Hidden Warrior

by Lynn Flewelling

  “He was your father’s liegeman, wasn’t he?” asked Korin.

  Tobin nodded.

  “Well, that’s an improvement over the last choice!” Tharin said. “Your father would be pleased.”

  Tobin wasn’t so certain. He’d last seen Solari when he came with the others to bring home his father’s ashes. Solari and Lord Nyanis had been his father’s most trusted liegemen. The day Solari had come to take leave of Tobin, however, Brother had appeared, whispering of treachery.

  He told his captain he would be lord of Atyion himself in a year—

  “He’s lord of Atyion now?” he asked.

  “No, that passed to you by right,” Tharin assured him. “But Atyion must have a Protector until you come of age.”

  Alerted by the standard-bearer’s arrival, a larger crowd had gathered in the market square beyond the gate. Hundreds of people pressed forward to catch a glimpse of him, laughing and waving kerchiefs and scraps of blue cloth in the air. Korin and the others fell back, letting Tobin take the lead. The roar took on a rhythm; the crowd was chanting his name.

  “To-bin! To-bin! To-bin!”

  He gazed around in wonder, then raised his hand in a tentative wave. The cheering doubled. These people had never laid eyes on him before, yet they seemed to know him on sight, and to love him.

  His heart swelled with a pride he’d never felt before. Drawing his sword, he saluted the crowd. They parted before him as Tharin led the way down a winding, cobbled street to the castle.

  Children and dogs ran excitedly beside their horses and women leaned out of windows, waving scarves at the men below. Looking back over his shoulder, Tobin saw that Ki looked as happy as if he owned the place himself.

  Catching Tobin’s eye, he hollered, “I told you, didn’t I?”

  “Home at last!” Tharin cried, overhearing.

  Tobin had always thought of the keep as home, but Tharin had been born here, and his own father, too. They’d ridden these streets together, played along the walls and riverbank, and in the castle looming ahead.

  Tobin pulled out the signet and ring and clasped them, imagining his father bringing his bride here to the same sort of welcome. But his new sense of homecoming was already mingled with something darker; this should have been his home, too.

  The town was clean and prosperous. The market squares they passed were lined with shops and stalls, and the stone-and-timber buildings well built and in good repair. Corrals filled with fine horses seemed to be everywhere, too.

  They were nearly to the castle walls before it occurred to Tobin that he’d seen no beggars in the streets and no signs of plague.

  A wide moat separated the town from the castle walls. The drawbridge was down and they crossed it and galloped through the gate into an enormous bailey.

  Inside the safety of the curtain wall stood a small village of barracks and stables, cottages, and rows of workmen’s stalls and forges.

  “By the Light,” Lutha exclaimed. “You could fit most of the Palatine in here!”

  There were more horse corrals, and herds of sheep, goats, and pigs watched over by children who waved excitedly to him as he passed.

  Ranks of soldiers lined the way; some wearing his colors, others in Solari’s. They shouted his name and Korin’s, called out to Tharin, and beat their shields with their sword hilts and bows as the entourage passed. Tobin tried to count them, but couldn’t. There were hundreds. He was glad to recognize a few faces here and there; men who’d served with his father.

  “About time you brought the prince home!” an old veteran called out to Tharin, restraining a huge boarhound on a chain. The dog barked and struggled; it seemed to Tobin the creature was looking at him.

  “I told you I would one day!” Tharin shouted back. This drew even more cheering.

  Solari and a blond noblewoman stood waiting for them at the head of the castle’s broad entrance stair.

  Solari’s herald raised a trumpet and sounded a shrill salute, then cried out in a loud, formal voice: “Greetings to Korin, son of Erius, Prince Royal of Skala, and to Prince Tobin, son of Rhius and Ariani, Scion of Atyion. Duke Solari, lord of Evermere and Fair Haven and Lord Protector of Atyion and his good lady, Duchess Savia, bid you most welcome.”

  Tobin swung down from the saddle and let his Protector come to him. Solari’s curly black hair and beard showed a thicker sprinkling of grey now, but his ruddy face was still youthful as he dropped to one knee and presented his sword hilt to Tobin.

  “My liege, it is my very great honor to welcome you to your father’s house, now yours. His Majesty, King Erius, has appointed me Lord Protector of Atyion until you come of age. I humbly seek your blessing.”

  Tobin clasped the hilt and looked hard into the man’s eyes. Despite Brother’s warning, he saw only welcome there and respect. Could Brother have been wrong, after all, or lying to make trouble, as he had with Ki?

  As Solari smiled up at him, Tobin wanted Brother to be wrong. “You have my blessing, Duke Solari. It’s good to see you again.”

  Solari rose and presented his lady. “My wife, Your Highness.”

  Savia curtsied deeply and kissed him on both cheeks. “Welcome home, my prince. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long!”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t be dignified for me to swing you up on my shoulders as I used to?” Solari said, dark eyes twinkling.

  “I guess not!” Tobin laughed. “Allow me to present my royal cousin. And you remember Sir Kirothius, my squire.”

  Solari clasped hands with Ki. “You’ve both grown up so, I hardly recognize you. And here’s Tharin, too! How are you, old friend? It’s been too long.”

  “Indeed it has.”

  “I’ve felt like an intruder, wandering these halls without you and Rhius. But with his son here at last, things begin to feel right with the world again.”

  “How long have you been here?” asked Tharin. “We had no word you’d been appointed.”

  “The king invested me before we sailed from Mycena and sent me ahead to make the house ready for Prince Tobin and his own arrival.”

  “Is Lord Nyanis well?” Tobin asked. Nyanis had been Tobin’s favorite among his father’s generals. That sad day at the keep had been the last time he’d seen him, too.

  “As far as I know, my prince. I’ve had no word otherwise.” Solari ushered them up the stairs. “I’ve been with the king at the royal camp this past year. Nyanis is still entrenched with General Rynar above Nanta until we see if the truce holds.”

  As they passed beneath the arched portal the carved panel over the doors caught Tobin’s eye; it showed a gauntleted hand holding Sakor’s garlanded sword. He touched his heart and hilt as he passed under it and Korin did the same. But Tharin was frowning, first at the carving, and then at a swarthy, wide-set man wearing the silver chain and long tunic of a steward, who bowed low to them as they entered.

  “Where’s Hakone?” he asked Solari.

  “He’s finally grown too frail to carry out his duties, poor old fellow,” Solari told him. “Orun replaced him with some squint-eyed fellow of his own, but I got rid of him quick enough and took the liberty of installing Eponis here, a trusted man of my own household.”

  “And of flying your own colors from the battlements,” Tharin noted pointedly. “For a moment Prince Tobin thought he’d come to the wrong house.”

  “Highness, the fault is mine,” Eponis rumbled, bowing to Tobin again. “I will see it is remedied at once.”

  “Thank you,” said Tobin.

  Solari and his lady led them on through a receiving chamber where heady incense burned before a household shrine as large as a shop. A black cat sat at the foot of it, tail curled around its feet, and watched them pass with eyes like gold coins. A grey-muzzled old bitch lay companion-ably beside it, but at Tobin’s approach she lurched up stiffly and slunk away. The cat blinked placidly at him, then went on washing its face.

  Beyond this, through a pillared gallery, lay the great hall. Entering
for the first time, Tobin caught his breath in amazement.

  Light streamed in through tall windows set high overhead, but even with the bright midday light flooding in, the peaks of the ceiling vaults were lost in shadow. Rows of stone columns supported the roof and cordoned off side chambers. The floor was made of colored bricks set in zigzag patterns, and the walls were hung with enormous tapestries. Gold and silver seemed to glint at him from all directions—plates on high shelves, shields and other war trophies hanging on the pillars, statues, and gracefully shaped vessels on the shelves of a dozen or more long sideboards. A company of servants in blue livery stood waiting at the center of the room.

  A white cat lay beneath a nearby table, nursing a litter of yellow and white kittens. Across the hall two more cats—one black and white, the other striped yellow—were leaping and rolling in play. A huge black tom with a white blaze on its chest sat washing its hind leg among the silver vessels on a nearby sideboard. Tobin had never seen so many cats indoors. Atyion must be plagued with mice, to need so many.

  Tharin chuckled softly beside him, and Tobin realized he’d been gaping like a yokel. And he wasn’t the only one.

  “By the Flame!” Lutha gasped, and got no further than that. Even Alben and his friends were impressed.

  “I’ve assigned servants to each of the Companions, since none of you are familiar with the house,” Eponis informed them. “It’s very easy to get lost if you don’t know your way around.”

  “I can believe that!” Lutha exclaimed, and everyone laughed.

  “Sir Tharin can guide me,” Tobin said, anxious to keep his friend close by.

  “As you wish, my prince.”

  “Any word of my father?” asked Korin:

  “He’s expected tomorrow, my prince,” Solari replied. “All has been made ready.” He turned to Tobin and smiled. “The servants can take you to your chambers if you’d like to rest. Or perhaps you’d like to see some of your castle, first.”

  Your castle. Tobin couldn’t help grinning. “Yes, I would!”

  They spent the afternoon exploring, with Solari and Tharin as their guides. The main living quarters lay in this tower and a wing flanking the gardens between it and the second. The other one served as fortress, granary, armory, and treasury. Tobin was amazed to learn that an army of several thousand men could be quartered there in time of siege.

  A second wing parallel to the other closed the rectangle of ground and housed the servants’ quarters, kitchens, laundries, brewing rooms, and other household offices. One large chamber was filled with weavers working at great clacking looms; in the next scores of women and girls sat singing together as they spun flax and wool into thread for the weavers.

  Inside the rectangle formed by the towers and wings lay an expanse of gardens and groves, with an elegant little temple dedicated to Illior and Sakor. Pillared galleries on the upper floors of the main tower overlooked the grounds.

  Tobin and the others were footsore and dazzled by the time Solari left them at their chambers to prepare for the evening feast.

  The Companions had rooms high in the royal wing, along a gallery overlooking the gardens. Tobin and Korin were given private chambers. The rest were divided between two large guest rooms.

  Alone with Ki and Tharin, Tobin looked around his room, heart beating faster. It had belonged to some young man of his family, he could tell. The bed hangings were worked with running horses, and there were weapons and shields on the walls. A few toys lay carefully arranged on a chest: a miniature ship, a wheeled horse, and a wooden sword.

  “These are just like the ones Father gave me!” Then his heart skipped a beat. “These were his, weren’t they? This was my father’s room.”

  “Yes. We slept here until—” Tharin paused and cleared his throat roughly. “It would have been yours. It should have been.”

  Just then a woman appeared in the doorway. She was dressed like a courtier and her faded golden hair was arranged in braids around her head. A heavy bunch of keys hung on a golden chain at her girdle. She was accompanied by a battle-scarred yellow tom, who stalked over to sniff at Tobin’s boots.

  The woman’s face was lined with age, but she stood straight as a warrior and her pale eyes were bright with joy as she dropped gracefully to one knee before Tobin and kissed his hand. “Welcome home, Prince Tobin.” The cat rose on his hind legs and butted his scabby head against their hands.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Tobin replied, wondering who she was. Her face seemed familiar somehow, though he was certain he’d never met her before. Then, as Tharin stepped to her side, Tobin realized that they had the same pale eyes and hair, the same straight, strong nose.

  “Allow me to present my aunt Lytia,” Tharin said, obviously trying hard not to laugh at the look on Tobin’s face. “I still have a few cousins about the place, too, I think.”

  Lytia nodded. “Grannia oversees the pantries, and Oril is Master of Horses now. I was a lady-in-waiting to your grandmother, my prince, and to your mother, too, while she lived here. Afterward, your father made me keeper of the keys. I hope you’ll accept my service?”

  “Of course,” Tobin replied, still looking from one to the other.

  “Thank you, my prince.” She looked down at the cat, who was winding himself around Tobin’s ankles and purring loudly. “And this rude fellow is Master Ringtail, Atyion’s chief rat slayer. He recognizes the master of the house, I see. He doesn’t go to many except for me and Hakorte, but he’s certainly taken a liking to you.”

  Tobin knelt and gingerly stroked the cat’s striped back, expecting it to turn on him the way dogs did. Instead, Ringtail thrust his whiskered muzzle under Tobin’s chin and kneaded long sharp claws into his sleeve, demanding to be picked up. He was a strong, heavy animal, and had extra toes on each foot.

  “Look at that! Seven toes. I pity the rat that comes in reach of them,” Tobin exclaimed, delighted. The cats he’d seen in barns and stables were wild, hissing things. “And look, he must be a great warrior. All his wounds are in the front. I accept your service, too, Master Ringtail.”

  “There’s another room he should see, Tharin,” Lytia murmured. “I asked Lord Solari to leave it to us to show him.”

  “What room is that?” asked Tobin.

  “Your parents’ chamber, my prince. It’s been kept just as they left it. I thought you might like to see it.”

  Tobin’s heart knocked painfully against his ribs. “Yes, please. You, too, Ki,” he said when his friend hung back.

  Still cradling the heavy cat against his chest, Tobin followed Lytia and Tharin down the corridor to a large door carved with fruit trees and birds with long, flowing tails. Lytia took a key from her belt and unlocked the door.

  It swung open on a handsomely appointed room bathed in late afternoon light. The bed hangings were dark blue worked with pairs of white swans in flight; the tapestries covering the walls echoed the theme. The balcony doors stood wide, overlooking the gardens below. Someone had burned incense and beeswax within recently. Tobin caught the underlying staleness of a room where no one had lived for a long time, but it had none of the musty rot smell he’d known at home. It was nothing like the sad, half-empty rooms at the Ero house, either. This room had been well tended, as if its occupants would soon return.

  There were a number of fancy boxes and caskets arranged on a dressing table, and the usual implements on the writing desk that stood in front of one of the tall, mullioned windows. Brightly enameled mazers lined a wine board across the room, and carved ivory figures stood ready on a gleaming game board by the hearth.

  He let Ringtail down and the cat trailed after him as he walked around the room, touching the bed hanging, picking up a game piece, running a fingertip over the inlaid lid of a jewel box. He ached to find some echo of his father here, but he was too aware of the others watching him.

  “Thank you for showing me,” he said at last.

  Lytia gave him an understanding smile as she placed the key in his hand
and folded his fingers around it. “All this is yours now. Come here whenever you like. It will always be kept ready.”

  She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and Tobin guessed that she knew what he’d been seeking, and that he hadn’t found it.

  Chapter 18

  They feasted in the great hall that night at three long tables arranged in a half circle. Solari and his family sat with Tobin and Korin. His eldest son by a previous wife was off serving with the king. Savia’s children, two young boys and a pretty little daughter named Rose, sat with them. The little girl spent most of the meal on Korin’s knee. The rest of the company was made up of the Companions, Solari’s friends and generals, and a number of rich merchants from the town. It was a raucous, clattering affair made louder by a steady procession of minstrels and bards.

  Tobin had the seat of honor at the canopied head table, but it was clear that Solari was the host. His men served at table, and he ordered the courses, wines, and the minstrels and entertainers. He fussed over Tobin and Korin throughout the evening, choosing the choicest bits from each platter and extolling the quality of each wine, the fruit of Atyion’s fine vineyards.

  Course followed course, each a banquet in itself. Lady Lytia stood by the servers’ entrance and inspected each dish closely before it was carried to the head table. The first course alone was made up of beef with mustard, roast woodcock, partridge, plover, and snipe. A fish course followed: eels in jelly, gurnard with syrup, fried minnows, smoked pike in pastry, and boiled mussels stuffed with bread and cheese. The desserts included cakes of three kinds, pies both sweet and savory, with brightly decorated pastry crusts.

  Dozens of the castle cats kept them company, leaping onto the tables in search of scraps and getting under the servers’ feet. Tobin looked for his new friend, but Ringtail was nowhere to be seen.

  “The cooks here put the royal kitchens to shame, my lady!” Korin exclaimed to Savia, licking his fingers happily.

  “The credit belongs to Lady Lytia,” the duchess replied. “She oversees the menus and the cooks, even the buying of the food. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”