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 pikemen 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?
“Ah, someone’s glad to see you home,” Caliel observed, misinterpreting Tobin’s sudden blush.
“Mazer, butler, a welcoming cup for my cousin!” Korin cried. Lynx brought Tobin a golden mazer and Garol, none too sober himself, slopped wine into it.
Korin leaned forward, peering into Tobin’s face. “You seem no worse for your illness. Thought you had plague, did you?”
Korin was drunker than he’d thought, and reeked of wine. All the same, the welcome was genuine, if a little slurred, and Tobin was glad of it.
“I didn’t want the deathbirds nailing up the palace,” he explained.
“Speaking of birds, your hawk’s been pining for you,” Arengil called down the table, his Aurënfaie accent giving the words a graceful lilt. “I’ve kept her in trim, but she misses her master.”
Tobin raised his cup to his friend.
Korin swayed to his feet and banged a spoon against a platter of goose bones. The minstrels ceased and the tumblers scurried away. When he had everyone’s attention, Korin raised his cup to Tobin. “Let us pour libations for my cousin, for his name day’s sake.” With an unsteady hand, he tipped half the contents onto the stained tablecloth, then downed the rest as the others sprinkled the required drops. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Korin proclaimed grandly, “Twelve years old, my cousin is, and twelve kisses he’ll get from every girl at the table to speed him on to manhood. And one extra, too, for the month that’s passed since. Aliya, you first.”
There was no point in arguing, for Korin would have his way. Tobin tried not to flinch as Aliya draped herself around him and delivered the required dozen all over his face. Korin was welcome to his opinion of her, but Tobin had always found her sharp-tongued and mean. For the last kiss, she pressed her mouth hard to his, then flounced away laughing. Half a dozen more girls crowded forward, probably more anxious for Korin’s approval than Tobin’s. When Una’s turn came, she shyly brushed his cheek, eyes squeezed shut. Over her shoulder, Tobin could see black-haired Alben laughing with Zusthra and Quirion, clearly relishing his embarrassment.
When the ordeal was over, Ki set a parsley bread trencher and a finger bowl down before him. Tobin saw that he was tight-lipped with anger.
“It’s just in fun,” Tobin whispered, but it wasn’t the kissing that had upset his friend.