Lutha’s door was open a few inches, and a thin band of light fell across the hall floor and the children and dogs sleeping there. Tobin made his way around them and peered in.
A candle burned on a stand next to Larenth’s armchair. It was turned half-away from the door, but he could see Korin’s profile as he sat there, watching the labored rise and fall of Lutha’s chest.
“Where is everyone?” Tobin whispered, closing the door and coming to join him. He caught the reek of wine halfway across the room. As he came around the front of the chair, he saw that Korin was cradling a clay wine jar in his arms and that he was very drunk.
“I had Lynx and Caliel put Barieus to bed. Took both of ’em to drag him away.” His voice was thick, the words slurred. Korin let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Best order I gave today, eh?”
He tipped the jar up again and swallowed noisily. Wine ran down his neck, staining the front of his filthy shirt. He hadn’t changed or bathed since their return. His hands were filthy, the nails rimmed with dried blood.
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gave Tobin a bitter smile. “You did all right, I hear. And Ki, too. All of you, ’cept Quirion. He’s out, soon’s we get back!”
“Softly, Kor. You’re going to wake Lutha.”
But Korin went on, his face bleak. “I was never meant to be king, you know. I was fourth, Tob. And there was a sister ahead of me, too. That would have done for the Illiorans. They could have had their queen. Gherian and my oldest brother Tadir were groomed from the cradle. By the Four, you should have seen them! They were born to it. They’d never have—” He took another long swig and swayed to his feet. Tobin tried to help him but Korin pushed him away. “S’all right, coz. This is what I’m good at, isn’t it? Where’s Tanil?”
“Here.” The squire emerged from a shadowed corner and got an arm around him. The look in his eyes might have been pity or disgust. Perhaps it was both.
“G’night, coz.” Korin attempted a bow as Tanil led him away.
Tobin heard them stumble and a child’s sleepy protest, then the sound of unsteady steps fading away upstairs.
Tobin sat down and watched Lutha, trying to rein in his thoughts. Poor judgment—and surely that was Korin’s sin today—was harshly judged in any commander. The king’s son, it seemed, was judged more harshly, rather than less.
But everyone thinks I’m a hero. Tobin certainly didn’t feel like one. Not with Lutha gasping for life in front of him and all those corpses in the courtyard out front.
On the heels of this came another thought, however. For years he’d resisted thinking about what Lhel’s revelation really meant. All the same, the knowledge had taken root, and just like the witchgrass pushing up between the cracked flagstones outside, it had been stubbornly growing all this while, forcing its way to daylight.
If I’m to be queen, then Korin will have to step aside. But maybe that would be for the best?
But it didn’t feel that way. Tobin had spent the first twelve years of his life living a lie, and the last two trying to ignore the truth. He loved Korin, and most of the others, too. What would happen when they learned the truth, not just that he was a girl, but that she was to supplant the king’s own son?
Time passed, measured in the rise and fall of Lutha’s thin chest. Did his breathing sound better, or worse? It was hard to tell. It didn’t sound quite so wet as it had, and he wasn’t bleeding at the mouth. That must be a good thing, surely? But it was loud and harsh, and every now and then it would seem to catch in his throat, then give way. After a while Tobin noticed that he was matching breaths with Lutha’s, as if it would help him along. When Lutha’s breath caught, his own stopped as he waited for the next rattling inhalation. It was exhausting to listen to.
By the time Nikides and Ruan came in Tobin was glad to give over the vigil. There was someone else he had to talk to.
He didn’t need a candle to find his way back to the deserted well yard. Satisfied that he was alone, he whispered the summoning words. Brother emerged from the shadows and stood in front of him, brooding and silent.
“You saved my life today. Thank you.”
Brother just stared.
“How—how could you find me, without the doll?”
Brother touched Tobin on the chest. “The binding is strong.”
“Like that day Orun was hurting me. I didn’t call you then, either.”
“He was going to kill you.”
Even after all this time, the words sent a chill through him; neither of them had spoken of it. “He wouldn’t have. He’d have been tortured to death.”
“I saw his thoughts. They were murder. That man today was the same.”
“But why do you care? You’ve never had any love for me. You used to hurt me every chance you got. If I died, you’d be free.”
Brother actually grimaced at this, a stiff, unnatural play of features on that face. “If you die with the binding still in you, then we will never be free, either of us.”
Tobin hugged himself as waves of cold rolled off Brother. “What will happen when I take the binding out?”
“I don’t know. The witch promises I will be free.”
Tobin couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a plain answer from his twin. “Then—whenever I’m in battle, you’ll be there?”
“Until I’m free.”
Tobin pondered this, torn between wonder and dismay. How could he ever really prove himself if he always had supernatural help?
Brother read his thoughts and let out a sound Tobin guessed was meant to be a laugh; it sounded more like rats running through dead leaves. “I am your first squire.”
“First?” Tobin began, then, by some trick of memory, or Brother’s, he was back in his mother’s tower, her dying scream loud in his ears. “Did you push her out?”
“I pulled you in.”
“But why not save her, too?” It came out too loud and he clapped a hand over his mouth. “Why didn’t you?” he whispered.
“Her mind was filled with your death, too.”
The scuff of feet on stone froze Tobin where he stood. Ki stepped out into the moonlight and his eyes widened.
“I see into his mind, too,” whispered Brother, and this time he leered as he faded away.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Ki.
Tobin explained as much as he could, and was surprised to see Ki look uneasy when he told him what Brother had said about him. “Tobin, I’d never hurt you!”
“I know that. I don’t think that’s what he meant. Besides, if I was in any danger, he’d have killed you by now, I guess. Don’t mind him. When it comes to you, he usually lies, just to make me feel bad.”
“If I ever turn on you, I hope he does kill me!” Ki exclaimed, more shaken than Tobin had guessed. “I wouldn’t, Tob. I swear it by the Flame!”
“I know that,” Tobin said, taking his friend by the hand. “Let’s go in. I’m cold to the bone. Forget about him.”
But as they settled down by the kitchen hearth again, he fingered the lump under his skin, wondering if he’d be glad to be free of Brother at last, or not.
36
Tobin never learned what the king had said to Korin after their return from Rilmar. In private, Ki wondered what Melnoth and the others had actually reported. The mission had been a success, after all, and that had been the joyous announcement at court when they’d returned to Ero, with the dried blood on their faces.
Life did change, however. They were all full warriors now, in the eyes of the world, and two days after the Sakor festival, they once again donned their finest garments for Korin’s wedding.
Royal weddings were rare and portentous events, so there’d been considerable speculation as to why Prince Korin’s was so hastily thrown together. There had been little time for the proclamation to be carried through the land, and attendance was a bit scanty because of it. Nonetheless, when the great day came the entire city was decked and garlanded, and every temple sent clouds of rose-scented incense up into the cold winter air with prayers for the couple’s happy future.