Lynn Flewelling - The Bone Doll's Twin

“All these belong to the Crown until you’re of age, of course,” Tharin said, frowning down at the map.

“That worries you.”

“It’s nothing we have to think about for now.” Tharin tried to smile as he put the map away. “Come and see my room.”

They walked to the next door along the passageway and Tharin showed them in.

This chamber was austere to the point of severity by comparison, with plain hangings and few comforts. The only exceptions were a fine collection of weapons hung on one wall, collected from many battlefields, and more of Tobin’s little creations on a table near the window. Tobin went over and picked up a lopsided wax man with a wood splinter sword in one round fist. He wrinkled his nose. “I remember this one. I threw it out.”

Tharin chuckled fondly. “And I saved it; it’s the only portrait ever done of me. These others were gifts from you, remember?” He pulled a crude little wooden Sakor horse on a knotted bit of string from the neck of his tunic. “This is the first one you ever made for me. All the other men have them, too. We wear them for luck.”

“You should have him make you a new one,” said Ki with a laugh. “He’s improved quite a lot since then.”

Tharin shook his head. “It was a gift from the heart. I wouldn’t trade this little fellow for all the horses of Atyion.”

“When can I go to Atyion?” Tobin asked. “I’ve heard tales of it all my life. Even Ki’s seen it, but not me! And Cirna and all the other estates and holdings?”

There was that hint of a frown again as Tharin replied, “You’ll have to speak to Lord Orun about that. He’s the one who must arrange any travel outside the city.”

“Oh.” Tobin made no effort to hide his dislike here. “When do you think the king will come back? I’m going to ask him to give me a new guardian before he goes away next time. I don’t care how rich or powerful Orun is, I can’t stand the sight of him!”

“Well, I’ve been hoping to have a talk with you about that. That’s one of the reasons I brought you here today.” Tharin closed the door and leaned against it, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin.

“You’re young, Tobin, and you’ve no experience of court life. I can’t say I’m sorry about how you’ve turned out because of that, but now that you’re here, it may hurt you, not knowing how things are done. Illior knows, there hasn’t been much time to speak of all the changes—It took us all by surprise when he showed up. But now that we’re all split up this way, there are some things you need to hear. I swore to your father that I would watch over you, and I don’t know of anyone else who can tell you what I’m about to tell you. Ki, you listen well, too, and don’t you ever breathe a word of it to anyone.”

He sat the boys on the edge of his bed and pulled up a chair.

“I don’t care much for Lord Orun, either, but you keep that to yourselves. He’s the king’s friend, and one of his highest ministers, so it wouldn’t do you any good if that’s the first thing your uncle hears from you when you meet. Understand?”

Tobin nodded. “Prince Korin says I should be careful of him, because he’s a powerful man.”

“That’s right. At court you must say less than you think and only speak as much of the truth as will do you good. I’m afraid that’s something we didn’t teach you before, but you always were a good one at keeping quiet about things. As for you, Ki—”

Ki blushed. “I know. I’ll keep my mouth closed.”

“It’s for Tobin’s sake. Now, it costs me some pride to say it, but I want you both to keep on Lord Orun’s good side while you have to.”

“You sound like you’re scared of him!” Ki blurted out.

“You could say that. Orun was already a powerful lord at court when Rhius and I were in the Companions. He was only the third son of a duke, but his father was rich and had the mad queen’s ear. I mean no disrespect to your family, Tobin, but your grandmother Agnalain was mad as a cat in a high wind by the end and Orun still managed to come out alive and with power. Erius likes him, too, which is more than your father or I could ever fathom. So crossing Orun is only fouling your own nest. Keep peace between you. And …” He stopped, as if unsure what to say next. “Well, if either of you has any trouble with him, you come to me. Promise me that.”

“You know we will,” Tobin replied, though it seemed to him that Tharin was looking at Ki as he said this.

A knock came at the door and Tharin went to deal with a courier who’d arrived. Tobin sat a moment, pondering all he’d been told, then rose to go back to the hall. When he came out into the passage, however, Ki tapped his shoulder and whispered, “I think our friend is here. I’ve been feeling him since we were upstairs.”

Tobin turned in surprise, realizing that Ki meant Brother. “You can feel him?” he whispered back. He’d lost track of the spirit upstairs and hadn’t seen him since.

“Sometimes. Am I right?”

Tobin looked around and, sure enough, there was Brother behind them, beckoning for Tobin to follow him down the passage in the opposite direction. “Yes. He’s there. I didn’t call him, though.”

“Why should he act any different here?” muttered Ki.

Following Brother, the boys passed through a succession of narrower passages and out into a small disused courtyard surrounded by a high wall. There was a summer kitchen here, but the mossy roof over the outdoor oven had fallen in years ago and never been repaired. Near the center of the yard stood a huge, dead chestnut tree. Its twisted branches stretched their broken fingers over the yard like a netted roof, grey and scabrous against the blue sky. Its knobby roots humped up out of the packed earth like serpents writhing across the ground.

“Can you still see him?” Ki whispered.

Tobin nodded. Brother was sitting at the base of the tree between two big roots. His legs were drawn up tight against his chest and his forehead rested on his knees. Tangled black hair hung down, covering his face. He looked so forlorn that Tobin slowly moved closer, wondering what the matter could be. He was within a few feet of the spirit when Brother raised a pale, tear-streaked face to him and whispered in a dry, weary voice Tobin had never heard before, “This is the place,” and faded from sight again.

Baffled, Tobin stared up at the tree, wondering what was remarkable about this spot. He’d understood about the bed; Brother had been stillborn upon it and seemed to remember it. But why would he remember this yard, or this tree? He looked back at where Brother had been sitting and spied a small opening beneath one of the roots. Squatting down, he examined it more closely. It was larger than it had looked at first glance; eight or ten inches wide and a few inches high on the outside. It reminded Tobin of the sort of place he used to look for in the forest as a hiding place for the doll.

The soil here was sandy and hard, well sheltered by the tree. Curious, he reached inside to see if the hole was as dry as it looked.

“There could be snakes,” Ki warned, hunkering down beside him.

It was larger inside than he’d have guessed, large enough for the doll if he could get it through the opening. His fingers found no snakes, only a few spiky chestnut husks among the dead leaves. As he moved to withdraw his hand, however, his fingers brushed across a rounded edge. He felt more closely, then got enough of a grip on it to dislodge it from the soil. Drawing it out, he saw that it was a gold ring set with a carved stone like the one Lord Orun had given him. He rubbed it on his sleeve to clean it. The large flat stone was the same deep purple as the throat of a river iris, and carved with the intaglio profiles of a man and a woman, side by side with the woman’s foremost.