Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

After several more turns, the old man opened a creaking black door and ushered Tobin into an airy bedchamber half the size of the great hall back at the keep. A tall bed with hangings of black and gold stood on a raised platform in the center of the room. Past that, a balcony overlooked the city beyond. The walls were painted with faded hunting scenes. The room smelled nicely of the sea and the tall pines visible outside the window.

“This is your room, Prince Tobin,” the man informed him. “Prince Korin occupies the next chamber.”

Ki stood gaping until the man showed him to a second, smaller room at the back where wardrobes and chests stood. Next to this was an alcove containing a second bed built into the wall like a shelf. It was made up with rich bedding, too, but reminded Tobin too much of the place where his mother had been laid.

Orun hustled them out again and they followed the sound of music and boisterous laughter to an even larger chamber filled with performers of all sorts. There were minstrels, half-naked tumblers, jugglers tossing balls, knives, burning torches—even hedgehogs—and a girl in a silken shift dancing with a bear she led on a silver chain. A glittering company of youths and girls sat on a raised dais on a balcony at the far end of the room. The least of them was dressed more finely than Tobin ever had been in his life. Suddenly he was aware of the thick coating of dust on his clothes.

The diners didn’t seem to be paying the entertainers much mind, but sat talking and jesting among themselves over the wreckage of their feast. Servants went among them with platters and pitchers.

Tobin’s approach attracted their notice, however. A black-haired youth sitting at the center of the table suddenly vaulted over and strode across to meet him. He was a stocky lad of about fifteen, with short, curling black hair and smiling dark eyes. His scarlet tunic was embroidered with gold; rubies glowed on the gold hilt of a dagger at his belt and in a small jewel dangling from one ear.

Tobin and Ki copied the low bows the others made him, guessing that this was Prince Korin.

The older boy studied them a moment, looking uncertainly from Tobin to Ki. “Cousin, is this you arrived at last?”

Tobin straightened first, realizing his mistake. “Greetings, Prince Korin. I’m your cousin, Tobin.”

Korin smiled and held out his hand. “They tell me I was at your naming, but I don’t remember it. I’m glad to meet you properly at last.” He glanced down at the back of Ki’s bowed head. “And who’s this?”

Tobin touched Ki’s arm and he stood up. Before he could answer, however, Lord Orun thrust himself into the conversation.

“This is Prince Tobin’s squire, Your Highness, the son of one of Lord Jorvai’s minor knights. It seems Duke Rhius chose him without your father’s knowledge. I thought it best for you to explain—”

Ki dropped to one knee before the prince, left hand on his sword hilt. “My name is Kirothius, son of Sir Larenth of Oakmount Stead, a warrior in your father’s service in Mycena, my prince.”

“And my good friend,” Tobin added. “Everyone calls him Ki.”

Tobin saw the hint of a smile tug at the prince’s mouth as he looked from Orun to Ki. “Welcome, Ki. Let’s find a place for you at the squire’s table. I’m sure you must be wanting your own bed after such a long ride, Lord Orun. Good night to you.”

The chancellor did not look pleased, but he could not argue with the prince. With a last bow, he swept from the room.

Korin watched the man go, then motioned for Tobin and Ki to follow him to the banquet table. Throwing an arm around Tobin’s shoulders, he asked softly, “What do you think of my father’s choice of guardian?”

Tobin gave a cautious shrug. “He’s discourteous.”

Korin smelled strongly of wine and Tobin wondered if he was a little drunk. But his eyes were clear and shrewd enough as he warned, “Yes, but he’s also powerful. Be careful.”

Following just behind, Ki ducked his head nervously and asked, “Excuse me for speaking out of turn, my prince, but am I right in thinking that the king chose someone else to be Tob—Prince Tobin’s squire?”

Korin nodded and Tobin’s heart sank. “Since you’ve grown up so far from court, Father felt it would be best for you to have someone knowledgeable of the ways here. He left the choice to Lord Orun, who chose Sir Moriel, third son of Lady Yria. See that fellow at the lower table with the white eyebrows and a nose like a woodpecker’s beak? That’s him.”

They’d reached the balcony and Tobin could see the squire’s table to the right of the long feast table. Korin’s description was an apt one. Moriel was already striding over to present himself. He was about Ki’s age and height, with a plain face and white-blond hair.

Tobin started to object but Korin forestalled him with a smile. “I see the way things are.” He gave Tobin a wink and whispered, “Just between us, I’ve always considered Moriel a bit of a toad. We’ll manage something.”

Moriel distinguished himself immediately by bowing deeply to Ki. “Prince Tobin, your servant and squire—”

“No, that is his squire.” Korin hauled Moriel up by the arm and pointed him at Tobin. “This is Prince Tobin. And since you can’t distinguish between a squire and a prince, we’d best leave the job to someone who can.”

Moriel’s pale face went pink. Those at the table close enough to hear the exchange burst out laughing. Moriel redirected his bow awkwardly to Tobin. “My apologies, Prince Tobin, I—That is, I couldn’t tell—”

The others were staring at them now, nobles and servants alike. Tobin smiled at the mortified youth. “That’s all right, Sir Moriel. My squire and I are equally dusty.”

This earned him another laugh from the others, but Moriel only colored more deeply.

“My Companions and friends,” said Korin. “I present to you my beloved cousin, Prince Tobin of Ero, who’s come to join us at last.” Everyone rose and bowed. “And his squire, Sir Ki of—”

“Now, I think you know better than that, my lord,” a deep voice rumbled behind them. A heavy-set man with a long grey mane of hair stepped onto the balcony and gave Prince Korin a wry look. His short plain robe and wide belt were not the clothes of a noble, but every boy except Korin bowed to him.

“Your father charged Lord Orun with the choice of a squire for Prince Tobin, I believe,” he said.

“But as you see, Master Porion, Tobin already has a squire, and one bonded to him by his father,” Korin told him.

This was the royal arms master Tharin had spoken so well of. Korin may not have bowed to him, Tobin noted, but he spoke to the man with a respect he hadn’t shown to Orun.

“So I’ve heard. Lord Orun’s just been round to my rooms with word of him.” Porion sized up Ki. “Country bred, are you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t suppose you’re familiar with court life, or the city?”

“I know Ero. A bit.”

Some of the Companions snickered at this and Moriel began to puff up again.

Porion addressed both boys. “Tell me, what is the highest duty of a squire? Moriel?”

The boy hesitated. “To serve his lord in any fashion required.”

Porion nodded approvingly. “Ki, your answer?”

Ki set his hand on his sword hilt. “To lay down his life for his lord, Arms Master. To be his warrior.”

“Both worthy answers.” Porion pulled a golden badge of office from the neck of his robe and let it fall on his chest with a thump. Grasping it, he stood a moment in thought. “As Master of the Royal Companions, I have the right to judge this in the king’s absence. According to the ancient laws and customs, the bond contracted between the fathers of Prince Tobin and Squire—” He leaned over to Ki and whispered loudly, “What’s your name again, boy?—and his squire Kirothius, son of Larenth of Oakmount, is a sacred one before Sakor and must be recognized. Ki’s place in the Companions must stand until such time as the king says otherwise. Don’t take it hard, Moriel. No one knew when they chose you.”