“That’s it, then,” said Ki after Tobin read it out to Tharin and the others around the hearth fire.
Bisir had grown ruddy and rather cheerful during his unintended stay, but he had that frightened rabbit look again now. “Does he say anything about me?”
“Don’t worry about Orun,” said Tobin. “It wasn’t your fault you got snowed in. He can’t hold the weather against you.”
Bisir shook his head. “But he will.”
“We’ll head back at first light tomorrow,” said Tharin, looking no more pleased than the valet did. “Nari, see that their things are packed.”
“Of course I will!” Nari snapped, offended, but Tobin saw her dab at her eyes with a corner of her apron as she went up the stairs.
Cook prepared a fine farewell supper that night, but no one was very hungry.
“You are still coming with me, aren’t you, Iya?” Tobin asked, pushing a bit of lamb around his bowl.
“Maybe you could be Tobin’s court wizard,” Ki offered.
“I doubt the king would approve of that,” Iya replied.
“But I’ll come for a little stay, just to see how the wind’s blowing.”
Tobin’s heart was heavy as he and Ki dressed by candlelight the next morning. He had no appetite for breakfast; there was a lump in his throat, and another heavy as a stone in his belly. Ki was quieter than usual, and made his good-byes hastily when the time came to leave. Bisir looked downright grim.
The day dawned rainy and cold as they passed through Alestun. The roads were churned to thick, sucking mud and made for slow riding. The rain came in squalls as they descended through the wooded hills to the rolling open country beyond. Dusk came on early so late in the year. They spent the night in a wayside inn and came in sight of the coast at noon the next day. The sky was the color of iron, the sea and the distant river black against the winter brown fields. Even Ero looked like a city of ash on her high hill.
They kicked their horses into a gallop over the last few miles and the sharp tang of the sea blew in to greet them. That and the excitement of galloping with his own men at his back lifted Tobin’s spirits a little. By the time they reached the broad stone span of Beggar’s Bridge, he felt ready to face his guardian. Even the slums between the bridge and the city wall did not dampen his spirits. He emptied his purse of coppers and silver, tossing the coins to the beggars who lined the way. Tobin and his warriors saluted the crescent and flame carved on the great stone arch of the south gate, touching hearts and hilts to honor the city’s patron deities. Tharin announced Tobin’s arrival and the pike-men bowed to him as he rode by. Iya reined aside to show the silver badge she wore and one of the guards marked something down on a wax tally board. The wizard’s lips were pressed in a hard angry line as she caught up with Tobin. Tobin knew about the badges the Harriers made the free wizards wear, had seen the one Iya wore. Only now did he begin to understand what they really meant.
The narrow streets seemed all the more dark and filthy to Tobin after weeks in the mountains. This was a poor quarter and the faces he saw peering out from windows and doorways were pinched and pale as ghosts.
“Stinking Ero,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose.
Iya gave him an odd look from under her hood, but said nothing.
“Guess we were gone long enough to get the smell out of our noses,” said Ki.
Urging their mounts on at a gallop, they clattered up the steep, twisting streets to the walled Palatine. The streets grew marginally cleaner in the upper precincts, and in some the woven ropes of evergreen boughs and wheat had already been hung over some doorways in preparation for the Festival of Sakor.
The captain of the Palatine Guard greeted Tharin at the gates. “Prince Korin left word for Prince Tobin, my lord,” he said, bowing low. “He bids his cousin come to the feasting hall as soon as he arrives.”
“Did Lord Orun leave any message?” asked Tobin.
“No, my prince.”
“That’s good, anyway,” muttered Ki.
Tobin turned reluctantly to Bisir. “I suppose you’d better take your master the news.”
The young man bowed in the saddle and rode on ahead without a word.
The branches of the ancient, winter-bare elms lining the avenue formed a netted tunnel over them as they cantered on.
Tobin paused by the Royal Tomb and saluted the remains of his parents, which lay in the catacombs below. Through the age-blackened wooden pillars that supported the flat tile roof, Tobin could see the light of the altar fire flickering over the faces of the queens’ effigies.
“Do you want to go in?” Tharin asked.
Tobin shook his head and rode on.
The New Palace gardens were a palette of grey and black. Lights twinkled from windows everywhere in the maze of fine houses that crowned Ero’s high hill, like a flock of fireflies in winter.
At the Old Palace Iya went on with Laris and the others to quarters at the villa that had been Ariani’s. Tharin stayed with the boys and accompanied them into the Companions’ wing. Uncertain of his welcome, Tobin was glad of his company and Ki’s as they made their way along the faded corridors.
The messroom was empty but sounds of merriment led them on to Korin’s feasting chamber. The double doors stood open and light and music spilled out to greet the prodigals. Hundreds of lamps lit the room and the chamber felt stifling after the day’s cold ride.
Korin and the other noble Companions sat at the high table, accompanied by a few select friends and favorite girls. The squires were busy serving. Garol stood ready with his wine pitcher behind Korin’s chair and Tanil was busy carving on his left. The only person who seemed to be missing from the usual gathering was Swordmaster Porion. He was nowhere to be seen. As much as Tobin liked the gruff old veteran, he was in no hurry to hear what the man had to say about his absence from training.
Scores of guests of every age sat at two long tables below. Looking around, Tobin saw the usual collection of entertainers, as well. At the moment, a company of Mycenian acrobats were throwing each other into the air.
Korin hadn’t noticed their arrival. Aliya was sitting on his lap, laughing and blushing over something he was whispering in her ear as he played with one of her braids. As Tobin approached the table, he saw with little surprise that his cousin was flushed with wine, despite the early hour.
Near the end of the table, Tobin’s friends Nikides and Lutha were talking with dark-haired Lady Una, though they looked more earnest than flirtatious.
Lutha was the first to notice them. His narrow face lit up as he elbowed Nikides, and shouted, “Look, Prince Korin, your wayward cousin is home at last!”
“Come here, coz!” Korin exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “And you, too, Ki. So you finally dug yourselves out, did you? We’ve missed you. And missed your name day, as well.”
“I’ve had my old seat back for a while,” Caliel said, laughing. Giving up his place of honor at Korin’s right, he shouldered in next to red-bearded Zusthra.
Ki went to join the other squires serving at table. Tharin was given a seat of honor among Korin’s older friends at the right-hand table. Tobin looked around uneasily for his guardian; Orun inserted himself into Korin’s doings whenever he could manage it. But not this time, Tobin noted with relief.
Ki had seemed welcome enough, too. Perhaps Orun hadn’t done anything, after all. Down the table, however, he caught sight of their old nemesis, Moriel the Toad. The pale, sharp-faced boy was watching his rival with open dislike; if Orun had had his way, Tobin would be sharing chambers with him instead of Ki.
As he looked around to see if Ki had noticed, he was caught by a pair of dark eyes. Lady Una gave him a shy wave. Her open regard had always discomforted Tobin. Now, with his new secret lodged like a splinter in his heart, he had to look away quickly. How could he ever face her again?