Hidden Warrior (59 page)

“What I’d want?
My
clothes, damn it. The ones I arrived in!”

Ki turned to the nearest guard and stammered out,
“Send word to Steward Lytia that Tob—that the princess—that Tamír wants the clothes that were washed.”

Tobin pulled Ki into the chamber and slammed the door. “I’m Tobin, Ki! It’s still me, isn’t it?”

Ki managed a sickly grin. “Well, yes and no. I mean, I
know
it’s still you, but—Well, Bilairy’s balls, Tob! I don’t know what to think.”

The confusion in his eyes fed her growing fear. “Is that why you slept in the corridor?”

Ki shrugged. “How would it look, me crawling into bed with a princess?”

“Stop calling me that!”

“It’s what you are.”

Tobin turned away, but Ki caught her and clasped her by the shoulders. “It’s who you have to be. Arkoniel had a long talk with Tharin and me while you slept. It’s a lot to take in and I don’t think it’s fair the way everything happened, but here we are and there’s no going back.” He slid his hands down her arms to clasp her hands, and she shivered at the touch.

Ki didn’t seem to notice. “It’s worse for you than me, I know, but it’s still damn hard,” he told her, the anguish clear in his face. “I’m still your friend, Tob. You know I am. I’m just not so clear on what that’s going to mean.”

“It means the same as always,” Tobin shot back, gripping his hands. “You’re my first friend—my
best
friend—and my sworn squire. That doesn’t change. I don’t care what anyone thinks! They can call me anything they like, but I’m still Tobin to you, right?”

A soft knock interrupted them and Lytia came in with Tobin’s clothes over her arm. “Tharin sends word that the first troops are assembled. I took the liberty of searching the castle treasury for suitable armor, since you had to leave yours behind. I’ll send it up as soon as it’s been cleaned, and some breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“None of that, now.” Lytia shook a finger at her. “I’m
not to let you out of this room before you both have something to eat. And what about a bath? I washed you as well as I could while you slept, but if you’d like a tub carried up, I’ll order it.”

Tobin blushed. “No. Tell Tharin I need to speak with him, please. And Arkoniel, too.”

“Very good, Highness.”

As soon as she was gone Tobin pulled off the nightshirt and began to dress. She was in the midst of lacing her breeches when she noticed that Ki had turned away. His ears were scarlet.

Straightening up, she threw her shoulders back. “Look at me, Ki.”

“No, I—”

“
Look
at me!”

He turned, and she could tell he was trying hard not to stare at her small, pointed breasts. “I didn’t ask for this body, but if I have to live with it, then so do you.”

He groaned. “Don’t, Tob. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

Ki looked away again. “You can’t understand. Just—cover yourself, will you?”

Shaken, Tobin pulled on her tunic and looked around for her boots. The room blurred and she sank down on the bed, choking back tears. Ringtail jumped into her lap and bumped his head under her chin. Ki sat beside her and put an arm around her, but the embrace felt awkward, and that hurt, too.

“I’m your friend, Tob. I always will be. But it will be different and I’m just as scared as you are. Not being able to share a bed, or even be alone together anymore—I don’t know how I’ll stand it.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that!”

“Of course it does. I hate it, but it does.” His voice was gentle now, and sad in a way she’d never heard before. “You’re a girl, a princess, and I’m man-grown, not some
little page who can sleep at your feet like—like this cat here.”

It was true, and she knew it. Suddenly shy, she took his hand again and held it tight. Her own was still brown, but her palm had lost much of its roughness in the transformation. “I’ll have to build up those calluses all over again,” she said, her voice too high, too unsteady.

“That shouldn’t take long. Ahra’s always felt like old boot leather. Remember her, and all those women who met you yesterday. You’re still a warrior, just like they are.” He kneaded her upper arm and grinned. “Nothing lost there. You can still break Alben’s fingers for him, if you need to.”

Tobin gave him a grateful nod, then pushed Ringtail off and stood up. Offering him her hand, she said, “You’re still my squire, Ki. I’m going to hold you to that. I need you with me.”

Ki stood and clasped with her. “Close as your shadow.”

With that, the world seemed to settle back into place, at least for the moment. Tobin glanced at the brightening window in annoyance. “Why did they let me sleep so long?”

“You didn’t give us much choice. You hadn’t slept in a couple of days, and then what with all that last night? It really knocked you over. Tharin said to let you rest while he mustered the garrison. We’d have had to wait anyway. I’m surprised you’re on your feet at all.”

Tobin bristled. “Because I’m a girl?”

“Oh, for hell’s sake—If I’d had to cut myself open and then have the skin fried off me, I don’t know that I’d be up and around so fast.” He grew serious again. “Damn, Tobin! I don’t know what that magic was, but for a minute there it looked like the sun had come down blazing right where you stood! Or Harriers fire.” He grimaced. “Did it hurt?”

Tobin shrugged. “I don’t remember much about it, except for the queens.”

“What queens?”

“The ghosts. You didn’t see them?”

“No, just Brother. For a minute there I thought you were both finished, the way you looked. He really is gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I wonder where he went?”

“To Bilairy’s gate, I hope. I tell you, Tob, I’m not sorry to see the last of him, even if he did help you now and then.”

“I suppose,” Tobin murmured. “Still, that’s the last of my family, isn’t it?”

W
hen Lytia came back she wasn’t alone. Tharin, Arkoniel, and several servants were with her, carrying bulky cloth-wrapped parcels.

“How do you feel?” asked Arkoniel, taking Tobin’s chin in his hand and examining her face.

Tobin pulled away. “I don’t know yet.”

“She’s hungry,” Lytia said, laying a huge breakfast for them on a table by the hearth. “I think perhaps you should let the princess eat before anything else.”

“I’m not, and don’t call me that!” Tobin snapped.

Tharin folded his arms and gave her a stern look. “Nothing more, until you eat.”

Tobin grabbed an oatcake and took a huge bite to satisfy him, then realized how hungry she really was. Still standing, she wolfed down a second, then speared a slice of fried liver with her knife. Ki joined her, just as famished.

Tharin chuckled. “You know, you don’t look so different in daylight. A bit more like your mother, perhaps, but that’s no bad thing. I bet you’ll be a beauty when you fill out and get your growth.”

Tobin snorted around a mouthful of cardamom bun; the mirror had told a different tale.

“Maybe this will cheer you up.” Tharin went to the bed and opened one of the bundles the servants had left there. With a flourish, he held up a shimmering hauberk. The
rings of the mail were so fine it felt like serpent skin under Tobin’s admiring hand. It was chased with a little goldwork along the lower edge, neck, and sleeves, but the pattern was a clean, simple one, just intertwined lines, like vines. The other parcels yielded a steel cuirass and helm of similar design.

“That’s Aurënfaie work,” Lytia told her. “They were gifts to your father’s grandmother.”

The cuirass bore the Atyion oak chased in gold. Both it and the hauberk fit as if they’d been measured for her. The mail hung lightly and felt as supple as one of Nari’s knitted sweaters.

“The women of the castle thought you’d be wanting this, too,” Lytia said, holding up a new surcoat. “There’s a padded undercoat, and banners in your colors, as well. We won’t have the Scion of Atyion riding into battle like some nameless thane.”

“Thank you!” Tobin exclaimed, pulling the surcoat on over her hauberk. Going to the mirror, she studied her reflection as Ki buckled on her sword. The face framed by the antique coif wasn’t that of a frightened girl, but the one she’d always known.

A warrior’s face.

Ki grinned at her in the glass. “See? Under all that, you don’t look any different at all.”

“That may be for the best,” said Arkoniel. “I doubt Erius will be pleased to hear he has a niece rather than a nephew. Tharin, make certain word is passed among the troops that the name Tamír is not to be spoken in Ero until the order is given.”

“I wonder what Korin will say?” asked Ki.

“That’s a good question,” Arkoniel mused.

Tobin frowned at her reflection. “I’ve wondered about that ever since you and Lhel told me the truth. He’s not just my kinsman, Arkoniel; he’s my friend. How can I hurt him after he’s been so good to me? It wouldn’t be right, but I
can’t think what to do. He isn’t very likely to just step aside, is he?”

“No,” said Tharin.

“That’s best left on the knees of the gods,” Arkoniel advised. “For now, perhaps it’s best if it’s Prince Tobin who returns to Ero’s aid. The rest will have to be sorted out afterward.”

“If there is an afterward,” Ki put in. “The Plenimarans aren’t going to just step aside, either, and they have necromancers and plenty of soldiers. Sakor only knows how many!”

“Actually, we were able to do a bit of spying for you,” said Tharin, grinning at Tobin’s look of surprise. “Some of these wizards can be quite useful when they choose.”

“You recall that time I flew you to Ero?” asked Arkoniel.

“That was a vision.”

“A sighting spell, it’s called. I’m no general, but with a bit of help from Tharin here, we estimated that the enemy has perhaps eight thousand men.”

“Eight thousand! How many do we have here?”

“There are five hundred horsemen in the garrison, and nearly twice that with the foot and archers,” said Tharin. “Another few hundred should stay behind to hold the castle if it’s attacked. My cousin Oril will act as your marshal here—”

“Fifteen hundred. That’s not nearly enough!”

“That’s only the standing garrison. Word was sent to the outlying barons and knights as soon as we got here. Another two thousand can follow by tomorrow with the baggage train.” He paused and gave Tobin a grim smile. “We don’t have much choice, except to make do with what we have.”

“Grannia sent me to ask if the women warriors might ride in your vanguard,” Lytia told her.

“Yes, of course.” Tobin thought a moment, recalling something of Raven’s lessons. “Tell her only the very best
fighters are to be in the front. Keep the others back in the ranks until they get seasoned. There’s no shame in it. Tell them Skala needs them alive and fighting. There are too few of them to waste foolishly.” As Lytia turned to go, she asked, “Will you be coming with us?”

She laughed. “No, Highness, I’m no warrior. But old Hakone taught me how to provision an army. We saw your father and grandfather off to many a battle. You’ll have all you need.”

“Thank you all. Whatever happens after this, I’m glad to have such friends with me.”

F
ifteen hundred warriors seemed like a great force to Tobin as they rode out from Atyion that day. Ki and Lynx rode at her left, resplendent in their borrowed armor. Arkoniel looked awkward and uncomfortable in his mail shirt and steel cap, but Tharin had insisted. The priests who’d seen her transformation rode with them to bear witness in Ero. Captain Grannia and forty of her warriors rode proudly in the vanguard in front of them. Most were Nari’s age or Cook’s and had grey braids down their backs. They sang war songs as they rode, and their brave, clear voices sent a thrill through Tobin.

Tharin was her war marshal now, and introduced the other captains as they rode. Tobin knew some of them from previous visits. These men had all fought for her father and readily pledged themselves to her a second time, despite the strangeness of the situation.

Before they left the borders of Atyion, hundreds more from the southern steadings streamed out to join them—grizzled knights, farmers’ sons with polearms on their shoulders, and more women and girls, some still in skirts. Grannia sorted the women out, sending some back into the ranks and others home.

“I wish there’d been time to get word to Ahra,” Ki said, nodding at the women. “She and Una would want to be with you.”

“News of Ero must have traveled,” said Tharin. “I expect we’ll meet up with them sooner or later.”

They overtook other groups of warriors on their way to the city, alerted by Tobin’s northbound passage the
previous day. They addressed her as Prince Tobin and no one disabused them of it.

Most of the bands were village militias, but just before sundown they were overtaken by Lord Kyman of Ilear, who had five hundred archers and two hundred mounted warriors at his command.

Kyman was a huge, red-bearded old lord, and his scabbard showed the scars of many campaigns. He dismounted and saluted Tobin. “I knew your father well, my prince. It’s an honor to serve his son.”

Tobin bowed, muttering her thanks. Arkoniel gave her a wink, then drew Kyman aside for a moment. Tharin and the priests joined them and Tobin saw the priestess of Illior display her palm, as if for emphasis.

“I thought we weren’t going to tell anyone?” Tobin muttered nervously.

“It’s no good lying to the lords,” said Ki. “Looks like he and Tharin are old friends, though. That’s a good start.”

When Arkoniel and Tharin had finished Kyman turned and stared at Tobin a moment, then strode over and looked up into her face, which was somewhat obscured by her helmet. “Is this true?”

“It is, my lord,” she replied. “But I’m still Scion of Atyion and my father’s child. Will you fight with me for Skala’s sake, though sooner or later it may mean opposing the king?”

The man’s coppery brows shot up. “You haven’t heard, then? The king is dead. Prince Korin holds the Sword.”

Tobin’s heart sank; she’d clung to the hope that she wouldn’t have to oppose Korin and the other Companions directly. There was no escaping it now.

“Your claim to the throne is as good as his for those who remember the Oracle,” Kyman told her. “We’ve heard of you, you know. There’ve been rumors for years among the country folk of a queen who’d come and lift the curse from the land. But I didn’t think there were any girls of the
blood left.” He jerked a thumb at Arkoniel and the priests. “It’s a strange tale they tell, but there’s no mistaking you as your father’s blood. And I don’t imagine you’d have the might of Atyion behind you, or my old friend Tharin either, if they didn’t have good reason to believe you are what they say.”