Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

They rode at a more leisurely pace through the heat of the day and Lord Orun took it upon himself to keep Tobin entertained. He spoke of the Prince Royal’s Companions and their training and what Tobin could look forward to in the way of entertainments.

From him, Tobin learned that he might purchase anything a boy could desire simply by using his father’s seal, which he still wore around his neck. Koni had shortened the chain for him.

“Oh yes,” Orun assured him. “Fine clothes, a proper sword, sweets, hounds, gambling. A young man of your rank must have his pleasures. A new sport, falconry, has recently been introduced from Aurënen, who had it from the Zengati. Leave it to the ’faie to import such barbarian decadence! Oh well, they breed good horses. But it’s all the rage among the young bloods.”

He paused and his thick lips curved into a knowing smile. “Of course, any transaction of substance—say, to sell land or raise a levy of troops, the purchase of grain or iron, or the collection of rents from your lands—for that you must also have the seal of your uncle or myself until you are of age. But you’re too young to trouble yourself about such things! All will be managed for you.”

“Thank you, Lord Orun,” Tobin replied, but only because good manners seemed to demand it. He’d disliked the man on sight yesterday, and familiarity had only strengthened the impression. There was something greedy behind Orun’s smile; it made Tobin think of something cold and nasty stepped on in the dark.

More damning was the way he treated Ki and Tharin. Despite his fine manners to Tobin, Orun treated them as if they were his own servants, and managed to hint repeatedly that Tobin might consider finding a more suitable squire once he was at court. If it hadn’t been for Arkoniel’s warning, he might have summoned Brother again. Secretly, he made up his mind to find out how to make his friends into such rich lords that Orun would have to bow to them.

Ki could tell that Tobin was miserable riding with Orun, but there didn’t seem to be any help for it. The long ride did give him the first opportunity he’d had to speak with Tharin since he’d returned from Mycena.

Ki had seen from the first that Tharin was suffering but hadn’t known what to say to him, though in his heart he guessed the cause. Tharin believed he’d failed Rhius. A squire did not come home without his lord. Yet from what Ki had been able to glean from the other men in the days since their return, it had been no fault of Tharin’s. Rhius had fallen in battle and Tharin had tried to save him. Ki clung to that, unable to believe anything less of his hero.

Now they had a new kettle of trouble to stir, and Tharin looked hollow-eyed and exhausted.

Riding a respectful distance behind the nobles, he reined Dragon in close to Tharin’s horse and kept his voice low as he asked, “Are we going to have to live with him now?”

Tharin grimaced. “No, you’ll live in the Old Palace with the other Companions. You’ll only have to dine with Lord Orun now and then, so he can make reports to the king.”

Ki had glimpsed the Palace over the citadel walls. “It’s so big! How will we ever learn our way around?”

“The Companions have their own apartments. And the others will help you.”

“How many are there?”

“Seven or eight now, I think, and their squires.”

Ki fiddled with his reins. “The other squires—are they like me?”

Tharin looked at him again. “How do you mean?”

“You know.”

Tharin gave him a sad little smile. “I believe all of them are the sons of highborn knights and lords.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” The way Tharin said it let Ki know that he understood his fears. “Don’t let them bully you. Only one other of them can claim he’s squired to a prince. And I promise you, Ki, there’s not another boy there who surpasses you in honor.” He nodded in Tobin’s direction. “Keep him uppermost in your heart and you’ll always do what’s right.”

“I don’t want to fail him. I couldn’t bear it.”

Tharin reached out and gripped his arm hard enough to make Ki wince. “You won’t,” he said sternly. “You have to look after him for me now. You swear on your honor to do that.”

The challenge hurt more than the hold on his arm. Ki straightened in the saddle and cast all his shameful doubts aside. “I swear it!”

Tharin released him with a satisfied nod. “We’ll be his personal guard in name, but you’re the one who’ll be at his side. You must be my eyes and ears, Ki. If you smell any kind of trouble for him, you come to me.”

“I will , Tharin!”

For a moment Ki feared he’d gone too far and angered the man, but Tharin only chuckled. “I know you will.”

But Ki could see that he was still worried, and that made him check the lacings on his scabbard. He’d never imagined that going to the capital would feel like riding into enemy territory. He only wished he knew why.

The day wore on. The road they followed took them into flat bottomland laid out in long strips and farmed by tenants. Some of the strips lay fallow, grown over with weeds. Others were planted, but sparsely grown, or spoiled by disease. Great swaths of grain lay grey and rotted and flat.

In the villages here Tobin saw children with skinny legs, big bellies, and dark circles under their eyes. They reminded him of the way Brother used to look. What few cattle remained were raw-boned, and there were carcasses bloating in the ditches with ravens picking at their eyes. Many of the cottages in the village were empty, and several had been burnt. Most of those that remained had the crescent of Illior painted or chalked on the front door.

“That’s odd,” he said. “You’d think they’d be praying to Dalna for healing or good crops.”

No one replied.

As the sun began its slow descent behind them, a cool breeze freshened out of the east, blowing their hair back and cooling the sweat on their brows. It carried the first hint of a sweet new smell Tobin didn’t recognize.

Orun noticed him sniffing and smiled indulgently. “That’s the sea, my prince. We’ll be in sight of it soon.”

A little further on they met a cart piled with the strangest crop he’d ever seen. A mass of some greenish brown plant quivered with every jounce and bump of the cart’s wheels. A queer odor rose from it, salty and earthy.

“What is that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Seaweed, from the coast,” Tharin explained. “Farmers manure their fields with it.”

“From the sea!” Urging Gosi closer, Tobin leaned over and plunged his hand into the smelly stuff. It was cold and wet underneath, and had a leathery feel like the surface of Cook’s calves’ foot jelly after it cooled.

Dry brown hills like shoulders with no heads rose up against the sunset. The thin sliver of Illior’s moon climbed over them as Tobin watched. Orun had said they’d be in Ero by sunset, yet it seemed they were in the middle of nowhere instead.

The road was steep here. Leaning forward in the stirrups, he urged Gosi up the last few yards to the top, then looked up to find a huge, unimaginable expanse of sparkling water stretching out below him. The glimpses he’d had in his vision journeys with Arkoniel hadn’t prepared him for this; they’d been fuzzy and bounded by darkness, and he’d been focused on other things.

Ki rode up beside him. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s—big!”

From here he could see how the water curved away to the horizon, broken in the distance by islands of all sizes sticking up through the waves. Tobin gaped, trying to take in the sheer size of it; beyond all that lay the places his father and Arkoniel had told him of: Kouros, Plenimar, Mycena, and the battlefield where his father had bravely fought and died.