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.
3
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.