The Bone Doll's Twin

by Lynn Flewelling

  “I like him.”

  Ki flung back the black hangings on the bed and launched himself into a somersault across the velvet counterpane. “I didn’t say I didn’t. I just think he’s going to work us as hard as Tharin ever did. That’s what the other squires say, anyway.”

  Tobin did a back flip of his own and landed beside his friend.

  “What are they like?”

  “The other squires? Hard to say yet. They were mostly drunk and they didn’t say much to me, except for Korin’s squire, Tanil. He’s a duke’s first son and seems a nice enough fellow. So does Barieus, squire to that little fellow who looks like a rat.”

  “Lutha.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “But not the others?”

  Ki shrugged. “Too soon to say, I guess. All the others are the second or third sons of high lords—”

  It was too dark inside the hangings to make out his friend’s expression, but there was something troubling in his tone.

  “Well, you’re a knight now. And I’m going to have you made a lord as soon as I can and give you an estate,” Tobin told him. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Arkoniel says I’ll have to wait until I’m of age, but I don’t want to wait that long. When the king comes back I’m going to ask him how I can do it.”

  Ki rose up on one elbow and stared down at him. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you? Just like that.”

  “Well, of course!” Tobin grinned up at him. “Just try not to breed so much that your grandchildren end up sleeping in a heap on the floor again.”

  Ki lay back and folded his hands behind his head. “I don’t know. From what I saw back home, breeding is great fun. And I saw some pretty girls at that banquet tonight! That one in the green dress? I wouldn’t mind having a look under her skirts, would you?”

  “Ki!”

  Ki shrugged and stroked his faint moustache, smiling to himself. He was soon snoring, but Tobin lay awake for some time, listening to the ongoing revels echoing outside the window. He’d never seen anyone drunk at the keep. It made him nervous.

  This wasn’t what he’d looked for, all those years staring down the Alestun road. He was a warrior, not a courtier, drinking wine half the night in fancy clothes. With girls!

  He frowned over at Ki’s peaceful profile. The soft down covering his cheeks caught the faint light coming in through the hangings. Tobin rubbed at his own smooth cheeks and sighed. He and Ki were the same height, but his shoulders were still narrow and his skin still bare of the spots and stray hairs that Ki was developing. He tossed a while longer, then realized that he’d forgotten all about Brother.

  Barely moving his lips, he whispered the words. Brother appeared crouching on the end of the bed, face as inscrutable as ever.

  “You mustn’t go wandering about,” he told him. “Stay close and do as I ask. It isn’t safe here.”

  To his amazement, Brother nodded. Crawling slowly up the bed, he touched Tobin’s chest, then his own, and settled back at the end of the bed.

  Tobin lay back and yawned. It was comforting having someone else from home here, even if it was only a ghost.

  At the New Palace, in a wing adjoining the king’s own now-empty rooms, the wizard Niryn stirred in his sleep, disturbed by a half-formed image that would not quite take shape.

  Chapter 40

  Tobin woke at sunrise and lay listening to the new morning sounds outside. He could hear crowds of people laughing and talking and whispering loudly just outside the door. From the open balcony came the sounds of riders and birds, splashing water, and the distant cacophony of the waking city. Even here, the scent of flowers and pines could not mask the rising stink of the place carried in on the warm sea breeze. Had it really only been a day ago that he’d woken in his own bed? He sighed and shook off the wave of homesickness that threatened to overwhelm him.

  Ki was a softly snoring lump on the far side of the bed. Tobin tossed a pillow at him, then rolled out between the heavy curtains and went to have a look outside.

  It was another clear summer day. From here he could see over the Palatine wall to the southern city and the sea. It was incredible. With the mist rising off the water and the sun slanting low as it rose, it was hard to tell where the sky stopped and the sea began. In the wash of dawn, Ero appeared to be made of fire, trees and all.

  Outside his window, a colorful garden stretched away to the belt of elms he’d ridden past the night before. There were already servants at work with shears and baskets, like bees in the meadow at home.

  To either side he could see other balconies, pillars, and the jut of tiled roofs with fancy cornices and bits of sculpture on top.

  “I bet we could go all the way from the Old Palace to the New over the roofs,” Ki said, coming up behind him.

  “You can,” a girl’s voice agreed, seeming to come from the air over their heads.

  Both boys whirled and looked up just in time to see a dark-haired blur of motion disappear beyond the eaves above their balcony. Only the rapidly fading scuffle of feet over tiles betrayed their visitor’s retreat.

  “Who was that?” laughed Ki, looking for a way to follow.

  Before they could find an easy way up, a young manservant came in, followed by an entourage of others laden with clothes and packages. He went to the bed, then spied them on the balcony and bowed deeply.

  “Good morning, my prince. I am to be your manservant at the Palace. My name is Molay. And these—” He indicated the line of laden servants behind him. “They all come bearing gifts from your noble kin and admirers.”

  The servants came forward in turn, presenting handsome robes and tunics, under robes, fine shirts and trousers, soft velvet hats, jewels in delicate caskets, ornate swords and knives, and colorful belts, two matched hounds who cringed and growled at Tobin when he tried to pet them, and a pretty falcon with golden ornaments on her plumed hood and jesses from Prince Korin. There were boxes of sweets, caskets of incense, even baskets of bread and flowers. Among the jewels he found an earring from the prince similar to the one Korin wore and a ring from Lord Orun. Best of all, however, were the two shirts of shining, supple mail sent by Porion from the Royal Armory.

  “At last, one that fits!” Ki exclaimed, throwing one over his nightshirt.

  “It is customary when a new Companion arrives in the city,” Molay explained, seeing Tobin’s consternation. “Perhaps I might assist you in such matters?”

  “Yes, please!”

  “Your Highness must of course wear first the suit of clothes sent by Lord Chancellor Hylus for your audience with him this morning. I see he has had it done in black, out of respect for your loss—But I see you have no mourning ring!”

  “No. I didn’t know how to get one.”

  “I shall call in a jeweler for you, my prince. For now, you might wear this jewel from the Prince Royal, and of course this ring from your guardian. And then each gift in turn according to the rank of the giver.”

  “I thought I heard voices!” Korin strode out of the dressing room with Caliel. Both wore fighting leathers with fantastically elaborate raised work and metal fittings. Tobin wondered how they could move properly in such a costume, or how they’d dare risk damaging it.

  “There’s a connecting door between our rooms,” Korin explained, taking Tobin to the back of the dressing room and showing him where a small panel swung back on a short dusty passage. At the far end he had a glimpse of gold and red hangings and a pack of hounds watching expectantly for their master’s return. “It only opens from my side, but if you knock I can let you through.”

  They went back to Tobin’s chamber to inspect the jumble of gifts. “Not a bad haul, coz. I’m glad to see you’ve been shown the proper respect even though no one knows you yet. Do you like my hawk?”

  “Very much!” Tobin exclaimed, though in truth he was a little afraid of her. “Will you show me how to hunt with her?”

  “Will he? It’s all he wants to do, besides sword fighting,” Caliel excl
aimed, stroking the falcon’s smooth wings.

  “Gladly, but Caliel’s our best falconer,” Korin demurred modestly. “He has some Aurënfaie blood, you know.”

  “Her name is Erizhal,” Caliel told Tobin. “It’s ’faie for ‘arrow of the sun.’ The royal falconer will keep her in good trim for you. We’ll have to bring Ari along, too. He’s got a wizard’s touch with hawks.”

  With the help of the older boys, Tobin sorted through the gifts. Those sent by lesser nobles were by custom passed to his squire, so Ki came out of it quite well, too. Korin drew up a list of proper return gifts and Tobin used his father’s seal to authorize the deliveries.

  “There, now you’re a true Ero noble,” laughed Korin. “To be one, you must spend exorbitant amounts of money and drink exorbitant amounts of wine. We’ll get to the wine later.”

  The sun was well up by the time they’d finished. Korin and Caliel went back the way they’d come, promising to meet Tobin on the training field later.

  Molay helped the boys dress, and by the time he’d finished they hardly recognized each other. Tobin’s robe from Chancellor Hylus was of fine black wool split at the front, cut slim in the waist and embroidered in red and golden silk with the Dragon of Skala on the breast and the hems. The oversleeves were cut full to show off the sleeves of the red under robe. When he’d put on shoes of soft red leather and the first jewels he’d ever worn, he hardly felt like himself at all. As for Ki, he looked like a dapper fox in russet and green. Standing at the polished bronze mirror together, they both burst out laughing. Molay offered them each a new sword, but they kept the plain, serviceable blades Tobin’s father had given them, accepting no other.

  Molay was very pleased with them, and fussed over the trimming of their hair and nails as much as Nari ever had. When he was satisfied, he sent the young page scampering off for their escort. To Tobin’s considerable disappointment, this proved to be not Tharin, but Lord Orun. He was more resplendent than ever, in shimmering silken robes of sunbird gold, with a black and gold hood of office over his shoulders. A jeweled triangle of heavy black velvet covered his bald head.

  He paused in the doorway and raised an approving eyebrow. “Well, now you do look like a young prince, Your Highness. Ah, and I see you received my token. I hope it pleases you?”

  “Thank you, my lord. It was most generous of you,” Tobin said, holding out his hand to show off the ring. After the incident with Moriel last night, and what Korin had said, he was glad to be able to please his guardian a little today.

  The audience chamber was in the New Palace, far enough away that they found their horses saddled and ready for them as they came out of the palace gate. Ki made a show of checking the saddles before Tobin mounted, and rode at Tobin’s left as Tharin had taught him.

  The New Palace dwarfed the Old in both size and grandeur. Many of its pillared courtyards stood open to the sky and had splashing fountains to make music through the corridors beyond. Windows with panes of colored glass cast patterns on the marble floors, and shrines as tall as the keep tower filled the palace with their incense.

  The audience chamber was equal in scale to all the rest. The vaulted white stone roof was held aloft by ranks of pillars carved with twisting dragons.

  The huge chamber was filled with people in clothing of every sort, from rags to fine robes. There were Aurënfaie in white tunics and jewels and sen’gai of every color, and other foreigners Tobin did not recognize at all—people in blue tunics that billowed like tents around them, and men in brightly striped robes with skin the color of dark tea and curly black hair like Lhel’s.

  Some stood in intent knots, speaking in hushed, rapid voices. Others lounged at their leisure on couches or on the edges of the great fountains, toying with their hawks or the hounds and spotted cats they led on chains.

  At the far end of the chamber a beautiful golden throne stood on a wide dais, but no one sat there. A cape bearing the king’s crest was draped over it and a crown had been placed on the seat.

  Two men sat in lower chairs before it. The older of the pair was listening to each petitioner in turn, just as Tobin’s father had in the hall at the keep. He had a short white beard, a number of heavy gold chains and seals around his neck, and wore long black robes and a hat like a red velvet pancake on his head.

  “That is Lord Chancellor Hylus, the King’s Regent,” Orun told him as they approached. “He is a distant kinsman of yours.”

  “And the other?” asked Tobin, though he’d already guessed.

  The other man was much younger, with jasper-colored eyes and a forked beard that shone coppery red in the sunlight. But all Tobin saw at first were his robes. They were white as sunlit snow, with sweeping designs over the shoulders and skirts picked out in glittering silver thread. This was one of the Harriers that Arkoniel had warned him about. He’d been sure to send Brother away last night, but he looked around quickly just to be sure.

  “That is the King’s Wizard, Lord Niryn,” said Orun, and Tobin’s heart skipped a beat. This was not only a Harrier, but the Harrier.

  He feared that they’d spend the whole morning waiting their turn, but Lord Orun led them right up to the front and bowed to Hylus.

  Tobin had thought that the Lord Chancellor Hylus had a harsh face, for he’d been dealing sternly with a baker accused of selling underweight loaves when they approached. As soon as Orun introduced Tobin, however, the old man’s face softened into a warm smile. He held out his hand and Tobin climbed the steps to join him.

  “It’s as if I see your dear mother looking at me out of your eyes!” he exclaimed, clasping Tobin’s hand between ones that felt like they were made of bones and thin leather. “And her grandmother, too. Most extraordinary. You must dine with me soon, dear boy, and I will tell you stories of them. You’ll have met my grandson Nikides among the Companions?”

  “I’m sure, my lord.” Tobin thought he remembered the name, but couldn’t summon a face to go with it. There had been so many last night.

  The chancellor appeared pleased. “I’m sure he’ll be a good friend to you. Have they given you a squire?”

  Tobin introduced Ki, still standing with Orun below. Hylus squinted down at him for a moment. “Sir Larenth? I don’t know that name. This is a fine-looking young fellow, though. Welcome to you both.” He looked at Tobin a moment longer, then turned to the man beside him. “And allow me to present your uncle’s wizard, Lord Niryn.”

  Tobin’s heart knocked against his ribs again as he acknowledged Niryn’s bow. Yet it was Arkoniel’s warning that made his heart race rather than anything in the man’s appearance, for Niryn was a perfectly ordinary looking man. The wizard inquired politely about his journey and his home, spoke kindly of his parents, then asked, “Do you enjoy seeing magic, my prince?”

  “No,” Tobin said quickly. Arkoniel had done his best to interest him in tricks and visions—Ki loved anything of the sort—but Tobin still found most of it disconcerting. He didn’t want to give this stranger any encouragement.

  The wizard didn’t seem insulted. “I remember the night of your birth, Prince Tobin. You did not have this mark on your chin then. But there was another, I think?”

  “It’s a scar. You’re thinking of my wisdom mark.”

  “Ah yes. Curious things, such marks. May I see how it has developed? I have made a study of such things.”

  Tobin pushed back his sleeve and showed Niryn and Hylus the red mark. Nari called it a rosebud, but to him it looked like a grouse’s heart.

  Niryn covered it with the tips of two fingers. His expression did not change, but Tobin felt an unpleasant tingle pass through his skin and saw the man’s jasper eyes go hard and distant for an instant, just the way Arkoniel’s did when he made magic. But Arkoniel had never done any magic on him without first asking permission.

  Shocked, Tobin pulled away. “Don’t be rude, sir!”

  Niryn bowed. “My apologies, my prince. I was merely reading the mark. It does indeed denote great wisdo
m. You are most fortunate.”

  “He did say he does not like tricks,” murmured Hylus, looking displeased with the wizard. “His mother was much the same at that age.”

  “My apologies,” Niryn said again. “I hope you will allow me to redeem myself another day, Prince Tobin.”

  “If you wish, my lord.” For once Tobin was grateful when Orun loomed up behind him to shepherd him away. When he was sure they were out of sight of the dais he pushed his sleeve back and looked at his birthmark, wondering if Niryn had done anything to it. But it seemed just the same.

  That went well enough, I suppose,” Orun sniffed as he escorted them back to their room. “You would do better to be civil to Niryn, though. He’s a powerful man.”

  Tobin wondered angrily if any of the powerful men in Ero were pleasant. Orun left them with a promise to feast with Tobin in a few days and went on his way.

  Ki made a face at Orun’s back, then turned to Tobin with concern. “Did the wizard hurt you?”

  “No. I just don’t like to be pawed at.”

  Molay had laid out a pair of fine leather jerkins for them, similar to those Korin and Caliel had worn, but they were far too stiff and fancy for Tobin’s taste.

  Instead, he sent Ki to find the worn leathers they’d brought with them from home. Molay was clearly dismayed at the thought of Tobin wearing such plain garb but Tobin happily ignored him, glad to be back in comfortable old clothes again. Gathering up their swords, helms, and bows, he and Ki followed the waiting page to the main entrance.

  So happy was he to finally be doing something warriorlike, he didn’t notice the odd looks they were attracting until Ki tugged on his sleeve and tilted his chin at two robed noblemen staring at them disapprovingly.

  “I should be carrying your gear,” Ki muttered. “They must think we’re a couple of peasant soldiers who wandered in from the street!”

  The page heard him. Throwing his shoulders back, he cried out in a ringing voice, “Make way for His Highness, Prince Tobin of Ero!”