Larenth stared at the document a moment before cautiously accepting it. He turned it over in his hands, examining the seals, then shrugged. “Have you anyone to read it out, Yer Highness? We don’t hold with such here.”
“Squire Kirothius, read the king’s letter for your honored father,” said Korin, and Tobin guessed that he’d noticed, too.
Larenth’s shaggy eyebrows shot up and he squinted with his good eye. “Ki, is it? I didn’t know you, boy.”
“Hullo, Dad.”
Tobin expected them to laugh and hug now, the way Tharin and his kin had when they met. But Larenth was looking at his son as he might some unwanted stranger. “You done all right for yerself, then. Ahra said you had.”
The letter trembled in Ki’s fingers as he unfolded it.
“Read, too, do you?” Larenth muttered. “All right then, go on.”
Ki read the brief missive. It began with the usual greetings, then commanded that Korin lead the raid. Ki didn’t stumble once, but his cheeks were red again by the time he’d finished.
His father listened in silence, sucking his teeth, then turned back to Korin. “The thieving bastards moved their camp higher up in the hills a few weeks back, after we took a charge at ’em. Innis can take you out, if Ahra don’t come. There’s a trail that’ll let you flank ’em. If you go up in the night, p’raps they’ll be too drunk to hear you. You can take ’em at first light.” He paused, squinting at Korin. “How many seasoned men have you?”
“Twoscore.”
“Well, you keep ’em close, Yer Highness. They’re a hard lot, these bandits. They’ve raided half the villages in the valley this winter, and made off with a fair number of the women. I’ve been after them since I got here and we’ve had a hard time of it. Led ’im meself until my foot went rotten.” He stared at Korin again, then shook his head. “Well, you just keep ’em close, you hear? I don’t want to answer this here letter with your ashes.”
“We’ve had the best training in Skala, my lord,” Korin replied stiffly.
“I don’t doubt that, Yer Highness,” the old man said bleakly. “But there’s no training to match what you get at the sharp end of a sword.”
Settling in for the night at that cheerless house, Ki wished that Tobin had left well enough alone. If his father hadn’t been made a lord, the king would never have thought to send the Companions to him. It seemed like a lifetime since he’d been among his kin; he hadn’t realized just how much he’d changed until he saw them again and saw how they looked at him. Even Amin and Dimias had stolen jealous glances at him around the fire downstairs. The younger children, at least those who remembered him, were happy to see him and begged for stories of the city. His little half sisters and brothers and their bastard siblings clung like baby squirrels to anyone else who’d sit still for it, including Korin, who’d been blessedly good-natured about it all. Whatever else Ki might think of the prince, he had a good touch with people when he wanted to. And Ki did have one moment of pleasure when a toddling boy with a shitty bottom had climbed into Alben’s lap.
That didn’t make up for the rest of it, though. Now the Companions all knew just how much a grass knight he really was. The sight of his father and poor Sekora in their filthy finery had nearly killed him with shame. “You can put a pig in silk slippers, but it don’t make him a dancer,” his father liked to say of anyone he thought was getting above themselves. Never had Ki understood the proverb so clearly.
Most of the household went to bed with the sun. The youngest children still slept in haphazard piles on the floor with the hounds and cats. Innis and the older boys sat up with them over more of the dreadful wine, making a desultory attempt at hospitality. Innis, the fourth legitimate child after Ahra, was a slow-witted bull of a man, taciturn to the point of rudeness. He’d shown more aptitude for smithing than he ever had fighting. Because of that and his crippled foot, he’d been left home to manage the household when the others went off to war. Amin and Dimias had both gone off as runners during the last conflicts and it was clear that Innis hadn’t forgiven them their good fortune, any more than he would Ki.
Korin made the best of things. He drank cup after cup of the bad wine and praised it as if it were Kallian red. He joked with Amin and even charmed a smirking grin out of Innis by challenging him to arm wrestle and losing. Caliel paid their guesting price by leading a few songs, which brightened things up for a while. But Ki was too aware of the looks Alben, Mago, and their friends kept stealing at him, and their smirks as Sekora tried clumsily to play hostess. She’d always been kind to Ki and he nearly jumped on Arius when he answered her rudely. His brothers had noticed, too, and looked ready to do murder.
Lynx gripped his knee under the table and shook his head. Even here in this wretched place, a royal squire shouldn’t shame the king’s son or his lord by brawling. Ruan and Barieus gave him sympathetic looks across the table, but that only made Ki feel worse.
Tobin knew how he felt; he always did. Ignoring the rude ones, he talked hunting with Amin and did a bit of swordplay with Dimias. He gave Ki the occasional quick smile, and there was no false brightness in it.
It was a relief when they finally headed off to their chamber. Weaving a bit, Korin threw an arm around Innis and proclaimed him a fine fellow. Tobin and Caliel got hold of him and steered him along behind Sekora. Ki hung back, not yet trusting himself near Mago and the others.
His stepmother led them upstairs to a passably clean guest chamber with two large beds. His father no doubt considered this scandalous luxury, but Ki wanted to sink through the floor when Sekora told Korin that the squires were welcome to the stable loft, as if they were mere servants. Korin was very polite about it, and saw to it that pallets were brought up for them.
The rest of this floor, which should have been the private quarters for the family, had fallen into disrepair and there was no evidence that his father thought it needed-changing. The other rooms were empty and musty, their bare floors filthy with the droppings of birds and mice. Since the family still lived and slept in the hall as they always had, it made little difference to them.
“Would you mind if I went back down for a bit, Tob?” he asked softly.
Tobin clasped him by the wrist. “It’s all right, Ki. Go on.”
So you’re back to fight, are you?” Amin said, making room for him on the settle. “Is it true none of you been to the wars?”
“That’s right,” Ki told him.
“Funny thing, coming all the way up here for it, after living so close to the royals so long,” Dimias said. “Bilairy’s balls, Ki, even I been. Why didn’t that duke fellow ever take you, eh?”
“Nobles don’t go so young.” It was true, but he felt small all the same. Amin had a sword cut on his cheek and was careful to sit so Ki could see it.
“Listen to him!” his half sister Lyla said from one of the sleeping piles. “Sounds like quality now.”
“They learned me to talk like ’em,” Ki snapped, falling back into the old way of speaking. “You don’t think they want me squalling like you all around them fine lords an’ ladies?”
Dimias laughed and locked an arm around his neck. “That’s our Ki! And I say good for you. Maybe you can learn us, too, and find us positions in Ero, eh? I’d fancy city life. Leave all this stink behind without a glance, just like you did.”
“Father sold me off,” Ki reminded him, but the truth was, he hadn’t cared much, leaving.
Lowering his voice, Amin muttered, “I seen how some of ’em looked down their noses at you, though, and you let ’em beat you down, too. Don’t give ’em the pleasure of it, y’hear? I seen battle and all. Half these highbred boys’ll piss their pants tomorrow, mark my words.”
“But not you, eh?” Amin clapped Ki on the shoulder. “Ahra said the pair of you was warrior-born after she seen you again. Sakor-touched, so she said. And he’s a good ’un, that Tobin, even if he is sorta runty and girlish.”
“You’ll stand fast, you and yer prince,�
�� Dimias said.
“ ’Course we will!” Ki scoffed, “And he ain’t girlish!”
They tussled a bit over that, but for the first time that day he was glad to be home, and gladder still to have his brothers speak well of Tobin.
Squeezed into bed between Nikides and Urmanis, Tobin listened to the older boys bragging about how many bandits they’d kill the next day. As always, Korin’s voice was the loudest. Tobin kept an eye on the door, waiting for Ki to come up. Tiring of the wait, he went looking for him.
The hall was dark except for the hearth’s glow. He was about to go back upstairs when someone whispered, “Ki’s outside, Yer Highness, if you’re lookin’ for ’im.”
“Thank you.” Picking his way carefully around the piles of sleepers, he made his way down through the kitchen into the stinking courtyard. The sky overhead was cloudless, and the stars looked big as larks’ eggs. Torches were burning on the parapet, and he could see the guards patrolling the wall walk. He was heading for the yard gate when he caught sight of two people sitting in the back of the abandoned cart.
“Ki?” he whispered.
“Go to bed, Tob. It’s cold out.”
Tobin climbed up onto the splintery seat beside them. It was Tharin there with him, sitting with his elbows on his knees. Suddenly he felt like an interloper, but he didn’t want to go in again. “What’s wrong?”
Ki let out a harsh snort. “You saw.” He gestured around at the keep, the yard—everything, probably. “This is what I come from. Think they’re going to let me forget it?”
“I’m sorry. I never thought it would be like this. I thought—”
“Yeah? Well, you didn’t reckon on my kin.”
“He’s been gone a good while,” Tharin said quietly.
“They’re not so bad—some of them. I like your brothers, and your father is a tough old warrior; I can tell.”
“He got old while I was gone. I’ve never seen him laid up like that, half-blind. Five years is a long time, Tob. Looking at them, I start to wonder who I am.”
“You are what you’ve made of yourself,” Tharin said firmly. “That’s what I’ve just been telling him, Tobin. Some are born noble but don’t have the heart to be any kind of man. Others like Ki here come out noble to the core no matter what. You both saw my family. They weren’t much different than your people, Ki, but Rhius raised me up and I hold my head high next to any wellborn man. You’re cut from the same cloth. There’s not a boy on the Palatine I’d rather stand next to tomorrow.”
Tharin gave them both a quick squeeze on the shoulder and climbed down. “Bring him in soon, Tobin. You need your rest.”
Tobin stayed by Ki, thinking of his own homecoming in Atyion. He’d honestly supposed Ki would find something of the same welcome here. But the keep was awful; there was no denying it. Had the king known it, when he’d suggested it?
At a loss for words, he found Ki’s hand and clasped it. Ki let out a growl and bumped his shoulder against Tobin’s. “I know you don’t think less of me, Tob. If I thought that, I’d ride out that gate tonight and never look back.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d miss the fight tomorrow. And Ahra will be here, too. What do you think she’d do to you if you ran off?”
“There’s that. Guess I’s more ’feared of her than any Companion.” Standing, he looked around the yard again and chuckled. “Well, it could be worse.”
“How?”
Ki’s grin flashed in the darkness. “I could be the heir to all this.”
Chapter 33
It was still dark when Tharin and Porion woke them, but Tobin felt the flutter of a dawn breeze through the open window. No one was bragging as they dressed. Tobin’s eyes met Ki’s as his friend helped him into his hauberk, and he saw his own excitement and fear mirrored there. By the time he’d pulled the surcoat on he was sweating.
As they turned to go he saw that Korin was wearing the horse amulet he’d made for him, and a new one Tobin hadn’t seen before.
“What’s this?” he asked, leaning in for a closer look. It was a pretty piece, a polished lozenge of horn set in gold.
“A luck piece Father gave me,” Korin said, kissing it.
For the first time in a long time, Tobin felt a pang of longing and envy. What would his father have said to him, or given him, before his first battle?
There was no sign of breakfast in the hall. Children and animals watched from the shadows as they clattered down to the yard. Ki’s three older brothers were waiting for them out in the close, and Ahra and her riders were with them. From the looks of their clothes they’d ridden all night to get here and had only just made it. A girl of twelve or so, barefoot and dressed in a ragged, mud-spattered tunic sat an equally muddy horse beside Ahra. Both dismounted to hug Ki, then Ahra bowed deeply to Korin and Tobin. “Forgive me being late, my princes. Father sent Korli here after me but she was delayed on the road.”
“ ’Pologies, Yer Highness,” the girl mumbled shyly, dropping them an awkward curtsy. “Hullo, Ki!”
Ki gave her a quick kiss.
Tobin studied her with interest, for Korli looked the most like Ki of anyone he’d seen here. She had his dark good looks, and gave Tobin a hint of the same buck-toothed smile when she saw him looking.
“Is she your full sister?” he asked as Ki went to saddle their horses. It seemed odd he’d never mentioned her.
“Korli? No, she’s one of the bastards.” He paused, giving her a second look. “Huh. She’s sure grown.”
“She looks like you.”
“Think so?” He strode off in the direction of the stable.
Surprised by this casual dismissal, Tobin stole another look at the girl. Korli was slighter than Ki, but she had the same brown eyes and soft, straight hair, and the same smooth, golden skin. Her features were a little rounder, a bit softer …
Like my other face looked in the pool.
A chill ran up Tobin’s spine and he turned away quickly, feeling like he’d seen a ghost.
Ahra had twenty riders with her, as hard-bitten a lot as any he’d seen, and at least a third of them were women. Most of the men with them were getting old or were very young; the best fighters were off in the regular regiments. As he turned to look for Ki, one of the boys gave him a quick secretive wave. Tobin hesitated, thinking he’d misunderstood, but the boy signaled him again. Intrigued, Tobin wandered over.
He was beardless, no older than Tobin, and the face that showed under the helmet and warrior braids was smudged with dirt. Something about his eyes was familiar, though, and judging by the grin he was giving him now, he thought he knew Tobin.
“Don’t you know me, Yer Highness?”
It wasn’t a boy at all.
Tobin’s heart leaped as he followed her behind a hayrick. “Una. it’s you!”
She pulled off the helmet and shook the hair back from her face. “Yes! I didn’t want to chance Korin and the others seeing me, but I knew you’d keep my secret.”
Tobin hardly recognized the highborn girl he’d known. She wore the scarred armor of a common soldier, but the sword at her hip was a fine one of old design.
“Your grandmother’s?” he guessed.
“Told you I’d carry it one day. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. And I bet you never thought I’d see battle before you, either.”
“No! What are you doing here?”
“Where’d you think I’d go, after all Ki’s stories?”
“I don’t know. We—Ki and I—we were afraid that—” He swallowed the words, not wanting to admit aloud what he and Ki had only speculated on in whispers, that the king had murdered her. “Well, damn, I’m just glad you’re here! Have you killed your first man yet?”
“Yes. You were a good teacher.” She hesitated, looking him in the eye. “You don’t hate me, then?”
“Why would I hate you?”
“It was all my idea, training the girls. Father said you were in awful trouble for doing it, and I heard Arengil was
sent back to Aurënen because of it.”
“Of course I don’t hate you. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Mount up!” Korin called.
Tobin took her hand in the warrior’s grip. “Sakor’s Flame, Una. I’ll tell Ki!”
Una grinned and saluted him. “I’ll be at your back, my prince.”
They made a brave show, riding out past the torches with their banners. They carried no lights. Innis and Ahra took the lead, guiding them up the valley as the stars slowly faded. Amin and Dimias rode with them, and Tobin couldn’t help admiring the easy way they sat their mounts. Tharin and Captain Melnoth brought up the rear.
After a few miles they left the road and took off across country through stubbled fields and wooded copses still wreathed in chill mist. They reached the first hamlet while it was still too dark to make out much more than a few thatched roofs over the top of the log palisade. As they came closer, however, they caught a familiar smell; it was the ash and burned pork reek of the pyre fields near Ero.
“Bandits?” asked Korin.
“No,” Ahra replied. “Plague took this one.”
A few miles farther on, however, they came to the remains of one that had been burned by bandits. The sky had gone from indigo to grey, light enough for Tobin to see the broken black stump of a stone chimney and a wooden doll floating in a ditch.
“This happened a few weeks back,” Innis told them. “The men was killed and left, but there weren’t a women or girl to be found among ’em.”
“They’re setting up good and solid if they took the girls,” said Tharin, shaking his head. “How much farther?”
Innis pointed toward the wooded hills ahead, where a few thin columns of smoke could be seen rising above the trees.
Tobin imagined the captured women making breakfast there and shuddered.
“Don’t worry, we’ll bring the women back safely,” Korin was saying.
Innis shrugged. “Not much point now, is there?”
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