Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

The foul weather kept the Companions indoors for days. They practiced at swords in the feasting hall and played wild games of chase through the corridors, much to the despair of those nobles unfortunate enough to encounter them. Several ended up in the fish pools.

Korin held court in his great hall, surrounded by jugglers and minstrels. He brought in troupes of actors and badgered the heralds for news every few hours. And he drank.

Ki and Tobin were sweating through another round of dancing lessons when a page wearing the yellow livery of Lord Orun beneath his dripping cloak appeared and approached Prince Korin.

“Cousin!” Korin called to Tobin. “Your guardian requests our company this afternoon. I suppose we must go. You too, Caliel. I’m sure Orun can make room for you.”

“Damn,” sighed Ki.

“You’ll have a better time here than I will there,” groused Tobin. “What does he want with me now? I was just there three nights ago.”

Other messengers appeared through the dreary afternoon, calling more of the boys away. Chancellor Hylus called for his grandson, Nikides, who took Ruan with him. Lutha was ill with a fever and Barieus was tending him. Faced with Mago and few allies, Ki decided to make himself scarce until Tobin came back.

He went back to their room and cast about for something to do, but Molay had put everything in order. Even Tobin’s carving bench was tidy for a change. Deciding to chance a ride in spite of the weather, Ki threw on old shoes and a thick cloak and set off for the stables.

“Shall I send for your horse, Sir Ki?” Baldus called after him.

“No,” Ki replied, glad of the excuse for a walk after being shut up inside for so long.

The rain had slackened but a strong wind whipped his cloak around his legs as he left the shelter of the palace gardens. His shoes were soon soaked through, but he didn’t care. The pummeling of the wind and the cold, sharp smell of the sea made his blood race and his heart feel lighter. He turned his face up and let the wind scour it. There was plenty of daylight left; perhaps he could get Tharin to go for a ride by the shore.

The stables were deserted except for a few grooms and ostlers. They knew him and bowed as he walked through the sour darkness of the mews. A hundred glossy rumps faced him on either side; Dragon and Gosi’s stalls were about halfway down on the left side.

He hadn’t gone very far when he realized that he wasn’t alone after all.

Turning, he found Mago and Arius almost on his heels. The sound of the storm must have covered them as they followed him from the palace. That, and his own inattention, he thought with sinking heart. There wasn’t a groom in sight now. These two probably had the sense to bribe them to stay away.

“Why, fancy meeting you here, grass knight,” Mago exclaimed brightly. “And how might you be this fine afternoon?”

“Well enough, but for the company,” Ki retorted. They wouldn’t let him pass; that much was clear. There was a door at the far end of the stable, but it meant turning tail and running, and he’d be damned if he’d do that. He’d rather take a beating. Then again, surely even they wouldn’t be that foolish.

“I wouldn’t think you’d be so particular about what company you keep,” Arius said, toying with a heavy ring on his hand. “Stuck in that rat trap old keep of the duke’s with a demon and Tharin’s draggle-tailed peasant soldiers? And I’m curious …” Arius went on twisting the ring around and around. “Perhaps you can tell me, since you lived there. Is it true what they say about Tharin and Lord Rhius? With you being his son’s squire and all, I thought maybe you’d know.”

The blood began to pound in Ki’s ears. He had no idea what Arius was talking about, but the way he said it was insult enough.

“Maybe it runs in the family, like the madness,” Mago put in with a poisonous smile. “Do you and Tobin do it, too?”

Ki began to suspect what Mago was hinting at and went cold with anger. Not at the implied act itself, but at the thought of these spotty-faced bastards dragging two such men down with their filthy leering tones, and Tobin with them.

“You take that back,” he growled, advancing on Mago.

“Why should I? You share a bed, don’t you? We all saw it the night we went to the old throne room.”

“Everyone does where I’m from,” Ki said.

“Well, we all know where you’re from, don’t we, grass knight?” said Arius.

“Two in a bed,” Mago taunted. “Lord Orun told me that Tharin used to take it up the ass. Do you? Or is it Tob—”

Ki punched Mago without even deciding to do it. He just didn’t want to hear those words, and, in the instant that his fist connected with the older squire’s nose, it felt good. Mago went down cursing and landed on his back in the wet muck of a stall, blood spurting from his nose. Arius got Ki by the arm and yelled for help, but Ki threw him off and walked away.

His elation was short-lived. By the time he was out the door at the far end of the stable he knew he’d made a serious error and started running, knowing there was only one place to go. No one followed.

I failed him! he raged at himself as the enormity of the situation crashed in on him. He’d failed Tobin and Tharin. And himself. In the next instant he lashed out at his tormenters. Korin was right; they were all rotting here. Foul mouthed, soft-handed, backbiting little sneak bitches like Mago wouldn’t last a day among real warriors. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d dishonored Tobin. And now there’d be worse to come.

The clouds opened, the rain lashed down, and Ki ran.

Tobin hated the visits to Lord Orun’s house. The rooms were too warm, the food too sweet, and the attendants—a pack of droopy, bare-chested youths—overly attentive. Orun always insisted that Tobin sit next to him and share his dish. The sight of those greasy, wrinkled fingers did little for his appetite.

It was even worse today. Tobin’s head had been hurting since he woke up that morning, and he’d had a dull pain in his side that was making him tired and out of sorts. He’d hoped to sleep that afternoon, until the summons came and spoiled his plans.

Orun always insisted on inviting Moriel, as well. Though Tobin still resented this, he had to admit that the pale boy did do his best to be pleasant when they were thrown together here. Then again, almost anyone would seem pleasant company at Orun’s table.

There were thirty nobles at the table today, and the king’s wizard, Niryn, occupied the place of honor on Tobin’s left. Between courses he entertained the company with silly tricks and illusions, like making a stuffed capon dance, or floating sauceboats around like ships in the harbor. Looking down the table, Tobin caught Korin and Caliel rolling their eyes.

He sat back with a sigh. Niryn’s magic was even more pointless than Arkoniel’s.

Ki managed to keep himself under control as Ulies let him in and led him to the hall. Tharin sat by the fire in his shirtsleeves. Koni and some of the other men were with him, gambling and repairing bits of tack by the hearth. They called out their usual greetings to Ki, but Tharin frowned as soon as he saw him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can we speak alone?”

Tharin nodded and took him to his room. Shutting the door, he turned and asked, “What happened?”

Ki had rehearsed half a dozen explanations on the way here but now his tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of his mouth. There was no fire and the room was cold. Shivering miserably, he listened to the sound of his sodden cloak dripping on the floor as he searched for the words.

Tharin sat down in the chair next to his bed and motioned for Ki to come to him. “Come on, now. Tell me about it.”