— 49 —

The dreary winter dragged on in Ero. Mourning banners for Aliya hung wet and tattered on every house and shop. Inside the Palatine walls everyone from the king to the lowest kitchen scullion wore black or dun and would for a year and a day. And the rains continued to fall.

The palace servants grumbled and burned censers of acrid herbs in the hallways. In the new Companions’ mess, the cooks brewed bitter drysian teas to purify their blood.

“It’s this open winter,” Molay explained, when Tobin and Ki complained of it. “When the ground doesn’t freeze, the foul humors breed thick, especially in the cities. No good will come of it.”

He was soon proven right. The Red and Black Death erupted with renewed fury all along the eastern coast.

Niyrn quietly moved Nalia, now nearly twenty, to Cirna. Thanks to their remote location and lack of shipping trade, the fortress and village had been untouched by disease. The girl and her nurse were dismayed by this grim, lonely new home, but Niryn vowed to visit more often.

By Dostin the deathbirds had burned more than twenty houses in Ero harbor, with their plague-ridden occupants nailed up inside.

But that did not stop the spread of it. A plague house was discovered near the corn dealer’s market, and the contagion spread through the surrounding neighborhood. Seven tenements and a temple of Sakor were burned there, but not before some of the terrified inhabitants escaped to spread the pestilence.

In mid-Dostin the Companions’ favorite theater, the Golden Foot, was struck, and the whole company of actors, along with their dressers, wigmakers, and all the servants were condemned by quarantine.

Tobin and Ki wept at the news. These were the same players who’d entertained them at the keep during the name day hunt; they’d made friends among the actors.

The Foot lay just five streets down from the Palatine gate and the loss was compounded when the king canceled all audiences and sent word forbidding any Companion to leave the palace until further notice. With all entertainments forbidden for the first month of mourning, the boys found themselves trapped.

Master Porion urged them to continue with their training, but Korin was too despondent and often too drunk. Dressed in black, he moped alone in his rooms or walked in the rooftop gardens, hardly answering when anyone spoke to him. The only companionship he seemed able to tolerate was that of his father or Niryn.

The winds shifted at month’s end and the drysians predicted that the shift would cleanse the air. Instead, a new and more devastating sickness struck. By all reports it had started in the countryside, with outbreaks reported from Ylani to Greyhead. In Ero the first cases were seen around the lower markets, and before any ban could be imposed it had already swept up to the citadel.

It was a pox, and began with soreness in the throat, followed within a day by the spread of small black pustules over the torso. If it stopped at the neck, the patient survived, but more often than not the spots spread to the face, then into the eyes, mouth, and finally, the throat. It reached its crisis within five days, at the end of which the sufferer was either dead, or hideously scarred and often blind. The Aurënfaie had seen such illnesses before and within days of the first outbreak there were few ’faie to be found in the city.

Niryn declared this the work of traitorous wizards turned necromancer. The Harriers redoubled their hunt despite more open dissent, especially against the burning of priests. Riots broke out around the Lightbearer’s temples. The king’s soldiers quelled such uprisings without mercy, but the burnings were once more held outside the city walls.

Illior’s crescent began to appear everywhere—scrawled on walls, painted on lintels, even crudely drawn in white trailor’s chalk on the mourning banners. People slipped into the Lightbearer’s temples under cover of dark to make offerings and seek guidance.

Wizards proved strangely immune to the pox, but Iya did not dare risk a visit to Tobin for fear of carrying the infection to him. Instead, she used Arkoniel’s translocation spell to send small ivory amulets inscribed with sigils of Illior to him, Ki, and Tharin.

As the outbreak worsened, piles of pox-ridden corpses mounted in the streets, abandoned by their frightened families at the first sign of illness, or perhaps simply dying where they’d fallen after blindly seeking help that never came. Anyone who even appeared infirm risked being stoned in the streets. The king gave orders for the sick to remain inside under pain of execution by the city guard.

Soon, however, there were few to enforce the order. Strong men—especially soldiers, seemed to be the most susceptible and the least likely to recover, while many who were old and infirm escaped with nothing worse than scars.

As the city sank into despair, Iya and her Wormhole compatriots grew bolder. It was they who drew the first crescents on city walls, and they who whispered to any who would listen: “‘So long as a daughter of Thelátimos’ line defends and rules, Skala shall never be subjugated.’ She is coming!”

Twenty-two wizards now lived in secret below the abandoned Aurënfaie shops. Arkoniel’s young shape changer, Eyoli, had joined them there when snow cut him off from Arkoniel’s camp in the mountains.

Cut off from their customary entertainments, the Companions soon grew restless. Tobin went back to his sculpting and gave lessons to any who wanted to learn. Ki showed a knack for it, and Lutha, too. Lynx could draw and paint, and they began to collaborate on designs for breastplates and helmets. Nikides shyly revealed a talent for juggling.

Caliel attempted to organize a company of players from available talent among the nobles, but after a few weeks everyone was thoroughly bored with each other. Cut off from the ladies of the town, most of the older boys made do with serving girls again. Zusthra was betrothed to a young duchess, but no marriages could be celebrated during the first months of official mourning.

The female pains troubled Tobin more often now, no matter what the moon’s phase was. Usually it came on as a fleeting ache, but other times, especially when the moon was new or full, he could almost feel something moving in his belly, the way Aliya’s child had. It was a frightening feeling and worse for having no one to talk to about it. He began to have new dreams, too, or rather one dream, repeated night after night with variations.

It began in the tower at the keep. He was standing in the middle of his mother’s old room there, surrounded by broken furniture and piles of moldy cloth and wool. Brother stepped from the shadows and led him by the hand down the stairs. It was too dark to see; Tobin had to trust the ghost and the feel of the worn stone steps under his feet.

It was all very clear, just as he remembered it, but when they reached the bottom of the stairs the door swung open and suddenly they were standing at the edge of a high precipice above the sea. It seemed like the cliffs at Cirna at first, but when he looked behind him, he saw green rolling hills marching into the distance and jagged stone peaks beyond. An old man watched him from the top of one of the hills. He was too far away to make out his features, but he wore the robes of a wizard and waved to Tobin as if he knew him.

Brother was still with him, and drew him away to the very edge of the cliff until Tobin’s toes hung over the edge. Far below, a broad harbor shone like a mirror between two long arms of land. By some trick of the dream, he could see their faces reflected there but his was the face of a woman and Brother had turned into Ki. In the way of dreams, it surprised him every time.

Still teetering precariously on the brink, the woman she’d become turned to kiss Ki. She could hear the stranger on the hill shouting to her, but the wind carried his words away. Just as her lips met Ki’s the wind pushed her over the edge and she fell—

It always ended that way and Tobin would wake to find himself sitting bolt upright in bed, heart pounding and an erection throbbing between his legs. He had no illusions about that anymore. On those nights when Ki stirred in his sleep and reached out to him, Tobin fled and spent the rest of the night wandering the palace corridors. Yearning for things he dared not hope for, he pressed his fingers to his lips, trying to recall the feel of that kiss.

The dream always left him low-spirited and a little scatterbrained the next day. More than once he caught himself staring at Ki, wondering what it would feel like actually to kiss him. He was quick to squelch such thoughts and Ki remained oblivious, distracted by the more tangible affections of several welcoming servant girls.

Ki slipped away with them more often now and sometimes didn’t come back until dawn. By unspoken agreement, Tobin did not complain of these sorties and Ki did not brag of them, at least not to him.

One windy night in Klesin, Tobin was alone once again, pondering designs for a set of jeweled brooches for Korin’s mourning cloak. It was a stormy night and the wind made lonely sounds in the eaves outside. Nik and Lutha had come by looking for him earlier, but Tobin was in no mood for company. Ki was off with Ranar, the girl in charge of the linens.

The work allowed him to escape his racing thoughts for a while. He was good at sculpting, even famous for it. During the previous year’s royal progress, pieces he’d made for his friends had caught the fancies of their hosts. Many had since sent gifts, along with precious metals and jewels, requesting a bit of jewelry to remember him by. The exchange of gifts was not only acceptable, Nikides had observed, but held the possibility of connections of other sorts being made later on. Who wouldn’t want to be thought well of by the future king’s beloved cousin? Tobin had read enough history to appreciate the wisdom of this advice and accepted most commissions.

Nonetheless, it was the work itself he really cared for. To bring an image in his head to reality in his hands pleased him in a way nothing else did.

He was nearly finished with the first wax carving when Baldus brought word of a visitor.

“I’m busy. Who is it?” Tobin grumbled.

“It’s me, Tobin,” Tharin said, looking in over the page’s head. His cloak was rain spattered and his long, pale hair windblown. “Thought you might like a game of bakshi.”

“Come in!” Tobin exclaimed, his dark mood falling away. It had been weeks since the two of them had had a quiet moment alone. “Baldus, take Sir Tharin’s cloak and fetch us wine. And send for something to eat—a dark loaf and some cold beef and cheese. And a pot of mustard, too! Never mind the wine. Bring us ale.”

Tharin chuckled as the boy ran off. “That’s barracks fare, my prince.”

“And I still prefer it and the company that goes with it.”

Tharin joined him at the workbench and examined the sketches and half-finished carvings. “Your mother would be proud. I remember when she gave you that first lump of wax.”

Tobin glanced up in surprise; Tharin seldom spoke of her.

“Your father, too,” he added. “But she was the artist of the pair. You should have seen him working on that toy city of yours. You’d have thought he was rebuilding Ero full scale, the way he labored over it.”

“I wish I could have shown him these.” Tobin pointed at three miniature wood-and-clay structures on a shelf over the bench. “Remember the Old Palace he made?”

Tharin grinned. “Oh, yes. Out of a fish-salting box, as I recall.”

“I never noticed! Well, these aren’t much better. As soon as the plague bans are lifted, I’m going to talk to real builders and ask to learn their craft. I see houses in my head, and temples with white columns and domes even, bigger than anything in Ero.”

“You’ll do it, too. You’ve a maker’s soul, as much a warrior’s.”

Tobin looked up in surprise. “Someone else told me that.”

“Who was that?”

“An Aurënfaie goldsmith named Tyral. He said Illior and Dalna put the skill in my hands, and that I’d be happier making things than fighting.”

Tharin nodded slowly, then asked, “And what do you think, now that you’ve done both?”

“I’m a good warrior, aren’t I?” he asked, knowing that Tharin was probably the only person who’d ever give him an honest answer.

“Of course you are! But that’s not what I asked.”

Tobin picked up a slender triangular file and twirled it between his fingers. “I guess the Aurënfaie was right. I’m proud to fight, and I’m not afraid. But I am happiest messing about with all this.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.”

“Would my father say the same?”

Baldus and two servers bustled in with bottles and trays and laid a table for them by the hearth. Tobin sent them out again, and poured the ale while Tharin cut slices of meat and cheese and set them to warm on thick slices of bread by the fire.

“This is almost as good as being home,” Tobin said, watching him work. “It’s been a long time since you and I have sat alone by a hearth. What made you think of it tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to. But as it happens, I’ve had rather an odd visitor today. A woman named Lhel, who claims to be a friend of yours. Yes, I can see by your face you know the name.”

“Lhel? But how did she get here?” Tobin’s heart turned to lead in his chest as Iya’s warning echoed in his memory. What would she do if Lhel had told Tharin his secret?

Tharin scratched his head. “Well now, that’s the odd part. She didn’t so much come to me as appear. I was reading in my room and heard someone call my name. When I looked up, there was this little hill woman, floating in the middle of the room in a circle of light. I could see the keep behind her, clear as I see you now. To be honest, I thought maybe I’d dreamed it all until just now.”

“Why did she come to you?”

“We had quite a chat, she and I.” Tharin’s eyes grew sad. “I’m not a brilliant man like your father and Arkoniel, but I’m no fool, either. She didn’t tell me much I hadn’t guessed at already.”

Tobin had longed to speak the truth to Tharin, but now he could only sit dumbstruck, waiting to hear how much Lhel had actually revealed.

“I wasn’t there when you were born,” Tharin said, bending down to turn the bread on the hearthstones. “It always struck me odd, Rhius sending me off just then on an errand his steward could have taken care of. I’d always thought it was your mother’s doing.”

“My mother?”

“She was jealous of me, Tobin, though Illior knows I never gave her any cause to be.”

Tobin shifted uneasily in his chair. “Ki told me—That is, about you and my father.”

“Did he? Well, that was all in the past by the time he married her, but it was no secret, either. More than once I offered to take some other post, but Rhius wouldn’t hear of it.

“So that night I thought it was her decision, me not being there. I didn’t think much of it until the day your father died. I told you how his last words were of you, didn’t I? But I never told you what he said. He knew he was dying—” Tharin stopped and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. You’d think after all this time—But it’s always like it was yesterday. With his last breath he whispered to me, ‘Protect my child with your life. Tobin must rule Skala.’ Illior forgive me, I thought his mind was wandering. But later, when I told Arkoniel about it, the look in his eyes said otherwise. He couldn’t tell me more and asked me if I could keep my vow to your father, knowing no more than I did. You can guess the answer to that.”

Tobin blinked back tears. “I’ve always trusted you.”

Tharin raised his fist to his breast in salute. “I pray you always do, Tobin. As I said before, I’m not clever, and I came to think that with all the wars and plagues, maybe you’d be the last heir left to take the throne. But there were other things I’d wondered about. Like why you and Ki called that demon twin of yours ‘Brother’ rather than ‘Sister.’”

“You heard that? And you never asked.”

“I gave Arkoniel my word I wouldn’t.”

“But Lhel came and told you about him?”

“She didn’t have to. I saw him.”

“Where?”

“At Lord Orun’s house the day he died.”

“He killed Orun,” Tobin blurted out.

“I thought as much. He was still crouched over the body when I kicked the door in. I thought it was you at first, until the thing looked around at me. By the Light, I don’t know how you’ve stood it all these years. The one glimpse I had turned my blood cold.”

“But you never told Iya what he did.”

“I thought you would.”

“What else did Lhel tell you? About me?”

“That you must claim the throne someday. And that I should keep myself ready and never doubt you.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all, except that she’d had her eye on me for a long time and thought well of me.” He shook his head. “I knew what she was the minute I saw the witch marks on her face. But even so, I was glad of her good opinion.”

“She always said Iya and Father should have told you. Arkoniel thought so, too. It was Iya who said no. I know Father would have, if it hadn’t been for her.”

“It doesn’t matter, Tobin. He did tell me in his own way when it mattered the most.”

“It was to protect you,” Tobin admitted, though he still held it against the wizard. “She says Niryn can read minds. I had to learn how to cover my thoughts. That’s why Ki doesn’t know, either. You won’t tell him, will you?”

Tharin handed Tobin some of the warm bread and cheese. “Of course I won’t. But I imagine it’s been hard on you, keeping so much to yourself all this time. Especially from him.”

“You don’t know how many times I almost said something! And now—”

“Yes, and now.” Tharin took a bite of bread and chewed it slowly before going on. At last he sighed, and said, “Ki knows how you feel about him, Tobin. Anyone can see it, the way you look at him. He loves you in his way, too, but it’s as much as you can expect from him.”

Tobin felt his face go hot. “I know that. He’s got half a dozen girls in love with him. He’s with one of them now.”

“He’s his father’s son, Tobin, and can’t help wanting to play the tomcat.” He gave Tobin a wry look. “There are those who’d welcome a warm look from you, you know.”

“I don’t care about that!” But even as he said it, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered Who?

“Well, it might be wise to at least consider it. Lhel said as much. A fellow your age ought to be showing some interest, especially a prince who can have his choice.”

“What does it matter to anyone?”

“It matters. And it would be easier on Ki if you seemed happier.”

“Lhel told you this?”

“No, Ki did.”

“Ki?” Tobin wished the chair would swallow him.

“He can’t feel what you want him to feel, and it hurts him. You know he would if he could.”

There was no answer for that. “Everyone’s always said I’m odd. I guess they can just go on thinking it.”

“You have good friends, Tobin. One of these days you’ll find out just how good. I know this is hard for you—”

“You know? How could you know?” All the years of fear and secrets and pain caved in around him. “How could you know what it’s like to always have to lie, and be lied to? To not even know what your real face looks like until someone shows it to you? And Ki? At least my father knew how you really felt!”

Tharin busied himself with the bread again. “And you think that made it easier, do you? It didn’t.”

Tobin’s anger dissolved to shame. How could he rail at Tharin, of all people, especially after he’d revealed so much? Sliding from his chair, he clung to him, hiding his face against Tharin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that!”

Tharin patted his back as if Tobin was still the little boy he’d carried on his shoulders. “It’s all right. You’re just starting to see what the world’s really like.”

“I’ve seen it. It’s ugly and hateful.”

Tharin tilted Tobin’s chin up with one finger and looked him sternly in the eye. “It can be. But the way I see it, you’re here to change that, make it better. A lot of folks have gone to a lot of trouble for you. Your father died for it, and so did your poor mother. But you’re not alone as long as I’m alive. Whenever the time comes, I promise you, I won’t let you be alone.”

“I know.” Tobin sat back and wiped at his nose. “When the time comes, I’m going to make you a great, rich lord, and no one can stop me.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Tharin’s faded blue eyes were bright with amusement and affection as he handed Tobin another slice of bread. “I’m right where I want to be, Tobin. I always have been.”