Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

Arkoniel was waiting for them in Tobin’s bedchamber.

“I heard most of it from the top of the stairs,” he said, looking uncommonly grim. “Tharin, it seems the time has come to call upon your knowledge of court. Do you know Lord Orun?”

Tharin pulled a face like he’d eaten something bitter. “He’s Royal Kin, a distaff cousin of some degree. He’s no use in the field, but I’ve heard it said that he’s an able enough chancellor, and the funnel through which a great deal of information flows to the king’s ear.”

“I don’t like the looks of him,” Ki growled. “He can say what he likes about me, but he spoke to Tobin like he was a scullion. ‘My young sir’! ”

Tharin gave him a wink. “Don’t fret yourself. Orun’s a painted bladder, more wind than substance.”

“Do I have to go with him?” Tobin asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Tharin told him. “A king’s summons can’t be ignored, not even by you. I’ll be with you, though, and so will Ki.”

“I—I don’t want to go,” Tobin said, and was ashamed to hear the quaver in his voice. Clearing his throat, he added, “But I will.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Tharin said. “Your father and I served among Erius’ Companions when we were boys, you know. The Old Palace is a fine place and you’ll train with the best in the land. Not that they’ll have much to teach you, with all the training you’ve done here. The pair of you may even show those city-bred dandies a thing or two.” He grinned at them, warm and sure as ever. “Prince Korin is a good lad, too. You’ll like him. So don’t lose heart. You show everyone who Princess Ariani’s son is, and I’ll keep an eye on old Orun for you.”

Leaving the boys to calm down, Arkoniel brought Tharin upstairs to his workroom and locked the door. From here they had a clear view of the soldiers waiting in the meadow.

“You and Tobin snubbed the reins nicely down there.”

“He did well, didn’t he, once he got started? A proper little princeling with his back up. And I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever been pleased to have that demon of his show up.”

“Indeed. Tell me, when you were talking to the boys just now I had the impression you knew more about Orun than you let on.”

Tharin nodded. “The first time I met Lord Orun he was guesting with Rhius’ father at Atyion. I was about Ki’s age at the time. Orun stumbled out of the feast blind drunk and ran into me in a deserted passageway. He backed me into a corner and offered me a cheap gilt ring if I’d let him bugger me.”

Arkoniel sat down heavily on his stool. “By the Four! What did you do?”

Tharin gave him a humorless smirk. “I told him if he had to pay he couldn’t be much good at it and legged it out of there. A day or two later I saw that same ring on the hand of one of the kitchen girls. Guess she was less particular.”

Arkoniel gaped at him. “And this is who the king sends for his nephew?”

Tharin shrugged. “Creatures like Orun don’t prey on their own kind. They stick to servants and peasants, those who won’t complain or be listened to if they do.”

“I met with a few of that kind in my day, too. Iya taught me some choice spells to deal with them. But you were no peasant boy.”

“No. As I said, he was drunk. Luckily for him, I was too angry and shamed to say anything when I should have, and he was too far gone at the time to remember me later, so I let it pass. He’d never dare lay hands on Tobin, I’m certain of it.”

“But what about Ki?”

“That would be almost as foolish, given his station, but I’ll have a word with the boy. Don’t worry, Arkoniel. I’ll be with them every step of the way until they’re safely delivered to the companion’s quarters. Arms Master Porion is a good man and keeps a close eye on his boys. They’ll be safe with him. If Orun tries to get up to anything before then, I’ll be more than happy to reintroduce myself.” He paused. “Am I right in thinking you can’t come with us?”

“Iya wants me here, unnumbered by the Harriers. But it’s only a day’s ride if you need me.”

“That it should come to this.” Tharin ran a hand wearily back though his hair. “You know, I was right beside Rhius until that last bad moment. If my horse hadn’t been hit-If I’d been where I was supposed to be, where I’ve always been-” He pressed his hand over his eyes.

“You couldn’t control where the arrows went.”

“I know that! But by the Four, it should be Rhius here alive and talking to you, and not me! Or both of us dead together.”

Arkoniel studied the man’s grief-stricken face, thinking again of their conversation on the bridge after the vigil. “You loved him a great deal.”

Tharin looked up at Arkoniel and his expression softened a little. “No more than he deserved. He was my friend, just like Tobin is with Ki—”

A soft knock came at the door. “Tharin, are you there?” Nari called, sounding frantic.

Arkoniel let her in. The woman was in a terrible state, teary-eyed and wringing her hands. “Lord Orun is raising a fuss downstairs! He’s frightened to death of the demon and says Tobin is to leave with him within the hour. He says that the king’s order gives him the right to force the child. You mustn’t allow it! Tobin doesn’t even have anything proper to wear to court. Ki has his sword drawn and says he’ll kill anyone who comes in the bedchamber!”

Tharin was halfway out the door before she’d finished. “Has anyone tried?”

“Not yet.”

He turned to Arkoniel, eyes blazing. “What shall we do, Wizard? The bastard sees an orphaned boy surrounded by servants and thinks he can play the master in a dead man’s house.”

“Well, bloodshed won’t do.” Arkoniel pondered the situation a moment, then smiled. “I think it’s time Prince Tobin set a few terms of his own. Send Tobin up to me. Tharin, you go with Nari and calm Ki down. I need to speak with the prince privately.”

Tobin entered his chamber a few minutes later, looking pale but resigned.

“Ki hasn’t killed anyone yet, has he?” Arkoniel asked.

Tobin didn’t smile. “Lord Orun says we must go at once.”

“What do you think of Lord Orun?”

“He’s a fat, pompous bastard the king left behind because he’s not fit for battle!”

“You’re a fine judge of character. And who are you?”

“Me? What do you mean?”

Arkoniel folded his arms. “You’re Prince Tobin, son of Princess Ariani, who by right of Oracle should have been Queen of Skala. You are the first-born son of Duke Rhius, Lord of Atyion and Cirna, the richest lord and the greatest warrior in the land. You are the nephew of the king and the cousin of his son, the future king. No matter how many guardians and stewards they put between you and what is rightfully yours, you mustn’t forget one jot of that, or let anyone else forget it, either. You’re a true noble of the purest blood, Tobin, modest and brave and forthright. I’ve seen it proven a hundred times over in my time here.

“But now you’re going to court and must learn to wear a few masks besides. People like Orun must be fought with their own weapons: pride, arrogance, disdain, or whatever approximation you can summon from that honest heart of yours. You mustn’t imagine that your father would treat a cur like that with respect when none is offered in return. If someone slaps you in the face, you must slap him right back, and harder. Do you understand?”

“But—but he’s a lord and my uncle’s—”

“And you are a prince and a warrior. Your uncle will see that when he returns. In the meantime, you’re going to have to make your own reputation. Be gracious to those who respect you, but have no mercy on those who don’t.”