Jeriah’s face contorted. “It would have been,” he whispered passionately, “if we’d been able to bring it off, but—Tobin, the charge is high treason. So go now, all right?” Jeriah pushed him away. “There’s no time to be stupid. Think what it would do to Mother to lose us both—to Father to have his heir disgraced as well as his second son. Go on, Tobin, run!”
Terror rose and drowned him. A traitor’s death. They took an ax and hacked you, screaming, into bits, keeping you alive as long as they could. His little brother.
Never
.
“Jeriah,” said Tobin. The dogs were nearer now. Jeriah turned and Tobin swung his fist up, striking the point of Jeriah’s chin, just like the master of arms had taught him.
He caught his brother as he fell, limply unconscious, and threw him over his shoulder. The slope of the lake bed was steeper here. There was a small grassy island, just a dozen feet from the lake’s shore—even a dozen feet of shallow water was enough to cover their tracks, and the wind was in the right direction to keep the dogs from scenting anything.
Tobin waded out and dumped Jeriah on the island’s far side, fumbling furiously with his brother’s cloak pin. The dogs sounded as if they’d almost reached the gap beneath the wall. Swinging Jeriah’s cloak around his shoulders, Tobin splashed back through the lake and raced away. He was halfway across the pasture when the baying became crystal clear, and he knew the dogs had come under the wall. The shouts of their handlers sent him flying over the rough ground. One quick glance over his shoulder told him they’d passed the island where Jeriah lay and were happily chasing after him. The dogs, drawn by the scent on the cloak, had no doubt of their quarry.
All I have to do now is save myself.
He raced into the tilt yard and rolled under the fence without a check. Sword posts, jumps, jousting barriers—no place to hide, nothing to stop them. The stables? On a horse he could outrun them, perhaps even get through a gate.
He banged through the door and slammed it, startling the nearest horses, who snorted and stamped. He took a second to drop the latch and pull the string so it couldn’t be opened from the other side, then he ran along the corridor. His own horse? No, it might be recognized. He threw open the big doors at the other end of the stables and chose a dark bay that would blend with the night.
No time for saddle or bridle. Tobin looped a rope around the horse’s neck, and the animal followed him obediently into the corridor, though it danced nervously, fearful of his strangeness and the barking of the dogs.
Tobin threw himself belly-down across the horse’s back. A guardsman smashed into the door. The bay shied and Tobin slid off, staggering to keep his balance and still hold the prancing horse with his makeshift halter. The guard pounded on the door and one of the dogs howled. Tobin leapt for the horse again.
It was too much. The bay tossed its head and bolted for the open doors, tearing the rope from Tobin’s grasp. A burst of shouting greeted it, and the horse took off alone, at a dead run. Two of the baying dogs ran after it.
Tobin held his breath. Would they follow it? Surely they could see, as it raced through the moonlit shadows, that there was no rider on its back.
Evidently they couldn’t. The barking of the dogs drew away from the stables. Tobin prayed the bay would lead them a long chase.
Shaking now that the crisis was past, he made his way back between the stalls. The horses were settling down again, with the dogs gone.
He opened the door a crack and peered outside—nothing. With a sigh of relief, Tobin stepped out, and the butt of a pike shot between his legs and sent him sprawling.
He rolled over and started to sit up, but a sharp blade pricked his throat, forcing him back to the ground. His eyes traveled up the pike and met the eyes of a man wearing the sunred tunic of the Hierarch’s guard.
“I arrest you,” he said formally. “In the Hierarch’s name. To resist him is to resist the Seven Bright Ones’ will.” A fierce grin spread over his face. “And if you give me any trouble, traitor, I’ll skewer you here and now, and save the executioner the trouble.”
T
he cell was damp and cold enough to make Tobin glad he had Jeriah’s cloak. A stone box with no windows, the cell had a stout wooden door with a barred peephole in the top, a slop pot in the corner, and nothing else. Tobin had become familiar with every stone in its walls because, judging by the changing shifts of the silent guards who brought him meals and emptied the bucket, he’d been there for four days.
He spent most of his time praying Jeriah had gotten away. He had no idea what his brother would do for the rest of his life, as an outlawed traitor, but whatever he did would be better than being executed.
Jeriah had always been the adventurous one. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind too much, vanishing into the mass of homeless farm folk the war had created. And once Tobin knew his brother was safely away, he could admit that it had been Jeriah they were chasing, accept whatever punishment they chose to lay on him (surely not too severe—an impulsive decision to save his brother?), and go home.
A wave of longing for the mellow stone house, the laughter of his young sisters, and the rolling fertile fields washed over him. He closed his eyes. Surely the law wouldn’t be too severe. He hadn’t even known about the conspiracy until it was over. He still didn’t know anything! And he was his father’s heir—everyone knew that heirs to lordship got off lightly. It was almost a scandal. No matter how angry his father was at Jeri, he’d surely do his best to help Tobin. Surely. So why had he heard nothing in four days?
He opened his eyes, looked at the stone walls, and sighed. The longer he was here, the longer Jeri would have to escape. It would be better if weeks passed before they came for him. A nervous person might have gone mad by then, with no light, and no news. It was a good thing Tobin wasn’t the nervous type. And since he intended to tell the truth the instant anyone remembered him, waiting here, day after day.
He heard voices in the corridor outside and sprang to his feet, apprehension warring with relief. It wasn’t mealtime, but they might be coming for someone else. There’d been several false alarms in the past few days. It was ridiculous to assume—A guard looked through the peephole. Tobin leaned against the far wall and tried to look harmless. The door opened. The guard stepped in, set a lamp on the stone floor, and ushered Tobin’s mother respectfully into the room.
She was plump and astonishingly pretty—Jeriah had inherited her looks. Tobin, on the other hand, had the kind of face that even his friends described as ordinary.
“Oh, Tobin.” She hurried across the small room and pulled his head down to kiss his cheek. The scent of roses, which she always wore, was a ludicrous contrast with the dreary cell. “Oh, Tobin.” She embraced him again. “Dear one, you look dreadful! I’m so proud of you!”
“They wouldn’t let me shave.” Tobin shook his head, trying to get his mind to function. “Mother, what are you doing here?”
“I bribed the guard, of course. It was really quite easy.” She sounded surprised.
Tobin winced and glanced at the door. The guard had gone, but he lowered his voice anyway. “Did Jeri get away? I’ve been going mad, not knowing what was happening.”
“Jeriah is perfectly safe, dear.” Then why was she avoiding his eyes? “At least, he’s safe for now. I left him at home with your sisters. They were hysterical, poor girls. I had trouble persuading him, but he was always like that, even as a child. I remember…”
Tobin remembered, too. “Mother,” he said firmly. “What are you hiding? What’s happening to Jeri? I know it can’t be too bad—no matter how angry Father is, he’d have to help him escape…at least…surely, he would.”
“It, ah, it hasn’t arisen,” said his mother. “Oh, Tobin, you know how your father is. Of course you do. Why, I remember when you were four—”
Tobin sighed. “Where is Father?” Strict, formal, and inflexible, but at least the old man would give you a straight answer. Tobin’s father had taught him honor, just as his caper-witted mother had taught him love.
“Your father is here, of course. I know he can be a little…stern, but he couldn’t stay home with you in so much trouble.”
“But you said Jeri was at home? Isn’t Father helping him get away?”
“Well, dearest…” She looked up at him pleadingly. “Oh Tobin, you know how he is. He’d have been so angry, and Jeri’s only a second son, and your father’s always been so harsh with him. I was afraid he might not help, and then Jeri would die horribly and I couldn’t bear that, so I persuaded Jeriah not to tell him about it!” She finished in a breathless rush and smiled.
“What do you mean, not tell him? If you didn’t tell Father anything, why is he here?”
“Why, to help you, of course. I had to tell him you’d been arrested. The only thing he doesn’t know, and no one must find out, dear one, is that it was Jeriah who was…involved in…” Her voice trailed off under his astonished gaze.
“You mean—” He took a deep breath, his voice rising in spite of himself. “You mean Father doesn’t know I’m innocent? Mother, how could you? I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe Jeri would ever do that!”
Easy tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Tobin, I know how you must feel, but think. Jeriah would die a horrible death, that I couldn’t possibly—”
“But if I’m executed, that’s all right?”
“No, of course not, dear one. But you won’t be executed, because you’re the heir. Your father almost has it settled. You’ll be punished, of course, and probably deprived of your knighthood or some such thing, but you won’t be killed like Jeri would have been. Like those other poor men.” She shuddered, genuine horror flickering over her face.
“What other men?”
“The leaders of the—the conspiracy have already been executed. They’re trying the rest more slowly. They’re not going to kill them all, although most will be stripped of rank and some will be imprisoned for a while. For a long time, actually. But when it’s over you could come home and run the estate, which is what you always wanted anyway. As a second son, Jeriah’s only possible career is service to the Hierarch, and if he’s convicted he can’t ever, ever do that!”
“But—” Tobin felt like he was trying to wade through molasses. Conversation with his mother often had that effect. “But surely the other conspirators named Jeri. You’ll never be able to pull it off!” Unbelievable that Jeriah had agreed to this.
“Well, that’s been very fortunate. One of the guards mentioned you’d been arrested, and the other conspirators must have guessed what happened, for they’ve all named you as their accomplice. I expect they’re trying to keep their real people free. And I must say, they’ve been very nice about it, for they’ve been saying you were hardly involved in the conspiracy, and Jeriah assures me that he was in it up to his teeth!”
“Mother, you can’t possibly expect me to take the blame for Jeri.”
“You’ve done it before.”
“When he was a child! This is different!”
“Yes. It’s much more serious.”
There was a tap on the door and the guard opened it. “This is all the time I can give you, lady. My watch is almost up.”
“Of course. I’m grateful you managed this much,” said his mother, giving the guard the lovely smile that turned any man who didn’t know her into putty. “Just one more minute, please?”
The guard smiled and withdrew, and she turned back to Tobin.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, my dear, but you’ve always looked after him for me, and the consequences would be so much worse for him than for you, and—”
“It’s a lot to ask,” said Tobin bitterly. “Is this what Jeri wants?”
His mother’s eyes shifted. “No one can force you to do anything. But you were always the one who saw all the sides of everything. I can’t think where you get it from. Perhaps your father, but he’s so unyielding when he finally makes up his mind, that it doesn’t seem at all—”
The guard’s face appeared in the peephole. “Lady, you’ve got to go!”
“Tobin, please, think of the consequences for—”
“I have to think about all the consequences,” said Tobin. “For everyone.” He had long since learned to be firm with his mother.
“But—”
She was still talking when the guard pulled her out. The cell seemed quieter than it had before.
Jeriah had always been her favorite, just as Tobin was his father’s. Both he and Jeri had accepted that, though hearing it voiced still stung. But she was fighting now to save both her sons. Tobin knew there was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice in that cause, including his own feelings. And his father’s.
He had never really understood his parents’ marriage. They dealt well with each other, on the surface. But as Tobin grew older, he had realized more and more how they both went their own way—his father wrapped up in the estate, his mother in correspondence with a vast number of powerful friends. It was through her influence that Jeriah had been offered the chance to enter the Hierarch’s service. A chance now lost forever. Or was it?
How could she not have told his father? And how could Jeri possibly have accepted that? Jeriah might be impulsive, but he wasn’t a coward. Tobin would have sworn Jeriah would never let him take the blame for something like this. But a week ago, he’d have sworn his brother would never be involved in treason, either.
His heart felt as cold as the stones beneath his pacing feet. He would sooner have doubted the sunrise than Jeriah’s love.
But in the end, that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter whether his mother loved Jeriah best, or whether his father believed Tobin had betrayed the principles he’d tried so hard to teach both his sons, or even if Jeriah loved him at all. What mattered was that Tobin loved them. He would save what he could—whatever it might cost.
Tobin found it difficult to concentrate as the court’s Speaker announced the charges. He’d been standing for some time, awaiting his turn, and his feet were tired. The light from the windows hurt his eyes, which had adapted to the dark after all these days. At least he was warm.
“…listened willingly, in his weakness, to those who plotted against the sacred Hierarch himself…”
They’d let him bathe and shave and given him clean clothes, but he still felt soiled and weary to his bones. Neither his mother nor Jeriah was here—his father had probably forbidden them to come. His father sat in the first row of the audience, directly behind the seven lords and priests who were judging him, but he’d looked at Tobin only once—a scorching glance that made Tobin’s stomach twist sickly.
To his father things were either right or wrong—no middle ground. The muddled mixture of good and bad that Tobin so often perceived under the surface of things was invisible to his father.
“…agreed to work with the Dark One’s minions, who sought to bring chaos to our dear land. It was only by the Seven Bright Ones’ grace that he had no time to act on his evil intent…”
His mother had visited him twice in the past three days. On her last visit, she assured him that his father had everything fixed. She didn’t know how much of the carefully hoarded savings his father had been forced to sacrifice, what pieces of the estate, as dear to him as his own body. How much honor had he lost, saving a son he believed to be a traitor?
Look at me, Father. I didn’t do it. I’ve kept my honor!
But his father continued to stare into middle distance. The Speaker had reached the evidence now. His words were markedly less florid.
“…seen running away from the meeting where we arrested the traitors. Three guards and three trackers were sent after him. He lost them for a time, in the garden pools, but the dogs picked up his scent again and…”
…were following Jeri back to the dormitory, where he’d have gotten in safely if I hadn’t stopped him. How could my brother have gotten involved in this? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
And typical of Jeriah. He was always involved in some sort of wild scheme.
His mother said no one suspected Jeri. Why should they? A fifteen-year-old squire was an unlikely conspirator. Tobin had been wondering all week why the traitors had recruited his hare-brained brother. If Jeriah had visited him, he could have asked. He swallowed against the tightness of his throat. There were probably plenty of reasons why Jeri hadn’t come to see him. He’d understand his brother’s seeming abandonment perfectly—as soon as he knew what they were.
Jeriah’s absence had hurt him even more than his father’s, for he hadn’t expected his father to come, and he had counted on Jeri’s support.
None of his friends had come to see him, either, but that had dismayed him less—befriending a “traitor” would be dangerous these days. But surely Jeri—
“Sir Tobin! Do you plead guilty or innocent?” The Speaker sounded as if he was repeating himself, and Tobin, who’d been “Sir” Tobin less than a year and didn’t always respond to the title, felt heat rise in his face.
His father wasn’t looking at him, but his expression was harder than a statue’s. Right and wrong, all mixed together.
“Well, Sir Tobin, do you plea—”
“Guilty,” said Tobin hastily.
Forgive me, Father, I have to
. “Guilty, sir.”
A sigh rustled through the room. His father’s distant stare never wavered, but the flesh of his face tightened until you could almost see the skull beneath the skin.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
The Speaker consulted briefly with the council of judges and turned. “Then hear your punishment, Sir Tobin.”
That hadn’t taken long! They had probably decided on his sentence days ago, when his father bribed them. This was a farce, not a trial. Tobin closed his eyes, lest the sudden flare of anger show. Perhaps the traitors had a point—some things needed to be changed.
“Because of your service on the battlefield, because of your youth, and because your involvement with the evil that threatened us was relatively slight, the Hierarch, in his beneficence, has chosen to show you the mercy of the Seven Bright Ones.”
Tobin shivered.
How much of the estate—
“Instead of a traitor’s death, you will be stripped of the knighthood you have befouled, and you will know the scorn of your peers.”