There was no arguing that he’d had the desired effect on Tobin, either. The prince laughed more now, and the daily rambles on the mountainside put color in his cheeks and lean muscle on his long bones.
Dispatch riders arrived every few weeks, carrying letters from Rhius filled with reports of the growing unrest across the sea.
The Plenimaran shipyards are too busy for comfort, he wrote in one letter, and the king’s spies send word of great numbers of Plenimarans massing along Mycena’s eastern border. I fear they will not limit themselves to coastal raids, come spring. May Illior and Sakor grant that we fight on other shores this time.
Arkoniel, who had no experience of war, found himself watching Tharin as these letters were read out in the hall.
Tharin listened carefully, brow furrowed in thought, then questioned the messenger in detail. How fared the garrisons at Atyion and Cirna? How many ships were anchored in Ero’s harbor? Had the king raised another levy of soldiers, or provender from the countryside?
“I feel very green, listening to you,” Arkoniel admitted one evening as he and Tharin sat up late over a game of bakshi. “For all my travels, I’ve led a sheltered existence compared to you.”
“Wizards used to fight for Skala,” Tharin mused, still focused on the gaming stones in front of them. “Now it seems the king is only willing to have you fight one another.”
“I hope to see that change one day.”
At such moments Arkoniel was uncomfortably aware of the secret that divided them. The more he grew to know the man, the more he regretted that Tharin did not know the truth.
“I wouldn’t mind having you at my back,” Tharin went on, gathering the stones for another toss. Firelight struck the polished carnelians, turning them to fire and blood in his fingers. “I’m no authority on wizards, but I know men. You’ve got steel in your spine. And I don’t imagine old Iya would’ve taken you on if she didn’t believe it, too. Or left that old bag of hers with you.”
He looked up before Arkoniel could completely mask his surprise. “Oh, I’m not asking. But I’m not blind, either. If she trusts you, that should be good enough for anyone.”
Neither said anything more about the matter, but Arkoniel was grateful to have the respect of this man.
He wished he were as certain of Lhel’s opinion of him. Arkoniel burned for her. He dreamed of her body and awoke stiff and hot in the night with no recourse but his own hand, a remedy far less satisfying than it had once been.
But she remained obdurate; he was only allowed to find her at her whim. No seeking spell could locate her and he was never able to find his way to the oak on his own. When he wanted her, he rode into the forest and, if she wished, she would reveal herself. If not, he came home frustrated and fuming.
Sometimes when he did find her, the boys were with her. Then the four of them would tramp through the snow, exploring the forest together like some peasant family. It was pleasant and he smiled at the picture they made, for in daylight Lhel showed her age and he felt more akin to Tobin and Ki than he did to her.
When he and Lhel did manage to meet alone, however, it was quite another matter. They coupled each time—he never did equate her “price” with lovemaking, nor did she—and each time was as frenzied as the first. She asked no tenderness of him and gave none in return, only passion. Behind closed eyelids, Arkoniel saw visions of whirlwinds, thunderstorms, and earthquakes. When he opened his eyes he saw the power of Lhel’s goddess blazing in her eyes and in the dark whorls on her skin that she showed him only then.
As they lay naked together on her pallet afterward, she showed him whatever she was moved to in the way of spellcraft. Much of it seemed designed to overcome his natural aversion to blood magic.
She began by teaching him to “read the blood,” as she put it. She would hand him a bloodstained bit of cloth or bark; by touching it with fingers and mind, he soon learned to identify the creature that had shed it. As these lessons progressed, he learned to enter the mind of the creature if it was still living, and to see through its eyes. As a fox he padded through a meadow and dug sluggish mice from their tunnels in the brown, ice-rimed grass. As an eagle, he circled the keep in search of stray hens. In the strangest of these explorations, he entered a trout swimming in the muted brown light under the river ice and saw a woman’s jeweled ring shining brightly among the silky strands of slime that covered the rocks.
As a final test, Lhel gave him a bit of her own blood, and he found himself inside her skin. The simple minds of the beasts had given him nothing more than a few visual images, cast in shades of grey. Settling in Lhel, however, he felt the intimate weight of her body around him, as if he wore her flesh as a garment over his own. He could feel the sag of her breasts beneath her ragged dress, the ache that plagued her left ankle, the heavy warmth of their coupling between her thighs. After a moment’s disorientation, he realized that he was looking at himself through her eyes. His body lay on the pallet next to the fire, still as a corpse beneath the fur robe. With a mix of chagrin and amusement he inspected his own long, bony limbs, the jut of ribs under his white skin, the black pelt of hair that covered his chest and back, arms and legs. The expression on his face was ecstatic, like a temple Oracle’s when touched by the god.
For all that, however, he could not hear Lhel’s thoughts. That she would not share.
As his fear of her magic lessened, she began to impart a few rudiments about spirits and ghosts.
“How did you make the change in Tobin?” he asked one day as the wind moaned around the oak.
“You saw.”
“I saw you trade a piece of skin between them. Does it hold the magic?”
“It make skin one skin,” she replied, casting about for the right words. “When Tobin is to be a girl again, that skin must come off.”
He was not always the student with her. He helped Lhel learn more of his language, and showed her all the ways he knew to make fire. Comparing magics, they discovered that they could both call wind, and pass through any cover without leaving traces.
He taught her the Orëska method of wizard sighting, and in return she tried to teach him her “tunnel in the air” magic. However, this proved more difficult than he’d expected. It was not the whispered incantation, or even the patterned hand movements it required, but some odd twist of mind that he could not see and she did not have the language to explain.
“It will come to you,” she assured him again and again. “It will come.”
To Arkoniel’s dismay, the one person at the keep whom he seemed to make the least progress with was Tobin. The child was civil and seemed determined to master what Arkoniel tried to teach him, but there was always a distance between them that seemed unbridgeable.
One thing Tobin did choose to share, much to Arkoniel’s surprise, was the spell he used to summon Brother. Arkoniel attempted it, but with no result. Brother answered only to Tobin.
When he asked Lhel about it later, she shrugged and said, “They joined by flesh. That you cannot learn by magic.”
Arkoniel was sorry to hear this, for the spirit often found its way into his workroom. He had not seen it with his eyes since that day it had fooled him and spooked his horse, but there was no mistaking its cold, hostile presence. It seemed to enjoy tormenting him, and often came close enough to raise the hairs on his neck. It did him no physical harm, but more than once it drove him downstairs in search of Tobin.
Spring came early with little rain. As expected, King Erius signed a pact with Mycena and launched a campaign against the Plenimaran invaders there, leaving his trusted minister, Lord Chancellor Hylus, to oversee the court in his absence. One of Iya’s infrequent letters mentioned seemingly in passing that the king’s wizard, Lord Niryn, had also remained behind.
Rhius was to accompany the king, of course, and Tharin could no longer be spared.
The duke came in early Lithion to make his farewells, and brought a band of minstrels and acrobats with him to perform. He stayed less
than a week, but rode with the boys each day, and sat up late in the hall, gaming with Tharin and Arkoniel and listening to the minstrels. The wizard was delighted to see him acting so much more like his old self, and Tobin was ecstatic.
The only thing to mar the visit was the sudden passing of the old steward, Mynir. He failed to come down for breakfast one morning and Nari found the old man dead in his bed. The women drained and washed the body, wrapped it with spices, and sewed it into a shroud to be carried back to his people in Ero.
The old man had been beloved in the household and everyone wept around the body as it lay before the shrine—everyone except Tobin. Even Ki shed a few tears for the poor old fellow, but Tobin’s eyes remained dry as he made his solemn offerings to Astellus. The sight chilled Arkoniel, though no one else seemed to remark on it.
The day of parting came too soon, and the household gathered in the courtyard to see Rhius and Tharin off. Arkoniel and Tharin had said their good-byes over wine the night before, but all the same the wizard felt a dull ache clutch his heart as he watched the tall swordsman saddle his mount.
Tobin and Ki helped glumly with the preparation, looking more subdued than Arkoniel had ever seen them.
When everything was ready and his father and Tharin were mounted to go, Tobin stood by his father’s stirrup and looked up. “Ki and I will practice every day,” he promised. “When can we come to join you?”
Leaning down, Rhius clasped hands with him, smiling proudly. “When my armor fits you, my child, and that day will come sooner than you think. When it does—” The man’s voice caught roughly in his throat. “By the Four, then no general will be prouder than I to have such a warrior at my back.” He turned to Ki then. “Do you have any message for your father, if I meet with him?”
Ki shrugged. “If I’ve served well here, my lord, you might tell him that. I can’t think what else he’d want to know.”
“I’ll tell him that no prince has a more loyal squire. You have my thanks, Kirothius, son of Larenth.”
Arkoniel would have been hard pressed to say whose eyes shone more brightly as they watched Rhius out of sight, Tobin’s or Ki’s.
Chapter 31
For weeks after his father left, Tobin watched for messengers on the Alestun road, but none came. Arkoniel found him standing at his window one morning and guessed his thoughts. “Mycena’s a long way off, you know. They may not even be there yet.”
Tobin knew he was right, but he couldn’t help watching the road, all the same.
When a rider finally did appear one warm spring day a month or so later, it was not with word of Rhius.
Tobin and Ki were fishing at the river bend when they heard the sound of hooves on the road. Scrambling up the bank, they peered over the edge. The horseman was a rough-looking character in leather with a mane of wild brown hair flying about his shoulders.
The rules for strangers had not changed since Ki’s arrival: keep your distance and head for the keep. Ki knew this as well as Tobin did, but instead of obeying, he let out a whoop and leapt up to meet the rider.
“Ki, no!” Tobin shouted, catching at his ankle.
But Ki laughed. “Come on, it’s only Ahra!”
“Ahra? Your sister?” Tobin followed, but hung back shyly. Ahra was often a rather formidable character in Ki’s stories.
The rider saw them and reined in sharply. “That you, Ki?”
It was a woman after all, but not like any Tobin had ever seen. She wore the same sort of leather armor over mail that his father’s men did, and a bow and longsword hung at her back. Her hair was dark brown like Ki’s, and worn braided in front, wild behind. She didn’t look much like him, otherwise, being only a half sister.
She swung down and grabbed her brother in a hug that lifted him off the ground. “It is you, boy! Skinny as ever, but you’ve grown two spans!”
“What’re you doing here?” Ki demanded as she let him down.
“Come to see how you was faring.” Ahra spoke with the same flat, country accent that Ki had had when he first came to the keep. “I met that wizard woman of yours on the road a few weeks back and she asked me to bring a letter to another wizard here—friend of hers. Said you’d worked in here well enough, too.” She grinned at Tobin. “Who’s this one with mud between his toes? Iya didn’t say nothing about another boy sent to serve the prince.”
“Mind your mouth,” Ki warned. “That is the prince!”
Tobin stepped forward to greet her and the woman dropped to one knee before him, head bent. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I didn’t know you!”
“How would you? Please, get up!” Tobin urged, embarrassed to have anyone kneel to him.
Ahra stood and shot Ki a dark look. “You mighta said.”
“Didn’t give me a chance, did you?”
“I’m glad to meet you,” Tobin said, clasping hands with her. Now that his initial surprise had passed, he was very curious about her and delighted to finally meet one of Ki’s kin. “My father’s not here, but you’re welcome to guest with us.”
“I’d be most honored, Highness, but my captain only give me ’til nightfall. Rest of the company’s back in Alestun buying supplies. We’re bound for Ylani to fend off the summer raiders.”
“I figured you’d be gone to Mycena with Jorvai and Father and all,” said Ki.
She let out a snort and Tobin got a glimpse of her famous temper. “They went, all the boys right down to your mam’s Amin, just year older’n you. Gone for a runner. But the king still wants no women in the ranks with him, by Sakor. Left us with the old men and cripples to watch the coastline.”
Ahra gave Ki news of home as the three of them walked up to the house. Their fourth mother, who was only a year older than Ahra, had birthed twins soon after Ki left home and was pregnant again. Five of the younger children had been taken with fever, but only two had died. The house was quieter with the seven eldest gone; the war had come in time to save Alon from being taken up as a horse thief by a neighboring knight. Even though this was old news, Ki vigorously defended his brother’s innocence in the matter all the same, outraged at the charge.
Tobin took all this in with mounting delight; he knew all these people through Ki’s stories and here was one of them in the flesh. He liked Ahra, too, and decided Ki had exaggerated her bad points a bit. Like him, she was blunt and open, with no secrets behind her dark eyes. All the same, it was strange to see a woman carrying a sword.
Nari met them as they came across the bridge, and her scowl stopped all three in their tracks. “Prince Tobin, who’s this and what’s she doing here?”
“Ki’s sister,” he told her. “You know, the one who tried to leap her horse over the hog pen and fell in.”
“Ahra, is it?” Nari softened at once.
Ahra glared at Ki. “You been telling tales on me, have you?”
Nari laughed. “That he has! You’ll find you’ve no secrets with Ki about. Come in, girl, and eat with us. Cook will be glad to see a woman in armor again!”
They were listening to Cook trade stories with Ahra about her fighting days when Arkoniel came in with that smug, comfortable look he always had when he’d been with Lhel on his own.
That changed when he saw Ahra. He looked even less pleased than Nari until Ahra handed him Iya’s letter.
“Well, if she sent you,” he muttered. “I suppose I should have had Ki write to his mother before now.”
“Wouldn’t do no good if he did,” Ahra told him with stiff dignity. “Can’t none of us read.”
Ki colored as if he’d been caught doing something shameful.
“What can you tell us of the war?” Tobin asked.
“Last news I had is a good month old. The king met up with the Mycenian Elders at Nanta and a fleet went down the coast to engage the Plenimarans at the frontier. I heard your father well spoken of, Prince Tobin. Word is he’s at the front of every battle, the king’s right hand.”
“Have you been in the capital recently?” asked Arkon
iel.
Ahra nodded. “We come through there a week back. Two ships were burned at anchor when the harbormaster found plague aboard. When it turned out that some of the sailors had got ashore already and gone into a tavern, the deathbirds come and nailed it up with them in it and burned ’em for plague bringers.”
“What are deathbirds?” Tobin asked.
“They’re something like a healer,” Arkoniel told him, though his look of distaste belied the explanation. “They go about the country trying to keep plague from coming in at the ports. They wear masks with long fronts on them that look like beaks. The beak part is filled with herbs to keep off the plague. That’s why people call them deathbirds.”
“There’s plenty of Harriers about making trouble, too,” Ahra told him, and again Tobin didn’t know what she meant, except that she didn’t think much of them.
“Have there been any more executions in the city?”
Ahra nodded. “Three more, one of them a priest. People don’t like it much, but no one dares speak against them, not since the arrests a few months back.”
“That’s enough about that,” said Cook. “I think the boys might like to see how a woman fights, don’t you? You’re the first Prince Tobin has ever met still in armor.”
They finished the visit with a bout of swordplay in the barracks yard. Ahra fought hard and dirty, and showed the boys a few new ways of tripping up and backhanding an opponent.
“That’s no way to be teaching the king’s nephew!” Nari objected, watching from a safe distance.
“No, let them have at it,” said Cook. “No one pays attention to titles or birthrights in battle. A young warrior can do with a few tricks up his sleeve.”
Arkoniel remained in the kitchen, committing Iya’s letter to memory so he could burn it. To anyone else, it would appear to be nothing more than a rambling account of people Iya had met in her recent travels. However, when Arkoniel muttered the correct words over it, the spell silvered a few letters here and there, revealing the true message. It was still cryptic, but clear enough to send a nasty jolt of dread through him.
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