Tobin hadn’t forgiven Mago for goading Ki into a fight that had gotten him a beating on the temple steps. He was halfway out of his chair when Korin’s squire, Tanil, stepped in beside him to place several cuts of roast lamb in his trencher.
“I’ll deal with them,” he murmured.
Tobin grudgingly settled back in his chair. As usual, Korin took no notice. “What will you have for a present, coz?” he demanded. “Name anything you like. A gold-chased corselet, perhaps, to replace that battered old turtle shell of yours? A peregrine or a fine new Aurënfaie horse? I know—a sword! There’s a new smith in Hammer Street, you’ve never seen the like—”
Tobin chewed slowly, considering the offer. He had no desire to replace his horse or his sword—both gifts from his father—and his old armor suited him just fine, though perhaps it was getting a little small. The fact was, he’d been given so many gifts since he’d come to court that he couldn’t think of a thing to ask for, except one. And he didn’t dare bring up Ki’s possible banishment here. He wasn’t even certain if it was in his cousin’s power to decide the matter and wouldn’t risk embarrassing Ki in front of the others.
“I can’t think of anything,” he admitted at last.
This was greeted with good-natured hoots and cat-calls, but he overheard Urmanis’ sister Lilyan whispering meanly to Aliya, “Always has to play the simple rustic lord, doesn’t he?”
“Perhaps the prince would rather have a different sort of gift,” Tharin suggested. “A journey, perhaps?”
Korin grinned. “A journey? Now there’s a gift we could all share in. Where would you like to go, Tobin? Afra, perhaps, or down to Erind. You won’t get better fried eels anywhere and the whores there are said to be the finest in Skala.”
Caliel threw an arm around his friend’s neck, trying to stem the drunken ramble. “He’s a little young for that, don’t you think?”
He gave Tobin a sympathetic wink over Korin’s shoulder. Caliel and Tanil were the only ones who could steer Korin when he was this deep in his cups.
Still at a loss, Tobin looked back at Tharin. The man smiled and raised a hand to his breast, almost as if he were pointing at something.
Tobin understood at once. Touching the lump his father’s seal ring made under his tunic, he said, “I’d like to see my estate at Atyion.”
“Only that far?” Korin regarded him with bleary disappointment.
“I’ve never seen it,” Tobin reminded him.
“Well then, to Atyion it is! I could use a new horse and the herds there are the best this side of the Osiat.”
Everyone cheered again. Warmed by his little triumph, Tobin allowed himself a deep swallow of wine. Lord Orun had always found some excuse for Tobin not to go. In this, at least, Korin had the final say.
Well, well. Look who’s back,” Mago sneered as Ki helped collect the scraps for Ruan’s alms basket.
“Yes, look who’s here,” Arius, Mago’s shadow and echo, chimed in, jostling Ki’s arm. “Our grass knight has come home. I hear Lord Orun’s been fuming mad at you, letting the prince run off like that.”
“Master Porion isn’t too happy with you, either,” Mago gloated. “How do you fancy kneeling on the temple steps again? How many lashes do you suppose he’ll have your prince give you this time?”
For an answer, Ki stuck his foot out and sent Mago sprawling with the platter of roast lamb he’d been carrying.
“Tripping over your own feet again, Mago?” Tanil chuckled as he passed. “You’d better get that cleaned up before Chylnir catches you.”
Mago scrambled to his feet, his fine tunic covered in grease. “Think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?” he spat at Ki. Then, to Tanil, “If I’m so clumsy, maybe Sir Kirothius here should finish the job by himself.” He stalked off toward the kitchen with the empty platter. Arius shot Ki a dangerous look as he trotted off after Mago.
“No need to get yourself in trouble over me,” Ki mumbled as he gathered the scraps. It embarrassed him that Tanil had heard the other boys’ taunts.
But the head squire’s eyes were bright with suppressed laughter. “Not your fault that he can’t keep his feet, now, is it? That was a nice little move. Will you teach me?”
It was after midnight when Tharin and Caliel accompanied the princes to their bedchambers. Korin was blind drunk, and after several attempts to fall on his nose, Tharin picked the prince up and carried him to his door.
“Good night, sweet coz. Sweet, sweet coz,” Korin warbled, as Tanil and Caliel took charge of him. “Sweet dreams to you and welcome home! Caliel, I think I’m going to puke.”
His friends hurried him inside, but from the sounds that followed, they weren’t quick enough getting him to a basin.
Tharin shook his head in disgust.
“He’s not always like that,” Tobin told him, always quick to defend his cousin.
“Too often for my taste, or his father’s, I’d say,” Tharin growled.
“Mine, too,” muttered Ki, lifting the latch at their door.
The door fetched against something as he tried to open it. There was a grunt of surprise from the other side, then their page, Baldus, swung it wide, grinning at Tobin with sleepy delight. “Welcome home, my prince! And Lord Tharin, it’s good to see you again.”
Tapers had been left burning and the room was sweet with the welcoming scents of beeswax and the pines outside the balcony.
Baldus hurried to pull back the heavy black-and-gold bed hangings and turn down the covers for them. “I’ll fetch a warming pan, my prince. Molay and I were so glad to hear you were coming back at last! Sir Ki, the baggage is in the dressing room. I’ve left it for you to unpack, like always.” He stifled a huge yawn. “Oh, and there’s a letter from your guardian, Prince Tobin. Molay left it there on the writing table, I think.”
So Old Slack Guts wasted no time, after all, thought Tobin, picking up the folded parchment. Judging by the way that Baldus was looking anywhere but at Ki, his squire’s precarious situation was no secret.
“Go sleep in the kitchen where it’s warmer,” Tobin told the boy, not wanting an audience. “And tell Molay I don’t require him tonight. I just want to go to sleep.”
Baldus bowed and dragged his pallet out with him.
Bracing himself, Tobin broke the seal and read the few brief lines.
“What does it say?” Ki demanded softly.
“Just that he’ll summon me tomorrow and I’m to come alone.”
Tharin read it for himself, scowling. “Alone, eh? Sounds like the Lord Chancellor needs reminding who he’s dealing with. I’ll have an honor guard waiting. Send word when you need us.” He clapped them both on the shoulder. “No long faces, boys. Worrying yourselves sick tonight won’t help. Get some sleep and whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll deal with it then.”
Tobin wanted to take Tharin’s advice, but neither he nor Ki could find much to say as they got ready for bed. They lay in silence for a long time, listening to the embers tinkling on the hearth as they cooled.
Finally, Ki nudged Tobin’s foot with his own and gave voice to both their fears. “This could be my last night here.”
“Hope not,” Tobin croaked, his throat tight.
It seemed like a long time before Ki fell asleep. Tobin lay still until he was certain, then slid out of bed and carried a candle into the dressing room.
Their traveling bundles were piled