Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

The soldiers who remained moved at their leisure, practicing at arms or lounging around the corrals. Armorers and farriers were noisily at work over their smoky forges along the inner wall. A few saddlers sat beneath an awning, cutting leather and mending harnesses. Out of deference for the king, Rhius had no women soldiers among the ranks of his guard, but there were a number of them among the castle household who had once served his father with sword and bow. Cook, back at the keep, was such a one, too. They all still knew how to fight, and would gladly do so if given the order.

Iya left her horse with a stable hand and hurried up the broad stair to the arched portal that let into the main hall. The doorway was flanked by rows of columns supporting a pointed arch. A painted relief of the Cloud Eye of Illior had decorated the peak of this arch since Atyion was built, but today Iya saw that a carved oak panel had been fitted over it. This bore one of the more martial symbols of Sakor: a gloved hand holding up a flaming sword garlanded with laurel and rue. It had been fitted by a master craftsman; anyone unfamiliar with the house would never guess that another image lay hidden below.

It’s like the brooch , she thought, saddened and angered. How has it come to this, that we have set the very gods against one another?

An ancient fellow with a paunch beneath his blue livery greeted her in the hall.

“How long has Sakor guarded the entrance, Hakone?” she asked, giving him her cloak.

“Nearly nine years, my lady,” the porter told her. “It was a gift from the king.”

“I see. Is the duke at home today?”

“He is, Mistress. He’s in the open gallery. I’ll bring you to him.”

Iya looked around as they passed through the great vaulted hall and on through a series of rooms and inner galleries. Atyion was still magnificent, but the glory of the house seemed tarnished, as if the structure itself lay under the same pall as its master. A few servants were at work, polishing and scrubbing, but the furnishings and hangings, even the brightly painted walls, were more faded than she recalled.

There used to be music and laughter here , she thought. And children running thorough the hall. Tobin had never seen this house.

“Is Lord Rhius well?”

“He grieves, Mistress.”

They found Rhius walking in a pillared gallery overlooking the castle gardens. Judging by the dusty leather boots and jerkin he wore, he’d spent the day in the saddle and only recently returned. A young page trailed after him, ignored.

As a boy Rhius had always run to meet Iya. Now he dismissed the servants and stood regarding her in bleak silence.

Iya bowed and looked out over the deserted gardens. “Your aunts and uncles used to play blind beggars with me in that stand of walnut trees.”

“They’re dead now, too,” Rhius told her. “All but Uncle Tynir. He lost his wife in the plague and his daughter to the king. He’s carved a new estate for himself in the northern territories.”

A pair of gardeners came into view below them, pulling a cartload of rotted manure. A tall, bald man in a jeweled robe wandered out from a rose maze to watch them at their work.

Rhius’ mouth tightened with distaste at the sight of him. “Come, let’s speak inside.”

Iya glanced back at the stranger, trying to make out who it was. “You have a guest?”

“Several.”

Rhius led the way to an inner room lit by several lamps. He shut the door and Iya cast a seal to keep out prying eyes and ears.

“That man in the garden is Lord Orun, Chancellor of the Treasury. Surely you remember him?” Rhius asked, circling a round table that stood at the center of the room.

Iya remained near the door, watching him pace like a cornered wolf. “Ah yes, he often guested here in your father’s day. I remember Tharin always detested him.”

“Yes, that’s him. He’s risen high and serves the king closely now as the royal ear. Not a man to cross. Thank Illior, Erius has kept Hylus on as Lord Chancellor. He’s able to keep most of the nobles from eating one another alive.”

“But why is Orun here?

“He knew my father, and now he makes it his business to know me. This time he’s brought me some young cousin of his and asks me to take him on as an equerry.”

“Spreading his spies around, is he?”

“I’m surrounded by them. He’s gifted me with several pages and a very pretty court minstrel whom I think he intends for my bed. She’s away for the day, or I’d introduce you and do away with the mystery.”

He sat down and turned a weary eye on her. “So, you’ve come back, as well? You took your time.”

Iya let that go for the moment. “I’ve just come from visiting your child, my lord. Prince Tobin sends you his regards and a message. He misses you.”

“By the Four, if you knew how much I miss him!”

“Tharin gave me to believe otherwise.”

An angry flush rose in the duke’s cheeks. “Lies breed like maggots on a dead horse, as they say. All these years I’ve kept my secret from Tharin. Now that lie has festered between us and driven him away.”

“How so?”

Rhius waved a hand around at the room, the house, perhaps the entire estate. “King Erius prefers to keep me close by him, now that his sister’s life no longer binds me. This is as far from Ero as I’m allowed to venture. Should I bring Tobin here now, where Erius and his wizards come to guest whenever the whim takes them? No, instead I drive away a man who loves me better than any brother, send him back to be the father to Tobin that I can’t be.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Another sacrifice.”

Iya went to him and clasped his hand. “You know Tharin better than that. He loves you still and keeps you close in your child’s heart. Surely the king would not begrudge you the occasional visit?”

“Perhaps not, but I’m so—fearful.” The word seemed to choke him. “We both know what Tobin is, and is to be, but she’s also my beloved child and all I have left of Ariani. No sacrifice is too great to keep her safe!”

“Then perhaps you can find a little forgiveness in your heart for me; you know perfectly well that’s why I’ve stayed away.” She took the Harrier’s brooch from a pouch at her belt and tossed it onto the table. “I was given this in Ero.”

Rhius eyed it with distaste. “Ah yes. Niryn’s badges.”

It was Iya’s turn to pace as she told him of her visit to the city, ending with the search made of her room at the inn and the spell the wizard had cast for the unknown girl.

Rhius let out a bitter bark of a laugh. “You’ve been too long away. Niryn has turned oracle and claims to dream of a usurper who’ll unseat Erius from the throne—a false queen raised by necromancy. It wasn’t enough to slaughter the innocents of royal blood. They go on looking for signs and wonders now.”

“I think he’s been sent the same vision that I was given, but he misinterprets it. Or chooses to. It wasn’t enough to slaughter the royal girls; none of them was the one and so the dream continues. Fortunately, he hasn’t yet seen Tobin clearly. I think we may thank Lhel’s magic for that. All the same, Niryn has an inkling of what’s coming, and the wizards of Skala are to be numbered and divided against themselves.”

“By the Light! If they discover Tobin before she’s old enough to fight, to lead—”

“I don’t believe there is any danger of that just yet. Clearly, however, they’ve had some inkling of wizardly protection, otherwise why should they have scoured my room looking for her?”

“Are you certain they found no clue there?”

“I saw no sign of it. Sooner or later, though, the king’s spies will recall the connection between your family and myself. I only hope that Arkoniel’s presence at the keep won’t bring undue attention on the household.”