Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

“Did you tell Brother to do that?”

“No.” Tobin edged forward and Arkoniel followed.

The summer night was heavy, but the moment they stepped into the tower a dank chill wrapped itself around them like the air of a tomb. High overhead the moon peered in through narrow slit windows.

Tobin was clearly frightened to be here, but he took the lead. Halfway up Arkoniel heard a stifled sob, but when Tobin glanced back at him, his face was dry. Another sob raised the hair on the back of the wizard’s neck. It was a woman’s voice.

A small, square chamber lay at the top of the tower. The windows on each side were tightly shuttered, so Arkoniel summoned a tiny point of light, then let out a gasp of dismay.

The place was a shambles. The furniture had been smashed to bits and scattered about the room. Mouldering bolts of cloth and tapestries covered the floor.

“Mother made her dolls here,” Tobin whispered.

Arkoniel had heard of those later dolls; boys with no mouths.

The sound of weeping was more distinct here, but it was still faint, as if heard from another room. If Tobin heard it, he said nothing. As he crossed to a far corner, however, Arkoniel noted how he kept his face turned away from the fatal western window.

What had the child witnessed that final day, when he’d received that crescent scar on his chin? Closing his eyes, Arkoniel whispered a blood-seeking spell. The magic made a few scattered spots of old blood on the floor near the west window shine bright as moonlight on silver. And there was one more trace, a tiny, much-weathered half-moon smudge on the edge of the stone sill.

The outer edge, beyond the shutters.

Tobin made his way over the debris to a far corner and was shifting a small pile of refuse there.

The sobbing grew suddenly louder and Arkoniel could hear the whisper of heavy skirts, as if the weeper was pacing the room.

Caught between fear and grief, Arkoniel searched his mind for spirit spells, but all that would come was her name.

“Ariani.”

It was enough. The shutters of the west window flew open and there she stood, a dark outline against the moonlight. Brother stood with her, grown as tall as his sibling even in death.

Arkoniel took a step toward her and held out his hand, face to face with the woman he’d helped wrong.

She turned to him and the light fell across her face. Black blood covered the left side, but her eyes were bright and alive and fixed on him with a terrible confusion that disturbed him more deeply than any show of anger.

“Forgive me, Lady.” An echo a decade gone.

He felt Tobin beside him, clutching at his arm with trembling fingers. “Do you see her?” he whispered.

“Yes. Oh, yes.” He stretched out his left hand to the pitiful apparition. She tilted her head as if bemused by his gesture, then reached as if they were partnered in a dance. As their hands met he felt a fleeting sensation like the kiss of snow shaken from a branch. Then she was gone, and Brother with her.

Arkoniel brought his hand to his nose and caught the faint scent of her perfume mingled with blood. Then a deathly chill closed in around him. It felt as if someone was reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart to stop it. Another hand, this one hard and warm, found his and dragged him from the room. Doors slammed shut behind them as he and Tobin fled the tower.

In his workroom Arkoniel locked the door, latched the shutters, and lit a small lamp, then collapsed trembling on the floor with his face in his hands. “By the Light!”

“You saw her, didn’t you.”

“Oh yes. Maker forgive me, I did.”

“Was she angry?”

Arkoniel thought of the crushing sensation he’d felt in his chest. Had that been her doing, or Brother’s? “She looked sad, Tobin. And lost.” He looked up and only then noticed what Tobin had brought back with him from the tower. “Is that what you went up for?”

“Yes.” Tobin clutched an old cloth sack to his chest. “I—I’m glad you caught me tonight. I don’t think I could’ve done it alone again and I’d never have been able to ask anyone to go—”

“Again? You mean you did that before? All by yourself?”

“When I put it up there. That night Ki arrived.”

“You saw your mother then, didn’t you?”

Tobin knelt beside him and began plucking at the knotted string that held the sack closed. He was shivering. “Yes. She reached out for me, like she was going to throw me out the window again.”

Arkoniel searched for something to say, but words failed him.

Tobin was still busy with the sack. “You might as well see. This was my mother’s. She made it.” The string came loose and he pulled out a crude muslin rag doll with a badly drawn face. “She always carried it.”

“Your father mentioned it in his letters.”

He thought of the fine dolls she’d made in Ero. All the great ladies of Ero had wanted one, and many of the lords, too. This thing that Tobin cradled so carefully was a grotesque parody, the embodiment of her ruined soul.

This thought was quickly replaced by another, however, and the hair rose on his neck and arms for the second time that night. The doll wore a necklace of hair wound tightly around its neck. Hair as black as Tobin’s own. Or his mother’s.

This must be it , he thought with a thrill of triumph. This is the secret.

He’d known from that first day in the kitchen that the words Tobin spoke were not enough to control Brother. There had to be something more; a talisman of some sort that joined the two. Something that had perhaps been passed from mother to child.

“Did your mother give this to you?”

Tobin stared down at the doll. “Lhel helped my mother make this. Then she made it mine.”

“With your hair?”

Tobin nodded. “And some blood.”

Of course. “And this helps you call Brother?”

“Yes. I wasn’t supposed to show it to anyone, so I hid it in the tower. I think maybe that’s why Brother doesn’t always stay away when I tell him to. When Lord Orun said I must go to Ero I knew I had to get it….”

“But why not leave it here? Leave him here?”

“No, I have to take care of him. Lhel said so.”

“If a wizard put his mind to it, he might be able to smell it out.”

“You didn’t.”

Arkoniel let out a rueful chuckle. “I suppose not, but I wasn’t looking. All the same, there are plenty of wizards in Ero. You must be careful of all of them, especially those who wear the white robes of the King’s Harriers.”

Tobin looked up in alarm. “What about the one with Orun’s men?”

“A blond young man dressed as a soldier?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“He’s a friend, Tobin. But you mustn’t let on that you know about him. Iya sent him to keep watch over you, that’s all. It’s a secret.”

“I’m glad he’s not a bad wizard. He has a kind face.”

“You mustn’t only judge people on their faces—” Arkoniel caught himself, not wanting to scare the boy, or give too much away for a Harrier to find in Tobin’s mind later, should one have cause to look. “There are many kinds of people in the world, Tobin, and as many kinds of wizards. Not all of them mean you well. By the Four, you didn’t trust me and I mean you nothing but good! Don’t go lowering your guard to someone just because they tip you a winning smile.” He looked down at the doll again. “Now, are you certain you must take this with you? Couldn’t you leave it here with me?”

“No, Lhel says I have to keep it and care for Brother. No one else can do that. He needs me and I need him.”

Him.

Oh dear , thought Arkoniel. Here was another plan that had worked too well until now. Thanks to Lhel’s magic, the king had been shown the body of a dead girl child, and so the world had heard the story; Tobin knew the truth. If someone saw Brother or heard Tobin speak of “him,” uncomfortable questions would be raised.