Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

“I’ve said nothing of him. Keep him away from the city and unnumbered.”

“I plan to. Has Niryn shown any interest in the child recently?”

“None at all. Of course, he’s had the Harriers and their work to occupy his attention. Quite a powerful little cabal he’s building up.”

“How so?”

Rhius laced his fingers together around one knee and stared down the black mourning ring on his left hand. “There are rumors of secret meetings being held somewhere outside the city.”

“And Erius says nothing to this? I can’t imagine even the rumor of such a thing going unchallenged.”

“They serve him, or so he believes. For all his caution about rivals, Erius has a true blind spot when it comes to Niryn and his followers.”

“Or has been given one. Tell me, how does the king seem to you these days? Do you see any of his mother’s madness growing in him?”

“On the face of it, he’s nothing like her. The business with the girl children—” He made a weary, dismissive gesture. “He’s not the first to take such ruthless measures to ensure a succession. For years now Niryn has filled his head with fears of traitors and rivals, then earned favor by rounding up people for execution. Mad Agnalain had no use for wizards; her son keeps his by him day and night. Niryn brags openly about his “visions,” but rages against Illiorans and wizards and anyone who might rise up and proclaim the Prophecy of Afra again.”

“How many Harrier wizards are there now?”

“Twenty, perhaps. Many of them are very young and he keeps them on a tight rein. But there are others at court who recognize power when they see it and support him—Lord Orun among them. Tell me, Iya, in all your wandering, how many wizards can you claim to our cause?”

Iya held a finger to her lips. “More, but leave that to me until the moment arrives. And you know wizards alone won’t put Tobin on the throne. We must have armies. Are you still prepared to take the risk?”

Rhius’ face set like a grim mask. “What have I to lose that hasn’t already been taken from me? Tobin can’t remain hidden forever. He must reveal—” He rubbed at his eyelids and sighed. “She must reveal herself eventually and either take the throne or die. If she’s discovered before that, then none of us will survive Erius’ rage. Where there’s such certainty, a warrior sees no risk.”

Iya covered his hand with her own and squeezed it. “The Lightbearer chose you as much as Tobin. That trust sits well on you. As you say, we must continue to be cautious. Even Illior’s favor doesn’t guarantee success.” She sat back and studied the duke’s gaunt face. “If we had to fight today, how many men could you bring to the field? What nobles would back you?”

“Tharin, of course, and the men of his estate. Nyanis, I think, and Solari. They’d stand with me. My uncle bears the king no goodwill and has ships. Those who lost their women and girls to him—many of those might be willing to back a rightful queen in the field if they saw a chance of winning. Five thousand, perhaps more. But not for a child, Iya. I don’t think they’d fight for Tobin yet. Erius is a strong king, and a good one in many ways, and Plenimar is still restless. It’s the same as when his mother died and Ariani was so young.”

“Not entirely. Then they’d had a mad queen. Now they’ve had years of plague and famine and war, and whispers of prophecy. A sign will be given, my lord, and when it comes, the people will recognize it.”

Iya stopped, startled at how loud her voice had risen in the little room, and how hard her heart was suddenly pounding. At Afra she’d seen so many possible futures—was the sign she waited for among these?

She went to the table and sat down by Rhius. “The king keeps you close, yet not on Tobin’s account. Why? What’s changed between you?”

“I’m not certain. You know my marriage to Ariani was a one-sided love match. I loved her and her brother loved my lands. I expect he thought I’d die first and leave it all to her and the Crown. Now I think he means to do it through Tobin. Erius speaks often of bringing Tobin to court to join the Companions.”

“He’s not of age yet.”

“But he soon will be, and even with the stories of Tobin being sickly and demon-cursed, Erius has always been anxious for the boys to know one another. Sometimes I honestly think that it is for love of his sister. All the same, once at court, Tobin will be little more than a hostage.” Rhius frowned down at the brooch. “You’ve seen what it’s like there; once he’s at the Palace, can you still protect my child?”

“With all my heart, I will, my lord,” Iya assured him, not daring to reveal the sudden doubt she felt at the prospect. Like a handful of unthrown dice, Tobin’s future still encompassed all possibilities.

The weeks following Ki’s arrival were happy ones. Arkoniel never learned what Iya said to Rhius during her visit to Atyion, but the duke returned to the keep soon after and promised to stay until Tobin’s name day in Erasin. Better still, Rhius seemed almost his old self again, praising the improvements to the house and inviting Arkoniel to game with him and Tharin in the evenings. Whatever rift had been between Rhius and his friend had healed. The two men appeared to be as close as ever.

The duke approved of Ki, as well, and praised Tharin’s training when Ki served at table or matched Tobin at sword and bow practice. When Tobin knelt in the hall on his tenth name day and requested that Ki be made his squire, Rhius granted his permission readily and allowed the boys to pledge their oath to Sakor at the house shrine that same night. Tobin gave Ki one of his finest carved horse charms on a neck chain as a symbol of the bond.

Yet in spite of all this, Rhius maintained a certain aloofness with Ki that cost both boys some discomfort.

On Tobin’s name day, Rhius had gifted Ki with a new suit of clothes and a fine roan horse named Dragon.

When Ki tried to thank him, Rhius said only, “My son should be well attended.”

Ki already worshipped Tharin and was clearly prepared to accord Tobin’s father the same regard; the man’s coolness left him awkward and a little clumsy.

Tobin saw this, too, and hurt for his friend.

Only Arkoniel and Nari understood the reason for the duke’s distance and neither could offer the truth as comfort. Even among themselves they could not speak of the fatal possibility that hung by a spider’s thread over Ki’s young heart.

One bright cold afternoon a few weeks later Arkoniel found himself sharing the parapet with the duke as they watched the boys at play in the meadow below.

Tobin was attempting to track Ki, who lay hidden in a shallow depression surrounded by snow-dusted grass and weeds. Ki somehow managed to keep the white fog of his breath from rising, but in the end he gave himself away when his foot bumped a dead milkweed stalk. Several dry pods still clung to the stem and when he jarred them, their silky white seeds burst forth and rose like a battlefield signal.

Rhius chuckled. “Ah, he’s done for now.”

Tobin saw and dashed over to pounce on his friend. The resulting wrestling match sent up another thick cloud of milkweed fluff. “By the Light, that Ki is godsent.”

“I believe he is,” Arkoniel agreed. “It’s amazing how they’ve taken to one another.”

At first glance, no two boys could have been more different. Tobin remained quiet and serious by nature; bold Ki couldn’t seem to sit still or keep quiet for more than a few minutes at a stretch. For him, talking seemed as necessary as breathing. He still spoke like a peasant and could be crude as a country tinker. Nari would have taken a switch to him a dozen times already if Tobin hadn’t pleaded for leniency. Yet the substance of what he said was for the most part intelligent if unschooled, and invariably entertaining if not always seemly.