Hidden Warrior (50 page)

T
hat winter started wet and unseasonably warm. The Companions and their men set out in drizzle and didn’t see the sun again for weeks. The roads were churned mud under their horses’ hooves. Inns and forts were sparse in this part of the country, so they spent most nights in waxed canvas tents—damp, cheerless encampments.

The first pack of bandits they found was a paltry one, just a few ragged men and boys who’d been stealing cattle. They surrendered without a fight and Korin hanged the lot.

A week later they found a stronger band entrenched in a hillside cave. They captured their horses, but the men were well armed and held out for four days before hunger forced them out. Even then, they fought fiercely. Korin killed the leader in the midst of a bloody melee. Tobin added three more to his score, and without any help from Brother. He hadn’t tried summoning the ghost or seen any sign of him since leaving the keep.

The soldiers stripped the bodies before burning them, and only then was it discovered that eight were women, including Ki’s second kill. She had grey in her hair and old scars on her arms.

“I didn’t know,” he said, troubled.

“She was a bandit, Ki, same as the others,” Tobin told him, but it gave him an odd feeling in his stomach, too.

Tharin and Koni had paused over another body. Tobin recognized the stained green tunic in Koni’s hands; this had been one of his own kills. This woman was older than the other. Her sagging breasts and the thick streaks of white in her hair made him think of Cook.

“I knew her,” Tharin said, draping a ragged cloak over the body. “She was a captain in the White Hawk Regiment.”

“I can’t believe I fought a woman!” Alben cried, rolling one of his kills over with his foot. He spat in disgust.

“There’s no shame in it. They were warriors in their day.” Tharin spoke quietly, but everyone heard the angry edge behind the words.

Porion shook his head. “No true warrior goes freebooter.”

Tharin turned away.

Korin spat on the dead captain. “Renegade trash and traitors, all of them. Burn them with the others.”

Tobin had no sympathy for lawbreakers—Una and Ahra had both found ways to serve without turning renegade and the women of Atyion were content to wait. But Tharin’s unspoken anger stayed with him, unsettling as the smell of burned flesh that clung to their clothing as they rode away.

The dead captain haunted Tobin’s dreams for weeks after, but she was not a vengeful spirit. Naked and bloody, she knelt weeping to lay her sword at his feet.

T
he rains held steady through Cinrin. On Mourning Night high winds blew in off the sea, tearing the black shrouds from the bronze festival gongs and scattering them like funeral offerings through the rain-lashed streets. The gongs clashed against their posts, sounding a midnight alarm instead of the dawn triumph.

There were bad omens during ritual, as well. The Sakor bull resisted, tossing its head, and it took the king three strokes to make the critical gash. When Korin delivered the entrails and liver to the waiting priests, they found them riddled with worms. Propitiatory sacrifices were carried out at once, but a week later the portent was realized, or so it seemed.

T
obin was dining with Korin in his chambers that evening, a small affair in Aliya’s honor. Rain drummed hard on the roof, all but drowning out the harp player.

It was an informal meal, and everyone was reclining on couches. Aliya laughed as Erius endeavored to make her comfortable with extra cushions.

“You’re a carrack filled with treasure, my dear,” he said, patting the great swell of her belly. “Ah, there he is, the fine fellow, kicking at his grandfather. And again! Are you certain you only have one baby in there?”

“I’ve felt so many pokes and jabs, you’d think I’m bearing a whole regiment!” She cradled her swollen middle. “But it’s to be expected with a boy child, or so the drysians tell me.”

“Another boy.” Erius nodded. “The gods must favor a
Skalan king, or the Maker would not send us so many. First Korin, then young Tobin here for my sister. And all the girls gone. A libation for my grandson, and a toast! To the kings of Skala!”

Tobin had no choice but to join in, and did so with mixed emotions. He wished the child no harm.

“That was a rather paltry libation, Tobin,” Erius chided, and Tobin realized with a start that he’d been watched.

“My apologies, Uncle,” he said, hastily pouring out half his cup on the floor. “Blessings on Korin and his family.”

“You mustn’t be jealous, coz,” Korin said.

“It’s not like anyone ever expected you to be the true second heir, is it?” Aliya said, and Tobin went sick all over, wondering if anyone else saw the flash of naked malice in her eyes. “You’ll always be Korin’s right hand, of course. And what greater honor could there be?”

“Of course.” Tobin forced a smile, wondering how she’d treat him once the child was born. “I never thought any differently.”

The feast went on, but Tobin felt as if the whole world had suddenly shifted out from under his feet. He was sure he saw Aliya’s father stealing hard looks at him, and the king’s smiles seemed false. Even Korin ignored him. The food was tasteless in his mouth, but he forced himself to eat, in case someone was still watching him, judging his demeanor.

The first dessert had just been served when Aliya let out a sharp cry and gripped her belly. “The pains,” she gasped, white with fear. “Oh Mother, the pains have come, just like last time!”

“It’s all right, poppet. It’s close enough to your time,” the duchess said, beaming. “Come, let’s get you to your bed. Korin, send for the midwives and drysians!”

Korin took Aliya’s hands and kissed them. “I’ll be with you soon, my love. Tobin, call the Companions and have them keep the vigil for us. My heir is coming!”

*     *     *

B
y custom, the Companions kept watch outside the birthing room. They milled nervously among the other courtiers, listening nervously to the shrill cries that came with increasing frequency from within.

“Is that how she’s supposed to sound?” Tobin whispered to Ki. “It sounds like she’s dying!”

Ki shrugged. “Some holler more than others, especially the first time.” But as the night dragged on and the cries turned to screams, even he grew uneasy.

The midwives came and went with basins and grim faces. Just before dawn one of them summoned Tobin inside. As Royal Kin, he was required to be among the witnesses.

A crowd stood around the curtained bed, but a place was made for him by the king and Korin. His cousin was sweating and pale. Chancellor Hylus, Lord Niryn, and at least a dozen other ministers were there, together with priests of all four gods.

Aliya had stopped screaming; he could her ragged panting from the bed. Through a gap in the hangings Tobin caught sight of one bare leg, streaked with blood. He looked away quickly, feeling like he’d seen something shameful. Lhel had spoken of magic and power; this was more like torture.

“Soon now, I think,” the king murmured, looking pleased.

As if in answer, Aliya let out a shrill scream that raised the hair on Tobin’s neck. It was followed by several others, but the voices were not hers. Aliya’s mother tumbled out from between the bed hangings in a dead faint and he heard women weeping.

“No!” Korin cried, tearing the curtains aside. “Aliya!”

Aliya sprawled like a broken doll in the middle of the blood-soaked bed, white as the linen nightgown rucked up around her hips. A midwife still knelt between her splayed legs, weeping over a swaddled bundle.

“The child,” Korin demanded, holding out his arms for it.

“Oh my prince!” the woman sobbed. “It was no child!”

“Show it, woman!” Erius ordered.

Keeping her face averted, the midwife turned back the wrappings. It had no arms, and the face—or what should have been the face—was featureless below the bulging, misshapen brow except for slitted eyes and nostrils.

“Cursed,” Korin whispered. “I am cursed!”

“No,” rasped Erius. “Never say that!”

“Father, look at it—!”

Erius whirled and struck Korin across the face, knocking the prince off his feet. Tobin tried to catch him, but ended up sprawled under him instead.

Grasping Korin by the front of his tunic, Erius shook him violently, shouting, “Never say that! Never! Never, do you hear me?” He let go of Korin and rounded on the others. “Anyone who carries this tale will be burned alive, do you hear me?” He slammed out of the room, shouting for the room to be put under guard.

Korin staggered back to the bed. His nose was bleeding; it trickled down over his mouth and into his beard as he clasped her limp hand. “Aliya? Can you hear me? Wake up, damn you, and see what we’ve done!”

Tobin scrambled away, desperate to escape. As he turned for the door, however, he caught sight of Niryn calmly examining the dead child. He’d turned away from the others; Tobin could see only the side of his face, but a lifetime of reading faces made him catch his breath. The wizard looked pleased—triumphant, even. Shocked, Tobin did not have time to retreat before the wizard looked up and caught him staring.

And Tobin felt it; that nauseating feeling of cold fingers tickling through his bowels. He couldn’t move or even look away. For a moment he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest.

Then he was released and Niryn was speaking to Korin as if the last few moments had not happened. The midwife
had the little bundle now, though Tobin had not seen him pass it to her.

“It is undoubtedly necromancy,” Niryn was saying. He stood close to Korin, a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “Rest assured, my prince, I will find the traitors and burn them.” He glanced at Tobin again, eyes cold and soulless as a snake’s.

Korin was weeping, but his fists were clenched and the muscles in his jaw worked furiously as he cried out, “Burn them. Burn them all!”

S
tanding outside with the others, Ki heard Erius shouting, and ducked out of the way when the king stormed out.

“Summon my Guard!” Erius roared, then rounded on the boys. “Go on, get out of here, all of you! Not a word, any of you. Swear it!”

They did, and scattered, all but Ki. Keeping watch from a doorway down the corridor, he waited until Tobin came out. One look at his friend’s white, dazed face was enough to make him glad he’d stayed. He hurried Tobin back to their rooms, bundled him into an armchair by the fire with blankets and a mazer of strong wine, and sent Baldus to find Nik and Lutha.

Tobin downed a full mazer before he could speak, then told them only what they already knew; that the baby was stillborn. Ki saw how his hand shook and knew there was more to the tale than that, but Tobin wouldn’t say. He just pulled his knees up under his chin and sat silent and shivering until Tanil arrived with news that Aliya was dead. Then Tobin put his head down and wept.

“Korin won’t leave her,” Mylirin told them as Ki tried to comfort Tobin. “Tanil and Caliel tried everything short of carrying him, until he ordered us out. He wouldn’t even let Caliel stay. Niryn is still there with him, talking of nothing but burning wizards! I’m going back now and staying outside
that door until they come out. Can I send for you, Prince Tobin, if Korin wants you?”

“Of course,” Tobin whispered dully, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.

Mylirin gave him a grateful look and went out.

Nikides shook his head. “What wizard could hurt an unborn child? If you ask me, it’s Illior’s—”

“No!” Tobin lurched up in his chair. “Don’t say that. No one is to say that. Not ever.”

That was no stillbirth
, thought Ki.

Nikides was sharp and caught it, too. “You heard the prince,” he told the others. “We never speak of it again.”

L
hel stayed with Arkoniel and the others at the mountain camp, but slept alone in her own hut. Her abrupt withdrawal hurt Arkoniel, she knew, but it was as it must be. The other wizards would not follow him if they saw him as her fancy man. As for Lhel, the Mother was not done with her.

As she’d foreseen, little Totmus died within a few weeks of their arrival. She joined the others in mourning him, but knew that the winter would be hard enough without a sickly one to tend. The others were strong.

With Cymeus to guide them, they strove to build a larger shelter before the storms hit. The children spent every spare minute gathering wood, and Lhel showed them how to forage for the year’s last roots and mushrooms, and how to smoke the meat Noril and Kaulin brought in. Wythnir and the girls added to their stores hunting rabbits and grouse with their slings. Malkanus made himself unexpectedly useful one day by spell-slaying a fat sow bear that wandered into the camp.

Lhel showed the town dwellers how to make use of every bone, tooth, and shred of sinew, and how to suck the rich marrow from the long bones. She taught them how to tan every hide, stretching the raw skins on cedar branch racks and rubbing them with a mash of ashes and brains to cure them. Despite all this, the older wizards still did not trust her or she them, and she was careful to keep her spellcraft hidden. Let Arkoniel teach them what he would. That was the thread the Mother had spun.

The provisions they’d brought and what little they
could forage would not be enough and they all knew it. With a long winter staring them in the face, food, hay, clothing, and livestock would have to be carted in. Vornus and Lyan took the cart and set off along the north road to trade in the mining towns.

Snow found them soon after, sifting down from the grey sky in huge feathery flakes. Gentle but steady, it silently built up in mounds on the boughs and capped every stone and stump. By the time the wind was cold enough to make small, sharp flakes the Skalans had managed to construct a lean- to byre and one long, low-roofed cabin. It was crude, but large enough for them all to crowd into at night. They didn’t have enough rope or mud to chink the walls, but Cerana wove a spell against drafts and Arkoniel set another on the bough-thatched roof, knitting the green branches tight against the weather.