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They were shouting now, taunts, challenges, and strange, animal sounds. Tobin could barely hear them over the
blood beating in his ears.
A guard pushed him, and the hobble caught his ankles, bringing him down. They laughed. Anger gave him
strength he'd behaved with honor, whatever they thought! He lurched to his feet, before the guards could lift him,
and looked ahead.
The gauntlet stretched before him. Some of the men held the whips still at their sides, but some whirled and
snapped them. They were the ones doing most of the shouting. Demons take them.
Tobin lifted his head and stepped between the first two men. He was braced for it, but the crack of the first cut
made him jump. He just had time to think that it wasn't so bad, when the pain bit and he clenched his teeth against it.
He took a short, hobbling step, and the second blow fell.
It was held to be a sign of manliness to pass the gauntlet without screaming or fainting.
Tobin did not succeed.
He lay on his stomach, staring at the wet grass. There was enough of the gray, predawn light to see droplets of
water shivering down the long stems. His clothing was as wet as the grass. The cool wind numbed the throbbing agony
in his back, except when he tried to move, so he'd stopped moving.
He had a vague memory of his hands being lashed to someone's stirrup, of being dragged, staggering, down the
dark, cobbled streets, through all seven tiers of the city. They'd thrown him out of the main gate at the bottom of the
city's hill, and he'd managed to crawl off the road before passing out. When he wakened, he crawled for what felt like a
long time but probably wasn't. When he'd wakened again, he'd crawled some more.
A whistle sounded; distant, piercing, familiar. It reminded him of Jeriah, and he blinked back tears. He hadn't
realized it, but he'd been hoping that Jeriah would be waiting by the gate at the bottom of the hill.
No one had been there. Not Jeri, not either of his parents, or their servants, or any of the men he'd thought his
friends. The whistle again. Was it nearer? It repeated itself, insistently.
He'd really thought that someone would be waiting for him, maybe even Master Lazur. He was beginning to
think there was a flaw in Master Lazur's plan, for he felt like dying in this cold, grassy place. He hoped the priest
wouldn't be too badly inconvenienced if he did.
Perhaps Master Lazur had assumed his friends would come and pick him up. But it seemed the friends he'd
made so easily were easily lost, and the father who'd disowned him would hardly come and save him, or permit his wife
to do so. And Jeriah, who hadn't come once to visit him, would hardly come and
The whistle! It was Jeriah's whistle! The all-clear signal for hundreds of games of knights and bandits, many
years ago.
It sounded again, unmistakable now that he'd recognized it. Trust his brother to expect him to remember a
signal they hadn't used for years.
He was crying. He took a deep breath, which hurt his back, and pursed his lips. It took several tries to get an
answering whistle out of his dry mouth, and it was soft and wavery. But Jeriah must have been listening hard, for the
calling whistle sounded again, nearer, demanding, and in just a few moments Tobin heard his brother thrashing
through the grass.
"Tobin! Are you . . . ? Bright Ones' mercy." Jeriah's voice had fallen to a shocked whisper. Tobin turned his
head painfully. He tried to tell Jeriah he was all right, but his voice wasn't working. A flask appeared at his lips, and he
lifted himself slightly to gulp down the cool water. When his head fell again, Jeriah's cloak was beneath it.
"Demon's teeth! Tobin, how could you let Mother talk you into this?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm glad you came." He groped for his brother's hand and it closed around his instantly,
warm and strong.
"Doesn't matter? Are you trying to prove you're a candidate for sainthood? No, don't answer, I always knew you
were an idiot and now I'm sure of it! Don't talk I'll get my horse and get you out of here before you freeze. You're
soaked, do you know that? And your hands are like ice. No, I said don't answer. I don't have time to argue with
lunatics." A soft hand stoked Tobin's hair. "We'll talk later." Jeriah rose and ran, swishing away in the long grass.
"How could you let Mother talk you into this?" Jeriah asked again. He sounded furious, but his hands were
utterly gentle as he carefully cleaned the cuts on Tobin's back with a soft rag soaked in witch heal.
Tobin lay warm and drowsy on the pallet in the shepherd's hut where Jeriah had taken him. He felt almost too
comfortable to answer. After the first sting, witch heal had a numbing effect, and the throbbing pain in his back had
subsided. The fire, where broth was heating, combined with the sunlight pouring through the holes in the east wall to
heat the abandoned shack beautifully.
"Well?" Jeriah demanded.
"She talked. She cried. You know Mother. Besides, she was right; they'd have been much harder on you."
"Dung!"
"Don't swear," said Tobin automatically.
"All right, but of all the " Agitation made Jeriah clumsy, and Tobin winced. "Sorry. No, I'm not sorry you
almost deserve this. I've never heard anything so stupid in my life. Give me one good reason why you should take the
blame for my actions."
"Because they might have killed you."
"And you think Father couldn't have bribed them for me, just as well as you?"
"Yes, but . . ." He stopped himself, but Jeriah wasn't slow.
"You're not sure he would have? Well, maybe he wouldn't, but he had a right to know the truth, and I always
knew I was taking that chance."
When had his brother's voice become so steady? "So how did Mother talk you into agreeing?" Tobin asked.
"I . . . wondered about that. Especially when you didn't visit me."
"I'll bet you did," said Jeriah grimly. "Mother didn't talk me into anything. I know her too well."
"Then what happened?" Tobin turned in time to see a blush wash over his brother's face.
"She drugged me."
"What?"
"She drugged me. She'd just come up with her 'wonderful' plan and I'd refused. I might run off, but there was
no way I'd let you take my punishment. She got hysterical, and when she finally started to calm down, she got herself a
cup of tea. She said she needed it, soothing, you know? She got me some at the same time, and I didn't want to upset
her, so I drank it and "
Tobin's shout of laughter woke the pain in his back and he gasped, twisting. Jeriah pushed him back gently.
"Don't do that! Anyway, I started to yawn, and the next thing I remember is waking up locked in the attic
storeroom with an awful headache. The second in three days, I might add."
Tobin chuckled in spite of the pain. "You thought you knew her so well."
"Yes, but I didn't think she had drugs in her tea cabinet! I should have. She's always been fiendishly effective,
our feather-headed mother."
"So what did you do?"
"What could I do? I yelled at the girls every time they poked food under the door, but Mother had them
completely mesmerized. Finally I twisted a hinge off a chest and filed through the door so I could lift the latch, but it
took days. Then I stole a horse and came straight here. I got in just after sunset, and by the time I found out what was
happening they already had you in the courtyard. I knew I couldn't stop it in time, so I got this place ready and went to
get you. I could kill Mother for this."
"You don't have to go that far. But when I get home, I'll When you get home, you'll have to take away her
drugs. Where do you think she got them? And why?"
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