The Bone Doll's Twin

by Lynn Flewelling

  “Oh, yes! Lots,” the boy said, sounding quite cheerful about it.

  Tobin pulled the bed curtains tight, then exchanged a troubled look with Ki. The bed might be large enough for a whole family, but they settled down close enough to touch shoulders all the same.

  They were awakened sometime later by ominous scuffling and clacking sounds that came from all directions at once.

  “Baldus, what is that?” Tobin called out. Someone had put out all the lamps. He couldn’t see a thing.

  The noises grew louder and surrounded the bed. Both boys lurched up onto their knees, back to back.

  The unnatural glow of lightstones broke in on them as dead white hands yanked back the bed curtains.

  Tobin choked back a cry of alarm. The room was filled with shaggy humped figures that moaned and clacked long white bones together in their hands as they marched around the bed.

  The cry quickly turned to a muffled laugh. Even in this light, he recognized Korin and Caliel beneath the black and white paint that covered their faces. They had on long black cloaks and what appeared to be wigs made out of frayed rope. The light came from several lightstones set on long poles that some of the others carried. There were too many for this to be only the Companions; looking more closely, he made out some of the young noble boys and girls who hung about the training grounds. Tobin could smell the wine on them, too. Baldus was crouched on his pallet by the door, both hands pressed over his mouth, but he looked to be shaking with laughter rather than fear.

  “Are you ghosts?” Tobin asked, trying hard to keep a straight face.

  “We are the ghosts of the Old Palace!” Caliel wailed. “You must prove your worth, New Companion. You and your squire must enter the forbidden chamber and sit on the throne of the mad queen.”

  “Very well. Come on, Ki.” Tobin slid out of bed and pulled on his discarded trousers.

  Their ghostly escort blindfolded them, then hoisted them up and carried them for what felt like a long way to a cold, quiet place that smelled of rot and the sea.

  When Tobin was set on his feet and the blindfold pulled away, he found himself standing beside Ki in a corridor similar to most they’d seen in the Old Palace, except that this one had gone to ruin. The fish pool down its center was empty and choked with dead leaves, and stars showed through holes in the roof overhead. What murals remained on the rain-washed walls were flaking and faded. Before them was a set of doors similar to those at the front of the Palace, but these were sheathed in gold and sealed with great plugs of lead pounded in around their edges and struck with official-looking imprints.

  His captors didn’t look quite so silly in their robes and wigs here.

  “This is the old throne room, the forbidden chamber,” Korin intoned. “Here Mad Agnalain had a hundred traitors executed in a single day and sat drinking their blood. Here she took a dozen consorts, then sent them to their dooms. On this very throne she commanded that five hundred crow cages be set up on the high road, from here to Ylani, and that every cage be filled. She still walks these halls, and she still sits upon that throne.” He raised a white hand and pointed at Tobin. “Here, in the sight of these witnesses, you and your squire must join her. You must enter this chamber and sit in the mad queen’s lap or you are not one with us, and no warriors!”

  Their escort dragged them through a side door and into a long room where a narrow window stood open. From here, they had to crawl onto a wide ledge high above the gardens and climb into the audience chamber beyond through a broken shutter.

  It was a simple enough matter to get into the chamber, but once in, it was as if they’d dropped into a black void. They could see nothing at first, and the echo of every whisper and shuffling step seemed to be swallowed up in endless space around them.

  Tobin could hear the others on the ledge outside and knew they were being listened to. Someone tossed in one of the glowing stones, a tiny one that cast light no more than a few feet around. Still, it was better than nothing.

  “Tobin, son of Rhius!” a woman’s voice whispered from the darkness.

  Tobin jumped as Ki clamped a hand around his wrist.

  “Did you hear that?” Ki whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think it’s her? Queen Agnalain?”

  “I don’t know.” He tried to sense what he felt when Brother was around, but the place just felt drafty and deserted.

  “Come on, they’re just playing tricks on us. If there really was a ghost who’d kill us, they wouldn’t send us in, would they?”

  “You don’t think so?” muttered Ki, but he followed when Tobin handed him the lightstone and strode off into the darkness.

  At first it felt like stepping off a cliff, but with the light-stone behind him and the starlight that filtered in around the shuttered windows to his right, Tobin soon made out the rows of pillars that marched away into the darkness on either side of the long chamber.

  This had been Queen Ghërilain’s audience chamber, her throne room. He paused, visualizing the one at the New Palace. The throne there had been at the end farthest from the doors. The doors here should be to his right, so the throne would be to his far left.

  “Prince Tobin!” the ghostly voice called. It was coming from his right instead.

  He stopped again, recalling the toy palace his father had made for him. It had been a simple box with a roof that lifted off, but inside had been the queen’s throne room. This room. And the throne had been in the middle, not at the end, with the golden tablet of the Oracle beside it. Squinting, he could just make out a dark shape to his right that could be a dais. Suddenly he wanted very much to see that throne, and touch that golden tablet for himself. Even if there was a ghost there, she was his kin.

  He turned and bumped into Ki, who jumped and grabbed for him again. “What is it? Did you see something?”

  Tobin felt for his friend’s shoulder; sure enough, Ki was shivering.

  Putting his mouth close to Ki’s ear, he whispered, “There aren’t any ghosts here. Korin and the others were just trying to scare us with their stories tonight so we’d be worked up for this. I mean, look what they had on! Who knows better than I do what a real ghost looks like?”

  Ki grinned, and for a fleeting moment Tobin considered turning Brother loose here to show the others what a real spirit was capable of. Instead, he raised his voice for the benefit of those listening behind them and said, “Come on, Ki, the throne is just over here. Let’s go visit my grandmother.”

  Their footsteps echoed bravely in the unseen vaulting overhead, disturbing some creatures that ruffled the night air with their soft wings. Perhaps it was the spirits of the dead, but if so, they kept their distance.

  Just as he’d guessed, the throne stood on a broad platform in the middle of the chamber. It was approached by two stairs and was shrouded in some dark covering.

  “We have to sit on the throne,” Ki reminded him. “After you, Your Highness.”

  Tobin acknowledged Ki’s mocking bow with a salute Nari would not have approved of and climbed the steps to the throne. As he bent to draw aside the cloth that shrouded it, the dark stuff gathered itself together into a white-faced figure that leaped at him, brandishing a sword and shrieking, “Traitor, traitor, execute him!”

  More startled than frightened, Tobin would have tumbled backward down the stairs if Ki hadn’t been there to catch him and push him upright again. Both of them recognized that voice, distorted as it was.

  It was Aliya.

  “Good—good evening, Grandmother!” he managed, as the rest of the supposed ghosts ran over with their lights to join them. He tried to grasp her hand and kiss it, but she snatched it away.

  “Oh, he’s no fun at all!” Aliya cried out, stamping her foot in frustration.

  “I told you he’d stand fast!” Korin hugged Tobin off his feet. “You owe me ten sesters, Alben. By the Flame, no blood of mine is a coward. And you, too, Ki, though I saw you shaking when you went in. Don’t worry; you should h
ave seen Garol.” Korin reached out and pulled off the other squire’s wig. “He fell down the stairs and almost dashed his own brains out.”

  “I tripped,” Garol grumbled.

  “I nearly did, too,” Tobin admitted. “But only because Aliya surprised me. She hides better than she haunts.”

  “I suppose you’d know?” she shot back.

  “Yes, I do. Korin, may I see the golden tablet?”

  The prince cocked his head. “The what?”

  “The golden tablet with the Prophecy of Afra on it. It’s here somewhere beside the throne—”

  “There’s nothing like that here.” Korin took Tobin’s arm and walked him around the dais. As he’d said, there was no sign of a tablet. “Come on, you two, we’ve got to celebrate your great triumph here tonight.”

  Pleased as he was to have passed the test, Tobin was terribly disappointed not to find the tablet. And how could Korin not know of it, growing up here his whole life? Could his father have been mistaken?

  As they walked back toward the window, he twisted around for a final look, then pulled free of the prince and exclaimed, “Oh, look! Korin, look!”

  There was a ghost here, after all. The carved throne was undraped now and a woman sat upon it. The jostling and noise of the other Companions seemed to fade away around Tobin as he gazed at her. He didn’t recognize her but he knew who she was: one of Those Who Came Before—no longer just a figure in a box, or a name in a tale, or one of Korin’s silly conjurings, either. This was a ghost as real and knowing as his own twin.

  She wore a golden crown and armor of ancient design. Staring at him with eyes as dark and unblinking as Brother’s, she rose and unsheathed the sword that hung at her side, then held it out to him like an offering on her open palms.

  And there at the foot of the dais stood the golden tablet, as tall as Tobin was himself. It caught the light like a mirror and the lines of lettering on it shimmered and moved as though they were written in fire. He couldn’t read the script but he knew by heart what they said.

  He wanted to walk back and speak to the queen, learn her name and touch the sword she held, but he couldn’t move. He looked around to find everyone staring at him, their faces strange and wary behind their paint. When Tobin looked back at the throne again he saw only darkness. There was no throne, no queen, and no tablet. He was too far away to see anything at all.

  Then Ki grinned and said, “You fooled them well, my prince. You even had me looking!”

  Korin burst out laughing. “By the Four, cousin, you’re a quick one! You’ve turned our own joke back on us.”

  “The little trickster!”

  Aliya grabbed Tobin and kissed him on the lips. “You terrible child! You even scared me!”

  Tobin couldn’t help stealing a last look back toward the throne as they continued on. He wasn’t the only one to do so.

  His victory celebration took place in the gardens below, with wine and cakes the Companions had stolen from the kitchens.

  The old audience chamber was forbidden ground, the seals on its door real, though no one seemed to know quite why. Korin and Caliel had invented the game years ago, and carried it on in defiance of the king and Master Porion.

  Korin and his marauders took Tobin and Ki to a sheltered bank under a tangled overhang of rose hedge. Lying on the soft, damp grass, they passed the wineskins and cakes.

  “So you weren’t scared a bit?” Alben jeered.

  “Were you when you had to go?” Tobin shot back. “He was! Don’t let him tell you any differently,” Aliya scoffed.

  Everyone laughed except Alben, who sniffed and flipped his long, black hair over his shoulder, looking offended.

  “It’s because you know of ghosts already, isn’t it?” Lynx asked, made bold by the wine. “I don’t mean any offense, Prince Tobin, but we all know the story. They say your twin was stillborn with her eyes open, or under a caul, and turned demon so that your family had to leave the city. They say the ghost followed you all the way to the mountains. Is it true? Do you really have a demon twin?”

  Tobin shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Just a haunting spirit.”

  Ki began to sputter, but Tobin nudged his foot and he subsided.

  “My father says that’s what comes of consorting with wizards,” Zusthra put in. “Go messing about with magic too much and you end up with all sorts of creatures you don’t care for lurking about.”

  “You wouldn’t want Lord Niryn to hear that opinion, I’m sure,” someone said, and Tobin realized that the would-be squire, Moriel, had been with them all along. He just hadn’t noticed him under the wig and paint until he spoke. “Lord Niryn believes that wizards can help strengthen the throne of Skala. What do you say, Korin? You see enough of the fellow.”

  Korin took a long pull from the wineskin and laid his head in Aliya’s lap. “My father’s wizard has eyes like two brown stones polished by the sea surf. I can’t ever tell what’s going on behind those cold hard orbs. So long as he keeps us in lightstones and tricks, I’ve nothing against the man, but when I’m king I won’t need any wizards to win my wars for me, or to guard my throne. Just give me you lot!” He waved the wineskin, spraying its contents liberally over those lying closest to him. “Skalan steel and a brave Skalan to wield it!”

  This toast led to singing, and the singing to more drinking. Even Tobin let himself get a little drunk before Ki hauled him off to bed in disgust.

  Chapter 42

  Tobin and Ki came off the training field a few days later to find Tharin and half a dozen of his men waiting for them. Tobin hardly recognized them at first. Koni and the others wore new uniforms similar to those of the King’s Guard, with silver badges instead of gold. Tharin was dressed like a lord in somber brown edged with black, and wore a silver chain.

  “My prince,” said Tharin. “The steward sends word, asking if your highness will inspect your house today. Everything has been made ready for you.”

  Tobin strode up to hug him, he was so glad to see a familiar face, but Tharin gently held him off and shook his head ever so slightly. Ki hung back, looking like he wanted to do the same.

  They got leave from the arms master and followed Tharin into the labyrinth of noble dwellings that filled the grounds between the two great palaces.

  The house that had belonged to Tobin’s mother was actually a small wing attached to the outer wall of the Old Palace, surrounded by its own walls and courts. The gardens inside the main courtyard had been well tended, but once inside the house itself Tobin felt a strange emptiness close in around him, even though the hall had fine carved furnishings and brightly painted walls. Half a dozen servants in livery bowed to him as he entered. The steward was a middle-aged man Tharin introduced as Ulies, old Mynir’s son.

  “I grieve for your loss,” Tobin told him.

  Ulies bowed again. “And I for yours, my prince. I am honored that he served you and your family, and hope that I may do the same.”

  Tobin turned slowly, taking in the great hall, with its ancient sideboards, hangings, and elegant carvings on the beams and walls. A broad staircase led up to his left.

  “Your father carried you down those stairs the day you were named,” Tharin told him. “You should have seen this room, filled with all the great nobles of Skala. The king himself stood just there at the bottom of the stairs with Prince Korin on his shoulders. By the Four, how proud we all were!”

  Tobin looked up at him. “Where was my mother? Was—was she well then?”

  Tharin sighed. “No, Tobin, she wasn’t. From the night of your birth she wasn’t, but that’s no fault of yours. She stayed up in her room.”

  “May I see it?”

  “Of course. This is your house now and you can go anywhere you like. But the upstairs rooms haven’t been lived in since your mother left. Your father and I used chambers on this floor when we were in Ero, and the men have a barracks in the back court. Come on.”

  Tobin looked around for Ki. “Well, come on!”r />
  They were halfway up the stairs when Brother appeared above them, waiting for him at the top.

  He shouldn’t have been there. Tobin hadn’t called him all day.

  Actually, he hadn’t called him since that first night, he realized guiltily. There’d been so much to see and do here that he’d completely forgotten.

  Yet Brother was there all the same, staring at him with black, accusing eyes. Tobin sighed inwardly and let him stay.

  “Did you see my twin, Tharin?” he asked. “The one who died?”

  “No, I was away at Atyion that night. By the time I returned all had been dealt with.”

  “Why didn’t Father ever talk about that, and tell me what the demon really was?”

  “I don’t know.” Tharin paused at the top of the stairs, not realizing that his hand brushed Brother’s shoulder as he spoke. “Perhaps out of respect for your mother? She couldn’t bear the mention of it, especially in the early days. It made her quite—wild. And then there was all the gossip around the city of ghosts and hauntings. After a while none of us spoke of it at all.” He shook his head. “I assumed he’d said something to you on his own. It wasn’t my place.”

  He lifted the latch of a door just across from the head of the staircase. “This is it, Tobin, the room where you were born.”

  The corridor floor was freshly laid with rushes, and smelled of strewing herbs and lamp oil. In the room beyond, however, Tobin recognized the stale smell of disuse. The shutters were open but the room was dismal and cold. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms as he stepped inside.

  It had been a lady’s bedchamber. A few tapestries still hung on the walls—faded scenes of ocean creatures and forest hunts. There were fish of some sort carved on the mantel, very pretty, but the hearth was cold and full of soot, and there were no ornaments or dolls on the bare stone mantel.

  Across the room Brother stood at the foot of a high, tall-posted bed with a bare mattress. He was naked now, and Tobin could see the line of blood-crusted stitching on his chest again. As Tobin watched he climbed onto the bed and lay down on his back. Then he was gone.