Free The Bone Doll's Twin by Lynn Flewelling Page A

and the Oracle by heart, too. It was one of his father’s favorite stories.
    The city was populated by scores of little wooden stick people. He loved these the best of anything in the city, and smuggled whole families of them back to his bed to hold and talk to under the covers at night while he waited for Nari to come up to bed. Tobin put the golden tablet back, then lined up half a dozen stick people on thepractice ground, imagining himself among the Companions. Opening the flat, velvet-lined box his father had brought home from another journey, he took out the special people and lined them up on the palace roof to watch the Companions at their exercises. These people—The Ones Who Came Before—were much fancier than the stick ones; all but one was made of silver. They had painted faces and clothes and each carried the same tiny sword at their side, the Sword of Queen Ghërilain. His father had taught him their names and stories, too. The silver man was King Thelátimos and next to him in the box was his daughter, Ghërilain the Founder—made queen of Skala because of Oracle’s golden words. After Ghërilain came Queen Tamír, who was poisoned by her brother who’d wanted to be king, then an Agnalain and another Ghërilain, then six more whose names and order he still mixed up, and then Grandmama Agnalain the Second. The first and last queens were his favorites. The first Ghërilain had the finest crown; Grandmama Agnalain had the nicest painting on her cloak.
    The last figure in the box was a man carved of wood. He had a black beard like Tobin’s father, a crown, and two names: Your Uncle Erius and The Present King.
    Tobin turned the king over in his hands. The demon liked to break this one. The little wooden man would be standing on the Palace roof or lying in his place in the box when suddenly his head would fly off or he’d split right down the middle. After many mendings, Your Uncle was all misshapen.
    Tobin sighed again and put them all carefully back in the box. Not even the city could hold his attention today. He turned and stared at the door, willing it to open. Nari had gone in there ages ago! At last, unable to stand the suspense any longer, he crept across the corridor to listen.
    The rushes covering the floor were old and crunched beneath his slippers no matter how carefully he tiptoed. He looked quickly up and down the short passage. To hisleft lay the stairs to the great hall. He could hear Captain Tharin and old Mynir laughing about something there. To his right, the door beside his father’s was tightly shut and he hoped this one stayed that way; his mama was having another one of her bad spells.
    Satisfied that he was alone for the moment, he pressed his ear to the carved oak panel and listened.
    “What harm can there be, my lord?” That was Nari. Tobin wiggled with delight. He’d nagged for weeks to get her to do battle on his behalf.
    His father rumbled something, then he heard Nari again, gently cajoling the way she did sometimes. “I know what she said, my lord, but with all respect, he’s growing up strange kept apart like this. I can’t think she wants that!”
    Who’s strange?
Tobin wondered. And who was this mysterious “she” who might object to him going to town with Father? It was his name day, after all. He was seven today; surely old enough at last to make the journey. And it wasn’t so far to Alestun; when he picnicked on the roof with Nari, they could look east over the valley and see the cluster of roofs beyond the forest’s edge. On a cold day he could even make out smoke rising from the hearth fires there. It seemed a small thing to ask for a present, just to go, and it was all he wanted.
    The voices went on, too soft now to make out.
    Please!
he mouthed, making a luck sign to the Four.
    The brush of cold fingers against Tobin’s cheek made him jump. Turning, he was dismayed to find his mother standing right there behind him. She was almost like a ghost herself, a