Hidden Warrior (46 page)

Tobin wanted to look away when they burned, but he knew the others were watching him, and wondering. No doubt a few of them still hoping that he’d make a spectacle of himself again. So he kept his eyes open and his face turned to the blinding white fires, trying not to see the dark figures writhing within.

There was no dissent this time. The crowd roared its approval and the Companions cheered. Tobin blinked his smarting eyes and looked over at Korin. As he suspected, his cousin was watching him and gave Tobin a proud grin. Tobin’s stomach lurched, and he had to swallow hard as bile rose in his throat.

Tobin could only pretend to eat during the banquet that followed. The nausea had passed, but he felt the stir of the pains deep in his belly, like a reminder. They grew stronger as the evening went on, as bad as they’d been that day he’d bled. Lhel had promised him that wouldn’t happen again, but every new pain sent his heart racing. What if there was blood again? What if someone saw?

Niryn was at the king’s side, as always, and more than once Tobin was certain he felt the man’s cold gaze on him. Serving with the squires, Ki gave him a questioning look. Tobin hastily busied himself with the slab of lamb going cold on his trencher, forcing down a few mouthfuls.

As soon as they were released from the feast, he fled to the nearest privy and checked his trousers for blood. There wasn’t any, of course, but it was still hard to meet Ki’s worried gaze as he emerged.

“You sick, Tob?”

Tobin shrugged. “Executions still don’t agree with me, I guess.”

Ki put an arm around him as they made their way back to their chambers. “Me neither. And I hope they never do.”

Y
our nephew still has no stomach for the just execution of your law, my king,” Niryn remarked, as they sat smoking in Erius’ gardens that night.

Erius shrugged. “He looked a little green, but he held up well.”

“Indeed. Yet it is curious that a boy who has proven himself so well in battle would be unsettled by the death of a criminal, don’t you think?”
But not merely unsettled
. The boy had been angry. It had rather amused the wizard, even as he’d stored the knowledge away. The prince was of no consequence, and circumstance might yet take care of any impediment he’d impose. Another battle, perhaps, or a touch of plague.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Erius watched a smoke ring he’d blown drift away on the evening breeze. “I knew a fine general, a true lion in battle, who would go white with fear if a cat came into the room. And I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve seen General Rheynaris himself faint at the sight of his own blood. We all have our little quirks. It’s no wonder a boy should blanch at the sight of a man being burned alive. Took me a while to get used to it.”

“I suppose, Majesty.”

“And what does it matter, anyway?” Erius chuckled. “I’ve no need of him as an heir anymore. Aliya’s pregnant again, you know, and ripening nicely.”

“You’re very fond of her, Majesty.”

“She’s pretty, she’s strong and has spirit—more than a match for that son of mine—and she dotes on me like a true daughter. And what a queen she’ll make, if only she can throw an heir this time.”

Niryn smiled and blew a smoke ring of his own.

A
rkoniel didn’t realize how comfortable he’d grown until the false peace they’d enjoyed was shattered. He’d been working with the children in the simples garden, harvesting the last of the season’s herbs. There would be a full moon that night and he expected a frost. Suddenly a little point of light appeared a few feet from his nose. Wythrin and the others watched apprehensively as Arkoniel touched a finger to the message sphere. He felt the tingle of Lyan’s excitement as the light disappeared and he heard her excited voice saying, “Hide at once! A herald is coming.”

“Come, children, into the woods,” he ordered. “Bring your tools and baskets. Hurry now!”

As soon as they were safely hidden in a thicket, he summoned a message spell of his own and sent it speeding to Eyoli in the workroom.

“Are the Harriers coming to get us?” Totmus whimpered, crouched close beside him. The others clung to Ethni and she hugged them close, but she was just as frightened.

“No, just a messenger. But we’ve got to be very quiet, all the same. Eyoli will come get us when it’s safe.”

A rider came up the hill at a gallop, and they heard the hollow report of hooves across the bridge. Arkoniel wondered if Nari would offer the rider the customary hospitality—a meal and a night’s lodging. He didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping under the stars that night. As if to underscore the thought, Totmus clapped his hands across his mouth to stifle a cough. Despite good food and Nari’s care, he was
still a pallid, sickly child and was showing signs of an autumn cold.

The sun crawled down the sky and the shadows cooled around them. The stars were pricking the purple sky when they heard the rider again. Arkoniel heaved a sigh of relief as the sound faded away on the Alestun road but still waited for Eyoli’s point of light to tell them it was safe to come back.

N
ari and Catilan met him in the hall. The other wizards were still hiding upstairs.

“It’s from Tobin.” Nari told him, handing him a parchment scroll bearing the Atyion seal.

Arkoniel’s heart sank as he read it, though the message was jubilant: the Companions were home, the royal progress had been a success, and the king had granted Tobin permission to celebrate his birthday with a few weeks of hunting at his old home. Soon wagonloads of servants and provisions would be rumbling up the road to begin preparations.

“I suppose it had to happen, sooner or later.” Nari sighed. “This is still his home, after all. But how in the world can we hide everyone with a pack of hunters racketing about the place?”

“It’s no good sending them into the forest,” said Catilan. “Someone is bound to stumble across any camp we make there.”

“And what about you, Arkoniel?” added Nari. “What are we going to do with you? Not to mention the extra beds set up. And the gardens!”

Arkoniel tucked the letter away. “Well, General, what do you suggest?”

“The house is easily set to rights. The beds will be needed and the garden can be explained. But the rest of you will have to go away someplace,” Catilan replied. “The question is, where? Winter’s coming on fast.” She drew
Totmus to her side and gave Arkoniel a meaningful look. “There’ll be snow on the ground soon.”

Eyoli had been listening from the stairs and came down to join them. “We can’t travel in a group, like wandering players. Others have tried that. The Harriers make a point of stopping any they meet on the road claiming to be actors and the like. We’ll have to scatter.”

“No!” said Arkoniel. “Nari, you see to the children. Eyoli, come with me.”

The older wizards were waiting anxiously for him in the workroom. Arkoniel had hardly finished explaining the situation before they erupted in panic, all talking at once. Melissandra bolted for the door, calling for Dara to pack, and Hain rose to follow. Malkanus was already planning defenses for the road. Even the older ones looked ready to run.

“Listen to me, please!” Arkoniel cried. “Melissandra, Hain, come back.”

When they ignored him, he muttered a spell Lhel had taught him and clapped his hands. A peal of thunder shook the room, startling the others to silence.

“Have you forgotten already why you’re here?” he demanded. “Look around you.” His heart beat faster as the words poured out. “The Third Orëska Iya talks of isn’t some far-off dream. It’s here. Now. In this room.
We
are the Third Orëska, the first fruits of her vision. The Lightbearer brought us together. Whatever purpose there may be in that, we can’t scatter now.”

“He’s right,” said Eyoli. “Mistress Virishan always said our safety lay in unity. Those children downstairs? They wouldn’t be alive now except for her. If we stay together, then perhaps we can stand against the Harriers. I know I can’t do it alone.”

“None of us can,” old Vornus agreed, looking grim.

“I managed well enough,” Kaulin retorted, dour as ever.

“By running away. And you came here,” Arkoniel reminded him.

“I came only for safety, not to lose my freedom!”

“Would you rather wear one of their silver badges?” Cerana demanded. “How free will you be once the Harriers number you and write your name in their book? I’ll fight for your queen, Arkoniel, but more than that, I want to drive those white-robed monsters out. Why does Illior allow such a travesty?”

“Perhaps we’re proof that the Lightbearer does not,” Malkanus offered, leaning against the wall by the window.

Arkoniel looked at him in surprise. The other man shrugged, fingering the fine silk embroidery on his sleeve. “I saw the vision and believed. I’ll fight, if need be. I say we stay together.”

“So we stay together,” said Lyan. “But we can’t stay here.”

“We could go deeper into the mountains,” Kaulin said. “I’ve been quite a ways up. There’s game enough, if any of you know how to earn your food.”

“But for how long?” asked Melissandra. “And what about the children? The higher we go, the sooner the winter will find us.”

“Lyan, can you send one of your message lights to Iya?”

“Not without knowing something of where she is. It must be directed.”

“All right, then. We make our own way. We’ll pack the wagon and your horses with all the supplies they can carry, and see where the road takes us. Be ready by dawn.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a start.

N
ari and the servants took charge of provisioning. With the help of the men, Arkoniel moved his meager belongings back up to his abandoned bedchamber on the third floor. When they’d finished he sent them to help in the kitchen yard, and found himself alone upstairs for the first
time in months. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms. It was already dark.

He packed hurriedly, throwing a few days’ clothing into a pack. He wouldn’t be gone long; as soon as he had the others settled somewhere, he’d come back and try to speak with the boys. He tried not to think of the locked door down the corridor, yet all the while he had the growing sense that Ariani was watching him.

“This is for your child. All for her,” he whispered. Grabbing up the lopsided pack, he was halfway to the stairs when he realized he’d forgotten the bag containing the bowl. It had been months since he’d thought about that, too.

Turning slowly, he searched the darkness beyond his lamp. Was that a white shape hovering by the tower door, or just a trick of the light? With an effort, he started back for the workroom. The air against his face grew colder with every step, but he couldn’t run away. Not without the bowl.

He dashed to the table and snagged the dusty leather bag from its hiding place underneath. Shoving it into the pack, he looked around fearfully, expecting any moment to see Ariani’s blood-streaked face in the shadows. But there was no sign of her, only the chill, and perhaps that was just the night breeze through the shutters. With shaking hands, he added a few more simples and a jar of firechips to his collection.

He was halfway down the corridor again when another realization halted him in his tracks.

In a few days’ time this house would be filled with young nobles, huntsmen, and servants. Every room would be needed.

“Bilairy’s balls!” Dropping the pack at the top of the stairs, he drew out his wand and hurried back to his rooms.

Obscuration was not difficult magic, but it took time and concentration. By the time he’d hidden the doors to
his chambers, making them appear to be bricked up, he was shaking and drenched with sweat. That still left two guest chambers on the other side of the corridor in use.

Only then did he realize he’d forgotten about the windows, which were visible from the road. With a snarl of frustration he swept aside the carefully crafted spells and began again, this time creating the illusion that there had been a fire; from outside people would see blackened stonework around the windows and charred shutters. As he obscured the last doorway again his lamp guttered out and he heard an unmistakable sigh.

Ariani was standing by the tower door, bright as a candle in the darkness. Water and blood streamed from her black hair, soaking the front of her gown and pooling on the floor around her feet. Silent as smoke, she glided to the workroom door, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other held at a strange angle against her side, as if she were carrying something. She stared at the illusion for a long moment, looking lost and confused.

“I’m protecting your child,” he told her.

She held him with her eyes a moment, then faded away without a word.

Arkoniel hadn’t expected to sleep that night, but he fell into a restless doze the second he lay down across the unmade bed in Tobin’s room, and dreamed of riders hunting him through the forest, led by Ariani’s ghost.

The touch of a cold hand on his brow brought him awake with a strangled cry. It was no dream; a hand was touching him. Flailing wildly, he tumbled off the wrong side the bed and found himself wedged helplessly between the mattress and the wall.

A woman stood on the other side of the bed, silhouetted against the light spilling in at the open window. Ariani had followed him here. His flesh crawled at the thought of her touching him as he slept.

“Arkoniel?”

That wasn’t Ariani’s voice.

“Lhel?” He heard a soft chuckle, then felt the mattress shift as she sat down. “By the Four!” Scrambling across the bed, he hugged her, then rested his head in her lap. Deer tooth beads pressed into his cheek. Dark against darkness, Lhel stroked his hair.

“Did you miss me, little man?”

Embarrassed, he sat up and pulled her close, burying his fingers in her coarse black curls. There were dead leaves and twigs tangled there, and the taste of salt on her lips. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?”

“The Mother sent me over the mountains to a place my people once lived. It’s only a few days’ journey from here. Tomorrow I’ll guide your wizards there. You must go quickly, though, and make what houses you can before the snows come.”