— 43 —

Tobin rode the last mile to the keep at a gallop, overjoyed to come home again at last. Emerging from the trees at the bottom of the meadow, he reined in and looked around in surprise.

“Damn!” Ki exclaimed, coming up beside him with the others. “Looks like the king’s brought half of Ero out with us!”

Across the river, the yellowed meadow had been transformed into a village of tents and makeshift stalls. Tobin hadn’t wanted any fuss, but this looked like a country fair. Scanning the tradesmen’s banners fluttering on poles, he saw every sort from bakers to jess makers. There were hosts of performers, of course, including the troupe from the Golden Foot Theater.

“We’re a long way from the city here,” Erius said laughing, having overheard. “I wanted to be sure you boys have suitable entertainment while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Tobin replied. He’d already counted five minstrel banners and six pastry makers. He wondered what Cook would do if they tried to invade her kitchen. She had been a warrior, after all, and didn’t take kindly to interference with her cooking.

“Look there!” Ki exclaimed, pointing up the hill. Nari had sent word of the fire, but it was still a shock to see those blackened windows where Arkoniel’s rooms had been. What had the wizard been doing? Tobin wondered, though he knew better than to say that aloud. Arkoniel’s presence here was still a secret; the wizard was probably hiding at Lhel’s camp.

Nari and Cook came out to greet them and made a great fuss over Korin, welcoming him to the house.

“And just look at you two!” Nari exclaimed, standing on tiptoe to kiss Tobin and Ki. “You’re all grown since we saw you last.”

Tobin was surprised at how short she seemed. As a child he’d always thought her tall.

Later, as he gave the Companions a tour of the place, he noticed other changes, things apparent only to someone who’d lived here before. The larger herb garden below the barracks, for instance, and the fact that the kitchen garden had been spaded up to three times its old size. Except for one new squint-eyed stableboy, the household had not grown.

The house was brighter than he remembered, too, more homelike, but that was Nari’s doing. She’d furnished every room and brought out all the best linen, plate, and tapestries. Even the third floor was cheery in daylight, the rooms on the left side of the corridor lined with cots for the small army of servants that had accompanied them. Arkoniel’s old rooms across the hall were bricked up until repairs could be made.

Slipping away as the others prepared for supper that night, he climbed the stairs again and walked slowly to the far end of the hallway. The tower door was locked, the brass handle tarnished with neglect. He rattled the latch, wondering if Nari still had the key. Standing there, he remembered how frightened he used to be, imagining his mother’s angry ghost staring at him through the wood. Now it was just a door.

A wave of longing swept over him. Tobin rested his forehead against the smooth wood, and whispered, “Are you there, Mother?”

“Tobin?”

He jumped, but it was only Ki at the top of the stairs.

“There you are. Cook wants you to taste the soup, and here you are not even dressed yet—Say, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just looking around.”

Ki saw through that, of course. Coming closer, he cautiously brushed the wood with his fingers. “I’d forgotten. Is she in there?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ki leaned against the wall beside him. “Do you miss her?”

Tobin shrugged. “I didn’t think so, but just now I remembered her the way she was on her good days before—Well, before that last day. Almost like a real mother.” He pulled out the ring and showed Ki his mother’s serene profile. “That’s what she was like, before Brother and I were born.”

Ki said nothing, but leaned his shoulder against Tobin’s.

Tobin sighed. “I’ve been thinking. I’m going to leave the doll up there.”

“But she said to keep it, didn’t she?”

“I don’t need it anymore. He finds me anyway, whether I have it or not. I’m tired, Ki. Tired of hiding it, hiding him.” Hiding myself, too, he thought, but bit back the words. Looking around, he let out a halfhearted laugh. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been here, hasn’t it? It’s not how I remembered it. It all seemed so big and dark then, even after you came to live here.”

“We got bigger.” Grinning, Ki tugged Tobin away. “Come on, I’ll prove it.”

Nari had kept their old bedchamber just as they’d left it, and next door the toy city and a few childish sculptures were gathering dust in their places. In the bedchamber, the suit of mail Tobin’s father had given him still hung on its rack in the corner.

“Go on,” Ki urged. “You haven’t tried it in ages.”

Tobin pulled the hauberk over his head, then scowled at their paired reflections in the glass.

“Father said when this fit, I’d be old enough to ride off to war with him.”

“Well, you’re tall enough,” said Ki.

He was, but still too slender. The shoulders of the hauberk shirt slumped halfway to his elbows, and the sleeves hung well past his fingertips. The coif kept sliding down over his eyes.

“You just haven’t filled out yet.” Ki clapped the old helmet on Tobin’s head and rapped his knuckles against it. “That’s a fit, at least. Cheer up, for hell’s sake! The king said he’d let us ride coast patrol when we get back. Better pirates and bandits than no fighting at all, eh?”

“I guess so.” Tobin caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find Brother watching him from the shadows. He had on the same sort of mail, but his fit. Tobin tugged the hauberk off and slung it over the stand. When he looked again, the ghost was gone.

For the first time in Tobin’s life, the great hall was filled with comrades and huntsmen, music and laughter. A fire crackled warmly on the hearth, illuminating the tables set up around it and throwing shadows on the painted walls. Players strutted between the tables and the minstrel gallery across the hall was packed with musicians. The whole house rang with the sounds of celebration.

Cook had evidently come to some sort of agreement with the city folk, and proudly helped serve the lavish feast. Dressed in a new gown of brown wool, Nari served as their steward. The only other women present were servants and entertainers. Pregnant again, Aliya had remained at her mother’s house under the watchful eye of the drysians.

Seated in a place of honor beside Tobin, Tharin looked around wistfully. “I haven’t seen the place like this since we were boys.”

“We had some fine times here!” the king said, clinking his mazer against Tobin’s. “Your grandfather led a fine hunt—stag, bear, even catamounts! I look forward to tomorrow’s ride!”

“We have something special planned for your name day, too,” Korin said, sharing a wink with his father.

The warmth and company raised Tobin’s spirits and he joined in gladly with the songs and drinking games. By midnight he was almost as drunk as Korin. Surrounded by friends and music, he could let himself forget prophecies and past sorrows for a little while; he was master of this house at last.

“We’ll always be friends, won’t we?” he said, leaning on Korin’s shoulder.

“Friends?” Korin laughed. “Brothers, more like. A toast to my little brother!”

Everyone cheered, waving their mazers about. Tobin joined in, but the laughter died in his throat as he caught sight of two dark figures lurking in a shadowed corner of the minstrel’s gallery. They stepped forward, oblivious to the fiddlers sawing away beside them; it was Brother and their mother. Tobin went cold at the sight of her. This was not the kind woman who’d taught him to write and draw. Bloody-faced, eyes burning with hatred, she pointed an accusing finger. Then both ghosts faded away, but not before Tobin saw what she held under her arm.

He scarcely remembered anything of the banquet after that. When the last dessert was finished he pleaded weariness and hurried upstairs. His traveling chest was still locked, but when he burrowed down through the tunics and shirts the doll was gone, just as he’d feared.

“Fine. I’m glad!” Tobin raged at the empty room. “Stay here together, like you always did!” He meant it, and couldn’t understand why tears welled up to blind him.