Читать книгу Hidden Warrior - Lynn Flewelling - Страница 11

Ki was still too weak and dizzy to get up the next day, so Cook served Tobin’s belated name day cakes to them in the sickroom. Everyone crowded in and ate their portion standing. Nari presented Tobin with a new sweater and stockings she’d knitted, and Koni, their fletcher, gave him six fine new arrows. Laris had carved bone hunting whistles for him and Ki and Arkoniel shyly offered him a special pouch for carrying firechips.

“I’m afraid my gift for you is still in Ero,” Tharin told him.

“And mine,” said Ki around a mouthful of cake. His head was still mending but his appetite had recovered.

For the first time in a long time things began to feel safe and normal again. Tobin’s heart swelled as he looked around at the others laughing and talking. Except for Iya’s presence, it could have been any name day party he’d ever had.

By the next day Ki was well enough to be restless, but Nari wouldn’t hear of letting him out of the sickroom. He sulked and complained so much that she took his clothes away with her, just in case.

As soon as she was gone Ki climbed out of bed and wrapped himself in a blanket.

“There, at least I’m up,” he muttered. After a moment he began to feel sick again, but wouldn’t admit that Nari had been right. Fighting down nausea, he insisted on playing bakshi. After a few tosses, however, he began to see two of everything and let Tobin help him back into bed.

“Don’t tell her, will you?” he pleaded, closing his eyes. Trying to make the two Tobins frowning down at him join back into one made his head hurt.

“I won’t, but maybe you should listen to her.” Ki heard him settle in the chair by the bed. “You’re still looking peaked.”

“I’ll be all right tomorrow,” Ki said, willing it to be true.

The weather grew colder. Small sharp flakes drifted down from a hazy sky and the dead grass in the meadow sparkled with thick frost each morning.

Ki wolfed down all the broth and custard and baked apples Cook sent up, and was soon demanding meat. He continued to grumble at being shut in and made light of his condition, but Tobin knew he was far from his old self yet. He got tired suddenly, and his eyes still bothered him sometimes.

They grew bored with games long before Ki was strong enough to play at swords or go downstairs. Anxious to keep him quiet, Tobin arranged a nest of bolsters and blankets from him beside the toy city and they made a new game of tracing familiar routes through the city streets and trying to guess what the other Companions might be up to there.

Ki lifted off the roof of the box that served as the Old Palace and took the little golden tablet from its frame by the wood block throne. Tilting it to catch the light, he squinted at the tiny inscription there. “My eyes must be getting better. I can read this. ‘So long as a daughter of Thelátimos’ line defends and rules, Skala shall never be subjugated.’ You know, that’s the first time I’ve really looked at this since Arkoniel taught us to read.” His dark brows drew together as he frowned. “Did you ever think maybe it wouldn’t do you any good if your uncle knew about this? The one in the real throne room is gone, remember? My father claimed Erius melted it down when he destroyed all the stone copies that used to stand at crossroads.”

“You’re right.” In fact, Tobin had never considered the risk before; now the idea took on a more dire cast than it would have a month earlier. He looked around, wondering where he should put it for safekeeping. Dangerous it might be, but it was still a gift from his father.

And not just a gift, but a message. For the first time it occurred to him that the toy city had not been simply a child’s diversion; his father had been teaching him, readying him for the day—

“Tob, you all right?”

Tobin closed his hand around the tablet and stood up. “Yes, I was just thinking of my father.” He looked around again, then inspiration struck. “I know just the place.”

Ki followed him as he hurried back to his own room and threw open the clothes chest. He hadn’t touched the doll since he’d hidden it here, but fetched it out now and found a seam in its side with stitches long enough to slide the tiny tablet through. He pushed it in deep, then shook it to make certain it slipped down inside. When he’d finished he buried it again and grinned at Ki. “There. I’m used to hiding this already.”

The sound of hooves on the frozen Alestun road broke the winter quiet the following afternoon. Ki left off his bakshi toss and the boys hurried to the window.

“Another messenger from Lord Orun,” Tobin said, frowning at the yellow-liveried rider approaching the bridge. Sefus and Kadmen met him at the outer gate.

Ki turned to stare at him. “Another one? What did the last one want? Tobin?”

Tobin picked at a spot of lichen on the stone sill. “He wants me back in Ero, but Tharin sent word I was too sick to ride.”

“That’s all?”

“No,” Tobin admitted. “Orun said he was writing to the king again.”

“About me.”

Tobin nodded grimly.

Ki said nothing, just looked back out the window, but Tobin saw the worry in his eyes.

Tharin brought the news up to them. “The same as before. Your guardian is impatient for your return.”

“And to get rid of me,” said Ki.

“I’m afraid so.”

Ki hung his head. “This is my fault, isn’t it, Tharin? I gave him a reason. I should have gone to you as soon as I knew Tobin was missing. I don’t know why I listened—” He rubbed absently at the discolored lump on his forehead and gave Tobin a sorrowful look. “All I could think of was catching up with you. Now look what I’ve done!”

“I won’t let him send you away. What did this letter say, exactly?”

Tharin handed Tobin the folded parchment and he scanned it quickly. “He wants me to start back today! Ki can’t ride yet.”

Tharin gave him a humorless smile. “I doubt that’s of much concern to Lord Orun. Don’t worry, though. Nari’s down there explaining to the messenger how your fever is still too high for you to travel. You’d better keep to your room until he leaves. I wouldn’t put it past Orun to have sent us a spy.”

“Nor would I,” said Iya, looking in at the door. “Before you go into hiding, though, would you come upstairs? I’ve something to show you. Privately,” she added, as Ki started after him.

Tobin threw his friend an apologetic look as he followed her out.

“What is it?” he asked as soon as they were in the corridor.

“There are things we must speak of while there is still time.” She paused. “Bring the doll, please.”

Tobin did as she asked and they continued upstairs. Arkoniel met them in the workroom and to Tobin’s surprise, he was not alone. Lhel sat at the long table just behind him. Everyone looked very serious, but he was glad to see her, all the same.

“You have call Brother?” asked Lhel, and he guessed that she already knew the answer.

“No,” Tobin admitted.

“Call now.”

Tobin hesitated, then spoke the words in a nervous rush.

Brother appeared in the corner farthest from the door. He was thin and ragged, but Tobin could feel the cold power of his presence from across the room.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Iya.

Lhel squinted hard at Brother, then shrugged. “I tell you the binding stronger now. So he stronger, too.”

“I wonder if Ki is still able to see him?” murmured Arkoniel.

“I won’t have him around Ki.” Tobin turned angrily on the ghost. “I won’t call you at all, ever, unless you promise never to hurt him again! I don’t care what Lhel says!” He shook the doll at Brother. “Promise, or you can stay away and starve.”

Tobin saw a flicker of hatred in the ghost’s black eyes, but it was directed at the wizards, not at him.

“No one saw him in Tobin’s sickroom,” Iya was saying, as if she hadn’t noticed his outburst.

“Those have the eye see him more now,” said Lhel. “And he make others see when he wants.”

Tobin looked at Brother again, noting how the lamplight seemed to touch him the same way it did the rest of them; it never had before. “He looks more—real, somehow.”

“Be harder to put you apart, comes the time, but must be so.”

For a moment curiosity overcame his anger. “Come here,” he told the ghost. Tobin reached to touch him; but as always, his hand found only colder air. Brother grinned at him. He looked more like an animal baring its teeth.

“Go away!” Tobin ordered, and was relieved when the spiteful ghost obeyed. “Can I go now?”

“A moment more, if you please,” said Arkoniel. “You remember how I promised to teach you to guard your thoughts? It’s time we had that lesson.”

“But it’s not magic. You said so, remember?”

“Why do you fear magic so, Tobin?” asked Iya. “It’s protected you all these years. And wonderful things can be done with it! You’ve seen that for yourself. With a wave of my hand, I can make fire where there is no wood, or food in the wilderness. Why do you fear it?”

Because magic meant surprises and fear, sorrow and danger, Tobin thought. But he couldn’t tell them that; he didn’t want them to know what power they had over him. So he just shrugged.

“Many magics, keesa,” Lhel said softly, and he caught a flicker of the secret symbols on her cheeks. “You wise to be respecting. Some magic good, some evil. But we do no evil with you, keesa. Make you safe.”

“And this isn’t real magic, just a protection against it,” Arkoniel assured him. “All you have to do is imagine something very clearly, make a picture in your head. Can you imagine the sea for me?”

Tobin thought of the harbor at Ero at dawn, with the great trading ships riding at anchor and the small fishing boats bobbing around them like skimmer beetles.

He felt the briefest cool touch on his brow, but no one had moved.

Iya chuckled. “That was very good.”

“I tell you,” Lhel said.

Tobin opened his eyes. “That’s all?”

“That’s a beginning, and a very good one,” Arkoniel replied. “But you must practice as often as you can, and do it whenever Niryn or any of the Harriers notice you. The real trick is to not look like you’re thinking of something else.”

“Arkoniel used to screw his face up like he had a cramp,” Iya said, looking at him fondly, the way Nari looked at Tobin sometimes. “But you can’t always think of the same thing. It’s safest if you focus on something you’ve just been doing. For instance, if you’ve been hawking, think of jesses or wing markings, or the sound of the bells.”

Tobin tried again, thinking of the game he and Ki had been playing.

“Well done again!” Arkoniel said. “Just remember, though, that your best defense against Niryn and his kind lies in never giving them a reason to look into your head.”

Tobin’s apologies were carried back to Ero the following day. The boys watched from Ki’s window, sticking their tongues out at the retreating horseman.

Ki was finally well enough to escape Nari’s strictures and they spent the day wandering around the keep and visiting at the barracks. Ki wanted to visit Arkoniel, but the wizard didn’t answer his door.

Ki looked back over his shoulder as they walked away. The sight of that closed door left him oddly depressed. “Where do you suppose he could be?”

“He’s around,” Tobin said with a shrug. “What’s wrong? I just saw him yesterday.”

“I haven’t seen him since your name day party,” Ki reminded him. “I’m starting to think he’s avoiding me.”

Tobin punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Now why would he do that?”

Ki was surprised at how quickly his newfound energy deserted him. By midafternoon he was feeling weak again, and having spells of double vision. That frightened him, for Iya had assured him they would pass. The thought that she might be wrong was too frightening to contemplate. What good would a blind squire be to anyone?

As always, Tobin seemed to sense without being told how Ki felt and asked for an early supper upstairs.

That night they slept in Tobin’s room. Ki sighed happily as he sank back against the soft bolsters. Even if it was only for a few nights more, it was good to have things as they used to be. He hadn’t thought about Ero or his enemies among the Companions in days.

Tobin’s thoughts were running along similar lines as he watched the candle shadows dance overhead. Part of him missed Korin and the others, and the excitement of palace life. But Orun’s angry letters tainted all that. Not for the first time, he wished things were the way they used to be.

“This damn thing itches,” Ki grumbled, rubbing at his forehead. He turned his face for Tobin to see. “How does it look?”

Tobin pushed Ki’s soft brown hair back for a better look. A swollen, crusted gash two inches long still stood out over Ki’s right eye, just below the hairline. The lump was fading from purple to a nasty mottled green. “You must have hit a rock or something when you fell. Does it still hurt?”

Ki laughed up at him. “Don’t you start fussing over me! I’m worse off from being kept indoors so long. My old dad would never have stood for it, I can tell you.” He dropped back into the country accent he used to have. “ ’Less you got a broke leg or guts hanging out, you can damn well get out and tend to yer chores.”

“Do you still miss your family?”

Ki folded his hands across his chest. “Some of ’em, I guess. Ahra, and a couple brothers.”

“After we get things settled in Ero, we could go visit them,” Tobin offered. “I’d like to see where you come from.”

Ki glanced away. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You just wouldn’t.” He gave Tobin a quick grin. “Bilairy’s balls, I don’t want to go back there. Why would you?”

Tobin let it go; why shouldn’t Ki have a few secrets of his own and, anyway, that was all a long time ago. He pushed his fingers back through Ki’s hair, pretending to take a closer look at the wound. “Anyway, it should leave a good scar.”

“Not one to brag of, though,” Ki grumbled. “Think the girls would believe me if I said we met with Plenimaran raiders on the road, or bandits, maybe? I bet Una and Marilli would believe me.”

Tobin chuckled, but at the same time felt a familiar twinge of jealousy. He’d heard enough stories about his friend’s hot-blooded kin, and Ki already had an eye for anything in skirts.

Tobin’s own bashfulness in that regard had earned him his share of teasing among the Companions. Even Ki wasn’t above the occasional good-natured jibe. Everyone—including Tobin himself—had always put it down to his youth and natural shyness.

Until now.

Now, fingers still twined in Ki’s warm hair, Tobin had his first inkling of what that angry little knot in his belly might mean. He took his hand away and lay back, pulling the covers up under his chin.

I don’t like girls that way because I—

He threw an arm across his face to hide the rising blush burning his cheeks and used Arkoniel’s trick. He thought of Gosi’s rough winter coat, the feel of cold rain down his neck, the bite of his hawk’s talons on his fist—anything but the guilty heat coursing through him. Anything but the way his fingers remembered the weight of his friend’s soft hair.

I’m a boy! Ki would never—

Ki had gone quiet, and when Tobin dared lift his arm he found him frowning up at the rafters. After a moment he let out a long sigh.

“What about Orun? What if he does get your uncle to send me away this time?”

“I told you, I won’t let him.”

“Oh, I know.” Ki’s buck-toothed grin flashed as he caught Tobin’s hand in his, but he was worried. “I’ll tell you this, Tob; whatever happens, I’ll always stand by you, even if it’s only as a soldier in your guard.” He was dead serious now. “No matter what happens, Tobin, I’m your man.”

“I know that,” Tobin managed, caught between gratitude and guilt. “And I’m yours. Go to sleep now, before Nari comes in and makes you sleep next door.”

Orun countered with another messenger the next day and, without thinking, Tobin went to get the news. Tharin was with the man in the hall and looked up in surprise as Tobin clattered down the stairs. He was too distracted for the moment to register what that look meant.

Their visitor turned out to be a most unlikely courier. It was Orun’s own valet, Bisir. He was a meek, quiet fellow, pretty in the way that all the young men in Orun’s household were. With his big, dark eyes and soft, nervous hands, Bisir had always reminded Tobin of a hare. He was one of the few people in that household who was always pleasant to him and, more importantly, the only one who was polite to Ki.

“A letter for you from my lord Orun, Prince Tobin,” Bisir said, looking apologetic as he handed Tobin the sealed parchment. “And may I say, my prince, that it’s good to see you looking so well. Captain Tharin’s last letter gave my master to believe that your health might be in some danger.”

Too late Tobin realized his mistake. It would be no use writing back of ill health now. He opened the letter and saw it made no difference, anyway. Orun was threatening to bring him home by cart, if need be.

It’s all right,” Ki said, as Tobin fretted in their room. “I can ride now, really.”

Iya wasn’t so certain, however, and they went to bed that night in low spirits. Unable to sleep, Tobin sent up a half-formed plea to Sakor and Illior, then wondered if the gods ever heard a petition without the offering smoke to carry it.

When he woke the following morning the first thing he noticed was something white on the floor. It was snow. A shutter had come open and a little drift of it had piled on the rushes under the window. More was blowing in. Jumping out of bed, he dashed to the window and leaned out, laughing as the driven flakes peppered his cheeks.

The meadow was gone, lost behind thick, shifting curtains of white. He could just make out the angle of the barracks roof but the bridge was nothing but a dark blur beyond it.

He scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at Ki to wake him. Evidently the gods had been feeling generous.

The blizzard lasted for three days, heaping snow halfway up the doorposts and trapping Bisir in with them. This presented certain complications. Iya had made herself known, but Arkoniel had to stay hidden upstairs in case Bisir decided to wander where he wasn’t wanted.

The young valet was awkward and ill at ease at first, clearly feeling out of place in this rude country household. There was nothing for him to do here, no one to serve. The women didn’t want him underfoot in the hall, so Koni and some of the younger guardsmen took charge of him and dragged him off to the barracks. Ki and Tobin watched from the top of the stairs as they all but carried him out. Surrounded by rough, coarse-spoken soldiers, Bisir looked like he was on his way to be hanged.

They didn’t see him again until breakfast the next day. Though uncharacteristically rumpled, he was actually laughing with Koni and the others, something Tobin had never seen the timid fellow do.

Even after the storm ended the roads were so choked with snow that for the present there was no question of travel. For three golden weeks they lived as if they’d never gone to Ero.

The snow kept them from riding, but they spent hours shooting, fighting snowball battles against the guardsmen, building whole squadrons of snowmen, and practicing their swordplay in the barracks. Koni somehow pulled Bisir into these pastimes, but the valet proved to be no warrior.

On those rare occasions when Ki and Tobin did manage to slip away unattended, they looked for Lhel at the edge of the forest, but the witch was either snowed in or refusing to show herself.

Ki grew strong again, but still had trouble seeing clearly sometimes when he was shooting. He thought about going to Tharin but instead ended up at Iya’s door one night after Tobin was asleep. Once there, fear made it hard to tell her what the matter was. Iya was kind, seating him by her fire and giving him spiced wine. When he finally blurted out what the matter was, she seemed relieved.

“You eyes, is it? Well, let’s see what I can do.” Iya bent over him and pressed a hand to his brow. She said nothing for a few minutes, just stood there with her eyes half-closed, as if she was listening inside his head. Ki felt a tingling coldness against his skin; it tickled a little, but it felt good, too.

“You never told me you were a healer.”

“Oh, I know a thing or two,” she murmured.

Whatever she was doing, she soon seemed satisfied. “I wouldn’t fret about it. That knock on the head is still mending. I’m sure this will pass.”

“I hope so. When we get back—”

“You’ll have to prove your worthiness all over again,” she guessed, wise as always. “Your worth is known to your friends, and you won’t change the minds of your enemies no matter what you do.”

“My friends,” Ki murmured, thinking of Arkoniel. No matter what Tobin or anyone else said, Arkoniel was avoiding him. He’d done no more than peek in at the doorway when Ki lay sick, and they’d hardly seen each other since. It hurt. Ki had always liked the wizard, even when he was forcing him to learn reading and writing. This sudden, unexplained coolness between them was hard to bear.

He had not dared ask Tharin about it, scared of what the answer might be. But now he couldn’t hold back any longer. Iya knew Arkoniel better than anyone else. “Is Arkoniel angry with me for letting Tobin run off?”

Iya arched an eyebrow at him. “Angry? Why would you think that? You know he can’t risk being seen by our houseguest.”

“He was avoiding me before Bisir got here.”

“He asks after you all the time.”

Ki blinked. “He does?”

“Certainly.”

“But I never see him.”

Iya smoothed her hands down the front of her robe. “He’s been busy with some spell he’s working on. That takes up much of his time.”

Ki sighed. That hadn’t stopped Arkoniel from sending for Tobin, just not for him.

Iya must have seen the doubt in his eyes, or maybe she touched his mind to read it, for she smiled. “Don’t worry about this, my dear. Your illness frightened him more than he likes to admit. Perhaps he has an odd way of showing it, but he cares for you a great deal. I’ll speak to him.”

Ki rose and gave her a grateful bow. He was still too much in awe of her to hug her. “Thank you, Mistress. I’d be awfully sad if he didn’t like me anymore.”

Iya surprised him with a soft touch on his cheek. “You mustn’t ever think that, child.”