Hidden Warrior (30 page)

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T
obin’s set followed lead and drank their wine well watered. Thanks to this, they were generally the first up in the morning, and the first to learn that Korin’s squire was finding other places to sleep.

“What are you doing here?” Ruan demanded the first time they found Tanil curled in a blanket by the messroom hearth. He gave the older squire a playful nudge with his boot. Tanil usually answered such liberties by throwing the offender down and tickling him, signaling the others to pile on for an all-out wrestle. Instead, he stalked out without a word.

“Who pissed in his soup?” Ki muttered.

The others snickered, except for the crestfallen Ruan, who idolized Tanil.

“I wouldn’t be too chipper either, if I spent the night on the floor,” said Lutha. “Maybe he’s tired of Korin’s snoring.”

“Korin hasn’t been doing much snoring lately,” Ki confided. Living next door to the prince, he and Tobin had heard enough late night thumping and whispering to guess that Korin didn’t often go to bed alone.

“Well, I guess we know it’s not Tanil,” said Ruan.

“It never was!” Lutha scoffed. “No, Korin’s after another chambermaid.”

“I don’t think so,” Nikides mused later, trudging along beside them as they set off on the morning run. He’d gotten a bit more growth over the summer and lost most of his boyish fat, but he was still the slowest.

“What do you mean?” asked Ki, always eager for gossip.

Nikides looked ahead to make sure none of the older boys were in earshot. “I shouldn’t say anything—”

“You already have, blabbermouth. Tell!” Lutha urged.

“Well, when I was dining at Grandfather’s the other night, I overheard him saying something to my cousin the Exchequer about the prince and—” He looked ahead again, making certain Korin was still well ahead of them. “That he was—dallying with Lady Aliya.”

Even Ki was shocked. Servant girls were one thing, or other boys, even, but the noble girls were strictly kept.

Worse yet, none of them liked Aliya. She was pretty enough, but she had a mean, teasing way with everyone except Korin. Even Caliel avoided her when he could.

“Haven’t you noticed?” said Nikides. “She’s always with him, and from the way the maids have been sulking and moping, I’d say she’d pushed the rest of them out of his bed.”

“And Tanil,” Ruan reminded them.

Lutha let out a whistle. “Do you suppose he’s in love with her?”

Barieus laughed. “Korin in love? With his horses and hawks, maybe, but
her?
Bilairy’s balls, I hope not. Picture her as queen!”

Nikides shrugged. “You don’t have to love ’em to bed ’em.”

Lutha pretended to be shocked. “Is that any way for the Lord Chancellor’s grandson to talk? For shame!” He gave his friend a playful cuff on the ear.

The other boy yelped and swung at Lutha, who easily veered out of reach without breaking stride.

“You six, double time!” Porion shouted, falling out of the line to glare at them. “Or would you rather do a second round to build up your strength?”

“No, Master Porion!” Tobin called, and lengthened his stride, leaving Nikides to fend for himself.

“Nik’s right, you know. Just look at him,” said Ki. Korin was loping at the head of the pack, dark eyes sparkling as he shared some joke with Zusthra and Caliel. “He’s too wild to give his heart away. All the same, though, if Aliya is his favorite now, she’ll be worse than ever!”

B
y late summer the city was unbearable. Many Palatine nobles fled to their country estates, and those who stayed built bathing pools. In the lower parts of the city, the weak and the elderly died by the dozens.

The king and Porion relented a bit with the boys. Released from court duties, the Companions rode in the wooded hills and bathed in the sea. The men of the princes’ guard were as grateful for this light duty as the Companions. At the pools and sea coves, everyone stripped off and swam. Soon they were all as brown as farmers, and Ki was the brownest of them all. He was starting to fill out like the older boys, too, Tobin couldn’t help but notice. He, on the other hand, was not.

R
iding back through the city after an excursion in mid-Lenthin, Tobin was suddenly struck by the near silence. The streets were always quiet on these blistering days; most people stayed indoors to escape the heat and the stench. Even so, those who were about always cheered the prince’s banner as the Companions rode past. This morning had been no different, but now many looked away, or stared darkly after them. One man even spat on the ground as Korin passed.

“Has something happened?” Korin called out to a harness maker fanning himself on a crate in front of his shop. The man shook his head and went inside.

“What rudeness,” Zusthra exclaimed indignantly. “I’ll thrash the fellow!”

To Tobin’s relief, Korin shook his head and kicked his horse into a gallop.

They were within sight of the Palatine gate when someone threw a cabbage from the upper window of a house. It missed Korin’s head by inches and struck Tanil on the shoulder, knocking the squire from his horse.

Korin reined in furiously as the Companions closed ranks around him. “Search that house. Bring me the man who dares attack the king’s son!”

His captain, Melnoth, kicked the door down and stormed in with a dozen men. The rest formed a circle around the Companions, weapons drawn. Screams and the sound of breaking crockery soon came from inside.

A crowd gathered as Korin helped Tanil back into the saddle.

“I’m all right,” Tanil insisted, rubbing his elbow.

“You’re lucky it isn’t broken,” said Ki. “Why the hell is someone shying cabbages at us all of a sudden?”

The soldiers dragged three people from the house: an old man and woman, and a young fellow in the blue-and-white robes of an Illioran temple initiate.

“Which of you attacked me?” Korin demanded.

“I threw the cabbage!” the priest shot back, staring arrogantly up at Korin.

The prince was visibly taken aback by the man’s brazen vehemence. For a moment he looked more like a hurt child than an angry noble. “But why?”

The man spat on the ground. “Ask your father.”

“What’s this to do with him?”

Instead of answering, the young priest spat again, and began yelling, “Abomination! Abomination! Murders! You are killing the land—”

Captain Melnoth struck him on the head with his sword hilt and the man fell senseless to the ground.

“Is this your kin?” Korin demanded of the cowering elderly couple.

The toothless old man could only whimper. His wife
wrapped her arms around him and looked imploringly up at Korin. “Our nephew, my prince, just in from the country to serve at the Dog Street temple. I had no idea he’d do such a thing! Forgive him, I beg you. He’s young …”

“Forgive?” Korin let out a startled laugh. “No, old mother, I don’t forgive such an act. Captain, take him to the Harriers and see that he’s questioned.”

The old woman’s wailing followed them as they rode on.

E
rius made light of the incident that night as the boys feasted with him in his private courtyard. The squires served at table, assisted by a few of the king’s young men. Moriel was among them, and Tobin was amused to see how he was careful to stay out of Korin’s reach.

Niryn, Hylus, and a handful of other nobles dined with them. Everyone had heard of the incident with the young Illioran, of course, but had to have it again from Korin.

When he was done, Erius sat back and nodded. “Well, Korin, perhaps it’s time you see that it’s not all cheers and roses, ruling a great kingdom. There are traitors everywhere.”

“He called me an abomination, Father,” said Korin. The accusation had been eating at him all day.

“What else would you expect from an Illioran?” Niryn sneered. “I wonder sometimes that you let their temples remain open in the city, Majesty. Priests are the worst traitors of all, corrupting the simpleminded populace with their wives’ tales.”

“But what did he mean, telling me to ask you about it?” Korin persisted.

“If I may, my king?” asked Lord Hylus, looking grave. “The man’s remarks were most certainly in reference to the executions announced today.”

“Executions?” Korin turned expectantly to his father.

“Yes, that’s why I invited you here tonight, before this other unpleasantness occurred,” his father replied. “I’ve
something special planned, my boys. Tomorrow night there’s to be a burning!”

Tobin felt cold despite the lingering heat of the day.

“A wizard burning?” Korin exclaimed, delighted. “We’ve been wanting to see one of those!”

Lynx leaned over Tobin’s shoulder to fill his cup. “Some of us have,” he muttered without much enthusiasm.

“Your father understands that you are no longer a child, my prince,” Niryn said with an obsequious smile. “It’s time you and your Companions witness the full power of Skalan justice. Thanks to your quick thinking this afternoon, we’ll have one more rope on the gibbet pole.”

“And you won’t have far to go to see it done,” the king said, comfortable over his wine and nuts. “The East Market is being cleared as we speak.”

“Then you mean to go forward with this, my king?” Hylus asked softly. “You will not reconsider?”

The chamber went silent.

Erius turned slowly to his chancellor, and Tobin recognized the sudden change in his uncle’s jovial countenance. It was the same look he’d given Tobin when he’d foolishly asked that Cirna be given to Ki’s father. This time Niryn did not intervene.

“I believe I made myself clear on the matter this morning. Do you have something more to say?” the king replied, his voice dangerously low.

Hylus looked slowly around the table, but no one would meet his eye. “Only to reiterate that such matters have always been dealt with outside the city walls. In light of today’s incident, perhaps Your Majesty should—”

Erius lurched to his feet, clutching his mazer in one upraised hand, ready to hurl it at the old man. His face had gone dark red and sweat beaded his brow. Caught behind the Lord Chancellor’s chair, Ruan clutched the empty alms basin to his chest. Hylus lowered his head and pressed a hand to his heart, but did not flinch.

Time seemed to stop for one awful moment. Then Niryn rose and whispered something in the king’s ear.

Erius slowly lowered the cup and slumped back in his chair. Glaring around at the table, he demanded, “Does anyone else object to the execution of traitors?”

No one spoke.

“Very well, then,” Erius said thickly. “The executions will proceed as I order.
Where
I order. Now if you will all excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

Korin rose to follow his father, but Niryn shook his head and accompanied the king himself. Moriel followed. Korin stared after them in silent outrage, cheeks flaming.

It was Hylus who broke this silence. “Ah, my prince, these are trying times. I should not have questioned your good father. I pray you will convey my apologies to him.”

“Of course, my lord.” Korin was still shaken, too.

Everyone rose to leave, but Tobin sat a moment longer, heart pounding in his ears. He’d grown complacent again, basking in his uncle’s favor. Tonight he knew he’d had a true glimpse of the man his mother had feared, the man who could in cold blood order the death of children.

T
raitors or not, I don’t like the feel of this,” Ki muttered as they finished dressing the following evening. “It’s bad business, killing priests. My dad used to say that’s what brought on all the famines and sickness there’ve been since the king—” Ki bit his tongue and looked quickly at Tobin to see if he’d offended him; the king was his uncle, after all. He kept forgetting that.

But Tobin was staring off with that distracted look he still sometimes got since his illness. Ki wasn’t sure if he’d even heard him.

Tobin tugged on his new surcoat and let out a troubled sigh. “I don’t know what to think, Ki. We’re pledged to fight all traitors against Skala, and I will! But the way the king looked at Hylus?” He shook his head. “I grew up with my mother’s madness. I know the look of it, and I swear that’s what I saw in the king’s eyes when he was shouting at that poor old man. And no one else said anything! They all acted like it was nothing. Even Korin.”

“If he is mad, who’d dare say anything? He’s still king,” Ki reminded him. “And what about Niryn? He looked pretty damn pleased, I thought.”

A soft knock came at the door and Nikides and Ruan slipped in. Ki noted with alarm that Nikides was close to tears.

“What’s wrong?” Tobin asked, guiding him to a chair.

Nikides was too overcome to answer.

“Haven’t you heard the rumors?” asked Ruan.

“No,” Ki replied. “What is it?”

Nikides found his voice then. “Grandfather is under arrest.
For treason! For asking a question!” Nikides choked out, shaking with anger. “All Grandfather did was ask a question. You heard him. The king knows as well as anyone that there’s never been an execution inside the city walls, except—Well, you know.”

“Except during Queen Agnalain’s reign,” Ruan finished for him. “Begging your pardon, Prince Tobin, but your grandmother did some dark things.”

“You needn’t apologize to me. She was mad, just like my mother.”

“Don’t say that, Tob,” Ki begged. Her memory seemed to be on Tobin’s mind too much these days. “She never did anything like Mad Agnalain.”
Or the king
, he added silently.

“It can’t be true,” he said to Nikides. “Chancellor Hylus is the wisest, most loyal man in Skala and everyone knows it. You know how rumors are.”

“But what if it
is
true?” Nikides fought back tears. “What if he’s executed with the others tonight? And—” He looked imploringly up at Tobin. “How could I just sit there and watch?”

“Come on. Korin will know, I bet,” said Tobin.

Tanil answered their knock. “Time to go already?” He had on his showiest armor but his boots were still unlaced.

“No, we need to speak with Korin,” Tobin replied.

Korin was standing before his long looking glass with his cuirass half-buckled. The Sakor horse charm Tobin had made for him swung against the gilded leather as Tanil wrestled with the stubborn buckles. Two valets, meanwhile, were laying out ceremonial cloaks and polishing the prince’s gold-chased helm.