The Bone Doll's Twin

by Lynn Flewelling

  “He’s not of age yet.”

  “But he soon will be, and even with the stories of Tobin being sickly and demon-cursed, Erius has always been anxious for the boys to know one another. Sometimes I honestly think that it is for love of his sister. All the same, once at court, Tobin will be little more than a hostage.” Rhius frowned down at the brooch. “You’ve seen what it’s like there; once he’s at the Palace, can you still protect my child?”

  “With all my heart, I will, my lord,” Iya assured him, not daring to reveal the sudden doubt she felt at the prospect. Like a handful of unthrown dice, Tobin’s future still encompassed all possibilities.

  Chapter 28

  The weeks following Ki’s arrival were happy ones. Arkoniel never learned what Iya said to Rhius during her visit to Atyion, but the duke returned to the keep soon after and promised to stay until Tobin’s name day in Erasin. Better still, Rhius seemed almost his old self again, praising the improvements to the house and inviting Arkoniel to game with him and Tharin in the evenings. Whatever rift had been between Rhius and his friend had healed. The two men appeared to be as close as ever.

  The duke approved of Ki, as well, and praised Tharin’s training when Ki served at table or matched Tobin at sword and bow practice. When Tobin knelt in the hall on his tenth name day and requested that Ki be made his squire, Rhius granted his permission readily and allowed the boys to pledge their oath to Sakor at the house shrine that same night. Tobin gave Ki one of his finest carved horse charms on a neck chain as a symbol of the bond.

  Yet in spite of all this, Rhius maintained a certain aloofness with Ki that cost both boys some discomfort.

  On Tobin’s name day, Rhius had gifted Ki with a new suit of clothes and a fine roan horse named Dragon.

  When Ki tried to thank him, Rhius said only, “My son should be well attended.”

  Ki already worshipped Tharin and was clearly prepared to accord Tobin’s father the same regard; the man’s coolness left him awkward and a little clumsy.

  Tobin saw this, too, and hurt for his friend.

  Only Arkoniel and Nari understood the reason for the duke’s distance and neither could offer the truth as comfort. Even among themselves they could not speak of the fatal possibility that hung by a spider’s thread over Ki’s young heart.

  One bright cold afternoon a few weeks later Arkoniel found himself sharing the parapet with the duke as they watched the boys at play in the meadow below.

  Tobin was attempting to track Ki, who lay hidden in a shallow depression surrounded by snow-dusted grass and weeds. Ki somehow managed to keep the white fog of his breath from rising, but in the end he gave himself away when his foot bumped a dead milkweed stalk. Several dry pods still clung to the stem and when he jarred them, their silky white seeds burst forth and rose like a battlefield signal.

  Rhius chuckled. “Ah, he’s done for now.”

  Tobin saw and dashed over to pounce on his friend. The resulting wrestling match sent up another thick cloud of milkweed fluff. “By the Light, that Ki is godsent.”

  “I believe he is,” Arkoniel agreed. “It’s amazing how they’ve taken to one another.”

  At first glance, no two boys could have been more different. Tobin remained quiet and serious by nature; bold Ki couldn’t seem to sit still or keep quiet for more than a few minutes at a stretch. For him, talking seemed as necessary as breathing. He still spoke like a peasant and could be crude as a country tinker. Nari would have taken a switch to him a dozen times already if Tobin hadn’t pleaded for leniency. Yet the substance of what he said was for the most part intelligent if unschooled, and invariably entertaining if not always seemly.

  And if Tobin hadn’t yet tried to emulate Ki’s boisterous nature, Arkoniel could tell that he gloried in it. He glowed like a full moon in Ki’s presence and delighted in the older boy’s tales of his large and colorful family. It wasn’t only Tobin who loved these, either. When the household gathered around the fire each night, Ki was often their principal entertainment and would soon have everyone holding their sides as he described the foibles and mishaps of his various siblings.

  He also had a substantial store of garbled fables and myths learned at his father’s hearth; stories of talking animals and ghosts, and fanciful kingdoms where men had two heads and birds shed golden feathers sharp enough to cut off the fingers of the greedy.

  Endeavoring to follow Iya’s advice, Arkoniel sent for richly illustrated texts of the more familiar tales, hoping these would coax the boys into their reading lessons. Tobin was still struggling with his letters and Ki was little help. The older boy had proven resistant to such learning in the proud, backward way of a country noble who’d never seen his own name written out and didn’t care to. Arkoniel did not chide them; instead, he left a book or two open to particularly exciting illustrations, trusting curiosity to do his work for him. Only the other day, he’d caught Ki puzzling over Gramain’s Bestiary. Meanwhile, Tobin had quietly set to work on a history of his famed ancestor, Ghërilain the First, a gift from his father.

  Ki proved a better ally when it came to magic. The boy possessed a child’s normal fascination with it, and his enthusiasm smoothed the way for Arkoniel to attempt to address Tobin’s odd fears. The wizard began with small illusions and a few simple makings. But while Ki threw himself into such pastimes with all his usual carefree abandon, Tobin’s reactions were less predictable. He seemed pleased with lightstones and firechips, but grew wary whenever Arkoniel suggested another vision journey.

  Tharin was well pleased with Ki, as well. The boy had an innate understanding of honor and took happily to a squire’s training. He learned the rudiments of table service, though there was little formality at the keep, and eagerly strove to master the other arts of service, though Tobin stubbornly resisted most efforts to be served. He refused any help in bathing or dressing, and much preferred to take care of his own horse.

  In the end, it was at swordplay that Ki proved most useful. He was less than a head taller than Tobin, and had been fighting with his brothers and sisters since he could walk. He made a proper sparring partner, and a very demanding one, too. More often than not he emerged victorious, and Tobin bruised. To Tobin’s credit, he seldom sulked about it and listened willingly as Tharin or Ki explained to him what he’d done wrong. It perhaps helped that Tobin was Ki’s master at archery and horsemanship. Until he’d come here, Ki’s backside had never had a proper saddle beneath it. A knight’s son he might be in name, but he’d had the hard upbringing of a peasant. Perhaps because of this, he never balked at any task and was grateful for any favor. For his part, Tobin, who’d been kept too close to the women for too long, considered every new task a game and often insisted on helping out with chores that most noblemen’s sons would have been insulted to consider. As a result, he grew brighter and browner by the day. The men in the barracks gave Ki all the credit and made pets of them both.

  When Nari or Arkoniel fussed over Tobin raking stalls and mending wall beside Ki, Tharin simply shooed them back into the house.

  The demon has been quieter since he came,” Rhius murmured aloud, interrupting Arkoniel’s thoughts.

  “Has it?” he asked. “I don’t suppose I’ve been here long enough to judge.”

  “And it never seems to hurt Tobin anymore, not since—not since his poor mother died. Perhaps that was for the best, after all.”

  “You can’t mean that, my lord!”

  Rhius kept his gaze on the meadow. “You knew my lady when she was happy and well. You didn’t see what she became. You weren’t here to see.”

  Arkoniel had no answer for that.

  The boys had reached a truce now. Lying side by side in the snowy grass, they were pointing up at the clouds drifting across the blue winter sky.

  Arkoniel looked up and smiled. It had been years since he’d thought to play at finding shapes in the clouds. He suspected that this might be the first time Tobin had ever tried.

  Look,” said Ki. “That c
loud is a fish. And that one over there looks like a kettle with a pig climbing out of it.”

  Tobin was unaware of the wizard watching him, but his thoughts were running along similar lines. It seemed that everything had changed again since Ki’s arrival, and this time for the better. Lying here with the sun on his face and the cold seeping up through his cloak, it was easy to forget about mothers and demons and all the other shadows that lurked at the corners of his memory. He could even almost ignore Brother crouched a few feet away, watching Ki with black, hungry eyes.

  Brother hated Ki. He wouldn’t say why, but Tobin could tell just by the way he watched the living boy that he wanted to pinch and slap and hurt him. Every time Tobin called Brother he warned him not to, but that didn’t stop him from doing things that startled Ki, like pulling objects out of his hands or knocking over his mazer at table. Ki always jumped a little and hissed curses between his teeth, but he never ran or cried out. Tharin said that was a sign of real courage, to stand fast when you were scared. Ki couldn’t see Brother, but after a while he claimed he could sometimes sense when he was there.

  If it had been up to Tobin, he’d have sent Brother away and let him go hungry for a while, but he’d sworn to Lhel that he’d care for him and he couldn’t go back on his word. So he called Brother every day and the baleful spirit lurked on the edges of their games like an unwelcome hound. He hovered in the shadows of the toy room, and went into the forest with them when they rode, somehow keeping up with their horses without ever running. Recalling his dream, Tobin once offered to let Brother ride behind him on his horse, but the spirit greeted this with his usual uncomprehending silence.

  Ki pointed up at another cloud. “That one looks like the fancy cakes they sell at the Festival of Flowers back home. And there’s a hound’s head, with its tongue hanging out.”

  Tobin picked a few black beggars ticks from his hair and flicked the prickly seeds up at the sky shapes. “I like the way they change as they go. Your dog looks more like a dragon now.”

  “The great dragon of Illior, only white instead of red,” Ki agreed. “When your father takes us to Ero I’ll show you the painting of it in the temple in Goldsmith’s Street. It’s a hundred feet long, with jewels for eyes and the scales all outlined in gold.” He searched the sky again. “And now the cake looks like our maidservant, Lilain, with Alon’s bastard eight moons in her belly.”

  Tobin glanced over at his friend and could tell by the slant of Ki’s grin that there was a story coming.

  Sure enough, Ki went on. “We thought Khemeus would kill the pair of them, since he’d been panting over her since she come to us—”

  “‘Came to us,’” Tobin corrected. Arkoniel had tasked him with helping Ki learn to speak properly.

  “Came to us, then!” Ki said, rolling his eyes. “But in the end the boys just had a fistfight out in the yard. It was pouring down rain and they fell in the manure heap. Then they went off and got drunk. When Lilain’s baby finally did come it looked like Khemeus anyway, so it was probably his after all, and he and Alon had another fight over that.”

  Tobin stared at the cloud, trying to puzzle out the sense of this new exploit. “What’s a bastard?”

  “You know, a baby that comes when the man and woman haven’t made contract together.”

  “Oh.” That didn’t really tell him anything. “How did it get in that girl’s belly?”

  Ki reared up on one elbow and stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t know? Haven’t you ever watched animals at it?”

  “At what?”

  “Why, fucking, of course! Like when a stallion climbs a mare’s back, or a rooster treads a hen? Bilairy’s balls, Tobin, you must have seen dogs fuck, at least?”

  “Oh, that!” Tobin knew what Ki meant now, though he’d never heard anyone call it that. Suspecting it to be another of those words Nari and Arkoniel didn’t approve of, he stored it away with delight. “You mean people do it, too?”

  “Of course!”

  Tobin sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. The thought was intriguing and unsettling all at once. “But—how? Wouldn’t they fall over?”

  Ki fell back, whooping with laughter. “Not hardly! You never have seen anyone at it, have you?”

  “Have you?” Tobin challenged, wondering if Ki was making fun of him.

  “At our house?” Ki snorted. “Gods, all the time! Father’s always on top of someone, and the older boys are at the maids or men, even, sometimes. It’s a wonder any of us sleeps nights! Like I told you, in most houses everyone sleeps all in the same room. ’Least the ones I’ve been in.”

  When Tobin remained baffled as to the actual act, Ki found a couple of forked weed stalks and used them to illustrate a more detailed explanation.

  “You mean it gets bigger?” Tobin asked, wide-eyed. “Doesn’t it hurt the girl?”

  Ki stuck one of the stalks in the corner of his mouth and gave Tobin a wink. “From the sounds they make, I don’t hardly think so.”

  He cocked an eye at the sun’s height. “I’m cold. Come on, let’s go riding before Nari decides it’s too late. Maybe we’ll find that witch of yours today!”

  Tobin wasn’t sure whether or not he’d done wrong in telling Ki about Lhel. He couldn’t even remember exactly if she’d told him not to, but he had the guilty feeling that she had.

  Ki had been spinning some yarn about a witch in his village one night as they lay in bed and Tobin blurted out that he knew one, too. Of course, Ki demanded details since his own story was only a made-up one he’d heard from a bard. In the end Tobin had told him about the dreams. He told him about getting lost, too, and about the hollow oak tree Lhel lived in, but he was careful to leave out any mention of the doll.

  Since then it had been a secret quest between them to find her so Ki could meet her, too.

  They went out riding nearly every day, but so far they’d found no sign of her. Tobin always came back from these searches with mixed feelings. As much as he wanted to see her again and find out what it was she meant to teach him, he was also relieved, in case she was angry with him for telling Ki.

  Despite weeks of fruitless searching, Ki’s faith remained unshakable and he delighted in sharing Tobin’s secret.

  That almost made up for those Tobin couldn’t share.

  The boys kept an eye on the sun’s progress as they spurred their mounts up the road. The days were short now and storms blew down off the mountains fast.

  Brother kept just ahead of them, moving with his usual stiff, unnatural walk that should have been too slow to keep up but wasn’t. No matter how fast they rode, he stayed ahead of them.

  Ki had other concerns. “How is this witch of yours going to live in a tree all winter?”

  “She had a fire,” Tobin reminded him.

  “Yes, but the snow will cover the doorway, won’t it? She must have to burrow out like a rabbit. And what will she eat?”

  Pondering this, they left their mounts tied by the road and set off on foot to explore an untried game trail Tobin had spotted a few days earlier. Following it to a dead end used up their last margin of daylight. The sun was almost touching the peaks when they finally gave up and headed back; they’d have to lather their mounts to get back before Nari began to fret.

  Ki had just mounted and Tobin had one foot in the stirrup when their horses shied. Gosi reared, throwing Tobin backward off his feet, then galloped away down the road. Tobin came down hard on his back with a grunt of surprise. Raising his head, he saw Ki trying to rein in Dragon as he careened away after Gosi. Both horses disappeared around a bend in the road, taking Ki with them.

  “Damn!” he wheezed. He was halfway to his feet when a thunderous growl froze him in a crouch. Looking slowly to his right, he found himself facing a catamount that crouched at the edge of the trees across the road.

  The great cat’s tawny coat blended well with the winter cover, but its yellow eyes looked as big as the lids of nail kegs and they were fixed on him. It watched
him, belly low to the ground, tail stirring the dead leaves and snow as it twitched this way and that. Then, like a nightmare, it glided out a step toward him, then two, muscles bunching and rippling across its shoulders.

  It was stalking him.

  There was no point in running. Tobin was too scared to even close his eyes.

  The catamount took another step then stopped, ears pressed flat to its blunt head as Brother appeared between them.

  The cat could see him. It crouched lower and snarled, showing cruel curved fangs as long as Tobin’s thumbs. Beyond fear now, Tobin couldn’t move.

  The catamount screamed and lashed out at the ghost. The huge paw raked the air less than a yard from Tobin’s chest, close enough for him to feel the air move and see the hooked claws rake through Brother’s belly. Brother didn’t move. The beast snarled again and gathered itself to spring.

  Tobin heard someone running toward them. It was Ki, charging back on foot with his long hair flying around his head. He let out a fierce yell and ran straight at the catamount, brandishing nothing but a long, knobby stick.

  “No!” Tobin screamed, but it was too late. The cat sprang and struck Ki full in the chest. Together they tumbled across the road and came to rest with the catamount on top.

  For one awful moment Tobin felt time stop, just like it had when his mother was falling away from him down the side of the tower. Ki was on his back beneath the catamount; all Tobin could see were his friend’s splayed legs and the catamount’s hind foot braced against his belly, poised to gut him like a squirrel.

  But neither Ki nor the cat moved, and now Brother was standing over them. Tobin was hardly aware that he was running until he threw himself on the catamount’s back and grappled the huge head away from Ki’s throat. The beast was limp, dead weight in his hands.

  “Ki! Ki, are you dead?” Tobin cried, trying to wrestle the heavy carcass off his friend.