Hidden Warrior (45 page)

Niryn met them on board the morning of their departure,
looking more noble than wizard. Under a cloak lined with winter fox, he wore robes of thick silver silk trimmed with pearls.

“Welcome, my princes!” he cried as heartily as if he were the captain of the venture.

Tobin studied the skillful stitching on the wizard’s sleeve, carefully not thinking of anything but that.

T
he village at Cirna was nothing but a cluster of rude cottages above the sheltered harbor on the east side of the isthmus. Their welcome was jubilant, however, and set the pattern for the rest of the journey. A handsome, dashing young future king with a beautiful wife on his arm was a happy sight; no one outside the Palatine knew of his first showing as a warrior.

Korin made a short speech, then Niryn led them up a frozen switchback road to the fortress that commanded the isthmus road. It was an imposing pile and Tobin blushed, thinking of how he’d so casually tried to give it away. Sir Larenth might have been a poor choice to rule such a stronghold, but Tobin would have preferred him to its current Protector.

The fortress keep was nothing like Atyion. Ancient, damp, and cheerless, it was less a noble residence than a barracks. Disliking both it and their host, Tobin spent as much time as he could exploring with his friends.

The parapets all faced north. The high curtain wall had three levels, with wooden walkways and loopholes for shooting. The top of the wall was open, with a broad allure to stand on and merlons with arrow loops. The boys stood at the crenels between, imagining an enemy force bearing down on them along the isthmus road. The fortress had been built at the narrowest point of the land bridge and the sheer fall of the cliffs on either side offered little purchase, except for the steep track down to the village.

From the walls they could look east over the Inner Sea,
then turn and, less than a mile away, see the distant expanse of the Osiat.

“Look at that!” Ki exclaimed. “The Inner Sea is the color of turquoise today, but the Osiat is like ink.”

“Is that Aurënen over there?” Ruan asked, pointing at peaks visible far off in the west across the water.

“No, that lies much farther south,” Tobin replied, recalling the maps he and Ki had studied in the palace library. “If you keep going west from there, you’d end up in Zengat, I think.”

Riding along the headlands, they peered over the sheer, dizzying cliffs on the western side. Far below they could see the backs of circling gulls, and below that, the white curl of surf against the sheer stone face.

“The isthmus is like a fortress wall,” said Tobin. “To get to that little point of land down there, you’d have to sail back all the way around Skala.”

“That’s why there are hardly any settlements on the west side,” said Nikides. “The land is steeper on that side of the mountains, and there aren’t many good harbors. And Grandfather says the Three Lands all face Kouros because it’s the heart of the world.”

“Good. That means we don’t have to sail all the way ’round, at least,” said Ruan, who was prone to seasickness.

But Tobin was still looking at that tantalizing jut of land in the distance. It thrust out against the unexpected blue of the Osiat Sea and was covered by what looked like oak trees. What would it be like to walk there? He’d probably never know and the thought made him oddly sad. This windswept ribbon of land, and the rugged mountains, which ran like a spine down the middle of the Skalan peninsula, effectively cut the country in half.

T
hey left Cirna and began a halting progress along the jagged northern coast. Sometimes they stayed in castles, and sometimes in cities, meeting the same acclaim, the same
blessings and speeches and toasts at each port of call. By spring, they’d only gotten as far as Volchi, but Tobin had already filled two journals with military observations. Thoughts of other sorts he knew better than to commit to paper.

I
ya arrived at the keep at midsummer with three more wizards for Arkoniel’s little band. She was delighted with his progress, especially when she learned that he and Eyoli had mastered Lyan’s message-sending spell.

The nights were warm and they spent the second evening walking along the cool riverbank. Behind them, the windows of the keep were warm with candlelight. A large log had washed up after the spring floods and they sat on it and dangled their bare feet in the water. Iya watched him send a trifling message off to Lyan in a tiny globe of bluish light. A moment later the woman’s laughing reply sped back in a firefly spark of green.

“Amazing!” Iya exclaimed.

“Actually it’s not a difficult spell at all, if you can perceive the pattern.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re young, Arkoniel, and you’ve spent the better part of your life caught up in this scheme of mine. Don’t you remember how it was before? Wizards don’t live in groups, and they seldom share their knowledge. Remember how frustrated and hurt you’d be if someone showed you a pretty spell but wouldn’t tell you how it worked?”

“Yes. And you’d tell me it was rude to ask.”

“So it was, but these are different times. Adversity is binding us closer—both this lot of yours, and that group I told you of in Ero.”

“Your Wormhole wizards?” Arkoniel chuckled.

“Yes. How many other little cabals do you suppose there are, out there?”

“There are the Harriers. They were the first.”

Iya’s lips tightened in distaste. “I suppose you’re right. When I first heard of them I thought it couldn’t last. Yet here we are.” She shook her head. “Yes, different times, indeed.”

Arkoniel glanced back at the warm glow in the windows. “I like it, Iya. I enjoy seeing so many children together, and teaching them. I like sharing magics with the others, too.”

She patted his hand and rose to go. “It’s what you’re meant for, my dear.”

“How do you mean? As soon as we’ve accomplished your task, it will all go back to the way it was before.”

“I’m not so sure. Do you recall what I told you of my vision at Afra?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t tell you everything. I saw you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, standing in a great, shining white palace filled with wizards, with an apprentice by your side.”

“Wythnir?”

“No, you were a very old man in my vision. It must have been centuries from now and the child was still very young. I didn’t understand at the time but now I think I begin to see the significance.”

Arkoniel looked up at the keep again and shook his head. “It’s no shining palace.”

“Ah, but you’re not old yet, either. No, I think we are seeing the very beginning of a path that will shape your life.”

“Both our lives.”

“I suspect not.”

The words sent a stab of dread through him. “I don’t know what you mean, Iya, but believe me, you’ll be welcome anywhere I go. It will probably be you who builds that white palace. You just saw too far, that’s all.”

Iya tucked her hand under his arm as they walked
back up the hill. “Perhaps you’re right. Whatever it means, I know what I was shown, and I am content.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. As they reached the bridge, she asked, “How are you coming along with that doorway spell of yours? You still have most of your fingers, I see.”

“Actually, I have some exciting news. I showed it to Vornus and he saw something similar practiced by a centaur mage in the Nimra Mountains. He calls it translocation magic. I think that describes it better than doorway. It isn’t anything as simple as that, but rather a vortex that sucks objects away like a whirlwind. The problem is that the vortex spins too fast. If I can slow it somehow, I might even be able to transport people.”

“Be careful, dear boy! That’s a dangerous path you’re on. I’ve thought so since you first showed it to me.”

“Don’t worry, we’re using rats and mice for now.” He smiled wryly. “Given our latest attempts, I suspect the keep will be free of vermin before we’re through. All the same, I have hope.”

“That’s not the only danger I was thinking of. You must always consider the consequences of such power. Promise me that you’ll keep this a secret for now.”

“I will. I trust Vornus and Lyan, but I’m not so sure about Malkanus. He has power enough as it is, and seems to enjoy it for it’s own sake.”

“You have a discerning heart, Arkoniel. I’ve always thought so. If you don’t let yourself be blinded by pity, it will serve you well.”

Arkoniel flinched at the hint of reproach behind her words. Though she’d never said as much, he knew that she’d never entirely forgiven him for sparing Ki.

K
orin and the Companions returned to Ero with the autumn rains and were overjoyed to find Lutha and Barieus waiting on the quay to greet them when they’d sailed in. Lutha was not only well again, but had grown a full three inches.

“Almost dying agreed with me,” he said, laughing as everyone exclaimed over him. “I still can’t seem to catch up with you, though, Tobin.”

Tobin grinned shyly. He’d grown so quickly over the past year that he’d needed new clothes made. He stood as tall as Korin, now, but even though he was nearly fifteen, he was still slender and beardless, a fact the others chafed him about unmercifully.

Tobin did his best to laugh, but inwardly he was increasingly dismayed. All of his friends were filling out like men. Ki was broader through the shoulders and now sported a sparse moustache and narrow chin beard, a fashion Korin had set in the spring. Nik and Lutha both boasted “double arrows,” respectable points of silky hair above the corners of their mouths.

Even Brother had changed. They’d always been nearly identical, but over the past year Brother had taken on a more man-grown look, with shoulders as broad as Ki’s. Soft black hair shadowed his upper lip and the middle of his chest, while Tobin’s remained smooth as a girl’s.

Over the summer he’d even found himself making excuses not to go bathing with the others; in spite of his new height Tobin still looked like a child compared to most of them.

Worse yet, he had a hard time not staring at their well-muscled bodies and privates. Wrestling matches, a favorite sport since he’d joined the Companions, evoked unsettling feelings, too, especially with Ki.

Tharin had guessed part of the problem as Tobin sulked around the ship’s deck one hot day in Lenthin. Everyone else was ashore, swimming in a cove, but Tobin had stayed behind, pleading a headache. Even Ki had abandoned him.

“I was a skinny thing at your age, too,” Tharin said kindly, sitting with him in the shade of the sail. “Any day now you’ll have hair on your lip and muscles like a wrestler.”

“Was it that way with my father?” Tobin asked.

“Well, Rhius grew faster, but you may take after your mother’s side. Her father was a slim man, but strong like you.” He gave Tobin’s upper arm an appraising pinch. “You’re all whipcord and wire, just like he was. And quick as a cat, too. I saw you get under Zusthra’s guard yesterday. Quickness can overcome bulk any day if you’re smart. And you are.”

None of this made Tobin feel much better. He couldn’t tell Tharin about the moonflow pains that plagued him more often now. Even knowing the truth, he felt left behind. No wonder the girls had all stopped flirting with him.

That’s not why
, a small secret voice whispered deep in his heart.
They know. They can tell
.

He knew what was whispered about Ki and him, whispers they both ignored for their own reasons. But sometime over the summer when he wasn’t even looking, something had changed; something he didn’t dare let himself think about when Ki was around, for fear it would show in his face.

Ki loved him as much as ever, but there was no question how his fancies ran. A few of the servant girls had given him a tumble back in Ero, and there’d been more opportunities on the voyage. Ki was handsome and easygoing;
girls were drawn to him like cats to cream. He wasn’t above bragging about his exploits to the other boys, either.

Tobin was always silent during these conversations, tongue locked to the roof of his mouth.
Just Tobin being shy, as usual
, everyone thought, and Ki saw no further than that. In his mind they were brothers, as they’d always been. He never said a word to Tobin about the whispers or treated him any differently. In return, Tobin swallowed the confused yearnings that assailed him at odd moments and did the same.

It was always worst on the full moon, when the moontide pangs tugged at his belly, reminding Tobin who he really was. Sometimes he even caught himself watching young women with envy wondering what it felt like to stride about in flowing skirts, with strands of beads woven into your hair and scent at your wrists—and to have the boys look at you that way.

Someday
, Tobin thought, hiding his burning face in the pillow on such nights, trying not to think about Ki lying so close beside him, close enough to touch.
Someday he’ll know, and then we’ll see
.

Other times, alone and naked he looked down at his narrow hips and flat bony chest, took in the plain face reflected in his mirror, and wondered if he’d ever be a proper woman, either? Cupping his small penis in his hand, he tried to imagine the loss of it and shuddered, more confused than ever.

As they turned toward home at last, he vowed he’d find some way to visit Lhel.

B
ack in Ero at last, Tobin and Ki found themselves masters of a new suite of rooms in Korin’s wing of the new palace. The other boys were assigned quarters nearby.

There was the usual round of balls and salons, and the pleasure of returning to their old haunts in the city. They’d only been home for a few weeks, however, when the king
announced another execution in the square. Tobin had nearly forgotten the incident with the young priest, and the way people had looked at Korin that day, but now they rode out under double guard.

There were three wizards burned this time; Tobin kept as far from the platform as he could, fearful of being recognized; but, unlike before, the condemned went passively, silent behind their ugly iron masks.