The Bone Doll’s Twin. Lynn Flewelling
life, but he reached out for it anyway, remembering his mama saying so fondly, This one is the best I ever made. It was almost as if she’d just spoken the words aloud.
Where is she?
The buzzing in his head grew louder as he sat up and hugged the doll. It was small and coarse and lumpy, but solid and comforting all the same. Looking around dizzily, he was surprised to see himself squatting by a broken table across the room. But this Tobin was naked and filthy and angry and his face was streaked with tears. This other self held no doll; he still covered his ears with both hands to block out something neither of them wanted to remember.
Nari cried out once then clamped a hand over her mouth as the Duke staggered into the hall with Ariani’s broken body in his arms. Nari could see at once that she was dead. Blood ran from the woman’s ears and mouth; her open eyes were fixed as stones.
Tharin and the King followed close behind. Erius kept reaching out to touch his sister’s face, but Rhius wouldn’t let him. He got as far as the hearth before his knees buckled. Sinking down, he gathered her closer and buried his face in her black hair.
It was probably the first time since Tobin’s birth that he’d been able to embrace her, thought Nari.
Erius sat heavily on one of the hearth benches, then looked up at her and those of his entourage who’d followed. His face was grey and his hands shook.
‘Get out,’ he ordered, not focusing on anyone in particular. He didn’t have to. Everyone scattered except Tharin. The last Nari saw of him, he was still standing a little way off, watching the two men with no expression at all.
Nari was halfway up the stairs before it occurred to her that Tobin had been at lessons with his mother that morning.
She took the remaining stairs two at a time and ran down the corridor. Her heart skipped a painful beat as she took in the smashed lamps on the floor. Tobin’s bedchamber and toy room were both empty. The writing things they’d been using were strewn across the floor and one of the chairs lay on its side.
Fear closed a fist around Nari’s heart. ‘O Illior, let the child be safe!’
Rushing back into the corridor, she saw the door leading to the third floor standing open.
‘Maker’s mercy, no!’ she whispered, hurrying up.
Upstairs, torn hangings were strewn around the dank corridor. They seemed to catch at Nari’s feet as she ran to the broken tower door and on up the narrow stairs beyond. She hadn’t been welcome here when Ariani lived; even now she felt like a trespasser. What she saw as she reached the top of the stairs drove out all such doubts.
The tower room was choked with broken furniture and dismembered dolls. All four windows stood open, but the room was dark and fetid. She knew that smell.
‘Tobin, are you here, child?’
Her voice hardly seemed to penetrate the small space, but she heard clearly enough the sound of ragged breathing and followed it to the corner furthest from the fatal window. Half hidden under a fallen tapestry, Tobin sat curled against the wall, his thin arms locked around his knees, staring wide-eyed at nothing.
‘Oh, my poor pet!’ Nari gasped, falling to her knees beside him.
The child’s face and tunic were streaked with blood, making her fear at first that Ariani had tried to cut his throat, that he would die here in her arms, that all the pain and lies and waiting had been for nothing.
She tried to pick him up but Tobin pulled away and curled tighter into his corner, his eyes still vacant.
‘Tobin, pet, it’s me. Come now, let’s go down to your room.’
The child didn’t move or acknowledge her presence. Nari settled herself closer beside him and stroked his hair. ‘Please, pet. This is a nasty cold place to be. Come down to the kitchen for a nice cup of Cook’s good soup. Tobin? Look at me, child. Are you hurt?’
Heavy footsteps pounded up the tower stairs and Rhius burst in with Tharin on his heels.
‘Did you –? O, thank the Light!’ Rhius stumbled over shattered furniture to kneel beside her. ‘Is he badly hurt?’
‘No, just very frightened, my lord,’ Nari whispered, still stroking Tobin’s hair. ‘He must have seen …’
Rhius leaned in and cupped Tobin’s chin gently, trying to raise the boy’s head. Tobin jerked away.
‘What happened? Why did she bring you here?’ Rhius asked softly.
Tobin said nothing.
‘Look around you, my lord!’ Nari stroked Tobin’s black hair back from his face to examine the large bruise blossoming there. The blood on his face and clothes came from a crescent-shaped cut on the point of his chin. It wasn’t large, but it was deep. ‘She must have seen the King ride in with you. It’s the first time since … well, you know how she was.’
Nari looked more closely into Tobin’s colourless face. No tears, but his eyes were wide and fixed, as if he were still watching whatever had happened here.
He didn’t resist when his father lifted him in his arms and carried him down to his bedchamber. But he didn’t relax either, and remained curled in a tight ball. There was no question of getting his soiled clothing off yet, so Nari took off his shoes, bathed his face, and tucked him into bed with extra quilts. The Duke knelt beside the bed and took one of Tobin’s hands in his, murmuring softly to him and watching the pale face on the pillow for any response.
Turning, Nari saw Tharin standing just inside the door, pale as milk. She went to him and took his cold hand in hers.
‘He’ll be fine, Tharin. He’s just badly frightened.’
‘She threw herself from the tower window,’ Tharin whispered, still staring at Rhius and the boy. ‘She took Tobin with her – look at him, Nari. Do you think she tried –?’
‘No mother could do such a thing!’ In her heart, however, she wasn’t so certain.
They remained there for some time, still as a mummer’s tableau. At last Rhius got to his feet and ran a hand absently down the front of his bloodied tunic. ‘I must attend the King. He means to take her back to the royal tomb at Ero.’
Nari knotted her hands angrily in her apron. ‘For the child’s sake, shouldn’t we wait?’
Rhius gave her a look so filled with bitterness that the words withered on her tongue. ‘The King has spoken.’ Wiping again at his tunic, he left the room. With a last sad look at the sleeping child, Tharin followed.
Nari pulled a chair up next to the bed and patted Tobin’s thin shoulder through the quilts. ‘My poor dear little one,’ she sighed. ‘They won’t even let you mourn her!’
Stroking the sleeping child’s brow, she imagined what it would be like to bundle him up and carry him far away from this house of misery. Closing her eyes, she imagined raising him as her own in some simple cottage, far from kings and ghosts and madwomen.
Tobin heard wailing and huddled up more tightly as it grew louder. Gradually, the sobbing voice changed to the sound of a strong east wind buffeting itself against the walls of the keep. He could feel the weight of heavy blankets pressing down on him, but he was still so cold.
Opening his eyes, he blinked at the small night lamp guttering on the stand by his bed. Nari was asleep in a chair beside it.
She’d put him to bed in his clothes. Slowly uncurling his cramped body, Tobin rolled to face the wall and pulled the rag doll out of his tunic.
He didn’t know why he had it. Something bad had happened, something so bad that he couldn’t make himself think what it was.
My mama is …
He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged the doll tightly.
If I have