— 23 —

By late summer the city was unbearable. Many Palatine nobles fled to their country estates, and those who stayed built bathing pools. In the lower parts of the city, the weak and the elderly died by the dozens.

The king and Porion relented a bit with the boys. Released from court duties, the Companions rode in the wooded hills and bathed in the sea. The men of the princes’ guard were as grateful for this light duty as the Companions. At the pools and sea coves, everyone stripped off and swam. Soon they were all as brown as farmers, and Ki was the brownest of them all. He was starting to fill out like the older boys, too, Tobin couldn’t help but notice. He, on the other hand, was not.

Riding back through the city after an excursion in mid-Lenthin, Tobin was suddenly struck by the near silence. The streets were always quiet on these blistering days; most people stayed indoors to escape the heat and the stench. Even so, those who were about always cheered the prince’s banner as the Companions rode past. This morning had been no different, but now many looked away, or stared darkly after them. One man even spat on the ground as Korin passed.

“Has something happened?” Korin called out to a harness maker fanning himself on a crate in front of his shop. The man shook his head and went inside.

“What rudeness,” Zusthra exclaimed indignantly. “I’ll thrash the fellow!”

To Tobin’s relief, Korin shook his head and kicked his horse into a gallop.

They were within sight of the Palatine gate when someone threw a cabbage from the upper window of a house. It missed Korin’s head by inches and struck Tanil on the shoulder, knocking the squire from his horse.

Korin reined in furiously as the Companions closed ranks around him. “Search that house. Bring me the man who dares attack the king’s son!”

His captain, Melnoth, kicked the door down and stormed in with a dozen men. The rest formed a circle around the Companions, weapons drawn. Screams and the sound of breaking crockery soon came from inside.

A crowd gathered as Korin helped Tanil back into the saddle.

“I’m all right,” Tanil insisted, rubbing his elbow.

“You’re lucky it isn’t broken,” said Ki. “Why the hell is someone shying cabbages at us all of a sudden?”

The soldiers dragged three people from the house: an old man and woman, and a young fellow in the blue-and-white robes of an Illioran temple initiate.

“Which of you attacked me?” Korin demanded.

“I threw the cabbage!” the priest shot back, staring arrogantly up at Korin.

The prince was visibly taken aback by the man’s brazen vehemence. For a moment he looked more like a hurt child than an angry noble. “But why?”

The man spat on the ground. “Ask your father.”

“What’s this to do with him?”

Instead of answering, the young priest spat again, and began yelling, “Abomination! Abomination! Murders! You are killing the land—”

Captain Melnoth struck him on the head with his sword hilt and the man fell senseless to the ground.

“Is this your kin?” Korin demanded of the cowering elderly couple.

The toothless old man could only whimper. His wife wrapped her arms around him and looked imploringly up at Korin. “Our nephew, my prince, just in from the country to serve at the Dog Street temple. I had no idea he’d do such a thing! Forgive him, I beg you. He’s young…”

“Forgive?” Korin let out a startled laugh. “No, old mother, I don’t forgive such an act. Captain, take him to the Harriers and see that he’s questioned.”

The old woman’s wailing followed them as they rode on.

Erius made light of the incident that night as the boys feasted with him in his private courtyard. The squires served at table, assisted by a few of the king’s young men. Moriel was among them, and Tobin was amused to see how he was careful to stay out of Korin’s reach.

Niryn, Hylus, and a handful of other nobles dined with them. Everyone had heard of the incident with the young Illioran, of course, but had to have it again from Korin.

When he was done, Erius sat back and nodded. “Well, Korin, perhaps it’s time you see that it’s not all cheers and roses, ruling a great kingdom. There are traitors everywhere.”

“He called me an abomination, Father,” said Korin. The accusation had been eating at him all day.

“What else would you expect from an Illioran?” Niryn sneered. “I wonder sometimes that you let their temples remain open in the city, Majesty. Priests are the worst traitors of all, corrupting the simpleminded populace with their wives’ tales.”

“But what did he mean, telling me to ask you about it?” Korin persisted.

“If I may, my king?” asked Lord Hylus, looking grave. “The man’s remarks were most certainly in reference to the executions announced today.”

“Executions?” Korin turned expectantly to his father.

“Yes, that’s why I invited you here tonight, before this other unpleasantness occurred,” his father replied. “I’ve something special planned, my boys. Tomorrow night there’s to be a burning!”

Tobin felt cold despite the lingering heat of the day.

“A wizard burning?” Korin exclaimed, delighted. “We’ve been wanting to see one of those!”

Lynx leaned over Tobin’s shoulder to fill his cup. “Some of us have,” he muttered without much enthusiasm.

“Your father understands that you are no longer a child, my prince,” Niryn said with an obsequious smile. “It’s time you and your Companions witness the full power of Skalan justice. Thanks to your quick thinking this afternoon, we’ll have one more rope on the gibbet pole.”

“And you won’t have far to go to see it done,” the king said, comfortable over his wine and nuts. “The East Market is being cleared as we speak.”

“Then you mean to go forward with this, my king?” Hylus asked softly. “You will not reconsider?”

The chamber went silent.

Erius turned slowly to his chancellor, and Tobin recognized the sudden change in his uncle’s jovial countenance. It was the same look he’d given Tobin when he’d foolishly asked that Cirna be given to Ki’s father. This time Niryn did not intervene.

“I believe I made myself clear on the matter this morning. Do you have something more to say?” the king replied, his voice dangerously low.

Hylus looked slowly around the table, but no one would meet his eye. “Only to reiterate that such matters have always been dealt with outside the city walls. In light of today’s incident, perhaps Your Majesty should—”

Erius lurched to his feet, clutching his mazer in one upraised hand, ready to hurl it at the old man. His face had gone dark red and sweat beaded his brow. Caught behind the Lord Chancellor’s chair, Ruan clutched the empty alms basin to his chest. Hylus lowered his head and pressed a hand to his heart, but did not flinch.

Time seemed to stop for one awful moment. Then Niryn rose and whispered something in the king’s ear.

Erius slowly lowered the cup and slumped back in his chair. Glaring around at the table, he demanded, “Does anyone else object to the execution of traitors?”

No one spoke.

“Very well, then,” Erius said thickly. “The executions will proceed as I order. Where I order. Now if you will all excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

Korin rose to follow his father, but Niryn shook his head and accompanied the king himself. Moriel followed. Korin stared after them in silent outrage, cheeks flaming.

It was Hylus who broke this silence. “Ah, my prince, these are trying times. I should not have questioned your good father. I pray you will convey my apologies to him.”

“Of course, my lord.” Korin was still shaken, too.

Everyone rose to leave, but Tobin sat a moment longer, heart pounding in his ears. He’d grown complacent again, basking in his uncle’s favor. Tonight he knew he’d had a true glimpse of the man his mother had feared, the man who could in cold blood order the death of children.