Solari clasped hands with Ki. “You’ve both grown up so, I hardly recognize you. And here’s Tharin, too! How are you, old friend? It’s been too long.”
“Indeed it has.”
“I’ve felt like an intruder, wandering these halls without you and Rhius. But with his son here at last, things begin to feel right with the world again.”
“How long have you been here?” asked Tharin. “We had no word you’d been appointed.”
“The king invested me before we sailed from Mycena and sent me ahead to make the house ready for Prince Tobin and his own arrival.”
“Is Lord Nyanis well?” Tobin asked. Nyanis had been Tobin’s favorite among his father’s generals. That sad day at the keep had been the last time he’d seen him, too.
“As far as I know, my prince. I’ve had no word otherwise.” Solari ushered them up the stairs. “I’ve been with the king at the royal camp this past year. Nyanis is still entrenched with General Rynar above Nanta until we see if the truce holds.”
As they passed beneath the arched portal the carved panel over the doors caught Tobin’s eye; it showed a gauntleted hand holding Sakor’s garlanded sword. He touched his heart and hilt as he passed under it and Korin did the same. But Tharin was frowning, first at the carving, and then at a swarthy, wide-set man wearing the silver chain and long tunic of a steward, who bowed low to them as they entered.
“Where’s Hakone?” he asked Solari.
“He’s finally grown too frail to carry out his duties, poor old fellow,” Solari told him. “Orun replaced him with some squint-eyed fellow of his own, but I got rid of him quick enough and took the liberty of installing Eponis here, a trusted man of my own household.”
“And of flying your own colors from the battlements,” Tharin noted pointedly. “For a moment Prince Tobin thought he’d come to the wrong house.”
“Highness, the fault is mine,” Eponis rumbled, bowing to Tobin again. “I will see it is remedied at once.”
“Thank you,” said Tobin.
Solari and his lady led them on through a receiving chamber where heady incense burned before a household shrine as large as a shop. A black cat sat at the foot of it, tail curled around its feet, and watched them pass with eyes like gold coins. A grey-muzzled old bitch lay companion-ably beside it, but at Tobin’s approach she lurched up stiffly and slunk away. The cat blinked placidly at him, then went on washing its face.
Beyond this, through a pillared gallery, lay the great hall. Entering for the first time, Tobin caught his breath in amazement.
Light streamed in through tall windows set high overhead, but even with the bright midday light flooding in, the peaks of the ceiling vaults were lost in shadow. Rows of stone columns supported the roof and cordoned off side chambers. The floor was made of colored bricks set in zigzag patterns, and the walls were hung with enormous tapestries. Gold and silver seemed to glint at him from all directions—plates on high shelves, shields and other war trophies hanging on the pillars, statues, and gracefully shaped vessels on the shelves of a dozen or more long sideboards. A company of servants in blue livery stood waiting at the center of the room.
A white cat lay beneath a nearby table, nursing a litter of yellow and white kittens. Across the hall two more cats—one black and white, the other striped yellow—were leaping and rolling in play. A huge black tom with a white blaze on its chest sat washing its hind leg among the silver vessels on a nearby sideboard. Tobin had never seen so many cats indoors. Atyion must be plagued with mice, to need so many.
Tharin chuckled softly beside him, and Tobin realized he’d been gaping like a yokel. And he wasn’t the only one.
“By the Flame!” Lutha gasped, and got no further than that. Even Alben and his friends were impressed.
“I’ve assigned servants to each of the Companions, since none of you are familiar with the house,” Eponis informed them. “It’s very easy to get lost if you don’t know your way around.”
“I can believe that!” Lutha exclaimed, and everyone laughed.
“Sir Tharin can guide me,” Tobin said, anxious to keep his friend close by.
“As you wish, my prince.”
“Any word of my father?” asked Korin:
“He’s expected tomorrow, my prince,” Solari replied. “All has been made ready.” He turned to Tobin and smiled. “The servants can take you to your chambers if you’d like to rest. Or perhaps you’d like to see some of your castle, first.”
Your castle. Tobin couldn’t help grinning. “Yes, I would!”
They spent the afternoon exploring, with Solari and Tharin as their guides. The main living quarters lay in this tower and a wing flanking the gardens between it and the second. The other one served as fortress, granary, armory, and treasury. Tobin was amazed to learn that an army of several thousand men could be quartered there in time of siege.
A second wing parallel to the other closed the rectangle of ground and housed the servants’ quarters, kitchens, laundries, brewing rooms, and other household offices. One large chamber was filled with weavers working at great clacking looms; in the next scores of women and girls sat singing together as they spun flax and wool into thread for the weavers.
Inside the rectangle formed by the towers and wings lay an expanse of gardens and groves, with an elegant little temple dedicated to Illior and Sakor. Pillared galleries on the upper floors of the main tower overlooked the grounds.
Tobin and the others were footsore and dazzled by the time Solari left them at their chambers to prepare for the evening feast.
The Companions had rooms high in the royal wing, along a gallery overlooking the gardens. Tobin and Korin were given private chambers. The rest were divided between two large guest rooms.
Alone with Ki and Tharin, Tobin looked around his room, heart beating faster. It had belonged to some young man of his family, he could tell. The bed hangings were worked with running horses, and there were weapons and shields on the walls. A few toys lay carefully arranged on a chest: a miniature ship, a wheeled horse, and a wooden sword.
“These are just like the ones Father gave me!” Then his heart skipped a beat. “These were his, weren’t they? This was my father’s room.”
“Yes. We slept here until—” Tharin paused and cleared his throat roughly. “It would have been yours. It should have been.”
Just then a woman appeared in the doorway. She was dressed like a courtier and her faded golden hair was arranged in braids around her head. A heavy bunch of keys hung on a golden chain at her girdle. She was accompanied by a battle-scarred yellow tom, who stalked over to sniff at Tobin’s boots.
The woman’s face was lined with age, but she stood straight as a warrior and her pale eyes were bright with joy as she dropped gracefully to one knee before Tobin and kissed his hand. “Welcome home, Prince Tobin.” The cat rose on his hind legs and butted his scabby head against their hands.
“Thank you, my lady,” Tobin replied, wondering who she was. Her face seemed familiar somehow, though he was certain he’d never met her before. Then, as Tharin stepped to her side, Tobin realized that they had the same pale eyes and hair, the same straight, strong nose.
“Allow me to present my aunt Lytia,” Tharin said, obviously trying hard not to laugh at the look on Tobin’s face. “I still have a few cousins about the place, too, I think.”
Lytia nodded. “Grannia oversees the pantries, and Oril is Master of Horses now. I was a lady-in-waiting to your grandmother, my prince, and to your mother, too, while she lived here. Afterward, your father made me keeper of the keys. I hope you’ll accept my service?”
“Of course,” Tobin replied, still looking from one to the other.
“Thank you, my prince.” She looked down at the cat, who was winding himself around Tobin’s ankles and purring loudly. “And this rude fellow is Master Ringtail, Atyion’s chief rat slayer. He recognizes the master of the house, I see. He doesn’t go to many except for me and Hakorte, but he’s certainly taken a liking to you.”