Tobin and the Companions stayed at the castle for a fortnight. Whenever they could slip away, he and Ki visited with Tharin’s aunt Lytia and Hakone. The old steward had declined over the summer and was growing more feebleminded. This time he could not be dissuaded from the notion that Tobin and Ki were the young Rhius and Tharin. It was rather unsettling.
Tobin was also entertained lavishly by the town’s principal guild masters. Most of these banquets were a bore. His hosts were invariably gracious and openhanded, but he sensed that much of it was done to curry his favor.
He much preferred visiting the men of the barracks. He’d never seen his father around actual troops, but he’d always been friendly with his guard and it didn’t occur to Tobin to act otherwise. Soon he knew most of the officers and sergeants by name and set up mock challenges between his guard and any swordsman the Atyion men wanted to put forward, even going a few rounds himself. He was disappointed when they let him win, but Tharin assured him later that it was done out of love and respect, rather than fear.
“You’re their lord, and you take the time to learn their names,” he told Tobin. “You can’t imagine how much that means to a man in the ranks.”
He also revisited his parents’ room several times, trying again to capture the long-lost echo of who they had been then, but he didn’t go near his mother’s wardrobe. The memory of his reflection in the mirror made him blush.
Instead, he and Ki came there late at night when everyone else was asleep, and sat at the wine table playing at bakshi. He summoned Brother, too, and let him stalk sullenly around in the shadows as they played. The ghost had shown no signs of wanting to hurt Ki again; Tobin could almost forgive him.
When the fortnight was over, Tobin was reluctant to leave; Atyion now felt almost as much like home as the keep. Perhaps it was the way everyone greeted him on the streets, always smiling, always friendly. In Ero he was the king’s nephew, Korin’s cousin, the odd little second heir. Just a placeholder, really. In Atyion he was someone’s son and the future hope of the people.
Ringtail escorted him to the front court when it was time to leave and sat yowling on the stairs as he rode away. Riding out through the cheering, banner-waving throngs that lined the streets, Tobin almost regretted his place in the Companions.
30
They’d been back in Ero for only a few days when Korin surprised them all with news that would change the course of their lives.
It was a crisp, smoke-scented autumn morning and Ki was looking forward to the run, and to the dressing-down Korin and the others were likely to get. The older boys were later than usual, and Porion was already fuming. Korin and his set had escaped to the lower city the night before and come home stinking. Their drunken singing had woken Ki, so he wasn’t feeling much sympathy for them as they straggled out.
Alben and Quirion and their squires were the first to emerge. They were wine sick but one glance from Porion was enough to sober them up fast. The others soon followed in ones and twos, looking equally raddled except for Lynx, as usual.
“Where the hell is Korin?” Ki asked, as Lynx stepped into line beside him.
The other squire rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. Orneus didn’t make it past the second tavern. I had to rent a horse to get him home.”
Tanil ran out, still wrapping his belt. “The prince is coming, and sends his apologies, Master Porion.”
“Oh, does he?” The arms master’s voice dropped dangerously and he gave them all a scathing look. “Is this a festival day, boys? Did I forget the date? A good day to sleep in, was it? Just for that, you can—Ah, Your Highness. So pleased you could join us, my prince. And you, too, Lord Caliel. I trust you both had a fine time of it last night?”
“Thank you, Master Porion, we did,” Korin replied, grinning.
Ki’s gut tightened; not even Korin spoke back to Porion. He braced for the inevitable, but instead Porion merely ordered a doubling of the usual run.
As they set off Ki could see Korin still grinning.
“What’s up with him I wonder?” Tobin muttered.
Zusthra jogged past to catch up with the prince. “He has a secret to share,” he murmured, looking smug.
Korin waited until they were at breakfast. “I’ve got good news!” he cried, throwing an arm over Tobin’s shoulders. “I want you to be the first to hear it.” He paused, savoring the moment, then announced, “Lady Aliya carries my child. I’m to have an heir, boys!”
Ki and Tobin gaped at each other a moment, then joined in the cheering.
“I told you he’d manage it!” Zusthra cackled, pounding Caliel on the back. “We’re free! They can’t keep us from battle, now he’s got an heir!”
Zusthra had good reason to crow, Ki knew. He was the oldest of them, with a thick red beard on his chin. He would have been off to the wars with his father years ago if not for his place in the Companions.
Everyone was shouting war cries and yelling. Porion sat by for a few minutes, then banged on the table with his spoon for their attention.
“Does your father know, Prince Korin?”
“No, and I mean to tell him myself tonight, so not a word.”
“As you wish, my prince.” He scowled around at the others, who were still cheering and congratulating each other. “I wouldn’t go putting on your armor just yet. The truce is still on, you know.”
As soon as Porion released them at midday Tobin and Ki ran all the way to the house to tell Tharin. He was in the back courtyard with Koni, examining a horse.
“Slipped away from your duties, have you?” he said, frowning.
“Just for a minute,” Tobin promised, then quickly gave him the news.
Tharin let out a low whistle and shook his head. “So Korin finally got his way, did he?”
“The truce can’t last forever!” Ki crowed. “They never do. Are Tobin and I old enough yet to go?”
Tharin scratched under his beard. “If Korin goes, then you all will.”
“I guess we can put up with Aliya as consort, if that’s the case,” Ki said, laughing. “In fact, this could be the best thing to happen. I’ll bet you once they’ve been under the same canopy for a few months, he’ll be glad enough to go off to war, just to get away from that sharp tongue of hers.”
None of them noticed Moriel lurking by the door or saw when he hurried away.
Niryn’s rooms were near the king’s wing of the New Palace. No one thought it odd that the king’s equerry called there so frequently.
Niryn was taking a solitary breakfast in his courtyard when Moriel was ushered in.
“My Lord Niryn, I happened to be near the Companions’ mess just now and overheard something that might be of interest to you.”
“Did you? Let’s have it.”
“Prince Korin just announced that Lady Aliya carries his child! No one else is to know until the prince tells his father.”
“And when does he plan to do that?”
“Tonight, he said.”
“I suppose the prince and his friends are quite pleased?”
Mingled spite and envy twisted up the corner of the boy’s mouth. “Oh yes, they’re all cheering because they think they can go off to war now.”
“It was good of you to inform me, Sir Moriel. You have my continuing—appreciation.” Niryn gave the boy a knowing smile as he bowed. Moriel knew better than to expect anything as crass as gold to pass between them now. A gift would arrive later. Some nameless benefactor would clear his bills with the tailors or wine merchants. And, of course, he would remain in the king’s good favor. Moriel had understood the arrangement from the beginning and had since outstripped all the wizard’s expectations. Jealousy and malice were the ideal alloys in boys like Moriel; they hardened his soft, craven nature to usefulness, like tin in bronze.