Threads of Gold (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Page 23

  I nodded, for I knew what he told me was true. Indeed, I had thought the same thing…until I met Tobyn, and understood what an honorable man he was.

  Still walking briskly, he continued, “In truth, I think the prince knew that his father needed to be put down, rather the way one would a mad dog, although I am not sure he is quite ready to admit such a thing to himself. But the king would have hungered for more and more gold, and the more he had, the greater his madness would have grown. Such hungers can never be assuaged, and in the end, he could have endangered the entire kingdom by looking outward and wishing to use his newfound wealth and power to expand the borders of this land. You do not think the king of Farendon or the Hierarch of Keshiaar would have taken such incursions lightly, do you?”

  Indeed, I had not followed the course of the king’s greed to its logical conclusion, but if Tobyn was correct in his estimations, then he had just saved, not only the two of us, but perhaps a great many more Purthian lives. “I doubt not,” I replied. “What I cannot understand is how someone can be the king of a great land, and yet still not be satisfied with his lot.”

  “It is a rare gift to be content with what one has,” Tobyn said, “whether one’s lot is to be king of Purth, or a goatherd. Prince Harlin has that quality, and this kingdom will be the better for it.” He stopped in front of a sturdy-looking house, three stories tall, half-timbered and newly lime-washed. “Here we are.”

  It looked to be a fine home, but I wondered how we would get in, since I knew the king’s guards must have taken any keys or other valuables from Tobyn when they captured him. However, I had not stopped to consider all the ramifications of his gift. He held out his hand, and in the next moment a fine silver key sat in his palm. Within the minute, he had the door unlocked, and we both stood inside the front room.

  Within was much the same as without, the furnishings heavy and good quality without being ornate. The air was chill, though, the large stone hearth empty and cold. I wondered what it would be like with a fire blazing in it. But I would never know. We had only stopped here briefly, and must needs be on our way as soon as we could.

  I followed Tobyn into a study of sorts, with a goodly number of books on the shelves and a large desk covered in papers. He seemed to have already decided what he would take with him, for he plucked three volumes from their resting places on the bookshelves and set them on the desk.

  “My satchel is upstairs in my bedchamber,” he said. “I will fetch that, along with some spare clothing.”

  “And we will go to my father’s house after this?”

  He hesitated, then said, “If we must.”

  “Of course we must,” I replied. “For I have some things of my own I would like to retrieve, and I would never forgive myself if I left without saying goodbye to my sister.” The thought of that impending farewell sent a pang through me, and tears suddenly stung my eyes. Could I say goodbye to Iselda, and leave her all alone here? It seemed such a cruel thing to do. “Tobyn, where are we going, anyway?”

  “To North Eredor, for there I will not have to fear persecution because of my gifts.”

  North Eredor. Our destination might as well be over the very edge of the earth itself. And yet I knew he was right, that we must go someplace where we would not have to constantly look over our shoulders. “I suppose it would be foolish to take Iselda with us.”

  At once he came to me and took my hands in his. “My darling, I have no brothers and sisters of my own, and yet I can imagine what a terrible thing it must be to leave your sister behind. But would you really drag her halfway across the continent to a strange new place? At least here she will be in familiar surroundings.”

  I could not argue with that, although I did not think she would find my father’s company to be particularly reassuring, nor compelling. “I know, Tobyn,” I said quietly. Then I slanted him a look through my lashes. Those scars he wore were terrible to behold, but they were not him. And even now I thought I was beginning to be used to them, to look past the surface damage to the strong, fine bones of the face underneath. “Is that truly your name?” I added. “For I would have thought you would not dare to use the same name after your escape from the king’s fire.”

  “That is my name,” he replied. “‘Tobyn’ is common enough — I was named for my grandfather. But no, ‘Slade’ is a name that I assumed. Rathskell is my family name, and I suppose I may take it up once again, now that my identity is no longer a secret.”

  “Rathskell,” I murmured. I rather liked the sound of it, and thought I should do very well as Annora Rathskell.

  Tobyn must have heard some approval in my voice, for he pulled me toward him, his mouth touching mine. Despite everything, that familiar awakening heat moved through me. I could not allow myself to succumb to it, however. We still had much to attend to.

  After a few seconds, I pulled away, although I did so gently, and made sure I wore a smile as I looked up at him. “You will distract me, Master Rathskell,” I said in tones of mock sternness. “And we still have much to do.”

  “Ah, that is true enough.” A rueful lift of his shoulders, and he went on, “I will only be a moment, and then we can go on to your father’s house.”

  He moved away from me then, going out the door of his study. A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps, light and quick, as he headed up the stairs. Since I had nothing else to occupy me, I took a quick glance at the three books he had chosen from the many volumes that lined the walls. One was a volume of various maps of the continent, another a book on its flora and fauna, with many fine engraved illustrations. The third one was titled Tales of the Age of Magic, which sounded much more intriguing. Perhaps, once we had settled somewhere, Tobyn would read something of it to me.

  I realized I would not have to worry about a comfortable situation, even in the wilds of North Eredor. Tobyn’s gift ensured that we would always have enough to support ourselves, and he had already shown that he understood the wisdom in being comfortable without being ostentatious. His scarred face would most likely attract attention, but I had to hope that as people became accustomed to him, his disfigurement would matter less and less.

  The front door banged open then, and I startled, turning away from the modest stack of books on Tobyn’s desk. Heavy feet sounded on the wood floor, coming closer. I knew that could not be him, for he had gone upstairs. Frantically, I glanced around the room, but it had only the one door, and the window was quite firmly latched.

  In the next moment, Prince Harlin entered the study, with four soldiers flanking him. Behind them, I glimpsed at least five or six more; it was difficult to tell, since several of them crowded the doorway, blocking my view.

  So much for Tobyn’s assertion that the prince would not offer any pursuit. My heart pounded in my chest, and a thrill of cold fear flowed through my veins, but I kept my voice steady as I said, “Your Highness.”

  His expression appeared bleak to me, mouth hard and brows pulled together, and yet I saw no real sorrow in his face, no redness in his eyes. What he did now, he did out of duty, I guessed, and not because he truly grieved over his father’s passing.

  “Where is he?” the prince asked harshly.

  I knotted my shaking fingers in the heavy silk of my skirts. “He is not here. He went to fetch some supplies — ”

  “You’re lying.”

  Well, of course I was. Did Prince Harlin truly think that after everything Tobyn and I had been through, I would give him up so easily?

  But then there was some commotion out in the main room, and in the next moment, two of the guards hauled Tobyn into the study. He carried a satchel that he had not yet latched, and the rough treatment caused him to drop it, spilling clothes that had been neatly folded onto the floor.

  Despite that, he straightened as best he could, and fixed the prince with a blazing green stare. “Do you really think it necessary to carry out this farce?”

  “Farce?” Prince Harlin returned, eyes narrowing.

  �
��You think it necessary to bring me to justice. Believe me, justice has already been served this day.”

  By the way the prince’s gaze flickered from Tobyn to the men who held him, and back again, I guessed that he did not entirely disagree with that statement. He hesitated, then said, “Guards, leave us.”

  One of them began to protest. “Your Majesty — ”

  “You heard me.”

  At once the man subsided, bowing his head in resignation, then backed out of the room, his companions following him. The last one out shut the door, but not before he sent Tobyn such a black look that I very much feared he would ensure we never left this house alive.

  “Better,” Tobyn said. “Now we may speak like reasonable men.”

  “There is nothing reasonable about this situation, and you know it,” Prince — King — Harlin replied. His men had already begun to address him as “Your Majesty,” and so I realized I should think of him in that way as well.

  Tobyn shrugged. I could see the way he glanced over at me, though, see the worry in his eyes. For even if Harlin understood that his father needed to be stopped, that did not mean he would do the merciful thing and let us go.

  “Perhaps not,” Tobyn said, his tone almost too casual. “And I know that you have been put in a difficult situation. Imprison me if you must, but please, let Annora go free.”

  The new king paused for a long moment. Indecision seemed to be printed on every plane of his face, every line of his body. I knew then that he did not wish to punish us, but thought he must, so as not to appear weak.

  “No,” he said at length. “I am not my father, but having you nearby would be too much of a temptation, I think. The ease with which you could fill our kingdom’s coffers is not something I could ignore forever. But I cannot let you go. I would be forever known as the man who did nothing to avenge the murder of his father.”

  I winced at those harsh words. Yes, the king was dead, and by Tobyn’s hand, but I could not think of his death as murder. Was it murder to kill someone before he killed you?

  “Then don’t let me go,” Tobyn said. “Kill me instead.”

  I let out a shocked sound, and Harlin’s eyes widened.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Not at all.” Tobyn gestured toward the long dagger the new king wore at his belt. “Very well, I didn’t mean that you should actually kill me. Only create the illusion of it, and tell your men that you have avenged your father. Cut my arm with that dagger, and make sure it is well-bloodied. Then you can tell the guards that I turned into a puff of foul green mist as I died, or some such thing. Otherwise, they would wish to see the evidence, I suppose.”

  Harlin was shaking his head, while I could only bite back my own protests. The thought of Tobyn allowing himself to be wounded in such a way bothered me deeply, and yet I was forced to admit that such a macabre deception was better than the alternative.

  “And what of the lady?”

  Tobyn smiled. “Escort her to her father’s house, for she is not a mage, nor guilty of any crime. Surely no one could have any issue with that.”

  “I suppose it might work….”

  “It will. I can take myself away, and since it will be obvious that I never left this room, what can the soldiers think, except that it happened as you described it?”

  Again one of those long, considering silences. The new king glanced toward the door, then over at Tobyn and back again. At last he nodded. “Very well. I think that is the best plan.” He paused, then added, “And I do have your word that you will be well gone from Bodenskell?”

  “From Bodenskell, and Purth itself. You need not fear that anyone will discover our subterfuge.”

  Another nod, and then Harlin drew his long dagger from its sheath. Tone almost kind, he said, “You may wish to turn your head, my lady.”

  “No,” I said stoutly, although I hoped I would not put the lie to my own words, and faint when I saw him cut my lover’s arm. “If he is willing to do this for me, then the least I can do is be here to share his pain.”

  Something like approval flickered in the new king’s eyes. “If that is what you wish.”

  As we were speaking, Tobyn had removed the glove from his left hand, and was beginning to push back his sleeve. For the first time, I could see the terrible scarring on his arm, although his hand appeared relatively untouched.

  Harlin noticed it, as well, for he seemed to wince, then steadied himself as he held up his dagger. “This is going to hurt.”

  “I rather expect so,” Tobyn replied. “But believe me, I am well-acquainted with pain.”

  Lips tightening, the new king grasped Tobyn’s wrist with his free hand, then quickly drew the dagger across the exposed flesh of my beloved’s forearm. Blood welled up quickly, coating the blade. I bit back a sound of dismay, realizing that we had nothing to staunch the wound. But then my gaze fell on the clothes spilling from Tobyn’s dropped satchel, and I bent down and grabbed the first thing I could find, a shirt of fine linen.

  “It would be my best shirt,” he said in resigned tones. “Very well.”

  I gave him a reproving look as I hurried over to him and wrapped the shirt around his arm. Harlin stepped away, gazing down at the blood on his dagger.

  “Is it sufficient, do you think?” Tobyn asked.

  “Yes,” the new king said slowly. “I rather think it is.” He hesitated, “And you will…still be able to depart from this place, even wounded?”

  “Of course.” Tobyn turned toward me. “Go with him, Annora, and have him bring you to your father’s house. I will meet you there.”

  Before I could reply, he had bent and gathered up his satchel. In the next instant, he was gone. I blinked, and Harlin startled as well. True, I had seen Tobyn come and go in this mysterious fashion before, but always at night, always with the shadows to soften the reality of his abrupt disappearances. Seeing it like this, in daylight, was more than a little unsettling.

  The new king seemed to think so as well. He shook his head, as if to clear it of that unnatural vision, then said, “Come, my lady. Let me take you to your father’s house.”

  Chapter 18

  As my royal escort and I approached my family’s home, with its walls of warm brick and climbing ivy shocked into bright hues of crimson and scarlet by the frost, I could not help staring. For there in front of the house stood a carriage, and attached to that carriage was a pair of fine bay horses, their breath puffing out into the chilly autumn air. I knew it could be no one from the royal household, not considering my current companions, but I could think of no one who owned such a fine equipage who would deign to visit my father’s house.

  All of us stopped there. I had shared the mount of the king’s captain, but I slid out of the saddle then as gracefully as I could and approached Harlin where he waited on his handsome black gelding.

  “It seems your family has company, my lady,” he said. “But I must leave you here, and go to the palace with the news of the sorcerer’s ‘death.’ Will you be quite all right?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied. Lowering my voice, I added, “After all, he will be here to meet me soon, and then I will be very well indeed.”

  A brisk nod. “Very good. Go on, then.”

  I curtseyed as deeply as I could, hoping that he would look past the clumsiness of the gesture and see the sincerity in it. For it had been within his power to imprison the both of us, if he so wished, and yet he had shown us mercy quite unlooked-for. He smiled down at me, then raised a hand. The entire troop wheeled about and headed back toward the palace, leaving me alone.

  As I glanced toward the front door, it came to me then that I had no key. I would have to knock. Fitting, I supposed, when I considered that very soon this would not be my home at all.

  I rapped on the door. A long pause, during which I wondered if anyone intended to answer it at all, and then Darinne stood there, face flushed, tendrils of greying hair escaping the tight knot of hair she wore at the base of her neck.
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  When her gaze fell upon me, her eyes seemed as if they intended to pop out of her head. “My lady Annora!”

  “Hello, Darinne,” I said coolly. “It seems I have lost my key. May I come in?”

  “‘May you come in’?” she repeated, sounding breathless. “Why on earth would you not? This is your home after all.”

  “I would speak to my father and my sister.”

  “They’re — they’re in the main salon,” Darinne replied. “With company.”

  Her news did not surprise me, considering the smart carriage that waited outside the house. I gazed at Darinne expectantly, thinking she would elaborate on the identity of the visitor or visitors, but it seemed my sudden appearance had quite discommoded her.

  “Well, then,” I said, “I’m afraid I will just have to intrude.”

  I brushed past her and continued into the house, heading toward the downstairs salon, the only room really fit to receive visitors. As I approached, I heard voices — my father’s, and that of a woman, somehow sharp with annoyance, and vaguely familiar.

  “…quite beyond the pale, Benedic. The gods only know what has happened to Annora, but if you think I will stand idly by and see Iselda suffer anything close to the same fate — ”

  In that moment, I stepped into the salon. The woman speaking faced away from the door, but I knew her even so, from the mass of heavily looped and braided mahogany-brown hair, the same shade as my mother’s, and mine.

  “Aunt Lyselle?” I said in some incredulity.

  At once she turned around toward me. Her hand went to her mouth, even as I glanced past her to see my father standing by the hearth, arms crossed and face flushed with anger. And there on the divan was my sister Iselda, who was somehow managing to look both discomfited and thrilled at the same time.

  Well, this is an adventure worthy of your storybooks, sister, I thought then. I had no chance for further speech, however, for my aunt came toward me at once and drew me into her arms.