Tobin knelt and gingerly stroked the cat’s striped back, expecting it to turn on him the way dogs did. Instead, Ringtail thrust his whiskered muzzle under Tobin’s chin and kneaded long sharp claws into his sleeve, demanding to be picked up. He was a strong, heavy animal, and had extra toes on each foot.
“Look at that! Seven toes. I pity the rat that comes in reach of them,” Tobin exclaimed, delighted. The cats he’d seen in barns and stables were wild, hissing things. “And look, he must be a great warrior. All his wounds are in the front. I accept your service, too, Master Ringtail.”
“There’s another room he should see, Tharin,” Lytia murmured. “I asked Lord Solari to leave it to us to show him.”
“What room is that?” asked Tobin.
“Your parents’ chamber, my prince. It’s been kept just as they left it. I thought you might like to see it.”
Tobin’s heart knocked painfully against his ribs. “Yes, please. You, too, Ki,” he said when his friend hung back.
Still cradling the heavy cat against his chest, Tobin followed Lytia and Tharin down the corridor to a large door carved with fruit trees and birds with long, flowing tails. Lytia took a key from her belt and unlocked the door.
It swung open on a handsomely appointed room bathed in late afternoon light. The bed hangings were dark blue worked with pairs of white swans in flight; the tapestries covering the walls echoed the theme. The balcony doors stood wide, overlooking the gardens below. Someone had burned incense and beeswax within recently. Tobin caught the underlying staleness of a room where no one had lived for a long time, but it had none of the musty rot smell he’d known at home. It was nothing like the sad, half-empty rooms at the Ero house, either. This room had been well tended, as if its occupants would soon return.
There were a number of fancy boxes and caskets arranged on a dressing table, and the usual implements on the writing desk that stood in front of one of the tall, mullioned windows. Brightly enameled mazers lined a wine board across the room, and carved ivory figures stood ready on a gleaming game board by the hearth.
He let Ringtail down and the cat trailed after him as he walked around the room, touching the bed hanging, picking up a game piece, running a fingertip over the inlaid lid of a jewel box. He ached to find some echo of his father here, but he was too aware of the others watching him.
“Thank you for showing me,” he said at last.
Lytia gave him an understanding smile as she placed the key in his hand and folded his fingers around it. “All this is yours now. Come here whenever you like. It will always be kept ready.”
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and Tobin guessed that she knew what he’d been seeking, and that he hadn’t found it.
18
They feasted in the great hall that night at three long tables arranged in a half circle. Solari and his family sat with Tobin and Korin. His eldest son by a previous wife was off serving with the king. Savia’s children, two young boys and a pretty little daughter named Rose, sat with them. The little girl spent most of the meal on Korin’s knee. The rest of the company was made up of the Companions, Solari’s friends and generals, and a number of rich merchants from the town. It was a raucous, clattering affair made louder by a steady procession of minstrels and bards.
Tobin had the seat of honor at the canopied head table, but it was clear that Solari was the host. His men served at table, and he ordered the courses, wines, and the minstrels and entertainers. He fussed over Tobin and Korin throughout the evening, choosing the choicest bits from each platter and extolling the quality of each wine, the fruit of Atyion’s fine vineyards.
Course followed course, each a banquet in itself. Lady Lytia stood by the servers’ entrance and inspected each dish closely before it was carried to the head table. The first course alone was made up of beef with mustard, roast woodcock, partridge, plover, and snipe. A fish course followed: eels in jelly, gurnard with syrup, fried minnows, smoked pike in pastry, and boiled mussels stuffed with bread and cheese. The desserts included cakes of three kinds, pies both sweet and savory, with brightly decorated pastry crusts.
Dozens of the castle cats kept them company, leaping onto the tables in search of scraps and getting under the servers’ feet. Tobin looked for his new friend, but Ringtail was nowhere to be seen.
“The cooks here put the royal kitchens to shame, my lady!” Korin exclaimed to Savia, licking his fingers happily.
“The credit belongs to Lady Lytia,” the duchess replied. “She oversees the menus and the cooks, even the buying of the food. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
“Ah, and here she comes now with tonight’s centerpiece!” cried Solari.
Lytia led in two servers bearing a huge pastry on a litter. At her command, they placed it before Tobin. The golden crust was decorated in fine detail with Atyion’s oak flanked by two swans, all fashioned of pastry and colored glazes.
“For your amusement on your first night with us, Prince Tobin,” she said, offering him a long knife decorated with blue ribbon.
“It’s a shame to spoil it,” Tobin exclaimed. “You have my compliments, lady!”
“Cut it, cut it!” little Rose cried, bouncing on Korin’s lap and clapping her hands.
Wondering what the filling could be, Tobin thrust the knife into the center of the crust. The whole elaborate creation fell to pieces, releasing a flock of tiny blue-and-green birds that fluttered up to circle the table. The cats sprang onto the table after them, much to the amusement of the guests.
“Your esteemed aunt is a true artist!” Solari called down the table to Tharin, who acknowledged the praise with a nod.
Lytia waved in a second litter and presented them with an identical pastry filled with plums and brandy custard.
“All from your estate and cellars, my prince,” she told him proudly, serving Tobin the first helping.
A half-grown black-and-white kitten leaped into his lap and sniffed at his plate.
Tobin stroked its soft fur. “I’ve never seen so many cats!”
“There have always been cats at Atyion.” Lytia gave the kitten a bit of custard on the end of her finger. “They’re favored by Illior because they love the moon.”
“My old nurse told me that’s why they sleep all day and can see to hunt in the darkness,” Korin said, coaxing the kitten into Rose’s lap. “It’s too bad Father can’t bear the sight of them.”
The kitten jumped back into Tobin’s lap but just then Ringtail appeared from under the table with a growl. Leaping onto the arm of Tobin’s chair, he cuffed the kitten out of the way and took its place.
“You must be well favored with the Lightbearer, if that one comes to you,” Solari observed, eyeing Ringtail with distaste. “I can’t get near the brute.” He reached to scratch his head but the big cat laid his ears back and hissed at him. Solari hastily withdrew his hand. “You see?” He shook his head as the tom licked Tobin’s chin, purring loudly. “Yes, well favored indeed!”
Tobin stroked the cat’s back, thinking once again of Brother’s warning.
Nuts and cheese followed the pastry, but Tobin was too full to manage more than a few sugared almonds. A new set of minstrels was introduced with the sweets and some of the guests began to play dice among the wine cups. No one showed any sign of going to bed.
Exhausted and dizzy from too many wines, Tobin excused himself as soon as he could politely do so, pleading weariness.
“Good night, sweet coz!” Korin cried, rising to clasp him in an unsteady embrace. Not surprisingly, he was far drunker than Tobin.
Everyone rose to bid him good night. Tobin guessed that the feast would continue well into the night, but they’d have to do so without him. Tharin and Ki escorted him out, with Ringtail trotting ahead as vanguard, his striped tail straight as a standard pole.