“Thank you for helping Ki,” he said, as the silence drew out uncomfortably between them.
Arkoniel jerked as if Tobin had slapped him, then let out a hollow laugh. “You’re most welcome, my prince. How could I do otherwise? Is there any change?”
“He’s still asleep.”
“Asleep.” Arkoniel wandered back to the table, touching things, picking them up and putting them down without looking at them.
Tobin’s fear crept back. “Will Ki be all right? There wasn’t really any fever. Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”
Arkoniel fiddled with a wooden rod. “It takes time, such a wound.”
“Tharin said you think Brother hurt him.”
“Brother was with him. Perhaps he knew we’d need the doll—I don’t know. He may have hurt Ki. I don’t know if he meant to.” He began picking at things on the table again, as if he’d forgotten that Tobin was still there. At last he took up the document he’d been reading, holding it up for Tobin to see. The seals and florid looping handwriting were unmistakable. It was the work of Lord Orun’s scribe.
“Iya thought I should be the one to tell you,” Arkoniel said despondently. “This arrived yesterday. You’re to go back to Ero as soon as you’re fit to travel. Orun is furious, of course. He’s threatening to write to the king again, demanding that you take a different squire.”
Tobin sank down on a stool by the table. Orun had been trying to replace Ki since their first day in Ero. “But why? It wasn’t Ki’s fault!”
“I’m sure he doesn’t care about that. He sees an opportunity to get what he’s always wanted—someone who’ll keep a closer eye on you.” Arkoniel rubbed at his eyes and ran his fingers back through his hair, leaving it more disheveled than ever. “Of one thing you can be certain. He’ll never let you run off like that again. You’re going to have to be terribly careful now. Never give Orun or Niryn or anyone else any reason to suspect you’re more than the king’s orphaned nephew.”
“Iya explained about that already. I don’t see much of Niryn anyway if I can help it. He scares me.”
“Me too,” Arkoniel admitted, but he looked a bit more like his old self. “Before you go back, there are a few things I can teach you, ways to shroud your thoughts.” He managed the ghost of a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s just a matter of concentration. I know you don’t care much for magic.”
Tobin shrugged. “I can’t seem to get away from it, though, can I?” He picked unhappily at a callus on his thumb. “Korin told me how I’m the next heir after him, until he has an heir of his own. Is that why Lord Orun wants to control me?”
“Ultimately, yes. But for now he has control of Atyion—in your name, of course, but control all the same. He’s an ambitious man, our Orun. If anything were to happen to Prince Korin before he marries …” He shook his head sharply. “We must keep a close eye on him. And don’t worry too much about Ki. Orun doesn’t have final say on that, no matter how much he blusters. Only the king can decide that. I’m sure it will all get sorted out when you get back.”
“Iya’s going to Ero with me. I wish you’d come, instead.”
Arkoniel smiled and this time it was his real smile, all kind and awkward and well-meaning. “I wish I could, but for now it’s best that I stay hidden here. The Harriers already know Iya, but not about me. Tharin will be with you, and Ki.”
Seeing Tobin’s crestfallen look, he knelt beside him and took him by the shoulders. “I’m not abandoning you, Tobin. I know it must feel that way, but I’m not. I never will. If ever you need me, you can be certain I’ll find my way to you. Once Orun calms down, perhaps you can convince him to let you visit here more often. I’m sure Prince Korin will take your side in that.”
That was little comfort to him now, but Tobin nodded. “I want to see Lhel. Will you take me? Nari will never let me go out alone and Tharin still doesn’t know about her, does he?”
“No, though I wish more than ever now that he did.” Arkoniel rose. “I’ll take you to her first thing tomorrow, all right?”
“But I want to go now.”
“Now?” Arkoniel glanced at the dark window. “It’s after midnight. You should go back to bed …”
“I’ve slept for days! I’m not tired.”
Arkoniel smiled again. “But I am, and Lhel will be sleeping, too. Tomorrow, all right? We can go as early as you like, as soon as it’s light. Come on, I’ll walk down with you and see how Ki’s doing.” He pointed to the lamps in turn, snuffing all but the one at his elbow. Then, to Tobin’s surprise, he shuddered and hugged himself. “It’s gloomy up here at night.”
Tobin couldn’t help glancing nervously toward the tower door as they went out, and was sure he saw the wizard do the same.
Tobin woke up in the armchair with the sun in his face and Tharin’s cloak tucked around him. He stretched, then leaned forward to see if Ki looked any different.
His friend hadn’t moved, but Tobin thought there was more color in his cheeks than there had been the night before. He reached under the blankets and found Ki’s hand. It was warm, another encouraging sign.
“Can you hear me? Ki, you’ve been sleeping forever. It’s a good day for a ride. Wake up. Please?”
“Let him sleep, keesa.”
“Lhel?” Tobin turned, expecting to find the door open.
Instead, the witch floated just behind him in an oval of strange light. He could see trees around her, firs and bare oaks dusted with snow. As he watched, big lacy flakes fell, catching in her dark curls and on the rough fabric of her dress. It was like looking at her through a window. Just beyond the oval the room looked exactly as it should, but she seemed to be standing in her camp.
Amazed, Tobin reached out to her, but the strange apparition shrank back and in on itself until he could see nothing but her face.
“No! No touch,” she warned. “Arkoniel bring you. Let Ki rest.”
She vanished, and left Tobin gaping at the place she’d been. He didn’t understand what he’d just seen, but he took her at her word. “I’ll be back soon,” he told Ki and, on impulse, bent and kissed him lightly on his bandaged forehead. Blushing at his own foolishness, he hurried out and took the stairs to Arkoniel’s room two at a time.
In daylight the corridor looked safe and ordinary, and the tower door nothing but another door. The workroom door stood open and he could hear Iya and Arkoniel talking inside.
Arkoniel was weaving a pattern of light above the table as Tobin entered. Something struck the wall close to Tobin’s head and skittered across the floor. Startled, he looked down and saw it was only a speckled dry bean.
“And that’s as far as I’ve gotten with it,” said Arkoniel, sounding frustrated. He still looked tired and when he caught sight of Tobin the worry lines deepened around his mouth. “What is it? Is Ki—?”
“He’s asleep. I want to go see Lhel now. She said I should come. You said you’d take me.”
“She said—?” Arkoniel exchanged a look with Iya, then nodded. “Yes, I’ll take you.”
It was snowing outside, just as it had been in his vision of Lhel. The fat, wet flakes melted as they touched the ground, but they stayed on the tree boughs like sugar on a cake and he could see his breath on the air. The road behind the keep was covered with fallen leaves, a faded carpet of yellow and red that whispered