Hidden Warrior

by Lynn Flewelling

  “Ah, and here she comes now with tonight’s centerpiece!” cried Solari.

  Lytia led in two servers bearing a huge pastry on a litter. At her command, they placed it before Tobin. The golden crust was decorated in fine detail with Atyion’s oak flanked by two swans, all fashioned of pastry and colored glazes.

  “For your amusement on your first night with us, Prince Tobin,” she said, offering him a long knife decorated with blue ribbon.

  “It’s a shame to spoil it,” Tobin exclaimed. “You have my compliments, lady!”

  “Cut it, cut it!” little Rose cried, bouncing on Korin’s lap and clapping her hands.

  Wondering what the filling could be, Tobin thrust the knife into the center of the crust. The whole elaborate creation fell to pieces, releasing a flock of tiny blue-and-green birds that fluttered up to circle the table. The cats sprang onto the table after them, much to the amusement of the guests.

  “Your esteemed aunt is a true artist!” Solari called down the table to Tharin, who acknowledged the praise with a nod.

  Lytia waved in a second litter and presented them with an identical pastry filled with plums and brandy custard.

  “All from your estate and cellars, my prince,” she told him proudly, serving Tobin the first helping.

  A half-grown black-and-white kitten leaped into his lap and sniffed at his plate.

  Tobin stroked its soft fur. “I’ve never seen so many cats!”

  “There have always been cats at Atyion.” Lytia gave the kitten a bit of custard on the end of her finger. “They’re favored by Illior because they love the moon.”

  “My old nurse told me that’s why they sleep all day and can see to hunt in the darkness,” Korin said, coaxing the kitten into Rose’s lap. “It’s too bad Father can’t bear the sight of them.”

  The kitten jumped back into Tobin’s lap but just then Ringtail appeared from under the table with a growl. Leaping onto the arm of Tobin’s chair, he cuffed the kitten out of the way and took its place.

  “You must be well favored with the Lightbearer, if that one comes to you,” Solari observed, eyeing Ringtail with distaste. “I can’t get near the brute.” He reached to scratch his head but the big cat laid his ears back and hissed at him. Solari hastily withdrew his hand. “You see?” He shook his head as the tom licked Tobin’s chin, purring loudly. “Yes, well favored indeed!”

  Tobin stroked the cat’s back, thinking once again of Brother’s warning.

  Nuts and cheese followed the pastry, but Tobin was too full to manage more than a few sugared almonds. A new set of minstrels was introduced with the sweets and some of the guests began to play dice among the wine cups. No one showed any sign of going to bed.

  Exhausted and dizzy from too many wines, Tobin excused himself as soon as he could politely do so, pleading weariness.

  “Good night, sweet coz!” Korin cried, rising to clasp him in an unsteady embrace. Not surprisingly, he was far drunker than Tobin.

  Everyone rose to bid him good night. Tobin guessed that the feast would continue well into the night, but they’d have to do so without him. Tharin and Ki escorted him out, with Ringtail trotting ahead as vanguard, his striped tail straight as a standard pole.

  Tobin was more grateful than usual for Tharin’s company as he guided them through the warren of corridors and staircases. Reaching an unfamiliar junction, Tharin paused. “If you’re not too tired, Tobin, there is someone else I’d like you to meet.”

  “Another relative?”

  “Practically. Hakone has served your family since your great-grandfather’s time. He’s longed to meet you ever since word came of your birth. It would mean a great deal to him to see you.”

  “Very well.”

  Turning aside, they left the main tower, descended a staircase, and made their way through the gardens to an entrance leading to the kitchens. The aroma of baking bread filled the passageway. Passing an open door, Tobin saw an army of cooks at work over pastry boards. He caught sight of a tall, grey-haired woman across the room, discussing something with another as she stirred something in a large cauldron.

  “My cousin, Grannia, and the head cook,” Tharin told him. “There’s no purpose in stopping; they’re like a couple of generals, planning tomorrow’s feast for the king.”

  Moving on past other kitchens, they climbed a flight of narrow stairs. The servants they met along the way greeted Tharin warmly and Tobin with awe.

  “It’s almost as if they know you already, isn’t it?” said Ki.

  Halfway down a plain, rush-strewn corridor, Tharin stopped and opened a door without knocking. Inside, the oldest man Tobin had ever seen lay dozing in an armchair by a brazier. A few wisps of white hair still fringed his shiny pate, and a thin, yellowed beard hung halfway to his belt. An equally ancient yellow cat lay on his lap. Ringtail jumped up and touched noses with it, then curled up beside it to have his ears washed.

  The old man woke and squinted down with rheumy eyes, feeling Ringtail’s head with crabbed, red-knuckled fingers. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” His voice was as creaky as a rusty hinge. “Come to visit your old mother, but brought her no gift, you heedless fellow? What do you say to that, Ariani?”

  Startled, it was a moment before Tobin realized that the man was addressing his cat. This Ariani was holding Ringtail down now with one seven-toed foot, washing his face. The big tom submitted contentedly.

  “He didn’t come alone, Hakone,” Tharin said, raising his voice. Crossing the room, he took the old man’s hand in his, then motioned for Tobin and Ki to join him.

  “Theodus, home at last!” Hakone exclaimed. Catching sight of Tobin and Ki, he broke into a fond, toothless grin. “Ah, and here are my dear boys. Tell me now, Rhius, how many grouse have you brought me? Or is it rabbits today? And you, Tharin, did you have any luck?”

  Tharin bent closer. “Hakone, I’m Tharin, remember?”

  The old man squinted at him, then shook his head. “Of course, my boy. Forgive me. You caught me dreaming. But then, this must be …” He gasped and fumbled for the walking stick lying by his chair. “My prince!” he exclaimed, dislodging the cats as he struggled to rise.

  “Please, don’t get up,” Tobin told him.

  Tears spilled down Hakone’s sunken cheeks as he fell back in the chair. “Forgive an old man’s weakness, my prince, but I’m so very happy! I was beginning to fear I wouldn’t live long enough to see you!” He reached out and cupped Tobin’s face in his trembling hands. “Ah, and if only I could see you better! Welcome home, lad. Welcome home!”

  A lump rose in Tobin’s throat as he thought of how the old man had mistaken him for his father. He took Hakone’s hands in his. “Thank you, old father. And thank you for your long service to my family. I—I hope you’re comfortable here?”

  “Very kind of you to ask, my prince. There’s a stool just there. Tharin, fetch the prince a chair! And move the lamp closer.”

  When Tobin was seated by him, Hakone peered more closely into his face. “Yes, that’s better. Just look at you! Your dear mother’s eyes in the duke’s face. Don’t you think so, Tharin? It’s like seeing our Rhius reborn.”

  “So it is,” Tharin said, giving Tobin a wink. They both knew he little favored either of his parents, but Tobin liked the old man already and was pleased to make him happy.

  “And this must be the squire you told me of,” Hakone said. “Kirothius, isn’t it? Come boy, let me see you.”

  Ki knelt by his chair and Hakone felt at his shoulders, hands, and arms. “A good strong lad, yes!” he said approvingly. “Hands hard as iron. You’ve warriors’ hands, both of you. Tharin tells me nothing but good things, but I suppose you get into all sorts of mischief, just as Rhius and this rascal did.”

  Tobin exchanged a smirk with Ki. “Tharin was a rascal?”

  “The both of them!” Hakone cackled. “Brawling with the village children, raiding the orchards. Tharin, do you recall the time Rhius shot your mother’s best milk ewe? By the
Light, it seems like I was after you two with the switch every other day.”

  Tharin mumbled something, and Tobin saw with delight that the man was blushing.

  Hakone let out another rusty chuckle and patted Tobin’s hand. “Filled the salt cellars with sugar just before a banquet for the queen herself, one time, if you can imagine such a thing! Of course young Erius was in the middle of that one, but Tharin took the blame, and the whipping.” The memory loosened another spate of laughter, but it quickly changed to a coughing fit.

  “Calm yourself, Hakone,” Tharin urged, fetching him a cup of wine from the sideboard and holding it to the old man’s lips.

  Hakone managed a slurping sip and wine dribbled down into his beard. He sat wheezing for a moment, then let out a long sigh. “But that’s all done and gone now, isn’t it? You’re grown and Rhius is dead. So many dead …” He trailed off and closed his eyes. Tobin thought he’d gone to sleep. An instant later, however, he sat up again and said sharply, “Tharin, the duke has no wine! Get down to the cellars—” He broke off and looked around at them. “No, I’m wandering again, aren’t I? That’s your duty now, Kirothius. Serve your prince, boy.”

  Ki jumped up to obey but Tobin stopped him. “That’s all right, old father. We’ve just come from the hall and had more wine than we can hold.”

  Hakone lay back again and the old cat returned and settled in his lap. Ringtail curled up at Tobin’s feet.

  “I was sorry to find a stranger wearing your chain,” said Tharin, taking Hakone’s hand again. “I thought Lytia would be the one to take your place.”

  Hakone snorted. “That was Lord Orun’s doing. The king had already sent us half a dozen new servants after the princess died—may Astellus carry her softly.” He kissed his fingertips reverently and pressed them to his heart. “And then as soon as Rhius passed, Orun sent his own man. It was time for a change, of course—I’m blind as Bilairy’s goat and my legs are failing me—but this was a shifty-eyed, pasty-faced bastard and no one was sad when Solari replaced him. But it should have been your auntie, then, as you say. She’s been steward in all but name these past few years.”

  “I’ll tell Solari to make her steward,” said Tobin.

  “I’m afraid you can’t do that yet,” said Tharin. “Until you’re of age, the Lord Protector decides those things.”

  “Then I’m not lord of Atyion, am I? Not really.”

  Hakone found Tobin’s hand and clasped it. “You are, my boy, and no other. I heard them cheering you in today. That’s the heart of your people you saw out there. They’ve longed for you as much as I have. Solari is a good man, and keeps your father’s memory alive among the men. Let him keep you safe for now, while you serve the prince.”

  Just then they heard a soft shuffling in the passage. Ki opened the door and found a cluster of cooks and kitchen maids crowding in the corridor.

  “Please, sir, we just wanted to see the prince,” an old woman said, speaking for all of them. Behind her, the others nodded hopefully and craned their necks for a glimpse of Tobin.

  “Be off with you! It’s too late to be troubling His Highness,” Hakone rasped.

  “No, please, I don’t mind,” said Tobin.

  Ki stepped aside and the women came in, curtsying and touching their hearts. Several of the older ones were weeping. The woman who’d spoken knelt and clasped Tobin’s hands.

  “Prince Tobin. Welcome home at last!”

  Overwhelmed anew, Tobin bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, old mother. I’m very glad to be here.”

  She raised a hand to her cheek and looked back at the others. “There, you see that? I told you blood would tell! None of the rest of it matters.”

  “Mind your tongue, Mora!” Hakone snapped.

  “It’s all right,” Tobin told him. “I know what they say about me, and my mother. Some of it’s even true, about the demon and all. But I promise you I’ll try to be worthy of my father’s memory, and a good lord to Atyion.”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about in him,” Hakone told the women gruffly. “This is Rhius reborn. You pass that on belowstairs. Go on now, back to your duties.”

  The women took their leave, all but the one Tharin had pointed out as his cousin.

  “What is it?” Tobin asked her.

  “Well, my prince, I—” She stopped, twisting her chapped hands in her apron front. “Should I speak, Hakone?”

  The old man looked to Tharin. “What harm can there be in asking?”

  “Go on, Grannia.”

  “Well, my prince,” she said. “It’s just that—well, a good many of us Atyion women served in the ranks once. Catilan, your cook up at Alestun keep? She was my sergeant. We were among your grandfather’s archers.”

  “Yes, she told me about that.”

  “Well, the thing is, Prince Tobin, that your father gave permission for us to keep in training, quiet-like, and to teach those of the young girls as wanted to learn. Is it your pleasure that we keep on with that?”

  And there it was, that same mix of hope and frustration he’d seen so often in Una. “I would never change what my father willed,” he replied.

  “Bless you, my prince! If you should ever need us, you’ve only to send word.”

  “I won’t forget,” Tobin promised.

  Grannia gave him a last awkward curtsy and hurried out, her apron pressed to her face.

  Well done, Tobin,” Tharin said as they made their way back to Tobin’s chamber. “Your reputation will spread through the house by dawn. You did your father proud tonight in every way.”

  Koni and Sefus were standing guard at the end of the corridor near his room.

  “Will you stay here with us?” Tobin asked, as they reached the door. “This was your room, after all.”

  “Thank you, Tobin, but it’s yours now, and Ki’s. My place is with the guard. Good night.”

  A steaming tub stood ready in their room and Tobin sank happily into it as Ki and a page lit the night lamps.

  Tobin submerged to his chin and watched the ripples lap at the smooth wooden sides. He thought again of Una, and all the women who’d been denied their honor as warriors. Grannia’s face rose in his mind’s eye, so hopeful and sad all at once.

  He shivered, sending more ripples across the water’s surface. If Lhel and Iya were right, if he did have to become a woman someday, would the generals still follow a woman? Those soldiers had cheered Duke Rhius’ son today. Would he lose everything by showing what the wizards claimed was his true face?

  Tobin looked down at himself: the strong, tight-muscled arms and legs, his flat chest and hard belly, and the pale, hairless worm between his thighs. He’d seen enough naked women on his harbor rambles with Korin to know women didn’t have those. If he changed … He shuddered, cupping his hands over his genitals, and felt the reassuring stir of his penis under his hand.

  Maybe they’re wrong! Maybe—

  Maybe he’d never need to change. He was a prince, Ariani’s son and Rhius’. That was good enough for the soldiers he’d met here. Maybe it would be good enough for Illior, too?

  He ducked under the water and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He wouldn’t think of such things tonight, of all nights. All his life he’d been called a prince, never until today had he truly felt like one. In Ero he’d always felt the gulf that lay between him and those who’d spent their lives at court. He was plain and unknown and awkward, someone none of the fine courtiers would have looked at twice if not for his title. In his mind, he was as much a grass knight as Ki, and happy with it, too.

  But what he’d seen today had changed all that. Today he’d watched the wonder in the other Companions’ faces when they saw this castle. His castle! Let Alben and the others try and look down their long noses at him now!

  And he’d basked in the adulation of the people. His father’s warriors had beaten their shields for him and chanted his name. Someday, no matter what else happened, he would lead them. In his mind he conjured batt
lefields and the clash of arms. He’d lead the charge, with Tharin and Ki at his side.

  “Prince of Skala, Scion of Atyion!” he murmured aloud.

  Ki’s laughter brought him back to earth. “Is his august Highness going to stay in that tub until the water’s cold for his humble squire, or do I get a turn?”

  Tobin grinned at him. “I’m a prince, Ki. A real prince!”

  Ki snorted as he cleaned the day’s mud from one of Tobin’s boots with a rag. “Who said you weren’t?”

  “I don’t think I believed it. Not until today.”

  “Well, you’ve never been anything else in my eyes, Tob. Or anyone else’s, either, except maybe Orun and look what that got him? Now, then—” He made Tobin an exaggerated bow. “Shall I duck your royal head under the water, or scrub your noble back? We lesser sorts like to get to sleep before dawn.”

  Laughing, Tobin made quick work with the sponge and gave up the tub before the water had cooled.

  Ki managed little more than a mumbled good night before he dozed off. But tired as he was, Tobin couldn’t sleep. Staring up at the horses of Atyion chasing each other across the green pastures of tapestry, he tried to imagine some ancestor of his, his father’s grandmother perhaps, working the pattern on her fine loom. His own father had looked up at these same horses, with Tharin asleep beside him—

  Before he moved down the hall to the swan bed with his bride, thought Tobin. His parents had lain there together, made love there.

  “And his parents before him, and theirs, and—” Tobin whispered aloud. Suddenly he wanted to know the faces of his ancestors and find his own plain face among them, an assurance that he really was of the same blood. There must be portraits somewhere in the house. He’d ask Tharin and Lytia tomorrow. They’d know.

  Sleep still eluded him and his thoughts returned to that room just down the hall. Suddenly he wanted to open those boxes he’d seen, and the wardrobes, looking for—what?

  He left the bed and went to the clothes rack. Reaching into his purse, he took out the key Lytia had given him and stared down at it. It felt heavy against his palm.