Hidden Warrior

by Lynn Flewelling

  Nonetheless, it was the work itself he really cared for. To bring an image in his head to reality in his hands pleased him in a way nothing else did.

  He was nearly finished with the first wax carving when Baldus brought word of a visitor.

  “I’m busy. Who is it?” Tobin grumbled.

  “It’s me, Tobin,” Tharin said, looking in over the page’s head. His cloak was rain spattered and his long, pale hair windblown. “Thought you might like a game of bakshi.”

  “Come in!” Tobin exclaimed, his dark mood falling away. It had been weeks since the two of them had had a quiet moment alone. “Baldus, take Sir Tharin’s cloak and fetch us wine. And send for something to eat—a dark loaf and some cold beef and cheese. And a pot of mustard, too! Never mind the wine. Bring us ale.”

  Tharin chuckled as the boy ran off. “That’s barracks fare, my prince.”

  “And I still prefer it and the company that goes with it.”

  Tharin joined him at the workbench and examined the sketches and half-finished carvings. “Your mother would be proud. I remember when she gave you that first lump of wax.”

  Tobin glanced up in surprise; Tharin seldom spoke of her.

  “Your father, too,” he added. “But she was the artist of the pair. You should have seen him working on that toy city of yours. You’d have thought he was rebuilding Ero full scale, the way he labored over it.”

  “I wish I could have shown him these.” Tobin pointed at three miniature wood-and-clay structures on a shelf over the bench. “Remember the Old Palace he made?”

  Tharin grinned. “Oh, yes. Out of a fish-salting box, as I recall.”

  “I never noticed! Well, these aren’t much better. As soon as the plague bans are lifted, I’m going to talk to real builders and ask to learn their craft. I see houses in my head, and temples with white columns and domes even, bigger than anything in Ero.”

  “You’ll do it, too. You’ve a maker’s soul, as much a warrior’s.”

  Tobin looked up in surprise. “Someone else told me that.”

  “Who was that?”

  “An Aurënfaie goldsmith named Tyral. He said Illior and Dalna put the skill in my hands, and that I’d be happier making things than fighting.”

  Tharin nodded slowly, then asked, “And what do you think, now that you’ve done both?”

  “I’m a good warrior, aren’t I?” he asked, knowing that Tharin was probably the only person who’d ever give him an honest answer.

  “Of course you are! But that’s not what I asked.”

  Tobin picked up a slender triangular file and twirled it between his fingers. “I guess the Aurënfaie was right. I’m proud to fight, and I’m not afraid. But I am happiest messing about with all this.”

  “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

  “Would my father say the same?”

  Baldus and two servers bustled in with bottles and trays and laid a table for them by the hearth. Tobin sent them out again, and poured the ale while Tharin cut slices of meat and cheese and set them to warm on thick slices of bread by the fire.

  “This is almost as good as being home,” Tobin said, watching him work. “It’s been a long time since you and I have sat alone by a hearth. What made you think of it tonight?”

  “Oh, I’ve been meaning to. But as it happens, I’ve had rather an odd visitor today. A woman named Lhel, who claims to be a friend of yours. Yes, I can see by your face you know the name.”

  “Lhel? But how did she get here?” Tobin’s heart turned to lead in his chest as Iya’s warning echoed in his memory. What would she do if Lhel had told Tharin his secret?

  Tharin scratched his head. “Well now, that’s the odd part. She didn’t so much come to me as appear. I was reading in my room and heard someone call my name. When I looked up, there was this little hill woman, floating in the middle of the room in a circle of light. I could see the keep behind her, clear as I see you now. To be honest, I thought maybe I’d dreamed it all until just now.”

  “Why did she come to you?”

  “We had quite a chat, she and I.” Tharin’s eyes grew sad. “I’m not a brilliant man like your father and Arkoniel, but I’m no fool, either. She didn’t tell me much I hadn’t guessed at already.”

  Tobin had longed to speak the truth to Tharin, but now he could only sit dumbstruck, waiting to hear how much Lhel had actually revealed.

  “I wasn’t there when you were born,” Tharin said, bending down to turn the bread on the hearthstones. “It always struck me odd, Rhius sending me off just then on an errand his steward could have taken care of. I’d always thought it was your mother’s doing.”

  “My mother?”

  “She was jealous of me, Tobin, though Illior knows I never gave her any cause to be.”

  Tobin shifted uneasily in his chair. “Ki told me—That is, about you and my father.”

  “Did he? Well, that was all in the past by the time he married her, but it was no secret, either. More than once I offered to take some other post, but Rhius wouldn’t hear of it.

  “So that night I thought it was her decision, me not being there. I didn’t think much of it until the day your father died. I told you how his last words were of you, didn’t I? But I never told you what he said. He knew he was dying—” Tharin stopped and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. You’d think after all this time—But it’s always like it was yesterday. With his last breath he whispered to me, ‘Protect my child with your life. Tobin must rule Skala.’ Illior forgive me, I thought his mind was wandering. But later, when I told Arkoniel about it, the look in his eyes said otherwise. He couldn’t tell me more and asked me if I could keep my vow to your father, knowing no more than I did. You can guess the answer to that.”

  Tobin blinked back tears. “I’ve always trusted you.”

  Tharin raised his fist to his breast in salute. “I pray you always do, Tobin. As I said before, I’m not clever, and I came to think that with all the wars and plagues, maybe you’d be the last heir left to take the throne. But there were other things I’d wondered about. Like why you and Ki called that demon twin of yours ‘Brother’ rather than ‘Sister.’ ”

  “You heard that? And you never asked.”

  “I gave Arkoniel my word I wouldn’t.”

  “But Lhel came and told you about him?”

  “She didn’t have to. I saw him.”

  “Where?”

  “At Lord Orun’s house the day he died.”

  “He killed Orun,” Tobin blurted out.

  “I thought as much. He was still crouched over the body when I kicked the door in. I thought it was you at first, until the thing looked around at me. By the Light, I don’t know how you’ve stood it all these years. The one glimpse I had turned my blood cold.”

  “But you never told Iya what he did.”

  “I thought you would.”

  “What else did Lhel tell you? About me?”

  “That you must claim the throne someday. And that I should keep myself ready and never doubt you.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all, except that she’d had her eye on me for a long time and thought well of me.” He shook his head. “I knew what she was the minute I saw the witch marks on her face. But even so, I was glad of her good opinion.”

  “She always said Iya and Father should have told you. Arkoniel thought so, too. It was Iya who said no. I know Father would have, if it hadn’t been for her.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Tobin. He did tell me in his own way when it mattered the most.”

  “It was to protect you,” Tobin admitted, though he still held it against the wizard. “She says Niryn can read minds. I had to learn how to cover my thoughts. That’s why Ki doesn’t know, either. You won’t tell him, will you?”

  Tharin handed Tobin some of the warm bread and cheese. “Of course I won’t. But I imagine it’s been hard on you, keeping so much to yourself all this time. Especially from him.”

  “You
don’t know how many times I almost said something! And now—”

  “Yes, and now.” Tharin took a bite of bread and chewed it slowly before going on. At last he sighed, and said, “Ki knows how you feel about him, Tobin. Anyone can see it, the way you look at him. He loves you in his way, too, but it’s as much as you can expect from him.”

  Tobin felt his face go hot. “I know that. He’s got half a dozen girls in love with him. He’s with one of them now.”

  “He’s his father’s son, Tobin, and can’t help wanting to play the tomcat.” He gave Tobin a wry look. “There are those who’d welcome a warm look from you, you know.”

  “I don’t care about that!” But even as he said it, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered Who?

  “Well, it might be wise to at least consider it. Lhel said as much. A fellow your age ought to be showing some interest, especially a prince who can have his choice.”

  “What does it matter to anyone?”

  “It matters. And it would be easier on Ki if you seemed happier.”

  “Lhel told you this?”

  “No, Ki did.”

  “Ki?” Tobin wished the chair would swallow him.

  “He can’t feel what you want him to feel, and it hurts him. You know he would if he could.”

  There was no answer for that. “Everyone’s always said I’m odd. I guess they can just go on thinking it.”

  “You have good friends, Tobin. One of these days you’ll find out just how good. I know this is hard for you—”

  “You know? How could you know?” All the years of fear and secrets and pain caved in around him. “How could you know what it’s like to always have to lie, and be lied to? To not even know what your real face looks like until someone shows it to you? And Ki? At least my father knew how you really felt!”

  Tharin busied himself with the bread again. “And you think that made it easier, do you? It didn’t.”

  Tobin’s anger dissolved to shame. How could he rail at Tharin, of all people, especially after he’d revealed so much? Sliding from his chair, he clung to him, hiding his face against Tharin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that!”

  Tharin patted his back as if Tobin was still the little boy he’d carried on his shoulders. “It’s all right. You’re just starting to see what the world’s really like.”

  “I’ve seen it. It’s ugly and hateful.”

  Tharin tilted Tobin’s chin up with one finger and looked him sternly in the eye. “It can be. But the way I see it, you’re here to change that, make it better. A lot of folks have gone to a lot of trouble for you. Your father died for it, and so did your poor mother. But you’re not alone as long as I’m alive. Whenever the time comes, I promise you, I won’t let you be alone.”

  “I know.” Tobin sat back and wiped at his nose. “When the time comes, I’m going to make you a great, rich lord, and no one can stop me.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it!” Tharin’s faded blue eyes were bright with amusement and affection as he handed Tobin another slice of bread. “I’m right where I want to be, Tobin. I always have been.”

  Chapter 50

  No one saw them coming, not even those of us who’d sworn our lives as guardians. Who would have thought to look for an attack by sea on such a night? What captain would cross the Inner Sea that time of year?

  The winds piled the waves like haystacks beyond the harbor’s mouth that night, and shredded the clouds across the moon. The lookouts could hardly be blamed for missing them; you couldn’t see your neighbor’s house.

  The great striped-sailed fleet of Plenimar sailed out of the very jaws of the gale and took Ero unawares. They’d sailed the last miles with lanterns doused—a feat that cost them ships and men but gained them the crucial element of surprise. Nineteen wrecks would eventually be cataloged; the number that made anchor just north of Ero was never known but the force that disembarked numbered in the thousands. Taking the outposts by surprise, they slaughtered every Skalan they found regardless of age and were at the city gates before the alarm went up.

  Half the city was dead or dying of that winter pox; there were scarcely enough soldiers left to hold the gates.

  —Lyman the Younger,

  First Chronicler of the Orëska House.

  * * *

  The storm that night was so loud that the Palatine guards did not hear the first alarms in the lower city. Runners brought word, spreading panic up to the citadel like wildfire.

  The sound of gongs and shouting woke Ki. He thought at first that he was dreaming of the Sakor festival. He was about to pull the pillows over his head when Tobin lurched out of bed, taking the covers with him.

  “It’s an alarm, Ki. Get up!” he cried, fumbling about in the dim glow of the night lamp. Ki sprang from bed and pulled on the first tunic his hands found.

  Molay burst in still wearing his nightshirt. “It’s an attack, my lords! Arm yourselves! The king wants every man to the audience chamber!”

  “Is it Plenimar?” asked Tobin.

  “That’s what I heard, my prince. The messenger claims the districts outside the walls are in flames from Beacon Head to Beggar’s Bridge.”

  “Go wake Lutha and Nik—”

  “We’re here!” Lutha cried, as they rushed in with their squires.

  “Get dressed. Arm yourselves and meet me here,” Tobin ordered. “Molay, where’s Korin?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Never mind! Send for Tharin and my guard!”

  Ki’s hands shook as he helped Tobin into his padded shirt and hauberk. “This is no bandit raid, eh?” he muttered, trying to make light of it. “Tobin?” For a moment he thought his friend hadn’t heard.

  “I’m all right. This just isn’t quite how I pictured our first real battle.” Tobin took Ki’s hand in the warrior clasp. “You’ll stand by me, won’t you? No matter what?”

  “Of course I will!” Ki searched Tobin’s face again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Tobin squeezed Ki’s hand. “I’m sure. Come on.”

  * * *

  Iya stood on the roof of the tenement above the Worm-hole, cursing furiously against the wind. It blew in from the sea, carrying the stench of burning. The harbor wards were in flames and beyond that enemy warships blocked the harbor mouth. Skalan ships in dry dock had been set aflame, and those at anchor had been cut loose to run aground.

  The enemy hadn’t breached the walls yet, but they would. She’d already scryed their positions and found sappers and necromancers at work. They’d set up catapults, as well, and were lobbing some sort of fire over the eastern wall. Smoke was already billowing in the dyers’ ward.

  The streets below were impassable. Throngs of people were running downhill with any implement they could find. Others were trying to drive cartloads of household goods through the crowds, not realizing that there was no escape. The enemy had men before every gate.

  None of that was her concern. She’d cast seeking spells for the boys already, only to find that they’d left the amulets she’d sent them in their room. Bracing herself against the wind, she closed her eyes and summoned another spell, though she already feared where they must be. Her eyes burned behind her lids; pain throbbed in her temples, but she found them at last.

  “Damnation!” she screamed, shaking her fists at the sky.

  There was no question of the Companions being left behind. With half the city garrison already dead of plague and Plenimaran rams pounding at every gate, no warrior could be spared. Armed with bows and swords, the boys took their place at the head of the column massed on the practice grounds. The king mounted his black charger and held up the Sword of Ghërilain. Raising his voice to be heard over the wind, he shouted, “There’s no time for long speeches. I’ve just gotten word that there are necromancers at the east gate. May Sakor judge the enemy for the cowards they are and give the victory to us today. Stand together, warriors of Skala, and drive the marauders from our shores! Ev
ery gate must be held, and every foot of wall. They must not enter!” Wheeling his horse, he led them out.

  The rest of them followed on foot. Looking over his shoulder, Tobin could see Tharin and his men just behind him, bearing the royal standard of Atyion. Ki walked grimly at his side, their extra quivers rattling against his back.

  They cleared the gates and Tobin caught his breath. In the grey light of dawn, he could see the banks of smoke rolling up from the ruins outside the city walls. There were defenders already on the walls, but too few and too sparsely deployed.

  The reason for this soon became horrifyingly clear. The Companions had not been allowed down into the city since the pox struck, and none of the reports had prepared them for the reality of the situation. Ero was a charnel house.

  Bodies lay rotting in every street, too many for the dead carriers to deal with. Perhaps they were all dead, too. Tobin shuddered as they passed a sow and her young pulling the body of a young girl to pieces. Everywhere he looked, the living stepped around the dead as if they were piles of garbage. Even with the cold wind, the stench was sickening.

  “If the Plenimarans don’t get us, the pox will!” Ki muttered, clapping a hand across his mouth.

  A ragged woman knelt keening over the body of her pox-raddled child, but looked up as they passed. “You are cursed, Erius son of Agnalain, and all your house! You’ve brought Illior’s curse down on this land!”

  Tobin looked away quickly as a soldier raised a club to silence her. Erius gave no sign that he’d heard, but Tobin saw Korin flinch.

  The streets near the east gate were nearly impassable, choked with panicked people, carts, and crazed animals of all sorts. Erius’ guard swept ahead with truncheons to clear the way.