Hidden Warrior (6 page)

Yes, he’d meant to keep that vow and kill Ki, but his heart had betrayed him and marred the spell; he’d tried to change it to a blinding at the last moment and instead released an unfocused blast that had knocked Ki through the air as if he weighed no more than a handful of chaff. It would have killed him if Lhel hadn’t been there to coax his heart back to life. She’d claimed to take away whatever memories Ki might have had of seeing Tobin, too, weaving in their place vague memories of illness. If Arkoniel and Iya had only known such a thing were possible …

If only they hadn’t been too arrogant to ask.

Glad as he was that Ki lived, Arkoniel could not escape the truth; he’d failed in his duty by not killing Ki, just as he’d betrayed the boy by trying.

For years he’d told himself he was different than Iya and Lhel. Now it seemed his supposed compassion was instead simply weakness.

Ashamed, he slipped away to his lonely chamber, leaving the two innocents to a peace he might never know again.

K
i 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.

B
y 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.

T
he 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.”

T
he 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.

T
harin 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.”

T
obin’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?”

K
i 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.

T
obin’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.”