Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 08 by A Tapestry of Lions (v1.0)

that I wasn't alone anymore."
                Urchin blinked. "You mean—me?"
                "Aren't you my friend?"
                "Well—aye. Aye, I am, but . . .
you're the Prince of Homana."
                "Princes need friends,
too." Kellin tried to keep the plea out of his voice.
                "But I'm only a spit-boy."
                "Grandsire will give you better
when you've learned things," Kellin explained. "He told me it's best
if you start there, then move up, because a castle is strange to you."
                "It is," Urchin agreed. He
eyed the Lion again, then glanced back to Kellin. "Rogan doesn't teach the
other spit-boys."
                "No. I asked grandsire because
I said we were friends."
                Urchin nodded, looking around the
massive Great Hall. "This will be yours, one day?"
                "When grandsire dies."
                "He's strong; he'll live a long
time." Urchin slanted a sidelong glance at Kellin. "Why isn't your
father here? Shouldn't he be next?"
                Kellin's belly hurt, as it often did
when someone mentioned his father. "He gave it up. He renounced his
title." His spine was rigid. Words spilled out, and virulence; he had
learned to say it first, before anyone else could, "He is mad. He lives on
an island and talks about the gods."
                Urchin blinked. "The priests do
that all the time, and they're not mad."
                "My father sees things.
Visions. He has fits."
                Kellin shrugged, trying not to show
how much it hurt. Urchin was his friend, but there were things Kellin could not
share. "Grandsire says he is a shar tahl—that is Old Tongue for
'priest-historian'—but I say he is something else. Something more: part priest,
part warrior, part fortune-teller—and all fool."
                "He gave away everything?"
                Kellin nodded mutely.
                "He could have been Mujhar . .
." Urchin looked at the Lion again. "He could have been Mujhar.”
                "A fool," Kellin declared.
"And one day I will tell him. I will go to the Crystal Isle, and find him,
and tell him."
                Urchin grinned at him. "Can I
go with you?"
                Kellin smiled back. "You will
be my captain of the guard. Commander of the Mujharan Guard, and I will take
you everywhere."
                Urchin nodded. "Good." He
stared up at the Lion, studied it, then drew himself up before it.
                He slanted a grin at Kellin, then
turned back to the throne. "I am Urchin, Lion! In the name of Kellin, I
command the Mujharan Guard! And I say to you. Lion, you shall set no teeth to
his flesh, nor spill royal blood!"
                It echoed in the hall. Gilt eyes
glinted faintly.
                Kellin stared at the Lion. "You
see? I am not alone anymore."
     
                The Queen of Homana, in her solar,
approved of them both. Kellin could tell. He had pleased her by working harder
at his studies, and by being altogether less obdurate about learning his duties
as Prince of Homana. When she was pleased, her green eyes kindled; just now, he
felt the warmth redoubled as she smiled at him and Urchin.
                "Rogan says both of you are
doing very well."
                Kellin and Urchin exchanged glances.
Urchin was stiff, as he always was before the queen or the Mujhar, but his
smile was relaxed and genuine.
                Cleaned up, he was altogether
presentable, even for a spit-boy. The weeks had improved him in many ways.
                "In fact," the queen went
on, "he told me yesterday he was quite impressed with both of you. Urchin
is yet behind you, Kellin, but 'tis to be expected. He's had no proper lessons
before now."
                Her