— 38 —

Aliya’s miscarriage delayed the royal progress for nearly a month and it was whispered around the Palatine that some of the king’s advisors wanted Korin to put her aside; the details of the miscarriage could not be entirely suppressed. But a divorce would have brought far too much attention to the reasons and, moreover, Korin did seem genuinely to love her, though Tobin and the other Companions could not fathom why, as marriage had not tempered her manner toward them.

“Guess she must be sweeter in private,” Ki groused, after she’d slighted him in the hall one day.

“It would be worth her while to be, given what she has to lose,” Nikides agreed. “And she’s smart enough to know it. Look how she’s got the king doting on her. She knows who cuts the loaf.”

Erius had grown immensely fond of her and had visited her daily with gifts during the weeks of her seclusion.

She recovered quickly under her mother’s care and that of half the drysians of the grove. By the time she was well enough to sail the sorrow had passed and people were speaking hopefully behind their hands of the good effect fresh sea air might have on a young bride.

After cooling their heels for so long, Tobin and the others greeted the departure announcement with jubilation. Bored beyond measure with city life, the prospect of a voyage, even in the dead of winter, was a welcome escape.

Tobin had reasons of his own to look forward to it. A week before they were to leave, Iya made another of her unexpected visits.

“This is a rare opportunity for you,” she told him as they sat alone in his mother’s house. “Never forget that you are meant to rule this land. Learn as much about it as you can. See with the eyes your teacher Raven has given you.”

“Because I’ll have to protect Skala from Plenimar?” said Tobin.

“No, because you may have to win it from your uncle or cousin.”

“A war, you mean? But I thought the Lightbearer would—I don’t know—”

“Smooth your way?” Iya gave him a grim smile. “In my experience, the gods create opportunities; it’s left to us to grasp them. Nothing is assured.”

That night she told him of the vision she’d had at Afra before his birth. “I’ve visited the Oracle since then, but Illior has shown me nothing different. The future is a frayed rope and we must twist up the strands as best we can.”

“Then I could fail?” The thought sent a chill over Tobin.

Iya clasped his hands in hers. “Yes. But you must not.”

They set sail on the twelfth of Dostin, the masts of their ships gay with banners and garlands. Korin took his Companions and guard, and a small household of servants. Aliya was accompanied by her mother and several aunts, servants, two drysians, masters of her hounds and hawks, and a portable Dalnan fertility shrine.

The weather was frigid but calm enough for coastal sailing, and the little fleet made first landfall at Cirna five days later. Tobin was delighted to see this holding at last, important in its way as Atyion; but coming here also meant traveling with its current Protector. Lord Niryn would sail with them, and play host when they arrived at the fortress.

Niryn met them on board the morning of their departure, looking more noble than wizard. Under a cloak lined with winter fox, he wore robes of thick silver silk trimmed with pearls.

“Welcome, my princes!” he cried as heartily as if he were the captain of the venture.

Tobin studied the skillful stitching on the wizard’s sleeve, carefully not thinking of anything but that.

The village at Cirna was nothing but a cluster of rude cottages above the sheltered harbor on the east side of the isthmus. Their welcome was jubilant, however, and set the pattern for the rest of the journey. A handsome, dashing young future king with a beautiful wife on his arm was a happy sight; no one outside the Palatine knew of his first showing as a warrior.

Korin made a short speech, then Niryn led them up a frozen switchback road to the fortress that commanded the isthmus road. It was an imposing pile and Tobin blushed, thinking of how he’d so casually tried to give it away. Sir Larenth might have been a poor choice to rule such a stronghold, but Tobin would have preferred him to its current Protector.

The fortress keep was nothing like Atyion. Ancient, damp, and cheerless, it was less a noble residence than a barracks. Disliking both it and their host, Tobin spent as much time as he could exploring with his friends.

The parapets all faced north. The high curtain wall had three levels, with wooden walkways and loopholes for shooting. The top of the wall was open, with a broad allure to stand on and merlons with arrow loops. The boys stood at the crenels between, imagining an enemy force bearing down on them along the isthmus road. The fortress had been built at the narrowest point of the land bridge and the sheer fall of the cliffs on either side offered little purchase, except for the steep track down to the village.

From the walls they could look east over the Inner Sea, then turn and, less than a mile away, see the distant expanse of the Osiat.

“Look at that!” Ki exclaimed. “The Inner Sea is the color of turquoise today, but the Osiat is like ink.”

“Is that Aurënen over there?” Ruan asked, pointing at peaks visible far off in the west across the water.

“No, that lies much farther south,” Tobin replied, recalling the maps he and Ki had studied in the palace library. “If you keep going west from there, you’d end up in Zengat, I think.”

Riding along the headlands, they peered over the sheer, dizzying cliffs on the western side. Far below they could see the backs of circling gulls, and below that, the white curl of surf against the sheer stone face.

“The isthmus is like a fortress wall,” said Tobin. “To get to that little point of land down there, you’d have to sail back all the way around Skala.”

“That’s why there are hardly any settlements on the west side,” said Nikides. “The land is steeper on that side of the mountains, and there aren’t many good harbors. And Grandfather says the Three Lands all face Kouros because it’s the heart of the world.”

“Good. That means we don’t have to sail all the way ’round, at least,” said Ruan, who was prone to seasickness.

But Tobin was still looking at that tantalizing jut of land in the distance. It thrust out against the unexpected blue of the Osiat Sea and was covered by what looked like oak trees. What would it be like to walk there? He’d probably never know and the thought made him oddly sad. This windswept ribbon of land, and the rugged mountains, which ran like a spine down the middle of the Skalan peninsula, effectively cut the country in half.

They left Cirna and began a halting progress along the jagged northern coast. Sometimes they stayed in castles, and sometimes in cities, meeting the same acclaim, the same blessings and speeches and toasts at each port of call. By spring, they’d only gotten as far as Volchi, but Tobin had already filled two journals with military observations. Thoughts of other sorts he knew better than to commit to paper.