Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

“I broke the peace,” Ki replied in a loud, steady voice. “I, Kirothius, son of Larenth, unworthy squire of Prince Tobin, am guilty of striking a fellow Companion. I stand ready to take my punishment.”

The other Companions formed a box on the stairs around them as Ki stripped off his jerkin and shirt. Kneeling, he leaned forward and braced his hands on a step above him. Tobin took his place on Ki’s right and gripped the whip.

“I beg your pardon, my prince,” Ki said, his voice carrying clear and strong on the morning air.

Tobin rested the whip across Ki’s back, then froze, unable for a moment to get any air into his lungs. He knew what was expected, that Ki would hold no grudge, that there was no turning back. But looking down at that familiar back, with its downy golden line down the spine and the catamount shoulder blades motionless under the sun-browned skin, he thought he wasn’t going to be able to move at all. Then Ki whispered, “Come on, Tob, let’s give ’em a show.”

Trying to gauge as Porion had shown him, Tobin raised the whip and brought it down across Ki’s shoulders. Ki didn’t flinch, but an angry red welt burned where the whip had bitten.

“One,” said Ki, quite clearly.

“No one expects you to count the strokes,” Porion said quietly.

Tobin brought the whip down again, a few inches lower. It was too hard; Ki shuddered this time, and droplets of blood beaded the new welt.

“Two,” Ki announced, just as clearly.

Someone murmured in the crowd. Tobin thought he recognized Orun’s voice and hated the man all the more.

He brought the whip down three more times on that side, ending just above Ki’s waist. They were both sweating, but Ki’s voice stayed steady as he counted off each stroke.

Tobin changed sides and began again at Ki’s shoulders, crosshatching the welts he’d already made.

“Six,” said Ki, but this time it came out a hiss. Tobin had drawn blood again. The whip cut into the swollen flesh where the two stripes met and a trickle of blood inched away toward Ki’s armpit.

You see blood

Tobin’s empty stomach lurched again. He made seven too light, then eight and nine too fast so that Ki had to gasp out the count. By “Ten” his voice was ragged but it was over.

Ki sat back on his heels and reached for Tobin’s hand. “Forgive me, my prince, for disgracing you.”

Before he could kiss it, Tobin pulled him up onto his feet and clasped his hand like a warrior. “I forgive you, Ki.”

Confused by this break with ritual, Ki bent uncertainly to complete the ceremony, pressing his lips to the back of Tobin’s hand as they stood facing each other. Another murmur went through the crowd. Tobin saw Prince Korin and Porion both giving them curious but approving looks.

The priest was less happy about the breach. His voice was harsh as he called out, “Come and be cleansed, Squire Kirothius.”

The Companions parted silently and Ki climbed the remaining stairs with his head held high, the ten uneven welts showing like fire on his bloodied back. Mago followed to begin his punishment vigil, looking a good deal less heroic.

When they’d disappeared inside Tobin looked down at the whip he still held, then over at Alben, who stood with Quirion and Urmanis. Were they smirking at him? At what he’d just done? He tossed the whip down. “I challenge you, Alben. Meet me in the practice ring. Unless you’re afraid of getting your pretty clothes dirty.”

Gathering up Ki’s discarded jerkin and shirt, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Alben had little choice but to accept Tobin’s challenge, though he didn’t look too happy about it.

The rain had slackened to a sullen drizzle by the time they squared off in the stone circle. A crowd had followed them from the temple to watch what was all too clearly a grudge match.

Tobin had practiced against Alben often since his arrival in Ero and hadn’t often bested the older boy, once Alben had learned to watch for tricks. But today he was driven by pent-up fury, and his years of rough practice with Ki served him well. He battered Alben down into the cold mud again and again. As he swung the wooden sword, it felt almost like the heavy whip in his hand and he wished he could bring it down on Alben’s back just once. Instead, he broke through the older boy’s guard and hit him across the nasal of his helmet hard enough to bloody his nose. Alben went to his knees and yielded.

Tobin bent to help him up. As he leaned close, he whispered just loud enough for Alben to hear. “I’m a prince, Alben, and I’ll remember you when I’m grown. Teach your squire to keep a civil tongue in his head. And you can tell Lord Orun the same.”

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.