Authors: Lynn Flewelling
“After that winter at the keep? Of course we do!” Ki laughed. “Koni still asks about you now and then.”
Bisir blushed and rubbed his hands together nervously, the way he used to. They were brown and callused, with dirt under the nails. Looking at them, Tobin realized that the former valet was ashamed to be seen like this.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Mistress Iya brought me here after—after the troubles in Ero. She said you told her to look after me, but that I wasn’t to trouble you. That it would reflect badly on you to be associated with anyone from that household.” He gave Tobin a self-deprecating shrug. “She was right, of course. She found me a place in a dairyman’s household, just outside the town. And I’m much happier here.”
“No, you’re not. You’re miserable,” said Tobin, sizing him up at a glance. Iya must have dumped him at the first likely-looking place.
“Well, it is quite a change,” Bisir admitted, staring down at his muddy clogs.
“Come back to the castle with me. I’ll speak to Lytia for you.”
But Bisir shook his head. “No, Mistress Iya said I mustn’t
go there. She was very strict and made me swear, my prince.”
Tobin let out an exasperated sigh. “All right then, what would you rather do?”
Bisir hesitated, then looked up shyly. “I’d like to train as a warrior.”
“You?” Ki exclaimed.
“I don’t know—” Tobin couldn’t think of anyone less suited to arms than Bisir. “You’re a bit old to be starting,” he added, to spare the man’s feelings.
“Perhaps I can be of some help, my prince,” an old woman in a long grey cloak said.
Tobin glanced at her in surprise; he hadn’t noticed her standing there. She looked a bit like Iya somehow, and he thought she must be a wizard until she showed them the intricate dragon circles on her palms. She was a high priestess of Illior. He’d never met one not wearing the silver mask before.
She smiled as if she knew his thoughts. Pressing her hands to her heart, she bowed to Tobin. “I am Kaliya, daughter of Lusiyan, chief priestess of the temple here in Atyion. You don’t recognize me, of course, but I’ve seen you many times, there and around the town. If you’ll forgive an old woman’s meddling, I think I might be able to suggest a more suitable situation for your young friend here.” She took Bisir’s hand and closed her eyes. “Ah, yes,” she said at once. “You paint.”
Bisir blushed again. “Oh, no—Well, a little, when I was a child, but I’m not very good.”
Kaliya opened her eyes and regarded him sadly. “You must forget all your former master told you, my friend. He was a selfish man, and had his own uses for you. You do have the gift, and it’s far more likely to come out with training than swordplay. A friend of mine is a maker of fine manuscripts. Her shop is in Temple Square and I believe she’s seeking an apprentice. I’m sure your age would be of no consequence to her.”
Bisir stared down at his dirty hands for a moment, as if he didn’t quite recognize them. “You really saw that in me? But Mistress Iya?” Hope and doubt warred in Bisir’s eyes as he looked imploringly at Tobin.
He shrugged. “I’m sure she won’t mind, as long as you stay out of the castle.”
But Bisir still hesitated. “This is so sudden. So unexpected. I don’t know what Master Vorten will say. There’s the winter forage to bring in and the muck to spread. I’m to help build the new stalls, too—” His chin was trembling now.
“Oh, don’t take on like that!” Ki said, trying to cheer him. “Your master can’t very well say no to Tobin, can he?”
“I suppose not.”
“He won’t say no to me, either,” the priestess said, taking Bisir’s arm. “There’s no need to trouble the prince with this. We’ll go speak with Vorten and my friend, Mistress Haria, right now. She’ll make you work, but I believe I can promise you no more muck spreading.”
“Thank you, my lady. And thank you, my prince!” Bisir exclaimed, kissing their hands. “Who would have imagined, when I followed you in there—?”
“Run along home, now,” Kaliya told him. “I’ll be along shortly.”
Bisir clattered away in his clogs. Kaliya laughed as she watched him go, then turned to Tobin and Ki. “Who would have imagined?” she said, echoing Bisir. “Who, indeed, would have imagined that a prince of Skala would cross the street to help a dairyman’s laborer?”
“I knew him in Ero,” Tobin explained. “He was kind to me, and tried to help me.”
“Ah, I see.” Her smile was as enigmatic as a silver mask; Tobin couldn’t read this face at all. “Well, if the Scion of Atyion should ever be in need of help, I hope you will remember me. May the Lightbearer’s blessings be on you both.” With that she bowed and went on her way.
Ki shook his head as she disappeared into the market day crowd. “Well, that was damned strange!”
“A bit of good luck, I’d call it,” Tobin said. “I’m glad we found Bisir again. A dairyman? Can you imagine?”
Ki laughed. “Or a warrior? It’s a good thing for him that woman happened along when she did.”
D
espite Tobin’s status among the townspeople, Duke Solari continued to play host in the hall at night, and managed all the estate business.
“Hosting a court is an expensive undertaking,” he told Tobin one night. “But don’t worry. We’ll recoup the loss by taxing the inns and taverns.”
There were taxes for using the roads and the seaport at the mouth of the river, as well, and each noble was charged for housing their own retinue and guards inside the castle.
Still torn between loyalty and distrust of his father’s former liegemen, Tobin consulted Tharin, who in turn steered him to Lytia and Hakone.
“Oh yes, it’s always done this way,” Hakone assured him as they sat around the old steward’s hearth one night. “The lord of the estate—that being you in this case—gains honor by hosting the king, but he foots the bill, too, and passes it down to the town. You needn’t worry, though. If the duke didn’t collect a copper from the tolls and taxes, the treasuries of Atyion could withstand a good many royal visits.” He paused and looked up at Lytia. “Why, he’s never seen it, has he?”
“Is there a lot of gold?” asked Tobin.
“Mountains of it, I always heard!” Ki exclaimed.
“Very nearly.” Lytia chuckled. “I’d show you, but that’s one key I don’t have.” She rattled the heavy chain at her girdle. “You’ll have to ask your uncle or the duke about that. Tharin, see that he does ask. It’s not just coin, Prince Tobin. There are the spoils of battles all the way back
to the Great War and beyond, and gifts from a dozen queens.”
“Get him to show you, Tob,” Ki urged. “And make sure I get to come along!”
T
he next day Tharin spoke to Solari, and Tobin invited all the Companions to tour the treasury.
It was located deep under the west tower, and dozens of armed men and three sets of ironbound doors guarded it.
“We’ve kept it all safe for you, my prince,” the captain of the watch told Tobin proudly. “We’ve just been waiting for you to come home and claim it.”
“When he’s of age,” Solari murmured, as they started down the steep stairs. He smiled as he said it, but Tobin noted the remark.
Just then Ringtail appeared out of nowhere and darted between Solari’s feet. He staggered, then kicked at the cat. Ringtail hissed and clawed at his foot, then ran back the way he’d come.
“Damn that creature!” Solari exclaimed. “That’s the third time he’s done that today. I nearly broke my neck coming down to the hall this morning. And he pisses in my bedchamber, too, though how he gets in I don’t know. The steward should have him drowned before he kills someone.”
“No, my lord,” said Tobin. “Lady Lytia says the cats are sacred. I won’t have any of them harmed.”
“As you wish, my prince, but I must say, there are more than enough of the creatures about.”
Lytia’s description had done nothing to prepare Tobin for the sight that greeted them as the final door swung open. It was not one huge room but a whole maze of them. Gold there was in plenty, and silver too, in leather bags stacked like sacks of oats. But this was not what made Tobin’s eyes pop. Room after room was filled with armor, swords, tattered banners, jeweled harnesses and saddles. One held nothing but golden cups and platters, shelves of
them shining in the torchlight. In the middle of it a huge double-handled vessel stood on a velvet-draped trestle. It was large enough to bathe a small child in and decorated under the rim with writing that Tobin did not recognize.
“It’s the old tongue, the language spoken in the courts of the first hierophants!” Nikides exclaimed, pushing in between Tanil and Zusthra for a better look.
“I suppose you can read it,” sneered Alben.
Nikides ignored him. “It’s what they called an endless inscription, I think. One that creates magical powers or blessings when a priest reads it.” He had to walk around the vessel to see all the words. “I think it starts here—The tears of Astellus on the bosom of Dalna sprout the oak of Sakor that stretches its arms to Illior’s moon that brings down the tears of Astellus on the—’ Well, you see what I mean. It was probably used in a temple of the Four to catch rainwater for ceremonies.”
Tobin grinned, happy to see his friend shine. Nikides might not be the greatest swordsman, but no one could best him at learning. Even Solari took a second look at the vessel. For a moment Tobin saw his Protector’s face mirrored in the curved golden surface, distorted into a yellow, greedy mask. He glanced at the man, feeling the same uneasy chill that he had the day Brother whispered his accusations. But Solari looked no different and seemed genuinely pleased to show Tobin his inheritance.
D
espite the king’s duties, Erius still made time to hunt and hawk and visit the horse breeders with the boys, and had them at his table every night. Tobin continued to wrestle with his own heart. The more he saw of his uncle, the less of a monster he seemed. He joked and sang with them, and was free with gifts and rewards after the hunts.
They feasted every night, and Tobin couldn’t imagine where so much food and drink could come from. Lines of wagons rumbled up the roads every day and Solari had to send out crews to keep the roads mended. He took the
boys out to see the progress: The roadways were still soft from the spring rains, so the soldiers laid logs down crossways to the road, drove stakes to keep them tightly in place, then sent carts loaded with stones to pack them down.
Every day seemed to bring some new diversion, and Tobin slowly grew used to the idea that this great castle, its riches and lands all belonged to him. Or would someday, at least. The court business was interesting, but Tobin still felt most at home in Hakone’s room or wandering among the soldiers in the castle’s enormous barracks yards. He always found a warm welcome there.
I
ris and hag sorrel were tall in the ditches, and foals and spring lambs gamboled in the fields as the king’s column set off for Ero at the fortnight’s end.
Korin and the Companions rode with the king for a while, discussing hawking and the best hunts they’d had. But Erius’ mind was already in the city and he was soon conducting business on horseback, listening to petitions read out by mounted scribes. Bored, the boys fell back and left him to it.
Someone back in the ranks started a ballad and soon the whole column joined in. It was an old one, from the time of the Great War, and told of a general who’d died defeating the Plenimaran necromancers. The song ended, and talk turned to dark magic. None of the boys had any real knowledge of such matters, but they’d all heard lurid tales and eagerly shared them.
“My father told me a story passed down through all my grandfathers,” Alben said. “One of our ancestors led a force against a necromancer’s castle on an island near Kouros. It was fenced all around with the bodies of Skalan warriors, nailed up like scarecrows. Inside the castle, all the books were bound with human skin. The servants’ shoes and belts were made of it, and all the cups were made of skulls. We have one in the house treasury. Father
says we should have exterminated every necromancer when we had the chance.”
They hadn’t seen Niryn all morning, but suddenly there he was, riding beside Korin. “Your father speaks wisely, Lord Alben. Necromancy has deep roots in Plenimar, and it’s growing stronger again. Their dark god demands innocent blood and flesh in his temples. The priests make a feast of it and their wizards use the bodies like the carcasses of cattle, just as you say. Their filthy practices have even come to our shores, and some wearing the robes of the Four secretly practice the red arts. Traitors, every one of them. You boys must be vigilant; their influence is a canker in the heart of Skala, and death is the only cure. They must be hunted down and destroyed.”
“As you and your Harriers do, my lord,” Alben said.
“Bootlicker,” Lutha muttered, then busied himself with his reins when the wizard’s hard brown gaze flickered momentarily in his direction.
“The Harriers serve the king, just as you boys do,” the wizard replied, touching his brow and heart. “The wizards of Skala must defend the throne from these foul traitors.”
He rode forward again, and Zusthra and Alben excitedly launched into the stories they’d heard of such executions. “They burn them alive,” said Zusthra.
“They only hang the priests,” Alben corrected. “They have a special magic for the wizards.”
“How can they do that?” Urmanis demanded. “They must catch only the weak ones. The strong ones could just use their own magic to escape.”
“The Harriers have their ways,” Korin told him smugly. “Father says that Niryn was gifted with binding magic in a vision from Illior and told to purify his kind for Skala’s sake.”
W
ord of the king’s progress went before them and every village was decked out to greet him. Bonfires blazed on hilltops and people lined the road, cheering and waving
as they passed. It was no different when they reached Ero just before dusk of the second day. The whole city was ablaze with light and the north road was lined for half a mile out with well-wishers.
Erius happily acknowledged the welcome, waving and throwing fistfuls of gold sesters to the crowd. At the gate he saluted the carved emblems of the gods, then drew his sword and held it up for all to see. “In the name of Ghërilain and Thelátimos, my ancestors, and in the name of Sakor and Illior, our protectors, I enter my capital.”