Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

“Think it was worth it to them?” Ki whispered to Tobin as Korin and his revelers straggled up for the morning run the next day. Porion was watching them, too, looking like a thundercloud about to burst.

Garol’s purging hadn’t done him any good; he was as green as a leek and swaying on his feet. The others were less wobbly but very quiet. Only Korin, who’d seemed the drunkest, was his usual self. His morning greeting to Tobin was contrite, however.

“I don’t suppose you spared any kind thoughts for us after we left you?” he asked, giving Tobin a sheepish look.

“Did you have fun in the city, Your Highness?” asked Ki.

“We got as far as the gate this time before Porion caught us. We’re all to do a penance vigil after training, to cleanse the poisons from us, as he put it. There’s to be no wine at table for a month.” He sighed. “I don’t know why I do it. You will forgive me, won’t you, Tob?”

Tobin hadn’t been angry in the first place, and Korin’s pleading smile would have melted river ice on Sakor’s Day. “I’d rather you come in my front door, that’s all.”

Korin clapped him on the shoulder. “Then it’s peace between us? Good. Come on, let’s race these laggards to the temple!”

Tobin and Ki led the pack easily today, but Korin kept up with them, laughing all the way. Tobin knew Ki had his doubts about the prince, but he found himself liking the older boy almost as much for his faults as in spite of them. Even drunk he was never gross or cruel the way some of the others were, and it never seemed to affect him afterward. Today he looked as fresh as if he’d spent the whole night sound asleep.

When they’d finished with the temple devotions Porion ran them straight to the archery lists. It was a clear, windless morning and Tobin was looking forward to besting Urmanis, with whom he had a running rivalry.

As he took his place at the mark and drew the first shaft to his ear, however, the belly pain that had plagued him over the past several days took him again, this time with a sharp, sudden stitch that made him catch his breath and release without aiming. The arrow flew wild over a knot of girls watching nearby. They scattered like startled birds.

“Tobin, have you got your eyes open?” shouted Porion, still in a foul humor.

Tobin mumbled an apology. The pain passed, but left him tense and awkward.

“What’s the matter, Prince Wildcat?” Urmanis chuckled, stepping up for his shot. “Snake crawl over your shadow?” His arrow sped true to the center of the bull.

Tobin ignored the jibe and nocked another shaft. Before he could draw the pain came again, gripping his bowels like hot claws. Tobin swallowed hard and made himself go on as if nothing was wrong, not wanting to show weakness before the other Companion. He took aim and released in one smooth motion, only to find Brother standing there in front of the bull as the shaft took flight.

The spirit hadn’t come without being summoned since that day at his mother’s house. The day he’d found her ring.

Brother was mouthing something but Tobin couldn’t make it out. Another cramp took him, worse than the last. It was all Tobin could do to stay on his feet until it passed.

“Tobin?” Urmanis wasn’t making fun anymore as he bent to look into Tobin’s face. “Master Porion, I think the prince is ill!”

Ki and Porion were at his side at once.

“It’s just a cramp,” he gasped. “I ran hard—”

Porion felt his brow. “No sign of fever, but you’re pale as milk. Were you sick in the night?”

Brother stood close enough to touch now. “No. It just took me now, since the run.”

“Well then, you’d better go back to your bed for a while. Ki, see that the prince gets to his bed, then report to me.”

Brother stayed with Tobin all the way back to their chamber, watching him with unreadable black eyes.

Molay insisted on helping him into bed while little Baldus hovered just behind. Tobin let them pull off his jerkin and shoes, then curled into a tight ball as a new wave of pain struck.

Ki shooed the others back and climbed up beside him. Pressing the back of his hand to Tobin’s brow, he shook his head. “You’re not feverish, but you’re in a sweat. Baldus, go fetch Sir Tharin.”

Tobin could see Brother standing behind Ki now, shaking his head slowly. “No, just let me rest,” he gasped. “It’s probably that pudding we ate last night. I shouldn’t eat figs.” He gave Ki a rueful grin. “Just leave me with the pot, all right? Go back and tell them I’m all right. I don’t want that pack of drunkards gloating over me.”

“Is that all?” Ki let out a relieved laugh. “No wonder you ran out of there so fast. All right, then. I’ll carry your message and come right back.”

“No, stay and practice. I’ll be right soon. Porion has enough people to be angry at today.”

Ki squeezed his shoulder and then pulled the curtains around the bed.

Tobin listened to him go out. He lay very still, wondering at the strange sensations in his belly. The pain was not so sharp now, and seemed to come and go like waves that made him think of the tide on the beach. As the pain receded, he was aware of another, more unsettling sensation in its wake. He got up and made certain there was no one in the chamber or dressing room. Then, with the curtain pulled tight all around, he undid his trousers and pulled them down to find a small wet stain where the two legs joined. He stared at it, puzzled. He was certain he hadn’t soiled himself.

Brother was with him again, staring.

“Go away,” Tobin whispered, his voice faint and shaky, but Brother stayed. “Blood my blood—”

He stopped, throat tight with fear as he gauged the position of that stain. Reaching down with shaking fingers, he felt under his privates, still so small and hairless compared to those of the other Companions. On the wrinkled underside of the sac, he felt a patch of sticky wetness on the skin. He stared at his fingertips in alarm; even in this light he could see that it was blood. He could hardly breathe for fear as he reached down again and felt desperately for some sore or wound.

The skin was unbroken. The blood was seeping through like dew.

“Oh, gods!” He knew what this was.

Plague. The Red and Black Death.

All the street-corner mummeries he’d watched came back to him, and the tales the boys shared around the hearth. First you bled through your skin, then huge black sores swelled under your arms and in your groin. In the end you thirsted so badly you’d crawl into a gutter to drink filth before you died vomiting out what blood you had left.

On the heels of this came Lhel’s words again. You see blood? You come to me. It had been a vision after all.

“What do I do?” he whispered to Brother. But he already knew.

Don’t be tell nobody. You love your friend, you don’t tell him , Lhel had warned.

He mustn’t tell Ki. Or Tharin. Or anyone else he loved. They’d want to help and they’d catch it, too.

He looked around at the bed he and Ki had shared. Had he made his friend sick already?

You love your friend, you don’t tell him.

Tobin tied up his trousers and climbed out of the bed. Ki would never let him go off alone. Neither would Lord Orun or Porion or Tharin or anyone else. He found his tunic and got it on before pain pushed hot red fingers through his belly again, making him grit his teeth and curl forward. The seal and ring clinked against his chest inside his shirt. He pulled them out and clutched them like talismans, feeling very alone. He had to get to Lhel.

When the pain receded he went into the dressing room and buckled on his father’s blade. I’m nearly tall enough to carry it, now that I’m dying , he thought bitterly. Let me at least be burned with it. There’s no one left to pass it to.