged.
“You sick, Tob?”
Tobin shrugged. “Executions still don’t agree with me, I guess.”
Ki put an arm around him as they made their way back to their chambers. “Me neither. And I hope they never do.”
Your nephew still has no stomach for the just execution of your law, my king,” Niryn remarked, as they sat smoking in Erius’ gardens that night.
Erius shrugged. “He looked a little green, but he held up well.”
“Indeed. Yet it is curious that a boy who has proven himself so well in battle would be unsettled by the death of a criminal, don’t you think?” But not merely unsettled. The boy had been angry. It had rather amused the wizard, even as he’d stored the knowledge away. The prince was of no consequence, and circumstance might yet take care of any impediment he’d impose. Another battle, perhaps, or a touch of plague.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Erius watched a smoke ring he’d blown drift away on the evening breeze. “I knew a fine general, a true lion in battle, who would go white with fear if a cat came into the room. And I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve seen General Rheynaris himself faint at the sight of his own blood. We all have our little quirks. It’s no wonder a boy should blanch at the sight of a man being burned alive. Took me a while to get used to it.”
“I suppose, Majesty.”
“And what does it matter, anyway?” Erius chuckled. “I’ve no need of him as an heir anymore. Aliya’s pregnant again, you know, and ripening nicely.”
“You’re very fond of her, Majesty.”
“She’s pretty, she’s strong and has spirit—more than a match for that son of mine—and she dotes on me like a true daughter. And what a queen she’ll make, if only she can throw an heir this time.”
Niryn smiled and blew a smoke ring of his own.
Chapter 41
Arkoniel didn’t realize how comfortable he’d grown until the false peace they’d enjoyed was shattered. He’d been working with the children in the simples garden, harvesting the last of the season’s herbs. There would be a full moon that night and he expected a frost. Suddenly a little point of light appeared a few feet from his nose. Wythrin and the others watched apprehensively as Arkoniel touched a finger to the message sphere. He felt the tingle of Lyan’s excitement as the light disappeared and he heard her excited voice saying, “Hide at once! A herald is coming.”
“Come, children, into the woods,” he ordered. “Bring your tools and baskets. Hurry now!”
As soon as they were safely hidden in a thicket, he summoned a message spell of his own and sent it speeding to Eyoli in the workroom.
“Are the Harriers coming to get us?” Totmus whimpered, crouched close beside him. The others clung to Ethni and she hugged them close, but she was just as frightened.
“No, just a messenger. But we’ve got to be very quiet, all the same. Eyoli will come get us when it’s safe.”
A rider came up the hill at a gallop, and they heard the hollow report of hooves across the bridge. Arkoniel wondered if Nari would offer the rider the customary hospitality—a meal and a night’s lodging. He didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping under the stars that night. As if to underscore the thought, Totmus clapped his hands across his mouth to stifle a cough. Despite good food and Nari’s care, he was still a pallid, sickly child and was showing signs of an autumn cold.
The sun crawled down the sky and the shadows cooled around them. The stars were pricking the purple sky when they heard the rider again. Arkoniel heaved a sigh of relief as the sound faded away on the Alestun road but still waited for Eyoli’s point of light to tell them it was safe to come back.
Nari and Catilan met him in the hall. The other wizards were still hiding upstairs.
“It’s from Tobin.” Nari told him, handing him a parchment scroll bearing the Atyion seal.
Arkoniel’s heart sank as he read it, though the message was jubilant: the Companions were home, the royal progress had been a success, and the king had granted Tobin permission to celebrate his birthday with a few weeks of hunting at his old home. Soon wagonloads of servants and provisions would be rumbling up the road to begin preparations.
“I suppose it had to happen, sooner or later.” Nari sighed. “This is still his home, after all. But how in the world can we hide everyone with a pack of hunters racketing about the place?”
“It’s no good sending them into the forest,” said Catilan. “Someone is bound to stumble across any camp we make there.”
“And what about you, Arkoniel?” added Nari. “What are we going to do with you? Not to mention the extra beds set up. And the gardens!”
Arkoniel tucked the letter away. “Well, General, what do you suggest?”
“The house is easily set to rights. The beds will be needed and the garden can be explained. But the rest of you will have to go away someplace,” Catilan replied. “The question is, where? Winter’s coming on fast.” She drew Totmus to her side and gave Arkoniel a meaningful look. “There’ll be snow on the ground soon.”
Eyoli had been listening from the stairs and came down to join them. “We can’t travel in a group, like wandering players. Others have tried that. The Harriers make a point of stopping any they meet on the road claiming to be actors and the like. We’ll have to scatter.”
“No!” said Arkoniel. “Nari, you see to the children. Eyoli, come with me.”
The older wizards were waiting anxiously for him in the workroom. Arkoniel had hardly finished explaining the situation before they erupted in panic, all talking at once. Melissandra bolted for the door, calling for Dara to pack, and Hain rose to follow. Malkanus was already planning defenses for the road. Even the older ones looked ready to run.
“Listen to me, please!” Arkoniel cried. “Melissandra, Hain, come back.”
When they ignored him, he muttered a spell Lhel had taught him and clapped his hands. A peal of thunder shook the room, startling the others to silence.
“Have you forgotten already why you’re here?” he demanded. “Look around you.” His heart beat faster as the words poured out. “The Third Orëska Iya talks of isn’t some far-off dream. It’s here. Now. In this room. We are the Third Orëska, the first fruits of her vision. The Lightbearer brought us together. Whatever purpose there may be in that, we can’t scatter now.”
“He’s right,” said Eyoli. “Mistress Virishan always said our safety lay in unity. Those children downstairs? They wouldn’t be alive now except for her. If we stay together, then perhaps we can stand against the Harriers. I know I can’t do it alone.”
“None of us can,” old Vornus agreed, looking grim.
“I managed well enough,” Kaulin retorted, dour as ever.
“By running away. And you came here,” Arkoniel reminded him.
“I came only for safety, not to lose my freedom!”
“Would you rather wear one of their silver badges?” Cerana demanded. “How free will you be once the Harriers number you and write your name in their book? I’ll fight for your queen, Arkoniel, but more than that, I want to drive those white-robed monsters out. Why does Illior allow such a travesty?”
“Perhaps we’re proof that the Lightbearer does not,” Malkanus offered, leaning against the wall by the window.
Arkoniel looked at
him in surprise. The other man shrugged, fingering the fine silk embroidery on his sleeve. “I saw the vision and believed. I’ll fight, if need be. I say we stay together.”
“So we stay together,” said Lyan. “But we can’t stay here.”
“We could go deeper into the mountains,” Kaulin said. “I’ve been quite a ways up. There’s game enough, if any of you know how to earn your food.”
“But for how long?” asked Melissandra. “And what about the children? The higher we go, the sooner the winter will find us.”
“Lyan, can you send one of your message lights to Iya?”
“Not without knowing something of where she is. It must be directed.”
“All right, then. We make our own way. We’ll pack the wagon and your horses with all the supplies they can carry, and see where the road takes us. Be ready by dawn.”
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a start.
Nari and the servants took charge of provisioning. With the help of the men, Arkoniel moved his meager belongings back up to his abandoned bedchamber on the third floor. When they’d finished he sent them to help in the kitchen yard, and found himself alone upstairs for the first time in months. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms. It was already dark.
He packed hurriedly, throwing a few days’ clothing into a pack. He wouldn’t be gone long; as soon as he had the others settled somewhere, he’d come back and try to speak with the boys. He tried not to think of the locked door down the corridor, yet all the while he had the growing sense that Ariani was watching him.
“This is for your child. All for her,” he whispered. Grabbing up the lopsided pack, he was halfway to the stairs when he realized he’d forgotten the bag containing the bowl. It had been months since he’d thought about that, too.
Turning slowly, he searched the darkness beyond his lamp. Was that a white shape hovering by the tower door, or just a trick of the light? With an effort, he started back for the workroom. The air against his face grew colder with every step, but he couldn’t run away. Not without the bowl.
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