against the wine table. It toppled over, blocking his escape.
Too dizzy to stand, Tobin watched in confusion as Brother raised one spectral hand. The ghost usually descended like a whirlwind, flinging furniture and striking out wildly. This slow, deliberate advance was worse. Tobin felt the rage and menace emanating from his twin; it sapped what little strength he had left. He tried to cry out, but his tongue wouldn’t work.
“No,” Orun whimpered. “How—how can this be?”
And still Brother did not attack. Instead, he simply reached out and touched the terrified man’s chest. Orun let out an agonized shriek and toppled backward over thefallen table as if he’d been thrown. Sparks flew up when one outstretched hand landed in the fire.
The last things Tobin remembered were Orun’s slippered feet twitching in the firelight and the smell of scorched flesh.
Chapter 7
W ord had traveled quickly through the Old Palace. Mago and his cronies made faces at Ki during the morning run. At the temple Alben bumped into him, and whispered, “Farewell, grass knight!” too softly for anyone but Ki to hear.
As soon as Tobin and Tharin left, he’d taken Tharin’s advice. Slipping out through a servant’s passage, he hurried away to Tobin’s house. The steward answered his knock, looking as if he’d been expecting him. He took Ki’s wet cloak and set a chair for him by the hearth.
“The men are at practice in the back court and Mistress Iya is in the guest chamber. Should I inform them of your arrival, sir?”
“No, I’ll just sit here.” The steward bowed and left him.
Despite the fire on the hearth, the hall was cold and shadowy. Soft grey mist pressed at the windows and rain drummed on the roof above. Too miserable to sit still, Ki paced the room and fretted. How long would Tobin be? What if Orun found some reason to keep him there? Would Tharin come back to give him the news, or would he be stuck here forever with his belly in knots?
Looking up, he found himself at the bottom of the carved staircase. He’d only gone up there once, and that had been enough. Tobin’s father had abandoned that part of the house years ago; the rooms had been stripped of their furnishings and left to the mice. Ki was sure he’d felt ghosts there, leering at him from dark corners.
The duke had used the ground floor when he was in the city. Since his death, Tharin and the guard had beenthe only regular occupants. Tharin had a room just down the passage, and the men were quartered at the back of the house, but they kept the hall in use. It always had a homelike smell of house altar incense and embers on the hearth.
Leaving the hall, Ki wandered down the main passage. Iya’s door lay on the right, and it was closed. The duke’s old bedchamber, now Tobin’s and therefore Ki’s by default, lay to the left. He paused at the door, then went instead to the one beside it.
Tharin’s chamber was as spare and orderly as the man who lived there. His room at the keep barracks was just the same. Ki felt more at home here than anywhere else in Ero. He kindled a fire and sat down to await his fate.
But even here he couldn’t sit still, and soon he was pacing a furrow in Tharin’s carpet. The rain drummed against the windows and his thoughts raced:
What will I do when Orun sends me away? Go back to Oakmount and herd pigs?
The idea of returning to his father in disgrace was unthinkable. No, he’d join Ahra’s regiment and patrol the coast, or go to the battlefields in Mycena and offer his sword as a common soldier.
Such thoughts gave no comfort. The only place he wanted to be was where he was, with Tobin.
He buried his face in his hands.
This is my fault. I should never have left Tobin alone that day, knowing he was sick. A few weeks at court and I forgot everything Tharin taught me!
On the heels of that came the question he’d been trying not to ask himself ever since the night he’d followed Brother back to Alestun. What had
Too dizzy to stand, Tobin watched in confusion as Brother raised one spectral hand. The ghost usually descended like a whirlwind, flinging furniture and striking out wildly. This slow, deliberate advance was worse. Tobin felt the rage and menace emanating from his twin; it sapped what little strength he had left. He tried to cry out, but his tongue wouldn’t work.
“No,” Orun whimpered. “How—how can this be?”
And still Brother did not attack. Instead, he simply reached out and touched the terrified man’s chest. Orun let out an agonized shriek and toppled backward over thefallen table as if he’d been thrown. Sparks flew up when one outstretched hand landed in the fire.
The last things Tobin remembered were Orun’s slippered feet twitching in the firelight and the smell of scorched flesh.
Chapter 7
W ord had traveled quickly through the Old Palace. Mago and his cronies made faces at Ki during the morning run. At the temple Alben bumped into him, and whispered, “Farewell, grass knight!” too softly for anyone but Ki to hear.
As soon as Tobin and Tharin left, he’d taken Tharin’s advice. Slipping out through a servant’s passage, he hurried away to Tobin’s house. The steward answered his knock, looking as if he’d been expecting him. He took Ki’s wet cloak and set a chair for him by the hearth.
“The men are at practice in the back court and Mistress Iya is in the guest chamber. Should I inform them of your arrival, sir?”
“No, I’ll just sit here.” The steward bowed and left him.
Despite the fire on the hearth, the hall was cold and shadowy. Soft grey mist pressed at the windows and rain drummed on the roof above. Too miserable to sit still, Ki paced the room and fretted. How long would Tobin be? What if Orun found some reason to keep him there? Would Tharin come back to give him the news, or would he be stuck here forever with his belly in knots?
Looking up, he found himself at the bottom of the carved staircase. He’d only gone up there once, and that had been enough. Tobin’s father had abandoned that part of the house years ago; the rooms had been stripped of their furnishings and left to the mice. Ki was sure he’d felt ghosts there, leering at him from dark corners.
The duke had used the ground floor when he was in the city. Since his death, Tharin and the guard had beenthe only regular occupants. Tharin had a room just down the passage, and the men were quartered at the back of the house, but they kept the hall in use. It always had a homelike smell of house altar incense and embers on the hearth.
Leaving the hall, Ki wandered down the main passage. Iya’s door lay on the right, and it was closed. The duke’s old bedchamber, now Tobin’s and therefore Ki’s by default, lay to the left. He paused at the door, then went instead to the one beside it.
Tharin’s chamber was as spare and orderly as the man who lived there. His room at the keep barracks was just the same. Ki felt more at home here than anywhere else in Ero. He kindled a fire and sat down to await his fate.
But even here he couldn’t sit still, and soon he was pacing a furrow in Tharin’s carpet. The rain drummed against the windows and his thoughts raced:
What will I do when Orun sends me away? Go back to Oakmount and herd pigs?
The idea of returning to his father in disgrace was unthinkable. No, he’d join Ahra’s regiment and patrol the coast, or go to the battlefields in Mycena and offer his sword as a common soldier.
Such thoughts gave no comfort. The only place he wanted to be was where he was, with Tobin.
He buried his face in his hands.
This is my fault. I should never have left Tobin alone that day, knowing he was sick. A few weeks at court and I forgot everything Tharin taught me!
On the heels of that came the question he’d been trying not to ask himself ever since the night he’d followed Brother back to Alestun. What had
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