Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

Tobin was watching him with those eyes that saw too much and Arkoniel felt the terrible fragility of the new bond they’d created in the tower just now.

He thought of Iya’s bag lying under his worktable; no wizard could see through its magics to the bowl swathed in silk and spells inside. For an instant he seized on the notion of making such a bag for the doll. This, at least, he had the magic for, and the makings: dark silk and silver thread, a crystal wand, needles and razors of iron, censers for burning resins and gums. Everything lay in easy reach. With these he could make a bag that would hold Brother in and keep out the prying eyes of any Harrier.

But the bag itself would be seen. He or Iya might carry such a thing with impunity, but an ordinary eleven-year-old child of warrior birth could not.

He sighed and picked up the discarded flour sack.

Ordinary. As ordinary as an old doll left as a keepsake for an orphaned child.

“This changes everything, you know,” he mused, an idea already taking form. “That little display we had Brother put on in the hall was all well and good as the antics of a house spirit. At court no one, especially you, can afford any taint of necromancy and there are plenty who might assume just that if they think you can control Brother. You mustn’t speak of him except as the demon twin they know of. It’s an old story there.”

“I know. Ki told me some people even claim it was a girl child.”

Arkoniel covered his surprise quickly; he supposed if rumors would come from anyone, it would be Ki. It seemed his work was done for him after all. “Let them go on thinking that. There’s no use arguing. Say nothing at all about it, and never let anyone see him. And you must never let on that you know anyone like Lhel. Her sort of magic isn’t necromancy, but most think it is, and because of that her kind are outlawed from Skala.” He gave Tobin a conspiratorial wink. “That makes us outlaws, you and I.”

“But why would Father have dealings with her if—”

“That’s a question best left ’til you’re older, my prince. For now, trust in your father’s honor as you always have and promise me that you’ll keep Lhel and Brother your own secret.”

Tobin fidgeted with one of the doll’s mismatched legs. “I will, but sometimes he just does what he wants to.”

“Well, you must try very, very hard for your sake. And Ki’s, too.”

“Ki?”

Arkoniel rested his elbows on his knees. “Here at the keep you and Ki have lived as brothers and friends. Equals, if you like. But once you’re at court, you’ll soon learn that you’re not. Until you’re of age, Ki has no protection but your friendship and your uncle’s whim. If you were accused of necromancy the king might save you, but Ki would be executed very horribly and there’d be no saving him.”

Tobin went pale. “But Brother’s nothing to do with him!”

“It wouldn’t matter, Tobin. That’s what I’m trying to make you understand. It has nothing to do with truth. All it would take would be a Harrier wizard’s accusation. It happens often these days. Great wizards who’ve never done harm to anyone have been burnt alive on nothing more than a secondhand tale.”

“But why?”

“In their zeal to serve the king, they have taken a different road than the rest of us. I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it myself. For now, promise me you’ll be careful and make Ki be careful, too.”

Tobin sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go away. Not like this. I wanted to go with Father and see Ero and Atyion and go to war, but—” He broke off and rubbed at his eyes.

“I know. But Illior has a way of putting our feet on the right path without shining the Light very far ahead. Put your trust in that, and in the good friends the Lightbearer has sent to walk with you.”

“Illior?” Tobin gave him a doubtful look.

“And Sakor, too,” he added quickly. “But look whose mark you wear on your chin.”

“But what about the doll? What do I do with it?”

Arkoniel picked up the flour sack. “This should do well enough.”

The boy gave him an exasperated look. “You don’t understand. What if the prince sees it? Or the Arms Master? Or Ki ?”

“What if he did?” To his astonishment, Tobin blushed. “You think Ki would think less of you for it?”

“Why do you think I had it up in the tower?”

“Well, I’ve seen it, and I certainly don’t.”

Tobin rolled his eyes. “You’re a wizard.” Arkoniel laughed. “Has my manhood just been insulted?”

“You’re not a warrior!” Some strong emotion shook Tobin now, making his eyes flash and his voice break. “Warriors don’t want dolls. I only have this one because Lhel says I must. For Brother.”

Arkoniel watched him closely. The way Tobin still clasped the lopsided doll belied every word he spoke.

She spoke , he amended. For the first time in a very long time, Arkoniel allowed himself to make the correction, though he saw little sign of the hidden princess in the angry youth before him—except perhaps for the way the strong, callused hands neither crushed nor threw away what they professed to be ashamed of.

“I believe you misjudge your friend,” he said quietly. “It’s a keepsake from your dead mother. Who would begrudge you that? But you must manage that as you see best.”

“But—” Confusion warred with stubbornness on the boy’s drawn face.

“What is it?”

“The night Ki came, Brother showed me. He showed me Ki finding the doll, and how disappointed and shamed everyone was that I had it. Just like Father told me. And everything else he’s shown me has come true. At least I think so. You remember the fox with the broken back? And I knew when Iya was coming. And—And he told me that Lord Solari wants to take Atyion away from me.”

“Does he, now? I’ll pass that along to Tharin. As for the rest of it, I don’t know. It’s possible that Brother could lie when he wants. Or that what he shows you can change with time, or that perhaps you don’t always understand what he shows you.” He reached to pat Tobin’s shoulder and this time the boy allowed it. “You’re not wizard born, but you’ve a bit of the sight in you. You should have shared your visions with Lhel or me. It’s our gift and our service.”

Tobin’s shoulders sagged. “Forgive me, Master Arkoniel. You’ve always helped me and I’ve shown you poor courtesy.”

Arkoniel waved aside the apology. For the first time since his arrival here he felt that a true link had been forged between them. “I don’t expect you to understand it yet, but I’ve pledged my life to protecting you. Perhaps one day you’ll remember what we’ve shared here tonight and know that I’m your friend. Even if I am only a wizard.” Grinning, he held out his hand in the warrior style.

Tobin clasped it. The old guarded look had not completely left him, but in his eyes the wizard saw a respect that hadn’t been there before.

“I’ll remember, Wizard.”

Exhausted beyond words, Tobin crept back to his bedchamber and hid the doll deep in one of the traveling chests.

He tried to slip into bed without disturbing Ki, but as he lay back he felt Ki’s hand on his arm.

“Are you sick, Tob? You were gone a long time.”

“No—” Arkoniel thought he should tell Ki about the doll, and suddenly he was badly tempted to. Maybe Ki wouldn’t care, after all. He hated having secrets between them and the doll was so close, just a few feet away. But the memory of Brother’s fury when he’d tried to show it to Nari was still too clear.

“I just wanted to say good-bye to Arkoniel,” he mumbled.

“We’re going to miss him. I bet he has a few spells up his sleeve that would shut Lord Orun up.”