“And this isn’t real magic, just a protection against it,” Arkoniel assured him. “All you have to do is imagine something very clearly, make a picture in your head. Can you imagine the sea for me?”
Tobin thought of the harbor at Ero at dawn, with the great trading ships riding at anchor and the small fishing boats bobbing around them like skimmer beetles.
He felt the briefest cool touch on his brow, but no one had moved.
Iya chuckled. “That was very good.”
“I tell you,” Lhel said.
Tobin opened his eyes. “That’s all?”
“That’s a beginning, and a very good one,” Arkoniel replied. “But you must practice as often as you can, and do it whenever Niryn or any of the Harriers notice you. The real trick is to not look like you’re thinking of something else.”
“Arkoniel used to screw his face up like he had a cramp,” Iya said, looking at him fondly, the way Nari looked at Tobin sometimes. “But you can’t always think of the same thing. It’s safest if you focus on something you’ve just been doing. For instance, if you’ve been hawking, think of jesses or wing markings, or the sound of the bells.”
Tobin tried again, thinking of the game he and Ki had been playing.
“Well done again!” Arkoniel said. “Just remember, though, that your best defense against Niryn and his kind lies in never giving them a reason to look into your head.”
Tobin’s apologies were carried back to Ero the following day. The boys watched from Ki’s window, sticking their tongues out at the retreating horseman.
Ki was finally well enough to escape Nari’s strictures and they spent the day wandering around the keep and visiting at the barracks. Ki wanted to visit Arkoniel, but the wizard didn’t answer his door.
Ki looked back over his shoulder as they walked away. The sight of that closed door left him oddly depressed. “Where do you suppose he could be?”
“He’s around,” Tobin said with a shrug. “What’s wrong? I just saw him yesterday.”
“I haven’t seen him since your name day party,” Ki reminded him. “I’m starting to think he’s avoiding me.”
Tobin punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Now why would he do that?”
Ki was surprised at how quickly his newfound energy deserted him. By midafternoon he was feeling weak again, and having spells of double vision. That frightened him, for Iya had assured him they would pass. The thought that she might be wrong was too frightening to contemplate. What good would a blind squire be to anyone?
As always, Tobin seemed to sense without being told how Ki felt and asked for an early supper upstairs.
That night they slept in Tobin’s room. Ki sighed happily as he sank back against the soft bolsters. Even if it was only for a few nights more, it was good to have things as they used to be. He hadn’t thought about Ero or his enemies among the Companions in days.
Tobin’s thoughts were running along similar lines as he watched the candle shadows dance overhead. Part of him missed Korin and the others, and the excitement of palace life. But Orun’s angry letters tainted all that. Not for the first time, he wished things were the way they used to be.
“This damn thing itches,” Ki grumbled, rubbing at his forehead. He turned his face for Tobin to see. “How does it look?”
Tobin pushed Ki’s soft brown hair back for a better look. A swollen, crusted gash two inches long still stood out over Ki’s right eye, just below the hairline. The lump was fading from purple to a nasty mottled green. “You must have hit a rock or something when you fell. Does it still hurt?”
Ki laughed up at him. “Don’t you start fussing over me! I’m worse off from being kept indoors so long. My old dad would never have stood for it, I can tell you.” He dropped back into the country accent he used to have. “ ’Less you got a broke leg or guts hanging out, you can damn well get out and tend to yer chores.”
“Do you still miss your family?”
Ki folded his hands across his chest. “Some of ’em, I guess. Ahra, and a couple brothers.”
“After we get things settled in Ero, we could go visit them,” Tobin offered. “I’d like to see where you come from.”
Ki glanced away. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“You just wouldn’t.” He gave Tobin a quick grin. “Bilairy’s balls, I don’t want to go back there. Why would you?”
Tobin let it go; why shouldn’t Ki have a few secrets of his own and, anyway, that was all a long time ago. He pushed his fingers back through Ki’s hair, pretending to take a closer look at the wound. “Anyway, it should leave a good scar.”
“Not one to brag of, though,” Ki grumbled. “Think the girls would believe me if I said we met with Plenimaran raiders on the road, or bandits, maybe? I bet Una and Marilli would believe me.”
Tobin chuckled, but at the same time felt a familiar twinge of jealousy. He’d heard enough stories about his friend’s hot-blooded kin, and Ki already had an eye for anything in skirts.
Tobin’s own bashfulness in that regard had earned him his share of teasing among the Companions. Even Ki wasn’t above the occasional good-natured jibe. Everyone—including Tobin himself—had always put it down to his youth and natural shyness.
Until now.
Now, fingers still twined in Ki’s warm hair, Tobin had his first inkling of what that angry little knot in his belly might mean. He took his hand away and lay back, pulling the covers up under his chin.
I don’t like girls that way because I—
He threw an arm across his face to hide the rising blush burning his cheeks and used Arkoniel’s trick. He thought of Gosi’s rough winter coat, the feel of cold rain down his neck, the bite of his hawk’s talons on his fist—anything but the guilty heat coursing through him. Anything but the way his fingers remembered the weight of his friend’s soft hair.
I’m a boy! Ki would never—
Ki had gone quiet, and when Tobin dared lift his arm he found him frowning up at the rafters. After a moment he let out a long sigh.
“What about Orun? What if he does get your uncle to send me away this time?”
“I told you, I won’t let him.”
“Oh, I know.” Ki’s buck-toothed grin flashed as he caught Tobin’s hand in his, but he was worried. “I’ll tell you this, Tob; whatever happens, I’ll always stand by you, even if it’s only as a soldier in your guard.” He was dead serious now. “No matter what happens, Tobin, I’m your man.”
“I know that,” Tobin managed, caught between gratitude and guilt. “And I’m yours. Go to sleep now, before Nari comes in and makes you sleep next door.”
Orun countered with another messenger the next day and, without thinking, Tobin went to get the news. Tharin was with the man in the hall and looked up in surprise as Tobin clattered down the stairs. He was too distracted for the moment to register what that look meant.
Their visitor turned out to be a most unlikely courier. It was Orun’s own valet, Bisir. He was a meek, quiet fellow, pretty in the way that all the young men in Orun’s household were. With his big, dark eyes and soft, nervous hands, Bisir had always reminded Tobin of a hare. He was one of the few people in that household who was always pleasant to him and, more importantly, the only one who was polite to Ki.
“A letter for you from my lord Orun, Prince Tobin,” Bisir