“We got bigger.” Grinning, Ki tugged Tobin away. “Come on, I’ll prove it.”
Nari had kept their old bedchamber just as they’d left it, and next door the toy city and a few childish sculptures were gathering dust in their places. In the bedchamber, the suit of mail Tobin’s father had given him still hung on its rack in the corner.
“Go on,” Ki urged. “You haven’t tried it in ages.”
Tobin pulled the hauberk over his head, then scowled at their paired reflections in the glass.
“Father said when this fit, I’d be old enough to ride off to war with him.”
“Well, you’re tall enough,” said Ki.
He was, but still too slender. The shoulders of the hauberk shirt slumped halfway to his elbows, and the sleeves hung well past his fingertips. The coif kept sliding down over his eyes.
“You just haven’t filled out yet.” Ki clapped the old helmet on Tobin’s head and rapped his knuckles against it. “That’s a fit, at least. Cheer up, for hell’s sake! The king said he’d let us ride coast patrol when we get back. Better pirates and bandits than no fighting at all, eh?”
“I guess so.” Tobin caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find Brother watching him from the shadows. He had on the same sort of mail, but his fit. Tobin tugged the hauberk off and slung it over the stand. When he looked again, the ghost was gone.
For the first time in Tobin’s life, the great hall was filled with comrades and huntsmen, music and laughter. A fire crackled warmly on the hearth, illuminating the tables set up around it and throwing shadows on the painted walls. Players strutted between the tables and the minstrel gallery across the hall was packed with musicians. The whole house rang with the sounds of celebration.
Cook had evidently come to some sort of agreement with the city folk, and proudly helped serve the lavish feast. Dressed in a new gown of brown wool, Nari served as their steward. The only other women present were servants and entertainers. Pregnant again, Aliya had remained at her mother’s house under the watchful eye of the drysians.
Seated in a place of honor beside Tobin, Tharin looked around wistfully. “I haven’t seen the place like this since we were boys.”
“We had some fine times here!” the king said, clinking his mazer against Tobin’s. “Your grandfather led a fine hunt—stag, bear, even catamounts! I look forward to tomorrow’s ride!”
“We have something special planned for your name day, too,” Korin said, sharing a wink with his father.
The warmth and company raised Tobin’s spirits and he joined in gladly with the songs and drinking games. By midnight he was almost as drunk as Korin. Surrounded by friends and music, he could let himself forget prophecies and past sorrows for a little while; he was master of this house at last.
“We’ll always be friends, won’t we?” he said, leaning on Korin’s shoulder.
“Friends?” Korin laughed. “Brothers, more like. A toast to my little brother!”
Everyone cheered, waving their mazers about. Tobin joined in, but the laughter died in his throat as he caught sight of two dark figures lurking in a shadowed corner of the minstrel’s gallery. They stepped forward, oblivious to the fiddlers sawing away beside them; it was Brother and their mother. Tobin went cold at the sight of her. This was not the kind woman who’d taught him to write and draw. Bloody-faced, eyes burning with hatred, she pointed an accusing finger. Then both ghosts faded away, but not before Tobin saw what she held under her arm.
He scarcely remembered anything of the banquet after that. When the last dessert was finished he pleaded weariness and hurried upstairs. His traveling chest was still locked, but when he burrowed down through the tunics and shirts the doll was gone, just as he’d feared.
“Fine. I’m glad!” Tobin raged at the empty room. “Stay here together, like you always did!” He meant it, and couldn’t understand why tears welled up to blind him.
44
The weather held fair and the hunting was good. They rode out at dawn each day and combed the hills and brakes, returning with enough stags, bear, grouse, and conies to feed a regiment. The king was in good spirits, though Tobin knew better than to take this for granted. It was easier to relax and trust a little, without Niryn there to read his every thought and gesture.
Every night they drank and feasted, entertained by an ever-changing troupe of players. Tobin avoided the third floor and did not see the ghosts again.
“Maybe we should look for the doll,” Ki said, when Tobin finally told him what had happened.
“Where? In the tower?” Tobin asked. “It’s locked and the key is missing; I already asked Nari. And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t go up there again.”
He’d thought about it, even dreamed about it, but nothing in the world would make him go near that room or that window again.
He put the doll out of his mind and Ki didn’t mention it again. He was more concerned about Lhel. They’d slipped away and ridden up the mountain road several times, but found no sign of Lhel or Arkoniel.
“Probably safer for them, with this great crowd wandering everywhere,” Ki said, but he sounded as disappointed as Tobin felt.
On his name day morning Tobin saw that a new pavilion had been erected just beyond the barracks. It was nearly as large, and made of brightly painted canvas hung with silk banners and gaily colored ribbons. When he asked about it, Korin replied with a wink and a smirk.
At the feast that night it was clear some conspiracy was afoot. Korin and the others spent the meal whispering and laughing among themselves. When the last of the honey cakes had been eaten, they rose and surrounded him.
“I’ve got a special birthday present for you, coz,” said Korin. “Now that you’re old enough.”
“Old enough for what?” asked Tobin uneasily.
“Easier to show than tell!” Korin and Zusthra picked Tobin up and hoisted him on their shoulders. Looking back in alarm as they bore him away, he saw the squires blocking Ki from following. He didn’t seem upset, though. Far from it, in fact.
“Happy birthday, Tob!” he called after him, laughing and waving with the others.
Tobin’s worst fears were realized as they carried him down to the gaudy pavilion. It was a brothel, of course, run by one of the king’s favorites in Ero. Inside, heavy tapestry curtains divided the tent into different rooms around a central receiving area. Braziers and polished brass lamps burned there, and it was furnished like a fine villa, with rich carpets and fancy wine tables. Girls in sheer silk chemises greeted the guests and guided them to velvet couches there.
“I chose for you,” Korin announced proudly. “Here’s your present!”
A pretty blond woman emerged from behind one of the tapestry walls and joined Tobin on his couch. The other Companions had girls of their own, and from the looks of things, they were far more at home with all this than he was. Even Nikides and Lutha appeared to be pleased with this development.
“You’re a man now, and a warrior,” said Korin, toasting him with a golden mazer. “It’s time you tasted a man’s pleasures!”
Caught in a nightmare, Tobin fought to hide his dismay. Alben was already smirking with Urmanis and Zusthra.
“I’m honored, my prince,” the girl said, settling close beside him and offering him sweetmeats from a gilded plate. She was perhaps eighteen, but her eyes were as old as Lhel’s as she looked him over. Her manner was demure, but there was hardness just behind her smile that curdled the dinner in Tobin’s belly.
He let her fill his cup again and drank deeply, wishing he could just vanish or sink through the ground. He could do neither, unfortunately, and at last the girls rose and took their chosen paramours by the hand, leading them off to the rooms at the back of the pavilion.