Ki was furious, but Tobin let it go. It did hurt, but Tobin understood what it felt like to be second-best. Trusting that things would return to normal back in Ero, he kept his own friends around him and made the most of his time at Atyion.
They were sitting in the sunny window of the Drover’s Inn by the market one day, listening to a balladeer sing of one of Tobin’s ancestors, when Tobin caught sight of a familiar face across the room.
“Isn’t that Bisir?” he said, elbowing Ki to make him look.
“Bisir? What would he be doing here?”
“Don’t know. Come on!”
Leaving Nik and Lutha behind, they hurried out in time to see a slim, dark-haired man in the rough tunic and wooden clogs of a farmer disappearing around a corner across the street. They hadn’t seen the young valet since Lord Orun’s death, but despite the incongruous clothing, Tobin was certain it was he.
Giving chase, Tobin caught up with the man and saw that he was right.
“It is you!” he exclaimed, catching him by the sleeve. “Why did you run away?”
“Hello, Prince Tobin.” Bisir was still pretty and soft-spoken, and had that same startled hare look about him, but he was thinner, too, and ruddy as a peasant. “Forgive me. I saw you go in there and couldn’t help wanting a better look at you. It’s been a long time. I didn’t think you’d remember me, really.”
“After that winter at the keep? Of course we do!” Ki laughed. “Koni still asks about you now and then.”
Bisir blushed and rubbed his hands together nervously, the way he used to. They were brown and callused, with dirt under the nails. Looking at them, Tobin realized that the former valet was ashamed to be seen like this.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Mistress Iya brought me here after—after the troubles in Ero. She said you told her to look after me, but that I wasn’t to trouble you. That it would reflect badly on you to be associated with anyone from that household.” He gave Tobin a self-deprecating shrug. “She was right, of course. She found me a place in a dairyman’s household, just outside the town. And I’m much happier here.”
“No, you’re not. You’re miserable,” said Tobin, sizing him up at a glance. Iya must have dumped him at the first likely-looking place.
“Well, it is quite a change,” Bisir admitted, staring down at his muddy clogs.
“Come back to the castle with me. I’ll speak to Lytia for you.”
But Bisir shook his head. “No, Mistress Iya said I mustn’t go there. She was very strict and made me swear, my prince.”
Tobin let out an exasperated sigh. “All right then, what would you rather do?”
Bisir hesitated, then looked up shyly. “I’d like to train as a warrior.”
“You?” Ki exclaimed.
“I don’t know—” Tobin couldn’t think of anyone less suited to arms than Bisir. “You’re a bit old to be starting,” he added, to spare the man’s feelings.
“Perhaps I can be of some help, my prince,” an old woman in a long grey cloak said.
Tobin glanced at her in surprise; he hadn’t noticed her standing there. She looked a bit like Iya somehow, and he thought she must be a wizard until she showed them the intricate dragon circles on her palms. She was a high priestess of Illior. He’d never met one not wearing the silver mask before.
She smiled as if she knew his thoughts. Pressing her hands to her heart, she bowed to Tobin. “I am Kaliya, daughter of Lusiyan, chief priestess of the temple here in Atyion. You don’t recognize me, of course, but I’ve seen you many times, there and around the town. If you’ll forgive an old woman’s meddling, I think I might be able to suggest a more suitable situation for your young friend here.” She took Bisir’s hand and closed her eyes. “Ah, yes,” she said at once. “You paint.”
Bisir blushed again. “Oh, no—Well, a little, when I was a child, but I’m not very good.”
Kaliya opened her eyes and regarded him sadly. “You must forget all your former master told you, my friend. He was a selfish man, and had his own uses for you. You do have the gift, and it’s far more likely to come out with training than swordplay. A friend of mine is a maker of fine manuscripts. Her shop is in Temple Square and I believe she’s seeking an apprentice. I’m sure your age would be of no consequence to her.”
Bisir stared down at his dirty hands for a moment, as if he didn’t quite recognize them. “You really saw that in me? But Mistress Iya?” Hope and doubt warred in Bisir’s eyes as he looked imploringly at Tobin.
He shrugged. “I’m sure she won’t mind, as long as you stay out of the castle.”
But Bisir still hesitated. “This is so sudden. So unexpected. I don’t know what Master Vorten will say. There’s the winter forage to bring in and the muck to spread. I’m to help build the new stalls, too—” His chin was trembling now.
“Oh, don’t take on like that!” Ki said, trying to cheer him. “Your master can’t very well say no to Tobin, can he?”
“I suppose not.”
“He won’t say no to me, either,” the priestess said, taking Bisir’s arm. “There’s no need to trouble the prince with this. We’ll go speak with Vorten and my friend, Mistress Haria, right now. She’ll make you work, but I believe I can promise you no more muck spreading.”
“Thank you, my lady. And thank you, my prince!” Bisir exclaimed, kissing their hands. “Who would have imagined, when I followed you in there—?”
“Run along home, now,” Kaliya told him. “I’ll be along shortly.”
Bisir clattered away in his clogs. Kaliya laughed as she watched him go, then turned to Tobin and Ki. “Who would have imagined?” she said, echoing Bisir. “Who, indeed, would have imagined that a prince of Skala would cross the street to help a dairyman’s laborer?”
“I knew him in Ero,” Tobin explained. “He was kind to me, and tried to help me.”
“Ah, I see.” Her smile was as enigmatic as a silver mask; Tobin couldn’t read this face at all. “Well, if the Scion of Atyion should ever be in need of help, I hope you will remember me. May the Lightbearer’s blessings be on you both.” With that she bowed and went on her way.
Ki shook his head as she disappeared into the market day crowd. “Well, that was damned strange!”
“A bit of good luck, I’d call it,” Tobin said. “I’m glad we found Bisir again. A dairyman? Can you imagine?”
Ki laughed. “Or a warrior? It’s a good thing for him that woman happened along when she did.”
Despite Tobin’s status among the townspeople, Duke Solari continued to play host in the hall at night, and managed all the estate business.
“Hosting a court is an expensive undertaking,” he told Tobin one night. “But don’t worry. We’ll recoup the loss by taxing the inns and taverns.”
There were taxes for using the roads and the seaport at the mouth of the river, as well, and each noble was charged for housing their own retinue and guards inside the castle.
Still torn between loyalty and distrust of his father’s former liegemen, Tobin consulted Tharin, who in turn steered him to Lytia and Hakone.
“Oh yes, it’s always done this way,” Hakone assured him as they sat around the old steward’s hearth one night. “The lord of the estate—that being you in this case—gains honor by hosting the king, but he foots the bill, too, and passes it down to the town. You needn’t worry, though. If the duke didn’t collect a copper from the tolls and taxes, the treasuries of Atyion could withstand a good many royal visits.” He paused and looked up at Lytia. “Why, he’s never seen it, has he?”
“Is there a lot of gold?” asked Tobin.