Alben pulled away angrily, then bowed and left the circle.
“You.” Tobin pointed his sword at Quirion. “Will you fight me?”
“I have no quarrel with you. And no desire to catch the plague out here in the rain.” He helped Alben back toward the Palace and their friends drifted off with them.
“I’ll fight you,” said Korin, stepping into the ring.
“Korin, no—” Porion warned, but Korin waved him off.
“It’s all right, Arms Master. Come on, Tobin. Give me your best.”
Tobin hesitated. He wanted to fight someone he was angry with, not his cousin. But Korin was already in the circle and saluting. He faced Korin and raised his blade.
Fighting Korin was like fighting against a wall. Tobin threw himself into it, wanting to give the prince his best, but Korin met every attack with a block like an iron bar. But he didn’t return the attacks, just let Tobin wear himself out until he fell back panting and called a yield.
“There now, do you feel any better?”
“Maybe a little.”
Korin leaned on his sword and grinned at him. “You two always have to have things your own way, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the kiss, for one thing. You wouldn’t let Ki kneel.”
Tobin shrugged. He hadn’t planned that. It had just seemed the thing to do at the moment.
“Only equals do that.”
“Ki is my equal.”
“He’s not, you know. You’re a prince.”
“He’s my friend.”
Korin shook his head. “What a funny little fellow you are. I think I’ll have you for my Lord Chancellor when I’m king. Come on. Let’s go eat. Ki and Mago must starve for their sins, but we don’t have to.”
“I’d rather stay out for a while, if you don’t mind, cousin.”
Korin looked to Porion and laughed. “Stubborn as his father! Or mine. Suit yourself, then, coz, but don’t catch your death. I’ll be needing you, as I said before.” Korin and the older Companions strode away, followed by their squires.
Lutha and Nikides hung back. “Would you like company?” Lutha asked.
Tobin shook his head. All he wanted right now was to be left alone to miss Ki. He’d have ridden down to the sea if he could, but it was forbidden for Companions to leave the Palatine alone and he didn’t have the heart to face Tharin yet. Instead he spent the rest of the day walking the citadel in the rain. It was a gloomy pastime and suited his mood.
He avoided the Temple, telling himself he didn’t want to embarrass Ki by intruding on his vigil, but the truth was he wasn’t ready to face his friend, either. The memory of the red welts rising on that smooth brown back was enough to make the bile rise in his throat.
Instead, he circled the banks of Queen Klia’s great pool and watched the silvery fish jump at raindrops, then made the long walk to the grove of Dalna above the northern escarpment. It was only a few acres of trees, but they were as ancient as the city itself, and for a little while he could imagine himself back home again, on his way to Lhel’s oak. He missed the strange little witch terribly. He missed Nari and the servants at the keep. He even missed Arkoniel.
A hearth shrine stood at the center of the grove; Tobin found a wooden carving in his belt pouch and cast it and a few homesick tears into the flames with a prayer to be at his home hearth soon.
Lamps were being lit around the citadel when Tobin happened past the royal tomb. He hadn’t come here since the night of his arrival. Chilled and footsore, he went inside to warm himself at the altar flame.
“Father, I miss you!” he whispered, staring into the flame. Had it really only been a few months since he’d died? It didn’t seem possible. Tobin felt like he’d been here for years already.
He pulled the chain from his neck and held the seal and his mother’s ring in his hand. Tears blurred his eyes as he looked down at the dual profiles on the ring. He missed both of them. Right now he knew he’d even be glad to see his mama in one of her bad spells, if only he could be home again and everything as it had been.
He had no desire to visit the dead below. Instead, he said a long prayer for their spirits. When he was finished he felt a little better.
It was raining harder now. He turned and studied the effigies of the Skalan queens as he waited for it to pass, wondering if he could recognize the ghost that he’d seen in the throne room.
As an artist, he noted with interest the differing styles of the statues. The earliest, Ghërilain the Founder, was a stiff, lifeless figure with a flat face and all her clothes and accounterments molded close to her body, as if the sculptor hadn’t had the skill to quite free her from the stone. All the same, he recognized the Sword of Ghërilain clutched in her gauntleted hands—the same sword that all the other statues held. His uncle carried that sword now.
Was it the same sword, perhaps, that the ghost had held out to him? He turned slowly where he stood, studying the stone faces. Which one had she been? For she had certainly been a queen. And if it had been this sword she’d held, why would she offer it to him?
He checked quickly to make certain that the altar priest was nowhere around, then whispered, “Blood my blood, flesh my flesh, bone my bone.”
Brother appeared, looking transparent in the firelight. How long had it been since he’d last called him, Tobin wondered guiltily. Three days? A week? Perhaps longer. There had been feasts and dances and practices, then all the fuss with Ki. What would Lhel say? He didn’t like to think of that.
“I’m sorry I forgot,” he whispered. “Look, here are the great queens. You remember the ones in the box at home? This is their tomb. I saw one of them—her ghost. Do you know who it was?”
Brother began circling the effigies, looking up at each one in turn. He came to rest at last in front of one and seemed content to remain there.
“Is that her? Is she the one I saw at the Old Palace?”
“I beg your pardon, Prince Tobin?”
Tobin turned to find the king’s wizard standing beside the altar. “Lord Niryn! You startled me.”
Niryn bowed. “I might say the same, my prince. I heard you speak, yet I see no one here to listen.”
“I—I thought I saw a ghost in the Old Palace once, and I was wondering if it could have been one of the queens.”
“But you spoke aloud.”
If Niryn could see Brother, he gave no sign. Tobin was careful not to look at the ghost as he answered. “Don’t you ever talk to yourself, my lord?”
Niryn stepped closer. “Perhaps. So, do you recognize your ghost here?”
“I’m not sure. They aren’t very good for faces, are they? Perhaps that one.” He pointed to the one where Brother stood. “Do you know who she is?”
“Queen Tamír, daughter of Queen Ghërilain the First, I believe.”
“Then I guess she’d have reason to haunt,” Tobin said, trying to make light of it all. “She was murdered by her brother,” he went on, nervously rattling off the lesson out of habit. “Pelis contested the Oracle and seized the throne, but Illior Lightbearer punished the land and killed him.”
“Hush, child!” Niryn exclaimed, making some sign on the air. “King Pelis did not murder his sister. She died and he was the only heir. No queen has ever been murdered in Skala, my prince. It’s most unlucky to even suggest such a thing. And assassins killed him, not the gods. Your teachers were most misinformed. Perhaps a new tutor is in order.”
“My apologies, Wizard,” Tobin said quickly, taken aback by this unexpected outburst. “I meant no offense in this holy place.”
The wizard’s stern expression softened. “I’m certain the shades of your ancestors would make allowances for their youngest descendent. You are, after all, the next in line for their throne after Prince Korin.”
“Me?” This was even more surprising.
“But of course. The king’s brothers and sisters are dead, and their issue with them. There is no one else of such close
blood tie.”
“But Korin will have heirs of his own.” Tobin had never once imagined sitting on the throne of Skala, only that he would serve it.
“No doubt. But he is a young spark yet, and none of his paramours have kindled. Until then, you are next in the line of succession. Your parents never spoke to you of such things?”
Niryn smiled in a way that did not reach his eyes, and Tobin felt a strange, crawling feeling deep inside, like someone was stirring around in his guts with a bony finger.
“No, my lord. Father only said that I would be a great warrior and serve my cousin as he served the king.”
“An admirable aspiration. You should always beware of anyone who tries to draw you from the path ordained for you by Sakor.”
“My lord?”
“We live in uncertain times, my dear prince. There are forces at work disloyal to the royal house, factions who would have someone other than Agnalain’s son rule. If anyone of that ilk should approach you, I hope you will do your duty and speak to me at once. Such disloyalty cannot be tolerated.”
“Is that what you and the Harriers do, my lord?” Tobin asked. “Hunt down traitors?”
“Yes, Prince Tobin.” The wizard’s voice seemed to take on a darker timbre and fill the open space of the tomb. “As a servant of the Lightbearer, I have sworn to see the children of Thelátimos safe on the throne of Skala. Every true Skalan must serve. All falsehood must be purged with the Flame of Sakor.”
Niryn reached into the altar fire and drew out a handful of flame. It rested in his palm like water.
Tobin fell back a step, disliking the reflection of this unnatural fire in the man’s jasper-colored eyes.
Niryn let the flame run away to nothingness through his fingers. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I had forgotten that you do not enjoy displays of magic. But I hope that you will remember my words. As I said, we live in uncertain times and too often foul appears fair. It is difficult for one so young as you to discern the difference. I pray that the mark you bear on your arm proves a true sign, and that you will always count me among your good councilors. Good night to you, my prince.”
The crawling, stirring feeling rippled through Tobin again, less strong this time, then disappeared as Niryn left the tomb.
Tobin waited until the man was out of sight, then sat down at the foot of the altar and wrapped his arms around his knees to fight the fresh chill that had overtaken him.
The wizard’s veiled allusions to traitors frightened him. It was as if he was being accused of doing something, yet he knew that he’d done nothing that the wizard could disapprove of. He was loyal to Korin and the king with all his heart.
Brother squatted beside him. There is no Pelis here.
Tobin looked around at the effigies. After taking count and looking carefully into their faces he saw that Brother was right. No effigy of King Pelis stood among the royal dead. Niryn was wrong; the lessons his father and Arkoniel had taught him were the truth. But why would the wizard be so insistent?
All the same, Niryn had given him the name of the queen Brother had chosen—the very one King Pelis had murdered.
Tobin went to stand in front of the second queen of Skala and placed his right hand on the stone sword she held. “Hello, Grandmother Tamír.”
Chapter 46
The sun came out the next day and Porion ordered them back to outdoor practice.
Tobin hardly noticed the renewed ache in his side as they ran to the Temple, wondering instead how Ki had fared. His heart swelled with relief when Ki emerged, hungry but unbowed. Mago looked the worse for wear of the two, and Ki confided later that he’d stared at the other squire for hours in the dead of night without speaking, just to put the wind up Mago’s ass. Apparently it had worked.
The priests had put a salve on Ki’s stripes and he joined in at practice without complaint. He joked with his friends among the squires, ignored his enemies, and served at table that night. Tobin decided that everything was settled for the best until bedtime came and Ki pulled back the curtains on the alcove bed.
“You’re sleeping there again?”
Ki eased himself down on the edge of the narrow bed and laced his fingers together in his lap. Tobin could tell by the way Ki held himself that he was in more pain than he’d let on. “Baldus?”
The page rose up on his pallet. “Yes, Prince Tobin?”
“Go to the kitchens and see if the cook can make a sleeping draught for Sir Ki.”
Baldus scampered out. Tobin barred the door after him and went back to Ki. “What’s all this about?”
He shrugged. “I hear that most of the other squires do and—well—You know, people look at us strange enough as it is. I just thought that maybe we ought to do a few things the Ero way.”
“Korin likes how we do things our own way. He told me so. He was proud of you yesterday.”
“Was he? Well, Korin isn’t everybody. And I’m not a prince.”
“You’re angry with me.”
“With you? Never. But—”
For the first time since the trouble began, Ki’s brave front crumbled. Tobin saw past it to the tired, beaten-down country boy slumped before him, shoulders held awkwardly to ease the pain.
Tobin sat down beside him and inspected the back of Ki’s shirt. It was stained with spots of blood.
“You’re bleeding. That’ll stick by morning if you leave it. Here, you better let me help.”
He coaxed Ki out of the shirt and threw it aside on the bed. The ache in his side was worse tonight, but he ignored it. It was Ki who needed tending now, not him.
The welts had changed from red to purple and black, and the scabs pulled and bled when Ki moved. Tobin swallowed hard, thinking of all the times he’d kept Nari from taking a switch to Ki. Now he’d done this.
“I don’t like it here,” he said at last.
Ki nodded and a tear dripped off the end of his nose to land on the back of Tobin’s hand.
“I wish we could have just gone with Father. Or that the Companions could ride out tomorrow and go find the king. Mostly, I wish I was grown and had my lands, so I could make you a lord. I promise I will, Ki. No one is going to call you a grass knight again after that.”
Ki let out a hiccuping laugh and painfully lifted an arm around Tobin’s shoulders. “I don’t—”
A loud crash came from the direction of the dressing room, startling them both. Tobin jumped to his feet and Ki flinched back, grabbing for his discarded shirt.
Korin and half a dozen of the older Companions and squires came staggering in by way of the hidden panel.
“Cousin, we’ve come to issue an invitation!” Korin cried, and Tobin guessed that he’d been drinking steadily since they’d parted after supper. Urmanis and Zusthra were flushed and grinning, too. Orneus had his arms around Lynx and was nuzzling his ear. Caliel looked a bit clearer but Korin’s squire, Tanil, was the only sober one. He gave Tobin a bow, looking embarrassed.
“We’re off to the city to play and we’ve come to invite you,” Korin went on, staggering into the middle of the room. “And more especially, the inestimable Ki. Get your clothes on, boy, and I’ll buy you a whore to take your mind off your back.”
Garol staggered sideways from the group and vomited loudly as the others berated him.
“Ah, Urmanis, looks like you two are next for the temple steps,” Korin said, shaking his head. “Your squire’s dishonored you all over my poor cousin’s floor. Now, what was I saying—? Oh, yes. Whores. You’re old enough, aren’t you, Ki? I’ve seen you eyeing the girls! By the Flame, you’re the best of this rotten lot. We’ll get drunk and kick that pimple Mago out of bed. Alben, too, the bugger!”
“No, Cousin. Ki’s tired.” Tobin stood between the prince and his friend, wondering what he was going to do if Korin decided to force them to go. This was the drunkest he’d seen Korin since the night they’d arrived.
Fortunately Tanil was his ally tonight. “They’re too young for your revels, your hi
ghness. Besides, Ki’s so sore a whore would be wasted on him. Let’s get ourselves out before Master Porion catches you and sends you back to bed.”
“Damnation, we don’t want that! Everyone be quiet, for hell’s sake!” Korin roared. “Come, coz. Give us a kiss for luck. You, too, imeshamable Kirothius. Good night! Good night!”
Korin wouldn’t be satisfied until everyone had kissed Tobin and Ki on both cheeks and been kissed for luck in return, but at last they stumbled out the way they’d come.
As soon as Tobin was sure they were gone he dragged the heaviest chair in the room into the dressing room and braced it against the panel, then called Brother and set him to watch.
He returned to the bedchamber to find Ki washing his face at the basin. He’d let Baldus and Molay in, and they were grumbling to each other as they cleared away Garol’s sour vomit.
“It’s never like this when the king’s at home,” Molay muttered. “When Korin was younger Porion could keep him in line, but now—! I’ll burn some incense to cut the stink. Baldus, go and fetch some spiced wine for the prince.”
“No, no wine,” Tobin said wearily.
When the servants had finished, Tobin sent them away for the night, then pulled Ki back to the large bed. “You saw what comes of doing things the Ero way. Go to sleep.”
With a sigh, Ki gave in and sprawled on his belly at the far edge of the bed.
Tobin lay back against the bolsters and tried to ignore the smell still noticeable through the roiling clouds of incense. “What was Ornews doing to poor Lynx?”
Ki snorted into his pillow. “What did you do yesterday while I was flattening my knees with Mago?”
Tobin thought back over the long grey day. “Nothing, really. But I met Niryn at the tombs last night.”
“Fox Beard? What did he want?”
“He said I’m the next heir after Korin until he gets an heir of his own.”
Ki turned to regard him thoughtfully. “I guess you are, at that. The way Korin was staggering tonight, you might just get your chance, too.”
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