Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

Some stood in intent knots, speaking in hushed, rapid voices. Others lounged at their leisure on couches or on the edges of the great fountains, toying with their hawks or the hounds and spotted cats they led on chains.

At the far end of the chamber a beautiful golden throne stood on a wide dais, but no one sat there. A cape bearing the king’s crest was draped over it and a crown had been placed on the seat.

Two men sat in lower chairs before it. The older of the pair was listening to each petitioner in turn, just as Tobin’s father had in the hall at the keep. He had a short white beard, a number of heavy gold chains and seals around his neck, and wore long black robes and a hat like a red velvet pancake on his head.

“That is Lord Chancellor Hylus, the King’s Regent,” Orun told him as they approached. “He is a distant kinsman of yours.”

“And the other?” asked Tobin, though he’d already guessed.

The other man was much younger, with jasper-colored eyes and a forked beard that shone coppery red in the sunlight. But all Tobin saw at first were his robes. They were white as sunlit snow, with sweeping designs over the shoulders and skirts picked out in glittering silver thread. This was one of the Harriers that Arkoniel had warned him about. He’d been sure to send Brother away last night, but he looked around quickly just to be sure.

“That is the King’s Wizard, Lord Niryn,” said Orun, and Tobin’s heart skipped a beat. This was not only a Harrier, but the Harrier.

He feared that they’d spend the whole morning waiting their turn, but Lord Orun led them right up to the front and bowed to Hylus.

Tobin had thought that the Lord Chancellor Hylus had a harsh face, for he’d been dealing sternly with a baker accused of selling underweight loaves when they approached. As soon as Orun introduced Tobin, however, the old man’s face softened into a warm smile. He held out his hand and Tobin climbed the steps to join him.

“It’s as if I see your dear mother looking at me out of your eyes!” he exclaimed, clasping Tobin’s hand between ones that felt like they were made of bones and thin leather. “And her grandmother, too. Most extraordinary. You must dine with me soon, dear boy, and I will tell you stories of them. You’ll have met my grandson Nikides among the Companions?”

“I’m sure, my lord.” Tobin thought he remembered the name, but couldn’t summon a face to go with it. There had been so many last night.

The chancellor appeared pleased. “I’m sure he’ll be a good friend to you. Have they given you a squire?”

Tobin introduced Ki, still standing with Orun below. Hylus squinted down at him for a moment. “Sir Larenth? I don’t know that name. This is a fine-looking young fellow, though. Welcome to you both.” He looked at Tobin a moment longer, then turned to the man beside him. “And allow me to present your uncle’s wizard, Lord Niryn.”

Tobin’s heart knocked against his ribs again as he acknowledged Niryn’s bow. Yet it was Arkoniel’s warning that made his heart race rather than anything in the man’s appearance, for Niryn was a perfectly ordinary looking man. The wizard inquired politely about his journey and his home, spoke kindly of his parents, then asked, “Do you enjoy seeing magic, my prince?”

“No,” Tobin said quickly. Arkoniel had done his best to interest him in tricks and visions—Ki loved anything of the sort—but Tobin still found most of it disconcerting. He didn’t want to give this stranger any encouragement.

The wizard didn’t seem insulted. “I remember the night of your birth, Prince Tobin. You did not have this mark on your chin then. But there was another, I think?”

“It’s a scar. You’re thinking of my wisdom mark.”

“Ah yes. Curious things, such marks. May I see how it has developed? I have made a study of such things.”

Tobin pushed back his sleeve and showed Niryn and Hylus the red mark. Nari called it a rosebud, but to him it looked like a grouse’s heart.

Niryn covered it with the tips of two fingers. His expression did not change, but Tobin felt an unpleasant tingle pass through his skin and saw the man’s jasper eyes go hard and distant for an instant, just the way Arkoniel’s did when he made magic. But Arkoniel had never done any magic on him without first asking permission.

Shocked, Tobin pulled away. “Don’t be rude, sir!”

Niryn bowed. “My apologies, my prince. I was merely reading the mark. It does indeed denote great wisdom. You are most fortunate.”

“He did say he does not like tricks,” murmured Hylus, looking displeased with the wizard. “His mother was much the same at that age.”

“My apologies,” Niryn said again. “I hope you will allow me to redeem myself another day, Prince Tobin.”

“If you wish, my lord.” For once Tobin was grateful when Orun loomed up behind him to shepherd him away. When he was sure they were out of sight of the dais he pushed his sleeve back and looked at his birthmark, wondering if Niryn had done anything to it. But it seemed just the same.

“That went well enough, I suppose,” Orun sniffed as he escorted them back to their room. “You would do better to be civil to Niryn, though. He’s a powerful man.”

Tobin wondered angrily if any of the powerful men in Ero were pleasant. Orun left them with a promise to feast with Tobin in a few days and went on his way.

Ki made a face at Orun’s back, then turned to Tobin with concern. “Did the wizard hurt you?”

“No. I just don’t like to be pawed at.”

Molay had laid out a pair of fine leather jerkins for them, similar to those Korin and Caliel had worn, but they were far too stiff and fancy for Tobin’s taste.

Instead, he sent Ki to find the worn leathers they’d brought with them from home. Molay was clearly dismayed at the thought of Tobin wearing such plain garb but Tobin happily ignored him, glad to be back in comfortable old clothes again. Gathering up their swords, helms, and bows, he and Ki followed the waiting page to the main entrance.

So happy was he to finally be doing something warriorlike, he didn’t notice the odd looks they were attracting until Ki tugged on his sleeve and tilted his chin at two robed noblemen staring at them disapprovingly.

“I should be carrying your gear,” Ki muttered. “They must think we’re a couple of peasant soldiers who wandered in from the street!”

The page heard him. Throwing his shoulders back, he cried out in a ringing voice, “Make way for His Highness, Prince Tobin of Ero!”

The words worked like magic. All the muttering, glittering nobles parted and bowed to Tobin and Ki as they strode past in their dusty shoes and scarred leathers. Tobin tried to copy Lord Orun’s haughty nod, but Ki’s smothered snort behind him probably spoiled the effect.

At the palace entrance the page stepped aside and bowed deeply, though not quickly enough to hide his own grin.

“What’s your name?” asked Tobin.

“Baldus, my prince.”

“Well done, Baldus.”

The Companions trained on a broad stretch of open land near the center of the Palatine. There were riding grounds, sword fighting rings, archery lists, stables, and a high stone Temple of the Four, which the boys ran to each morning to make sacrifice to Sakor.

The Companions and their squires were shooting in the archery lists when Tobin and Ki arrived. Even at a distance, Tobin could see that all of them wore fine clothes like Korin’s. There were scores of other people around the field, as well. Tobin recognized some of the guests from the banquet last night, though he could recall few names. Many of the girls were there, too, in bright gowns and light capes of silk that fluttered in the morning breeze like butterfly wings. Some rode their palfreys around the perimeter. Others were shooting at targets or flying their hawks. Ki’s eyes followed them, and Tobin suspected he was looking for auburn-haired Aliya.