himself. Go on now and let him have some peace.”
She shooed the soldiers out, but Tharin hung back. “Would you like me to stay, Tobin?”
For once, he didn’t. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just tired.”
“You should go back to bed,” said Nari. “I’ll fetch you some broth and a warm brick for the foot of your bed.”
“No, please. Just let me sit with him.”
“He can sleep here if he needs to. That chair is good for napping.” With a final wink over his shoulder at Tobin, Tharin gently guided Nari out of the room before she could fuss over Tobin any more.
Tobin curled up in the armchair and watched Ki’s chest rise and fall for a while. Then he stared at his friend’s closed lids, willing them to open. At last he gave that up and picked up the wax Tharin had brought. Breaking off a bit, he rolled it between his palms to soften it. The familiar feel and sweet smell calmed him as it always had and he began shaping a little horse for Ki; those were his favorites. Tobin had given him a little wooden horse charm soon after Ki came to the keep and he still wore it on a cord around his neck. Tobin’s skill had improved since then and he’d offered to make him a better one, but Ki wouldn’t hear of it.
Tobin had just finished marking the mane with his fingernail when he sensed someone in the doorway. Iya smiled at him when he looked up and he guessed she’d been standing there for some time.
“May I join you?”
Tobin shrugged. Taking that as an invitation, Iya drew up a stool and leaned in to see the horse. “You’re very good at that. Is it a votive?”
Tobin nodded; he should make an offering at the house shrine. The horse’s head was too long, though. Pinching off a bit of the nose, he reshaped it, but now it was too small. Giving up, he rolled the whole thing into a ball.
“I just want to stay as I am!” he whispered.
“And so you shall, for a good while longer.”
Tobin touched his face, tracing its familiar contours. The face Lhel had shown him was softer, rounder through the cheeks, as if a sculptor had added a little wax and smoothed it in with his thumbs. But the eyes—those had still been his own. And the crescent-shaped scar on his chin.
“Does it—can you see—her?” He couldn’t bring himself to say “me.” His fingers found the wax again and he pinched at it nervously.
Iya chuckled. “No, you’re quite safe.”
Tobin knew she meant safe from King Erius and his wizards, but they weren’t whom he meant. What would Korin and the other boys say if they found out? No girls were allowed to serve as Companions.
Iya rose to go, then stopped and looked down at the new horse taking shape in his hands. Reaching into a pouch at her belt, she took out a few soft buff-and-brown feathers and gave them to him.
“Owl,” said Tobin, recognizing the pattern. “A saw what.”
“Yes. For Illior. You might consider making offerings to the Lightbearer now and then. Just lay them on the fire.”
Tobin said nothing, but when she’d gone he went down to the hall, filled a small brass offering basin with embers from the main hearth, and set it on the shelf of the house shrine. Whispering a prayer to Sakor to make Ki strong again, he laid the wax horse on the embers and blew on them until the wax melted. Every bit of the little votive was consumed, a sign that the god had been listening. Taking out one of the owl feathers, he twirled it between his fingers, wondering what prayer was proper. He hadn’t thought to ask. Laying it on the coals, he whispered, “Lightbearer, help me! Help Ki, too.”
The feather smoldered for a second, sending up a thread of acrid smoke, then caught fire and disappeared in a flash of green flame. A sudden shiver seized Tobin, leaving his knees a little shaky. This was a more dramatic answer than Sakor had ever sent. More scared than reassured, Tobin dumped the coals back into the hearth and hurried upstairs.
The following day was much the same and passed even more slowly. Ki slept on, and to Tobin’s worried eye, he was looking paler even though Nari said otherwise. Tobin made twenty-three horses, watched from the window as Laris drilled the men in the barracks yard, dozed in the chair. He even played idly with the little boats and wooden people in the toy city, though he was much too old for it now and got up hurriedly whenever he heard anyone coming.
Tharin brought supper on a tray and stayed to eat with him. Tobin still didn’t feel much like talking but was glad for the company. After supper they played bakshi on the floor.
They were in the middle of a toss when the faint stir of bedclothes caught Tobin’s attention. Jumping to his feet, he bent over Ki and took his hand. “Are you awake, Ki? Can you hear me?”
His heart leaped when Ki’s dark lashes fluttered against his cheek. “Tob?”
“And me,” Tharin said, smoothing Ki’s hair back from his brow. His hand was shaking, but he was smiling.
Ki looked around blearily. “Master Porion … tell him … too tired to run today.”
“You’re at the keep, remember?” Tobin had to stop himself from squeezing Ki’s hand too tightly. “You followed me out here.”
“What? Why would …” He stirred against the pillow, struggling to stay awake. “Oh, yes. The doll.” His eyes widened. “Brother! Tobin, I saw him.”
“I know. I’m sorry he—” Tobin broke off. Tharin was right there, overhearing everything. How was he going to keep Ki from blurting out more?
But Ki was fading again. “What happened? Why—why does my head hurt?”
“You don’t remember?” asked Tharin.
“I the doll … I remember riding …” Ki trailed off again and for a moment Tobin thought he’d gone back to sleep. Then, eyes still closed, he whispered, “Did I find you, Tob? I don’t remember anything after I got to Alestun. Did you get the doll?”
Tharin pressed the back of his hand to Ki’s cheek and frowned. “He’s a bit warm.”
“Hungry,” Ki mumbled peevishly.
“Well, that’s a good sign.” Tharin straightened up. “I’ll fetch you some cider.”
“Meat.”
“We’ll start with cider and see how you do with it.”
“I’m sorry,” Ki rasped as soon as Tharin was gone. “I shouldn’t have said anything about—him.”
“It’s all right. Forget it.” Tobin sat on the edge of the bed and took Ki’s hand again. “Did Brother hurt you?”
Ki’s eyes went vague. “I—I don’t know. I don’t remember …” Then, abruptly, “How come you never told me?”
For one awful moment Tobin thought Ki had seen him with Lhel and Arkoniel, after all, and guessed his secret. He’d have blurted out the truth if Ki hadn’t spoken first.
“I wouldn’t have laughed, you know. I know it was your mother’s. But even if it was just some old doll, I’d never have laughed at you,” Ki whispered, eyes sad and full of questions.
Tobin stared down at their interlaced fingers. “The night Iya first brought you here, Brother showed me a vision. I saw the way people would look at me if they knew I had it.” He gestured helplessly. “I saw you and you—I was afraid you’d think badly of me if you knew.”
Ki let out a weak snort. “Don’t know that I’d believe anything he showed.” He looked around, as if fearing that Brother was listening, then whispered, “He’s a nasty thing, isn’t he? I mean, he’s your twin and all, but there’s something missing in him.” His fingers tightened on Tobin’s. “I didn’t understand why he wanted me to bring it