think it may be time for me to be seen with my patron’s son again.”
“You’ll come back to Ero with me?”
She smiled and patted his shoulder. “Yes. Now go see your friends.”
The corridor was cold but Tobin hardly noticed. Ki’s door stood slightly ajar, casting a thin sliver of light out across the rushes. Tobin slipped inside.
Ki was asleep in an old high-sided bed, tucked up to the chin with counterpanes and quilts. His eyes were closed and even in the warm glow of the night lamp, he looked very pale. There were dark circles around his eyes and a linen bandage wrapped around his head.
Tharin was asleep in an armchair beside the bed, wrapped in his long riding cloak. His long, grey-blond hair fell in untidy tangles over his shoulders and a week’s worth of stubble shadowed the hollows of his cheeks above his short beard. Just the sight of him made Tobin feel a little better; he always felt safer with Tharin nearby.
Hard on that thought, however, came the echo of Iya’s warning. Here were the two people he loved and trusted above all others, and now it lay with him to protect them. A wild, rebellious love welled up in his heart as he thought again of Niryn’s prying brown eyes. He’d kill the man himself if the wizard tried to hurt his friends.
Tobin tiptoed toward the bed as carefully as he could, but Tharin’s pale eyes snapped open before he reached it.
“Tobin? Thank the Light!” he exclaimed softly, pulling the boy into his lap and hugging him so hard it hurt. “By the Four, we’ve been so worried! You slept and slept. How are you, lad?”
“Better.” Embarrassed, Tobin gently freed himself and stood up.
Tharin’s smile faded. “Nari says you thought you’d caught the Red and Black Death. You should have come to me instead of running off like that! Anything could have happened to you boys alone on the road. The whole ride out here we expected to find your bodies in a ditch.”
“We? Who came with you?” For one awful moment Tobin feared that his guardian had come looking for him, too.
“Koni and the other guardsmen, of course. Don’t go trying to change the subject. It wasn’t much better finding the two of you like this.” He glanced at Ki, and Tobin knew he was still worried about him. “You should have stayed in the city. Poor Arkoniel and the others have had a time of it. They’re ready to drop in their tracks.” But there was no anger in his eyes as he gazed earnestly up at Tobin. “You gave us all a bad scare.”
Tobin’s chin quivered and he hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
Tharin gathered him in again, patting his shoulder. “Well, then,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “We’re all here now.”
“Ki’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” Tharin didn’t answer and Tobin saw tears glazing the warrior’s eyes. “Tharin, he will be well?”
The man nodded, but doubt was plain in his face. “Arkoniel says he’ll probably wake up soon.”
Tobin’s knees went wobbly and he sank down on the arm of Tharin’s chair. “Probably?”
“He must have caught the same fever you had, and with the knock in the head—” He reached to smooth Ki’s dark hair back from the bandage. A yellowish stain had seeped through. “That needs changing.”
“Iya said he fell.”
“Yes. Struck his head quite a blow, too. Arkoniel thinks—Well, it looks like that demon of yours might have had a hand in it.”
A shard of ice seemed to lodge itself in Tobin’s stomach. “Bro—The ghost hurt him?”
“He thinks it tricked Ki into carrying that doll of yours out here for it.”
Tobin’s breath hitched tight in his chest. If this were true, he’d never, ever call Brother again. Brother could starve, for all he cared.
“You—you saw it? The doll, I mean?”
“Yes.” Tharin gave him a puzzled look. “Your father thought it fell with your mother that day and got carried away by the river. He even sent some of the men out looking for it. But you had it all this time, didn’t you? What made you keep it hidden like that?”
Did Tharin know about Lhel, too? Unsure, Tobin could only offer a partial truth. “I thought you and Father would be ashamed of me. Dolls are for girls.”
Tharin let out a sad little laugh. “No one would have begrudged you that one. It’s a shame that’s the only one she left you. If you like, I could probably find you one of the pretty ones she made before her illness. Half the nobles in Ero have them.”
There had been a time when Tobin had wanted one so badly it hurt. But he’d wanted it from her hands, proof that she loved him, or at least acknowledged him as much as she did Brother. That had never happened. He shook his head. “No, I don’t want any others.”
Perhaps Tharin understood, for he said nothing more about it. They sat together for a while, watching Ki’s chest rise and fall beneath the quilts. Tobin yearned to crawl in beside him, but Ki looked so fragile and ill that he didn’t dare. Too miserable to sit still, he finally went back to his own room so Tharin could sleep. Iya and Nari were gone and he was glad; he didn’t want to talk to either of them just now.
The doll lay on the bed where the wizard had been sitting. As Tobin stared down at it, trying to take in what had happened, anger like nothing he’d ever felt gripped him, so strong he could hardly breathe.
I’ll never call him again. Never!
Snatching it up, he thrust the hated thing into the clothes chest and slammed the lid down. “You can stay here forever!”
He felt a little better after that. Let Brother haunt the keep if he wanted; he could have the place for all Tobin cared, but he wasn’t going back to Ero.
He found his clothes folded neatly on a shelf in the wardrobe. Little bags of dried lavender and mint fell out of the folds of his tunic when he picked it up. He pressed the wool to his face and inhaled, knowing that Nari had tucked the herbs there after she’d washed and mended his clothes. She’d probably sat by the bed as she worked, watching over him.
The thought dissolved his anger at her. No matter what she’d done all those years ago, he knew she loved him, and he still loved her. Dressing quickly, he made his way quietly upstairs.
A few lamps burned in niches along the third floor corridor, and moonlight streamed in at the rosette windows overhead, but the passage was still shadowy and cold. Arkoniel’s rooms lay at the far end and Tobin couldn’t help keeping one eye on the heavy locked door across from the workroom, the door to the tower.
If he went to it, he wondered, would he still feel his mother’s angry spirit there, just on the other side? He kept close to the right-hand wall.
There was no answer at Arkoniel’s bedchamber, but light showed underneath the workroom door next to it. Tobin lifted the latch and went in.
Lamps burned everywhere inside, banishing the shadows and filling the large chamber with light. Arkoniel was at the table under the windows, head propped on one hand as he studied a parchment. He started nervously as Tobin entered, then rose to greet him.
Tobin was surprised at how worn the young wizard looked. There were dark hollows under his cheekbones and his face had a pinched look, as if he’d been sick. His curly black hair, always unruly, stuck out in clumps about his head, and his tunic was rumpled and stained with dirt and ink.
“Awake at last,” he said, attempting to sound hearty and failing miserably. “Has Iya spoken with you yet?”
“Yes. She told me not to tell anyone about this.” Tobin touched his chest, unwilling to give voice to the hated secret.
Arkoniel sighed deeply and looked distractedly around the room. “It was a terrible way for you