— 51 —

How is my father?” Korin demanded of the guards at the Palatine gate.

“Wounded, my prince,” the sergeant told him. “He sent word to tell you that he’s in the summer pavilion near the temple. You’re to go to him at once.”

The Palatine was crowded with the wounded and refugees from the lower wards, and with livestock driven there in case of siege. Goats and sheep bleated at them from villa gardens, and pigs were rooting along the elm-lined avenue beyond the gate.

Scattered cheers greeted the Companions as they hurried on. The palaces and most of the villas were dark as Mourning Night, but watch fires burned everywhere. The open grounds and gardens where they’d trained now looked like a battlefield. People huddled around fires, cloaks pulled over their heads against the rain. The smells of smoke and cooking were heavy on the air. Tobin could hear children crying in the dark, horses nickering, and, on all sides, the steady murmur of worried talk.

The pavilion was brightly lit. Inside, officers and nobles milled about nervously, keeping a hushed watch.

A smaller group was gathered around a table at the center of the enclosure. The other Companions hung back as Tobin and Korin went to join them.

“My princes, thank the Four!” Hylus called, as they approached. “We feared you were lost.”

Erius lay on a table, his face white, eyes closed. He was naked from the waist up and Tobin saw that his right side was badly bruised, and his arm splinted. The Sword of Ghërilain lay at his left side, the blade black with blood.

General Rheynaris was with him, and Niryn stood at the foot of the table, looking grave. Officers and servants stood close by and Tobin saw Moriel among them. He was dressed for battle and his surcoat was stained with soot and blood. He met Tobin’s eye and saluted him. Surprised, Tobin nodded at him, then turned back to the king.

Korin’s face was pale in the firelight as he leaned over his father. “What happened?”

“A necromancer’s spell struck the wall near us soon after we last saw you, my prince,” Rheynaris replied. His face was bloody and his left eye was swollen shut. “It shattered the wall and fragments struck your father down.”

Korin clasped the king’s good hand. “Will he live?”

“Yes, my prince,” a grey-haired drysian replied.

“Of course I will,” Erius rumbled, opening his eyes. “Korin—What news in the city?”

Rheynaris caught the prince’s eye and shook his head.

“The fight goes on, Father,” Korin told him.

Erius nodded and closed his eyes again.

Tobin stood with them for a while, then went back to join the others around one of the braziers near the stairs.

They’d been there for some time when a familiar voice cried out, “There they are. They’re alive!”

Nikides and Lutha emerged from the crowd below and ran to embrace Tobin and Ki. Barieus was with them, but there was no sign of Ruan. They were as filthy as everyone else, but appeared to be unhurt.

“We thought you’d died with Zusthra at the gates!” Tobin replied, relieved beyond words to see his friends alive.

“Where’s Ruan?” asked Ki.

“Dead,” Nikides said, and his voice was hoarse with emotion. “A Plenimaran came at me from behind and Ruan got between us. He saved my life.”

Ki sat down heavily on the steps beside Lynx. Barieus sat with him and pulled his cloak over his head.

“Oh Nik, I’m sorry. He died a hero,” Tobin said, but the words were hollow. “Orneus is dead, too.”

“Poor Lynx.” Lutha shook his head. “That’s three more of us gone.”

The drysians must have done their work well, for when they’d finished the king refused to be carried to the palace, but instead demanded a chair be brought. Moriel and Rheynaris helped him into it and Korin placed the Sword of Ghërilain across his father’s knees. Niryn and Hylus stood behind the makeshift throne like sentinels.

Erius leaned heavily on the arm of the chair, fighting for breath. Erius gestured for Korin to kneel by his side and they spoke for a while in low voices. The king gestured to Niryn, Rheynaris, and Hylus to join them, and the debate went on.

“What’s going on?” Tobin whispered to Nikides. “Your grandfather looks worried.”

“The reports are bad. Our warriors managed to block the east gate again, but there are still Plenimarans loose in the lower wards, and word came in a while ago that another group has broken through at the south gate. Their necromancers are worse than any of the stories. The Harriers are all but useless against them.”

Lutha glanced over at Niryn. “Seems all they’re good for is burning wizards and hanging priests.”

“Careful,” Tobin warned.

“What it comes down to is that we can’t hold them off,” Lutha said, keeping his voice down. “We just don’t have enough men.”

Nikides nodded. “No one wants to say it yet, but Ero is lost.”

The rain had stopped at last and the clouds were breaking up and scudding west. Patches of stars showed through, so bright they cast shadows. Illior’s crescent hung over the city like a sharp, white claw.

Food was brought out from the palaces and temples, but the Companions had little appetite. Wrapped in their cloaks against the cold spring night, they sat on the stairs and sharpened their swords, awaiting orders.

Tired beyond words, Ki finally gave up and put his back against Tobin’s, resting his head on his knees. Caliel and the remaining Companions sat with them, but no one felt like talking.

We wanted battle, and we got it, Ki thought dully.

Lynx had moved off by himself and sat staring at a nearby fire. Nikides was grieving silently for Ruan, too, but Ki knew it wasn’t the same. A squire was pledged to die for his lord. To fail in that was to fail in everything. But it wasn’t Lynx’s fault; it had been madness on the walls.

How much comfort would that be for me, if I’d lost Tobin? he thought bitterly. What if that arrow had hit him in the throat instead of the shoulder? What if Iya hadn’t shown up when she did? At least then we’d all be dead together.

As Ki watched, Tharin emerged from the darkness and went to Lynx, draping a blanket over the younger man’s shoulders. He spoke quietly to him, too soft for Ki to hear. Lynx drew his knees up and hid his face in his arms.

Ki swallowed hard and rubbed at the sudden stinging behind his eyelids. Tharin understood better than any of them how Lynx felt right now.

“What will happen to him?” Tobin whispered, and Ki realized he’d been watching, too. “Do you think Korin will let him stay a Companion?”

Ki hadn’t thought of that. Lynx was one of them, and one of the best. “Not much for him to go home to. His father’s a lord, but Lynx is the fourth son.”

“Maybe he could be Nikides’ squire?”

“Maybe.” But Ki doubted Lynx would welcome such an offer just yet. He hadn’t just been loyal to Orneus; he’d loved the drunken braggart, though Ki had never understood why.

In the pavilion behind them the generals were still talking with the king. The Palatine was eerily quiet, and Ki could hear the steady drone of prayer in the Temple of the Four; the smell of incense and burnt offerings seemed to permeate the air. Ki looked up at the cold sliver moon, wondering where the gods had been today.

The wind shifted soon after, carrying the smell of smoke and death up from the harbor, and the faint sound of enemy voices singing.

Victory songs, thought Ki.

A touch on his shoulder startled Tobin out of a doze.

It was Moriel. “The king is asking for you, Prince Tobin.”

Ki and Tharin followed silently, and Tobin was glad of their company.

Tobin could smell brandywine and healing herbs on the king from ten feet away, but his uncle’s eyes were sharp as he motioned for Tobin to take a stool at his feet. Hylus, Rheynaris, and Niryn were still there, and Korin, too. All of them looked grim.

Erius extended his left hand for Tobin’s and looked into his face so intently Tobin suddenly felt afraid. He said nothing, listening to the rasp and hitch of the king’s breathing.

After a moment Erius released him and sank back in his chair. “Pigeons were sent out this morning to the coastal cities,” he whispered hoarsely. “Volchi has been worse hit by this pox. They have no one to send. Ylani can raise some men, but the garrison there is small to begin with.”

“What about Atyion? Solari must be on his way by now.”

“There’s been no reply,” Hylus told him. “Several birds were sent, but none has returned. Perhaps the enemy intercepted them. Whatever the case, we must assume Solari has not heard the news.”

“You must go, Tobin,” the king rasped. “We must have Atyion’s might! With the standing garrison, Solari’s men, and the surrounding towns, you might be able to raise three thousand. You must bring them, and quickly!”

“Of course, Uncle. But how will I get there? The city’s surrounded.”

“The enemy doesn’t have enough men to completely hem us in,” Rheynaris told him. “They’ve concentrated their main force along the eastern wall and at the gates. But they’re stretched thin between, especially on the north and west sides. A small group could get out. My scouts found a likely spot near the northwest wagon gate. We’ll lower you through a murder hole. You’ll have to find horses once you get outside.”

“What do you say, Tharin?” the king asked.

“Assuming we can find fresh mounts along the way, we could be there by midday tomorrow. But the trip back will be slower, with so many marching. It might be three days before we get back.”

“Too long!” Erius growled. “Force march, Tharin, as we did at Caloford. If you don’t, there’ll be no city left to save. Ero is the heart of Skala. If it falls, Skala falls.”

“How many should I take with me?” asked Tobin.

“The fewer the better,” Rheynaris advised. “You’ll be less likely to be seen.”

“Even less so if they go dressed as common soldiers,” Niryn said.

Tobin gave the wizard a grudging nod. “Tharin and Ki will go with me.” He paused, then added quickly, “And my guardsman, Koni. He’s one of my best riders.”

“And me! Take me!” his other men clamored from the shadows outside the pillars.

“I’ll go.” Lynx shouldered his way past the others and strode over to kneel at Korin’s feet. “Please, let me go with him.”

Korin whispered to his father and Erius nodded. “Very well.”

“And me!” Lutha cried, struggling through the press.

“No,” Erius said sternly. “Korin must take my place in the field tomorrow and needs his Companions around him. There are too few of you left as it is.”

Abashed, Lutha bowed low, fist to his chest.

“That’s it, then. You four accompany Prince Tobin,” Rheynaris said. “I’ll see that you have plain garments and an escort to the wall.”

Erius raised his hand as they turned to go. “A moment, nephew.”

Tobin sat down again. Motioning him to lean closer, Erius whispered, “You’re your father’s son, Tobin. I know you won’t fail me.”

Tobin caught his breath, unable to look up.

“No false modesty now,” Erius croaked, misreading him. “I’m going to say something now that I shouldn’t, and you’re not to repeat it, you hear?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“My son—” Erius leaned closer, grimacing in pain. “My son is not the warrior you are.”

“No, Uncle—”

Erius shook his head sadly. “It’s true, and you know it. But he will be king, and tomorrow he faces the enemy in my place. Hurry back with those reinforcements, then stay close to him, now and always. It will be you standing in Rheynaris’ place when he wears the crown, won’t it? Promise me, Tobin.”

“Yes, Uncle.” The memory of his mother’s face the day she’d died made the lie come easier. But as he hurried away to change clothes, he could not meet Korin’s eye.

Korin couldn’t hear what his father was saying to Tobin, but something in his father’s expression troubled him. His unease deepened when Tobin would not look at him.

“What’s the matter, Father?” he asked, going back to the king. “Don’t worry, Tobin won’t fail. And I won’t either.” Kneeling, he held out his hands for the sword. “Give me your blessing, Father, that I may lead as wisely as you.”

Erius’ grip tightened on the hilt and his eyes hardened. “You’re overly hasty, my son. Only one hand wields the Sword of Ghërilain. While I have breath in my body, I am still king. Be content with proving yourself worthy of it.”

Only Niryn was close enough to hear the rebuff. Korin saw the wizard’s faint smile and swore revenge. “By the Four and the Flame, Father, I won’t fail you.”

Erius placed his left hand on Korin’s head. “By the Four and the Flame, I bless you. Keep Rheynaris with you and listen to his counsel.”

Korin bowed to the king and strode away. Rheynaris followed, but, still stinging from his father’s harsh words, Korin stubbornly refused to acknowledge him.

With Rheynaris’ scouts to guide them, Tobin and his small force hurried on foot through the deserted streets. His own guard and a dozen of the king’s armed men came with them to the north wall, but they met no resistance. The houses were shuttered on all sides. No light showed.

Climbing to the hoarding, they looked out through the arrow slits and noted the scattered watch fires below. The main concentration was along the harbor, but Tobin could see a chain of such fires scattered up the coastline, as well.

The land beyond the walls was flat, with little cover. The moon was down, but the stars gave enough light to make out the pale line of the high road.

In order to move quickly, Tobin and the others had left their heavy armor and shields behind. Clad in plain coats of studded leather, they wore their scabbards strapped on their backs and carried their bows in their hands.

“Here, Prince Tobin,” one of the scouts whispered, lifting a trapdoor over a murder hole. It was a dizzying drop, fifty feet or so. Rheynaris’ men readied the ropes they’d brought.

“I’ll go first,” Tharin whispered. Passing a knotted loop over his head, he tugged it securely up under his arms and sat down with his legs over the edge of the hole. He gave Tobin a wink as three brawny soldiers lowered him through.

Tobin lay on his belly and watched as Tharin reached the ground and melted quickly into the shadow of a nearby hedge.

Lynx went next, then Koni and Ki. Ki gave him a sickly grin as he slid off the edge and disappeared with his eyes squeezed shut.

Tobin went quickly, not giving himself time to think of the open space below his boots. Reaching the ground, he cast off the rope and ran to join the others.

Tharin had already taken stock. “We’ll have to stay clear of the road. They’ll be watching that and it’s bright enough for them to see us moving. There’s nothing to do but run for it and hope we find horses soon. Make sure your arrows are tamped.”

Tobin and the others checked the wadded wool stockings they’d stuffed into their quivers to keep the shafts from rattling.

“Ready,” said Ki.

“All right, then. Here we go.”

The first few miles were harrowing. The starlight seemed bright as noon and cast their shadows across the ground.

The steadings closest to the city had been overrun. They were not burned, but the livestock had been taken and the inhabitants slaughtered. Men, women, and children lay where they’d fallen, hacked to death. Tharin didn’t let them linger there, but hurried on to the next, and the next. It was several miles before they got north of the Plenimarans’ path of destruction. The steadings beyond were deserted, their byres empty. The farmland between was open fields, with only a few hedges and walls to shelter behind.

At last they spotted a sizable copse and ran for it, only to be greeted by the unmistakable twang of bowstrings as they neared the trees. A shaft sang by Tobin’s cheek, close enough for him to hear the buzz of the fletching as it passed.

“Ambush!” Tharin cried. “To the right! Get to cover.”

But as they ran that way swordsmen leaped out to meet them. There was no time to count, but they were outnumbered. Tobin was still reaching for his sword when Lynx let out his war cry and hurtled past him to charge the nearest swordsman. Men closed in around him as his blade found steel.

Then the others were on them. Tobin dodged the first man who reached him and swung a crushing blow across the back of his neck just below his helmet. He went down and two more leaped at Tobin. “Blood, my blood,” Tobin whispered without thinking, but Brother did not come.

Tobin fought on, flanked by Tharin and Ki. He could hear Koni shouting behind him, and the clash of steel off to his right told him Lynx was still standing.

The blood sang in Tobin’s ears as he met each attacker and drove him back. They were strong, but he held his own until there was no one left to fight. Bodies littered the ground around them and he saw others running away.

“Let them go,” Tharin panted, leaning on his sword.

“You all right, Tob?” Ki gasped.

“They never touched me. Where are the others?”

“Here.” Lynx strode out from the shadows under the trees, his blade black to the hilt in the starlight.

“That was a damn fool thing to do!” Tharin shouted, grabbing him by the arm and shaking him angrily. “You stay close next time!”

Lynx yanked free and turned away.

“Leave him alone,” said Tobin. “He acted bravely.”

“That wasn’t bravery,” Tharin snapped, glaring at the sullen squire. “If you want to throw your life away, you wait until we have the prince safe in Atyion! Your duty is to Prince Tobin now. Do you hear me, boy? Do you?”

Lynx hung his head and nodded.

Tobin looked around. “Where’s Koni?” No one else was standing.

“Oh, hell!” Tharin began searching through the bodies. The others did the same, calling Koni’s name. The fallen men all wore the black of Plenimar and Tobin didn’t think twice about sticking a knife in the few still moving.

“Koni!” he called, wiping his blade on his leg. “Koni, where are you?”

A low moan came from somewhere to his left. Turning, he saw a dark figure crawling slowly in his direction.

Running to him, Tobin knelt to examine his wounds. “How badly are you hurt?”

The young guardsman collapsed with a groan. The others reached them as Tobin gently turned him over. A broken arrow shaft protruded from his chest just below his right shoulder.

“By the Light!” Tharin leaned in for a closer look. “Who the hell is that?”

Tobin stared down in dismay at the fair-haired youth wearing Koni’s clothes. His chest was soaked with blood and his breath came in short, painful gasps. “I don’t know.”

The young man’s eyes flickered open. “Eyoli. I’m—Eyoli. Iya sent me. I’m—mind clouder.”

“A what?” Ki drew his sword.

“No, wait.” Tharin knelt by him. “You say Iya sent you. How do we know that’s true?”

“She told me to tell Prince Tobin—” He grimaced, clutching at his chest. “To tell you that the witch is in the oak. She said—you’d understand.”

“It’s all right,” Tobin said. “Back in Ero, she told me to keep Koni with me. He must be a wizard.”

“Not—not much of one.” The stranger let out a weak chuckle. “And even less of a fighter. She told me to stay close to you, my prince. To protect you.”

“Where’s Koni, then?” Tharin demanded.

“Killed, before the gates went down. I took his place and caught up with you before you were cornered at that inn.”

“He’s dead?” Grief-stricken, Tobin turned away.

“I’m sorry. It was the only way to stay with you. She said stay close,” Eyoli gasped. “That’s how she knew we were trapped. I sent word.”

“Does she know where we are now?” asked Tobin.

“I think so. She must not have been able to get out.”

Tobin looked back at the burning city. There was no question of waiting for Iya now.

“How badly is he hurt?” asked Ki.

“The arrow and a sword cut to his side,” Tharin replied. “We’ll have to leave him.”

“No!” cried Tobin. “He’ll die out here alone.”

“Go, please!” Eyoli struggled to sit up. “Iya will find me. You must go on.”

“He’s right, Tobin,” said Tharin.

“We’re not leaving him to die. That’s an order, do you hear me? He helped save all of us today. I won’t leave until we’ve done what we can for him.”

Tharin let out a frustrated growl. “Lynx, go find something for bandages. Ki, water bottles and cloaks. We’ll wrap him well and leave him in the trees. I’m sorry, Tobin, but we can’t do better than that.”

“I’m sorry to leave you a man short,” the wizard whispered, closing his eyes. “I should have told you—”

“You did your duty,” Tobin said, taking his hand. “I won’t forget that.”

Ki came back with the cloaks and bottles, as well as several bows. Dropping them beside Tharin, he said, “What do you make of these?”

Tharin picked one up, then another. “They’re Skalan made.”

“They all were, every one I saw. Swords, too, as much as I could make out.”

“Indeed?” Tharin set about cutting the arrow from Eyoli’s shoulder. The wizard clutched Tobin’s hand, trying not to cry out, but the pain was too much for him. Ki put a hand over his mouth and muffled the cries until Eyoli fainted. Tharin bandaged the wound, then picked up the bloody arrowhead and examined it closely for a moment. “Ki, Lynx, bundle him up as warm as you can and find a good hiding place for him in the trees. Leave him all the water you can find. Tobin, come with me.”

Tharin went to the nearest body and began feeling over the dead man’s chest and back with his hands. He let out a low grunt, then did the same with several other bodies. “By the Flame!”

“What is it?”

“Look at this,” Tharin said, sticking a finger into a rent in the dead man’s tunic. “Put your hand in it and tell me what you feel?”

“There’s no wound. He died of this sword cut to his neck.”

“The others were the same. And Ki’s right about the weapons, too. These are Skalans in Plenimaran clothes.”

“But why attack us?”

“Because they were ordered to, I’d say. And ordered to make it look like we were killed by the enemy.” He got up and hunted around for a moment, returning with a handful of arrows. They had thick shafts, with four-vane fletching rather than three. “Skalan bows, but Plenimaran arrows. Easy enough to come by after the fighting we saw today.”

“I still don’t understand. If we don’t get to Atyion, the city will fall!”

“It had to be someone who knew we were going to Atyion, by what route, and when. And know it in time to have this set up.”

“Not the king! Even if he wanted me killed, he wouldn’t sacrifice Ero.”

“Then it would have to be someone with him tonight. Perhaps it wasn’t Erius’ idea to send you.”

Tobin thought back. “Not Hylus!”

“No, I’d never believe that.”

“That leaves General Rheynaris and Lord Niryn.”

“And Prince Korin.”

“No! Korin wouldn’t do that. It had to be Niryn.”

“It doesn’t matter now. We’ve still got a long way to go and horses to find.”

Ki and Lynx had made Eyoli as comfortable as they could in a nest of cloaks under an oak just inside the copse.

“I’ll send someone for you,” Tobin promised.

Eyoli freed one hand from his wrapping to touch his brow and breast. “Go, my prince. Save your city.”

Just beyond the copse they came to a large steading. A low stone wall surrounded it and the gate hung open on its hinges.

“Careful, boys,” Tharin murmured.

But the place had been abandoned. The barn doors were open, and the corrals empty.

“Bilairy’s balls!” Ki panted, coming back from the barns empty-handed. “They must have driven the stock off rather than leave it for the enemy.”

Tharin sighed. “Nothing to do but keep going.”

They’d just reached the gate when they heard a strong, rushing wind.

Tobin looked around in surprise. The night was still, with hardly a breath of breeze.

The sound grew louder, then ended abruptly as a large, dark mass appeared out of thin air not ten feet from where they stood, tumbling and bouncing until it fetched up against a watering trough.

Tobin started toward it but Tharin held him back. Ki and Lynx advanced cautiously, swords drawn.

“I think it’s a man!” Lynx called back.

“It is, and he’s alive,” said Ki.

“A wizard?” said Tobin.

“Or something worse,” Tharin muttered, stepping in front of him.

The strange traveler rose slowly to his knees, holding up both hands to show that he was unarmed. Ki let out a yelp of surprise. “Tobin, it’s Arkoniel!”

“By the Four, is it raining wizards today?” Tharin growled.

Tobin ran to help Arkoniel up. Instead of his usual hooded cloak, the wizard wore a shepherd’s long fleece vest and a felt hat jammed down on his head and tied in place with a scarf. Leather gauntlets covered his arms almost to the elbow. He was breathless and shaking like a man with fever.

“How did you get here?” asked Tobin.

Arkoniel clutched Tobin’s shoulder, still unsteady on his feet. “A spell I’ve been working on. Not quite perfected yet, but I seem to have arrived with all my arms and legs.”

“Were you expecting bad weather?” Ki asked, eyeing the absurd hat.

“No, just a bad journey. As I said, the spell isn’t quite right yet. I’m never sure if I’ll arrive in one piece or not.” Arkoniel pulled off the left gauntlet and showed them his splinted wrist. “Same one I broke that day I arrived at the keep, remember?” He pulled off the right glove with his teeth and undid the scarf holding his hat.

“How did you find us?” Tharin asked.

“You can thank Iya and Eyoli for that. They got word to me. Tobin, I believe you’ll be needing this.” Pulling off his hat, Arkoniel shook out Tobin’s old rag doll. “Don’t let go of it again.”

Tobin stuffed it inside his studded coat as Lynx stared. “Can you walk?”

Arkoniel straightened his disordered clothing. “Yes, it’s just a bit disorienting, traveling like that twice in one night. Can’t say that I recommend it.” He looked around. “No horses?”

“No,” said Tharin. “I don’t suppose you have a spell for that?”

Arkoniel gave him a wink. Taking out his crystal wand, he drew a figure in red light, then stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “There, they’ll be along.”

Ki and Lynx went to the barn again. By the time they returned with the saddles, they could hear the sound of hooves on the road, approaching at a gallop. A few minutes later ten horses thundered into the yard and came to a stop around Arkoniel, nosing at his belt and tunic.

“You’ve become quite a useful fellow since I last saw you.” Tharin laughed.

“Thank you. It’s been an instructive few years.”

Arkoniel drew Tobin aside as the others saddled the horses. “I suppose you know what all this signifies?”

Tobin nodded.

“Good. I think it might be best if your friends understood.”

“Tharin already knows.”

“You told him?”

“No, Lhel did.”

Arkoniel grasped Tobin’s shoulder with his good hand. “You’ve seen her! Where is she?”

“I didn’t see her. She came to Tharin in some kind of vision.”

Arkoniel sagged and Tobin saw the deep disappointment in his eyes. “She left us at Sakor-tide. I looked for her when I went back to the keep for the doll, but there was no sign of her anywhere.”

“You mean it wasn’t Lhel who got the doll back from my mother?”

“No. I found it in the tower. Someone had been up there before me. One of the tables had been righted, and a dozen or so of your mother’s dolls were lined up there. You remember them? Boys with no mouths? Yours was with them. It was as if someone knew I was coming for it.”

“Maybe Nari?”

The tower door is still locked and I threw the key in the river years ago. It could have been Lhel, but—Well, I think maybe your mother knew that you needed it back.”

Tobin shook his head. “Or that Brother needed it.”

“What do you mean?”

“She always loved him, not me.” He clutched at the lump the doll made inside his coat. “She made this to keep him with her. She carried it everywhere, so he’d be there. She loved him.”

“No, Tobin. Lhel told her to make the doll. It was the only way to control Brother after—after he died. Lhel helped her, and set the magic on it to hold him. It may have given your mother some comfort but it wasn’t love.”

“You weren’t there! You didn’t see how she was. It was always him. She never wanted me.”

A look of genuine pain crossed Arkoniel’s face. “Oh, Tobin. It wasn’t your fault or hers, how things were.”

“Whose, then? Why did she treat me like that, just because he was stillborn?”

Arkoniel started to speak, then turned away. Tobin caught him by the sleeve. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s all in the past. Right now you must get to Atyion. It would be safest to reveal yourself there.”

“But how? Lhel’s not here to undo the binding.”

“She taught me. It’s actually quite simple. Cut the cord she made of your hair that’s around the doll’s neck, take Brother’s bones out of it, then cut out the piece of bone she sewed into your skin.”

“That’s all?” Tobin exclaimed softly. “But I could have done that anytime!”

“Yes, and if you’d known, you might have too soon and brought us all to ruin.”

“I wouldn’t have! I never wanted to. I don’t want to now.” Tobin hugged himself unhappily. “I’m scared, Arkoniel. What if—” He looked back at Ki and the others. “What will they do?”

“We should be moving on,” Tharin called.

“A moment, please,” Arkoniel told him. “It’s time you told Ki. It’s only fair, and you need him steady at your side.”

“Now?”

“I’ll do it, if you like.”

“No, he should hear it from me. And Lynx?”

“Yes, tell them both.”

Tobin started slowly back to Ki. He’d been tempted a hundred times over to just blurt it all out, but now fear choked him.

What if Ki hated him? And what about Korin and the other Companions? What if the people of Atyion refused to believe, refused to follow him?

“Courage, Tobin,” Arkoniel whispered. “Trust Illior’s will. For Skala!”

“For Skala,” Tobin mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Ki asked before Tobin had said a word. “Is there bad news?”

“There’s something I have to say, and I don’t know how, except to just say it.”

Tobin took a deep breath, feeling like he was on that cliff in his dreams, about to fall. “I’m not what you think. When you look at me, it’s not me you’re seeing. It’s Brother.”

“Who?” asked Lynx, looking at Tobin as if he’d lost his mind. “Tobin, you don’t have a brother.”

“Yes, I do. Or I did. He’s the demon you’ve heard about, only he’s really just a ghost. It wasn’t a girl child who died; it was him. I was the girl, and a witch changed me to look like him right after I was born.”

“Lhel?” Ki’s voice was barely a whisper.

Tobin nodded, trying to read his friend’s expression in the starlight. He couldn’t and that scared him even more.

“You all know the rumors about the king,” said Arkoniel. “That he kills all female heirs to protect his own claim and line. They’re not just rumors. It’s the truth. The Oracle at Afra warned my mistress, and told her that we must protect Tobin until she’s old enough to rule. This is how we did it.”

“No!” Ki gasped. He backed away. “No, I don’t believe it. I know you! I’ve seen you! You’re no more a girl than I am!”

I didn’t know either, not at first! Tobin wanted to tell him, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words because Ki was still moving away from him.

“I was there that night, Ki,” Arkoniel told him. “I’ve devoted my whole life to keeping the secret until now. None of us had any choice, especially not Tobin. But now it’s time for her true form to be revealed. Skala must have a queen, one of the true line.”

“Queen?” Ki turned and ran for the barn.

“I’ll speak with him,” said Tharin. “Please, Tobin, let me do this. For both your sakes.”

Tobin nodded, miserable, and Tharin strode away after Ki.

Lynx came closer, looking into Tobin’s face. “This is really true? I mean—I’ve seen you, too, in the baths and swimming.”

Tobin shrugged.

“Tobin didn’t know about any of this either, until a few years ago,” Arkoniel explained. “It won’t be easy, what’s to come. It means going against Erius and Korin, too. Tobin will need true friends.”

“You’ll be queen?” Lynx said, as if he hadn’t heard.

“Somehow. But Lynx, you’re a Companion. You’ve known Korin longer than I have.” The words felt like sand in Tobin’s mouth. “If you can’t do this—I’ll understand.”

“You’re free to go back to Ero now, if you wish,” said Arkoniel.

“Go back? I never meant to go back. Tharin was right about me before, Tobin, so I might as well stay.” He let out a mirthless little laugh and held out his hand. “That’s not much of an oath, is it?”

Tobin clasped hands with him. “It’s enough for me.”

Tharin found Ki standing just inside the barn door, arms limp at his sides. “Why didn’t he tell me?” he asked, voice leaden with grief.

Tharin fought hard to rein in his anger. He’d expected better of Ki than this. “He had no idea when you first met him.”

“When, then?”

“That time he ran away to the keep. Iya and that witch woman made him swear not to tell. It’s a heavy burden he’s had to bear, Ki; one you and I can’t even imagine.”

“You knew!”

“Not until a few weeks ago. Rhius didn’t tell me, either, but it wasn’t because he didn’t trust me. It was for Tobin’s sake, and safety. It has nothing to do with us.”

“What happens to me now?”

“What do you mean? Are you telling me you’ll serve a prince but not a queen?”

“Serve?” Ki whirled around to face him. “Tharin, he’s my best friend. He—he’s everything to me! We’ve grown up together, trained and fought together. Together! But queens don’t have squires, do they? They have ministers, generals, consorts. I’m none of that.” He threw up his hands. “I’m nothing! Just the grass knight son of a horse thief—”

Tharin backhanded him so hard Ki staggered. “Is that all you’ve learned, after all these years?” he growled, standing over the cowering boy. “Do you think a wizard like Iya would choose you for no reason? Would Rhius bind you to his son if you were no more than that? Would I trust you with that child’s life? A man can’t choose his father, Ki, but he chooses his path. I thought you’d let go of all that foolishness.” It was an effort to not slap him again. “Is this what I taught you? To run off sniveling in the dark?”

“No.” Ki’s voice quavered but he straightened to attention. Blood ran down from his nose and caught in the sparse hair on his lip. “I’m sorry, Tharin.”

“Listen to me, Ki. Tobin doesn’t have the first notion of what’s ahead of him. All he can think of is that his friends will turn away from him. That you’ll turn away. He fears that more than anything else. And that’s precisely what you did just now, isn’t it?”

Ki groaned aloud. “Bilairy’s balls! He thinks—? Oh, hell, Tharin, that’s not why I ran!”

“Then I guess you’d better get back there and tell him that.” Tharin stepped aside and Ki bolted out, back to Tobin. Tharin stayed where he was, waiting for a sudden fit of trembling to pass. His hand stung where he’d hit Ki; he could feel the boy’s blood on his fingers. He stifled an anguished curse as he wiped his hand on his coat. Divine will or not, it was a hard road that had been set for all of them, all those years ago.

Ki couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes, but it seemed like forever to Tobin before he came striding back from the barn alone. Walking straight up to Tobin, Ki hugged him hard, then knelt and offered his sword.

“What are you doing, Ki? Get up! You’re bleeding—”

Ki rose and grasped him by the shoulders. “I’m sorry for running off. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. Nothing’s changed between us.” He hesitated, chin trembling now as he searched Tobin’s face. “It hasn’t, has it?”

Tobin’s voice was none too steady as he hugged Ki again. “You’re my best friend. Nothing can change that.”

“That’s all right, then!” Ki let out a shaky laugh as he stepped back and clasped hands with him.

Tobin caught the gleam of unshed tears in his eyes. “You won’t leave me, will you, Ki?”

Ki tightened his grip and gave him a fierce smile. “Not while I’ve got breath in me!”

Tobin believed him, and was so relieved he hardly knew what to say. “All right then,” he managed at last. “I guess we better move on.”