Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

She had jumped out the window because she was so scared.

She’d wanted him to jump, too.

Tobin inched inside and saw that only the window facing west toward the mountains was open.

The same window—

That’s where the light came from. He moved to stand before it, as if the moon’s white glow could protect him from all the shadowy fears building around him. His foot struck a broken chair back, then trod on a soft lump. It was a doll’s arm. He’d watched his mother make hundreds. Someone—

Brother

—had strewn his mother’s things all over the floor.

Bolts of cloth were thrown into a corner and mice had chewed holes in the little bales of stuffing wool. Turning slowly, he searched in vain for her fine boy dolls among the wreckage, but he couldn’t see any, just bits and lumps and rags.

Something, a spool of thread perhaps, tinkled to the floor and Tobin jumped.

“Mama?” he croaked, praying she was there.

Praying she wasn’t.

Not knowing which face she would show now that she was dead.

He heard another little thud and a rat scampered across the floor with a mouthful of wool.

Tobin slowly eased his aching grip on the flour sack. Brother was right. This was the best place.

Nobody came here.

Nobody would look.

He carried the sack to a moonlit corner across from the door. Placing it on the floor, he pulled the chair back over it and then piled some of the musty cloth over that. Dust motes rose in firefly clouds to choke him.

There. That’s done.

The task had held his fear at bay, but as he got to his feet again he felt it flooding back. He turned hastily for the door, trying not to think about having to go down those steep stairs in the dark.

His mother stood silhouetted in the open window. He knew her by the shape of her shoulders and the way her hair fell loose around them. He could not see her face to read her eyes or the lines around her mouth. He didn’t know if this was the good or the frightening mother taking a step toward him, holding out her arms.

For an instant Tobin hung suspended in time and horror.

She threw no shadow.

She made no sound.

She smelled of flowers.

That was the window she had tried to throw him out of. She had dragged him there, sobbing and cursing the king. She had pushed him out, but someone else pulled him back and he’d banged his chin on the sill—

The memory tasted like blood.

Then somehow he was in motion, dashing out the door, blundering down the stairs, one hand pressed to the rough stone wall, feeling the dry crusts of bird droppings and parched lichen flaking off beneath his fingers. He heard a sob and a slam behind him but refused to look back. He could see all the way to the bottom of the stairs now, guided by a rectangle of moonlight where the tower door stood open. He rushed headlong through it and flung it shut, not waiting to see if the latch caught, not caring if anyone heard. He fled downstairs, deafened by the ragged rush of his own frantic lungs, only dimly aware that his nightshirt and legs were wet. The realization that he’d wet himself halted him just outside his own room. He didn’t even remember doing it.

He fought back fresh tears, berating himself for such weakness. Slipping in, he listened to be certain Ki was still sleeping, then pulled off the soiled shirt and used a sleeve and the cold water left in the basin to clean himself. He found his other shirt in the wardrobe, then carefully climbed back into bed. He tried not to shake the mattress, but Ki jerked awake with a frightened gasp, staring wide-eyed down the bed.

Brother stood there, glaring back at him.

Tobin gripped the older boy’s shoulder, trying to keep him from crying out. “Don’t be scared, Ki, he won’t—”

Ki turned to him with a shaky little laugh. “Bilairy’s balls, it’s only you! For a minute I thought it was that ghost of yours crawling into the bed. You’re cold enough to be one.”

Tobin glanced at Brother, then back at Ki. He couldn’t see Brother standing there hating him. He didn’t have the eye.

Even so, Ki looked as scared as if he had as he asked, “Can I tell you something, Prince Tobin?” Tobin nodded.

Ki fiddled with the edge of the quilt. “When old Iya told me about the ghost, I almost ran for home, even though I knew my father’d beat me and put me on the road. I almost did. And then, when the ghost started throwing things around downstairs tonight? I nearly pissed myself I was so scared. But you just stood there, like it didn’t even matter….” He hugged his arms around his drawn-up knees. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that my father didn’t raise any cowards. I’m not feared of anything, except ghosts, and I can stand that to serve someone as brave as you. If you’ll still have me.”

He thinks I’m going to send him away. In that instant of recognition, Tobin nearly blurted it all out, about Brother and the doll and his mother and the wet nightshirt in a heap by the door. But the worshipful look in the older boy’s eyes sealed the words behind his teeth.

Instead, he just shrugged and said, “Everyone’s afraid of him, even Arkoniel. I’m used to him, that’s all.” He wanted to promise Ki that Brother wouldn’t hurt him again, but he wasn’t sure of that yet and didn’t want to lie.

Ki got up on his knees and touched his forehead and heart in the soldier’s salute. “Well, I still say you’re brave, and if you’ll accept my service, then I swear by Sakor and Illior that I’m your man until death.”

“I accept,” Tobin replied, feeling silly and proud at the same time. Ki had no sword to offer him, so they clasped hands on it and he flopped back down beside Tobin and burrowed under the covers.

Young as he was, Tobin understood that something important had passed between them. Until death, Ki had said. This conjured images of them riding side by side under his father’s banner on some distant battlefield.

So long as the doll stayed hidden. So long as no one ever found out what was up there in the tower.

Mama is up there, locked in the tower.

The night’s horror closed in around him again and he turned his back against Ki’s, glad not to be alone. He would never go there again. She was there, waiting to catch him. But the tower was locked and Brother wouldn’t let anyone else in.

Brother had warned him and his secret was safe. Now he would never see Ki looking at him with the face Brother had shown him in the vision.

“Tobin?” A sleepy mumble.

“What?”

“You say that ghost of yours is a he?”

“Yes. I call him Brother.”

“Huh…. I’d heard tell it was a girl.”

“Huh.”

Ki’s soft snore lulled Tobin to sleep, and he dreamed of riding east with Ki to find Ero and the sea.

After the household had settled for the night, Arkoniel took Iya outside to walk in the meadow, just as he and Rhius had two months before. There had been bats and fireflies that night, and the song of frogs.

Tonight the meadow and forest were silent except for the hunting cries of owls in the moonlight. It was very cold, and the wizards’ shadows fell sharp-edged across frost-coated grass as they followed one of the paths the workers had worn along the riverbank. The forest and peaks glimmered white around them. In the distance, a few fires still glowed in front of the handful of tents left at the bottom of the meadow. Most of the workmen had finished their tasks. The rest would soon be gone, as well, anxious to return to the city before the snow fell.

Arkoniel’s encounter with Lhel earlier in the day weighed heavily on his mind. As they walked he tried to find the proper words to explain what had happened.