Tamir - The Bone Doll's Twin Part 17

'A future queen calls this home. Make it beautiful for her. After all, Tobin is an artist and for such people the eye feeds the soul."

Rhius nodded. "Do what you will, Arkoniel. But leave the tower as it is. No one is to go there. The shutters are nailed down and the doors have no keys."

'As you will, my lord."

The swallows had gone to roost and little brown bats had come out to hunt moths. Fireflies flashed in the long gra.s.s, turning the darkened meadow into a mirror of the starry sky above.

'There'll be a real war again soon, I think," Rhius said. "It's been skirmishes and sword rattling for years now, but Plenimar is chafing harder against her borders every year."

'War?" Arkoniel asked, surprised by this abrupt change of subject. "Then you don't think Plenimar willuphold the Treaty of Kouros?"

'I stood beside the king when Overlord Cyranius put his seal to it. I watched his face. No, I don't think he will keep the treaty. He wants the Three Lands as an empire again, as they were under the hierophants. But this time he'll sit on the throne, not a priest king. He wants the lands of Mycena, and he wants the wizards of Skala."

'I suppose so." Aurenen had long ago cut off trade with Plenimar; there were no longer the necessary intermarriages to maintain the wizard bloodlines in Plenimar. In his travels he'd heard rumors of Plenimaran pirates attacking Aurenfaie s.h.i.+ps and carrying off prisoners for forced breeding, like animals.

'These past few years they've been testing us, feinting in and out of the islands and raiding our sh.o.r.es,"

Rhius went on. "I only hope Tobin is old enough when the time comes."

'We must make him ready in every way we can."

'Indeed. Good night, Arkoniel." Rhius bowed and started back up the path, still looking bowed and old.

The wizard remained by the river, listening to the quiet sounds that filled the warm summer night and wondering what a battle sounded like. He'd left his father's house before he could carry a sword. He smiled, recalling Tobin's disdainful reaction to his choice of vocation.

As he started up the hill the tower caught his eye again, and he thought he saw one of the shutters move.

He thought again of casting, but Rhius' order stopped him. It had probably only been a bat.

V'obi in had watched the two men in the meadow from his window. He knew who they were; Brother had told him.

The wizard will stay, Brother whispered in the shadows behind him.

'Why?" Tobin demanded. He didn't want Arkoniel to stay. He didn't like him at all. There was something wrong behind his smile, and he was too tall and too loud and had a long face like a horse.

Worst of all, though, he'd surprised Tobin with his magic and expected him to like it.

Tobin hated surprises. They always ended badly.

'Why is he staying?" he asked again, then turned to see if Brother had heard him.

The flame of the little night lamp by his bed was hardly more than a fuzzy patch of light now. This was Brother's doing. Since Lhel had bound them together with the doll, Tobin could see the darkness Brother sometimes made, especially at night. Some nights Tobin could hardly see at all.

There you are, he thought, catching sight of a slither of shadow along the far wall. "What are they saying down there?"

Brother slipped away, saying nothing.

Tobin often wished he hadn't kept the ugly doll, that it had fallen out the window with his mama. He'd even slipped away from the house again a few weeks ago, hoping to find Lhel and make her take her magic back, but he didn't dare leave the riverbank this time and she didn't hear him calling.

So he'd gone on obeying her instructions, summoning Brother every day and letting the spirit follow him around. He couldn't tell if Brother enjoyed this or not; he still leered at Tobin sometimes and twitched his fingers, as if he wanted to pinch him or pull his hair the way he used to. But Brother didn't hurt him anymore, not since Lhel had put his blood and hair on the doll.

Almost without realizing it, Tobin had begun to call for Brother more often lately, even inviting him to play with the city. Brother just watched "while Tobin moved his wooden people about the streets and sailed the little s.h.i.+ps, but it was better than being alone.

Tobin searched the dark corners of the room for movement. Even when he sent Brother away, he didn't go very far. The servants still complained of his antics. The only person he'd seriously hurt, however, was Arkoniel.

As much as Tobin disliked the wizard, he was angry with Brother for that. He'd had to do the calling spell right in front of the man and Arkoniel had seen something, perhaps even heard the words. If he told Tobin's father, then sooner or later they'd find out about the doll, and then his father would be ashamed and the men would laugh like the people in the town and he would never be a warrior.

Tobin's belly cramped painfully as he turned back to the window; perhaps that's what his father andthe wizard were talking about out there. Arkoniel had promised not to tell but Tobin didn't trust him. He didn't trust anyone anymore, really, except maybe Tharin.

When it got too dark to see his father in the meadow, Tobin crawled into bed and lay rigid between the sweaty sheets, waiting for angry voices.

Instead, Nan came to bed presently looking very pleased.

'You'll never guess what's happened!" she exclaimed as she began unlacing the sleeves of her gown.

"That young wizard is to stay on and be your tutor. Not only that, but you're to have a companion!

Arkoniel is going to write to his teacher, asking her to find a suitable boy. You'll have a proper playfellow at last, pet, just as a young prince should! What do you think of that?"

'What if he doesn't like me?" Tobin mumbled, think ing again of the way the townspeople looked at him and gossiped behind their hands.

Nari clucked her tongue and climbed in beside him. "Who wouldn't like you, pet? And to be companion to a prince, the king's only nephew? Any boy would be thrilled with such an honor!"

'But what if he's not nice?" Tobin insisted.

'Why, then I'll send the little fool packing myself," Nari declared. Then, more gently, "Don't you fret, love. Don't you worry about a thing."

Tobin sighed and pretended to go to sleep. There was a great deal to worry about, as far as he was concerned, not the least of which was being saddled with ill-tempered ghosts and loud, laughing, sharp-eyed wizards.

Iya read Arkoniel's brief letter over several times while the duke's courier waited outside in the inn yard for her reply. Pressing the little parchment to her heart, she gazed at the crowded harbor outside her window and tried to sort out her warring emotions.

Her initial response was much like the duke's; to bring in the child of another n.o.ble put both houses at risk. Yet in her heart she knew Arkoniel was correct. She looked down at the letter again.

I know you will disapprove of my decision, perhaps even be angry at my presumption, but I believe I am right in this. The child is nearly ten, and already so strange in his ways that I fear he'll fare poorly at court when he is grown. The household is overbearingly protective. This child has never gone swimming on a hot day or had an afternoon to himself in the meadow outside the gates. For the sake of his mother's memory and her line, we must do what we can- 'Him, indeed," Iya murmured, pleased that Arkoniel had been so careful. Letters too often fell into the wrong hands, by mistake or design.

I leave the choice of companion to you, of course. Yes, here he tried to placate her after he'd already gone his own way. The boy should be cheerful, brave, light of heart, and much interested in the arts of war and hunting, for he finds me sorely lacking in those regards. Since the keep is so lonely and the prince does not attend court yet, perhaps you might find a boy who will not be too dearly missed by his family, if he should be long away. He should not be a first-born son.

She nodded to herself, understanding the implication all too well; this must be an expendable boy.

She tucked the letter away, already making her plans. She'd visit some of the country lords who had small holdings here in the southern mountains. They ran to large families.

Such concerns helped fend off the deeper implication of his proposal: Arkoniel was going to stay with Tobin. He was far enough along in his training to leave her for a time, of course, or even to strike out on his own. Other students had left her, contented with less. Arkoniel knew enough already to be entrusted with the bowl when the time came.

All the same, she hated to be without him. He was the finest pupil she had ever had, capable of learning far more than he had as yet. Far more than she knew to teach him, come to that. But a few years apart would not unmake him as a wizard.

No, it was the memory of his visions that haunted her, the visions in which she had no part. She was not ready to be without him, the son of her heart.

zo A'sTobin had feared, the wizard began changing things -TValmost at once, though not quite in the way he'd expected.

Arkoniel remained in the toy room for the time being, but within a week of Father's departure workersbegan arriving by the cartload and set up a small village of tents in the meadow. A steady stream of wagons followed, laden with materials of every sort. Soon the courtyards and empty barracks were stacked with lumber, stone, mixing troughs, and heavy sacks. Tobin wasn't allowed to go out among the strangers, so he stood at his window instead and watched them bustling about.

He'd never realized how quiet the keep was until now. Banging and clanging came from every direction all day long, and with it the loud voices of the workers, shouting directions or singing songs.

A crew of masons clattered about on the roof with slates and pots of hot lead and tar, so that by night and day it looked like the roof was on fire. Another gang came into the house and took over the third level and the great hall all at once, shoving the furniture about and filling the house with the exciting new smells of wet lime and sawdust.

Arkoniel gained a little in Tobin's favor when he insisted that Tobin be allowed to watch the craftsmen at work. One night, after Nari had tucked him into bed, Brother came and led Tobin to the top of the stairs to listen to an argument going on below. Nari and Arkoniel were standing by the hearth.

'I don't care what you or Duke Rhius says," Nari sputtered, balling her hands in her ap.r.o.n front the way she did when she was upset. "It's not safe! What's the sense of being out here in the midst of nowhere-"

'I'll stay by him," the wizard interrupted. "By the Light, woman, you can't keep him wrapped in fleece his whole life. And there's so much he can learn. He's clearly got an apt.i.tude for such things."

'Oh, so you'd have him grow up to wear a mason's ap.r.o.n rather than a crown, would you?"

Tobin chewed his thumbnail thoughtfully, wondering what they meant. He'd never heard that a prince could wear a crown. His mother hadn't that he knew of, and she'd lived at the palace when she was little.

But if wearing a mason's ap.r.o.n meant he'd be able to use a trowel and mortar to build walls, then he wouldn't mind that. He'd spied on the crew working upstairs that day when Nari wasn't looking, and it had been interesting. He guessed it would be far more fun than his other lessons with Arkoniel, learning verse by heart and memorizing the names of the stars.

Before he could learn who was going to win this argument, Brother whispered to him to hurry back to bed. He made it to his room and got the door shut before Mynir pa.s.sed by, whistling happily and rattling his keys on their iron ring.

l"^ortunately, Arkoniel won, and he and Tobin spent the next day watching the workmen.

The tools of the plasterers and stonecutters, and the ease with which they wielded them, fascinated Tobin. Whole walls went from dirty grey to sugar white in a morning's time.

But it was the wood-carver he admired most. She was a slight, pretty woman with ugly hands, who shaped wood with her chisels and knives like it was b.u.t.ter. The broken newel post in the hall had been torn out the day before and Tobin watched with rapt attention as she carved a new one out of a long block of dark wood. It seemed to Tobin that she was digging into the wood to find the pattern of fruited vines that already existed inside. When he shyly told her this, she nodded.

'That's just how I see it, Your Highness. I take a piece of fine wood like this in my hands and ask it, 'What treasure are you holding inside for me?'"

'Prince Tobin does the same with vegetables and lumps of wax," Arkoniel told her.

'I carve wood, too," Tobin said, waiting for the artist to laugh at him. Instead, she whispered to Arkoniel, then went to a pile of sc.r.a.p lying nearby and brought him a piece of pale yellow wood about the size of a brick. She handed him two of her sharp carving blades, too, and asked, "Would you like to see what's inside this piece?"

Tobin spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the ground beside her, and at the end of the day presented her with a fat otter that was only a little lopsided. She was so pleased that she traded him the knives for it.

CO,.

hen they weren't watching the workmen, Tobin and Arkoniel took long rides or walks on the forest roads. These turned into lessons, too, "without Tobin even noticing. Arkoniel might not know how to fight or shoot properly, but he knew a great deal about herbs and trees. He began by letting Tobin show him the ones he knew, then taught him others, together with their uses. They picked wintergreen and dug wildginger in shaded forest glades, and gathered wild strawberries and bunches of goosegra.s.s, sorrel, and dock in the meadow for Cook's soups.

Tobin still distrusted the wizard, but found he could tolerate him. Arkoniel wasn't so loud now, and never did any magic. Even though he wasn't a hunter, he knew as much as Tharin did about tracking and traveling the forest.

They ranged far up the mountainside, and now and then came across a trail or clearing that seemed familiar to Tobin. But he saw no sign of Lhel.

Unbeknownst to Arkoniel, Brother was often with them, a silent, watchful presence.

J't't.s soon as the masons finished their work in the great hall, the painters began scratching out their designs on the fresh plaster. As a long band of design took shape along the top of one wall, Tobin c.o.c.ked his head and remarked, "That looks a little like oak leaves and acorns, but not quite."

'It's not meant to be a picture of anything," Arkoniel explained. "Just a pattern that pleases the eye.

He'll do rows and rows of different patterns and paint them with bright colors."

They climbed the rickety scaffolding and Arkoniel had the artist show Tobin how he used a bra.s.s straightedge and calipers to mark out the shapes and keep the lines even.

When they came down again, Tobin ran upstairs to the toy room and took the neglected writing materials from the chest. Laying them out on the table in his room, he began a row of patterns, using his fingers for calipers and a piece of broken practice blade for a straightedge. He had half a row done when he noticed Arkoniel watching from the doorway.

Tobin kept working to the edge of the page, then sat back to inspect his effort. "It's not very good."

Arkoniel came over and looked at it. "No, but it's not bad for a first effort, either."

That was his way. While Nari praised whatever Tobin did, whether it was good or not, Arkoniel was more like Tharin-finding the good in an effort without praising it more than it deserved.

'Let's see if I can do it." Arkoniel took a sheet of parchment from the pile and turned it over, then stood there with a strange sick expression on his face. This side of the sheet was covered with lines of small words Tobin's mother had written one day while he traced his letters. Tobin couldn't read it, but he could see that it upset Arkoniel.

'What does it say?" he asked.

Arkoniel swallowed hard and cleared his throat, but Brother tore the page from his hand and sent it sailing across the room before he could read it.

'It was just a bit of verse about birds."

Tobin retrieved the sheet and stuck it at the bottom of the pile so Brother wouldn't get more upset.

The uppermost parchment had several lines of practice letters on it, all smudged and blurred from his tracing.

'Mama was teaching me my letters," he said, running a finger over them.

'I see. Would you like to show me what you've learned so far?" Arkoniel tried to smile as if nothing were wrong, but his gaze kept straying to the parchment Brother had taken and he looked sad.

Tobin laboriously wrote out the eleven letters he knew. He hadn't drawn them in months and they came out very crooked. Some were even upside down again. He'd forgotten most of their names and sounds, too.

'You're off to a good start. Would you like me to make you some more to trace?"

Tobin shook his head, but the wizard was already scratching away with the pen.

Soon Tobin was so busy that he forgot all about the verse Arkoniel had not read to him, and Brother's small tantrum.

Lrkoniel waited until Tobin was engrossed in his work, then carefully pulled at the edge of the parchment the demon had s.n.a.t.c.hed away, tugging it out just far enough to see the lines Ariani had written: Only in my tower can I hear the bird's song My prison is my freedom. My bean sings only there With the dead for company Only the dead speak clearly, and the birds Cot had secretly fretted over the impending arrival of the promised companion, but when none immediately arrived he happily forgot about it, a.s.suming his father had changed his mind.

There were far too many people in the house as it was. For as long as he could remember, the househad been shadowy and peaceful. Now workers tramped in and out at all hours. When he wearied of watching the craftsmen, he retreated to the kitchen with Nari and Cook, both of whom seemed absurdly pleased with all the commotion, despite what Nari had said about Tobin mixing with the workers.

But no one was more pleased than old Mynir. Even though it appeared to be the wizard's fault that all the changes were being made, Mynir was in charge, and he'd never looked happier than when he was instructing the workmen on the colors and designs to use. He met with merchants in the hall, too, and soon polished plate appeared on the bare shelves and bright new hangings arrived by the cartload.

'Ah, Tobin, this is what I used to do at Atyion!" he said one day as they inspected the new hangings.

"Your father is letting me make this into a proper house at last!"

As much as he enjoyed watching the workers, however, as the repairs progressed Tobin began to feel uneasy about the results. The more the house changed, the harder it was for him to think of his father or mother living there. When Mynir began to talk of changes to his own bedchamber, Tobin slammed the door and pushed a chest against it, refusing to come out until the steward promised him through the latch hole that it would be left alone.

And so the work continued around him. Sometimes, at night, before Nari came up to join him, he crept to the top of the great stairway and stared down into the bright, colorful new hall, imagining it as it had been before his father began staying away so much.

Perhaps if they changed it too much, Father wouldn't want to come back at all.