by Robin Hobb
Verity had not been gone more than two days before I heard rumours that the true purpose of his quest was to seek the Elderlings. I could not blame these on Regal. Those Verity had hand-chosen had known of their true mission. Burrich had ferreted it out for himself. If he could, so could another, and noise it about. But when I overheard two pantry-boys laughing about ‘King Wisdom’s folly, and Prince Verity’s myth’ I suspected the ridicule was Regal’s doing. Verity’s Skilling had made him too much the recluse. Folk wondered what he did so long alone in his tower. That is, they knew he Skilled, but that was too tame a topic for gossip. His preoccupied stare, his odd hours for eating and rest, his silent ghosting through the castle while other folks were abed were all grist for this mill. Had he lost his mind, and set out on a madman’s errand? Speculation began to grow, and Regal gave it fertile ground. He found excuses and reasons for all sorts of banquets and gatherings of his nobles. King Shrewd was seldom well enough to be present and Kettricken did not enjoy the company of the witty knaves that Regal cultivated. I knew enough to stay away. I had only myself and Chade to grumble to about the cost of these parties when Regal had insisted that there were scarcely funds for Verity’s expedition. Chade only shook his head.
The old man had become more close-mouthed of late, even with me. I had the uncomfortable feeling that Chade kept a secret from me. Secrets in themselves were nothing new. The old assassin was stuffed full of secrets. I simply could not be rid of the feeling that this secret somehow touched on me directly. I could not ask him outright, but I watched him. His work table showed signs of heavy use when I was not about. Even stranger, all messes associated with that work had been cleaned meticulously whenever he summoned me. This was bizarre. For years I had tidied up after him and his ‘cooking’. Now, for him to straighten up after himself seemed either a sharp rebuke to me or a concealment of whatever he had been doing.
Unable to resist, I watched him whenever I could. I learned nothing of his secret, but saw much that I had previously missed. Chade was getting old. Never tolerant of cold, the stiffness it brought to his joints no longer yielded to the cosy evenings before his hearth. He was Shrewd’s elder half-brother, bastard as I was, and despite his stiffness, he still seemed the younger of the two. But he held scrolls farther from his nose when he read now, and avoided reaching for anything over his head. To watch these changes in him was as painful as to know he kept a secret from me.
Twenty-three days after Verity left, I came back from a dawn hunt with Nighteyes to find the keep abuzz. The feeling was that of a stirred ant-nest, but with none of their purposefulness. I went straight to Cook Sara and asked her what had happened. The kitchen of any keep is the heart of the rumour-mill, second only to the guard-room. At Buckkeep, the kitchen gossip was usually more accurate.
‘A rider come in, his horse near to dead. Said there’s been a raid up at Ferry. The whole city near gone from the fires they set. Seventy folk Forged. How many dead, there’s no telling yet. And more will die, made homeless in this cold. Three shiploads of Raiders, the boy said. He went straight to Prince Regal, he did, and reported. Prince Regal sent him here to be fed; he’s in the guard-room now, asleep.’ She lowered her voice. ‘That boy came all this way on his own. Got fresh horses in towns he went through, coming down the coast road, but wouldn’t let no one else carry his message for him. He told me that every leg of the way, he kept expecting to find help coming, to hear from someone that they already knew and that ships had been sent out. But there was nothing.’
‘From Ferry? Then it’s been at least five days since it happened. Why weren’t the signal tower fires lit?’ I demanded. ‘Or the message birds sent to Gulls and Sealbay? King-in-Waiting Verity left a patrol ship in that area. The patrol ship should have been able to see the light from Gulls or Ferry. And there’s a coterie member, Will, at Red Tower. He should have seen the signal fires. He should have sent word back here, to Serene. How could it be that no word was received here; how could we know nothing at all of this?’
Cook lowered her voice even more, gave the dough she was kneading a meaningful thump. ‘Boy said the signal fires were lit, at Ferry and at Ice Town. He says the birds were sent to Gulls. The ship never came.’
‘Then why didn’t we know?’ I took a deep shuddering breath, set aside by useless anger. Within me, I felt a faint stirring of concern from Verity. Too faint. The Skill bond was fading, just when I wished it strong. ‘Well, I suppose it’s no good asking that just now. What has Regal done? Sent out the Rurisk? I wish I’d been here to go with them.’
Cook snorted and paused to throttle the dough a bit. ‘Go now, then, for you won’t be late. Nothing’s been done, no one sent that I’ve heard. No one sent, no one is being sent. No one. You know I’ve no tongue For gossip, Fitz, but what was whispered was that Prince Regal did know of it. When the boy came in, oh, the Prince was so kind, so full of sympathy as to make the ladies’ hearts melt. A meal, a new coat, a small purse for his troubles. But he told the boy it was too late now. The Raiders would be long gone. No sense to send a ship out now, or soldiers.’
‘Too late to fight Raiders, perhaps. But what of those burned out in Ferry? A contingent of workers to help repair houses, some wagons of food …’
‘Says there’s no coin for it,’ Cook bit each word off separately. She began to break her dough into rolls and to slap each one down to rise. ‘Says the treasury was drained to build ships and man them. Said Verity took what little was left for this expedition to find Elderlings.’ A world of disdain on the last word. Cook paused to wipe her hands on her apron. ‘Then he said he was very sorry. Very truly sorry.’
A cold fury uncoiled inside me. I patted Cook’s shoulder and assured her that everything would be all right. Like a man in a daze, I left the kitchen and went to Verity’s study. Once inside the study, I paused, groping. One clear glimpse of Verity’s intent. In the back of a drawer, I would find an antique emerald necklace, the stones set in gold. It had been his mother’s mother’s. It would be enough to hire men, and buy grain to send with them. I pushed open the study door, and halted.
Verity was an untidy man, and he had packed hastily. Charim had gone with him; he had not been here to clean up after him. But this was no act of either of them. To another man’s eyes, probably little would have seemed amiss. But I saw the room both as myself and as Verity. It had been gone through. Whoever had done it had either not cared if it was detected, or had not known Verity well. Every drawer was neatly shut, every cupboard closed. The chair was pushed up close to the table. It was all too tidy. Without much hope, I went to the drawer and opened it. I pulled it completely open, and peered into the back corner. Perhaps Verity’s own untidiness had saved it. I would not have looked for an emerald necklace under a jumble that included an old spur, a broken belt-buckle and a piece of antler partly worked into a knife-haft. But it was there, wrapped up in a scrap of homespun. There were several other small but valuable items to be removed from the room. As I gathered them, I was puzzled. If these had not been taken, what had been the goal of the search? If not minor valuables, then what?
Methodically, I sorted out a dozen vellum maps, and then began to remove several others from the wall. As I was carefully rolling one of them, Kettricken entered silently. My Wit had made me aware of her before she had even touched the door, so I glanced up to meet her eyes without surprise. I stood firm before the surge of Verity’s emotion that rushed through me. The sight of her seemed to strengthen him within me. She was lovely, pale and slender in a robe of soft blue wool. I caught my breath and looked aside. She looked
at me quizzically.
‘Verity wanted these put away while he was gone. Damp can harm them, and this room is seldom heated when he is not here,’ I explained as I finished rolling the map.
She nodded. ‘It seems so empty and cold in here without him. Not just the cold hearth. There is no scent of him, none of his clutter …’
‘Then you tidied in here?’ I tried to ask it casually.
‘No!’ she laughed. ‘My tidying only destroys what little order he keeps here. No, I will leave it as he left it, until he returns. I want him to come home to his own things in their places.’ Her face grew grave. ‘But this room is the least of it. I sent a page to find you this morning, but you were out. Have you heard the news about Ferry?’
‘Only the gossip,’ I replied.
‘Then you have heard as much as I. I was not summoned,’ she said coldly. Then she turned to me, and there was pain in her eyes. ‘I heard the most of it from Lady Modesty, who heard Regal’s serving-man talking to her maid. The guardsmen went to Regal, to tell him of the messenger’s arrival. Surely, they should have sent to me? Do not they think of me as a queen at all?’
‘My lady queen,’ I reminded her gently, ‘by all rights, the message should have been taken directly to King Shrewd. I suspect it was, and Regal’s men, who mind the King’s door, sent for him instead of you.’
Her head came up. ‘There is a thing that must be remedied, then. Two can play at that silly game.’
‘I wonder if other messages have similarly gone astray,’ I speculated aloud.
Her blue eyes turned grey with chill. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The message birds, the signal fires. A Skill message, from Will in Red Tower to Serene. Surely at least one of these things should have brought us word that Ferry was attacked. One might go astray, but all three?’
Her face paled, her mind made the leap. ‘The Duke of Bearns will believe his call for aid went unheeded.’ She lifted a hand to cover her mouth. She whispered through it, ‘This is treachery to defame Verity!’ Her eyes grew very round and she hissed at me suddenly, ‘It shall not be tolerated!’
She turned and rushed for the door, anger in her every motion. I was barely able to leap in front of her. I put my back to it, held it closed. ‘Lady, my lady queen, I beg you, wait! Wait and consider!’
‘Consider what? How best to reveal the depth of his perfidy?’
‘We are not in the best position of power in this. Please, wait. Think with me. You think, as I do, that Regal must have known something of this and kept silent. But we have no proof. None at all. And perhaps we are wrong. We must go a step at a time, lest we bring dissension when we want it least. The first person to speak to must be King Shrewd. To see if he has been aware of this at all, to see if he has sanctioned Regal to speak on his behalf.’
‘He would not!’ she declared angrily.
‘He is often not himself,’ I reminded her. ‘But he, not you, must be the one to rebuke Regal publicly, if it is to be public. If you speak out against him, and the King later supports him, the nobles will see the Farseers as a house divided. Already, there has been too much doubt and discord sown amongst them. This is not a time to set Inland duchies against Coastal ones, with Verity not here.’
She halted. I could see that she still quivered with anger, but at least she was hearing me. She took a breath. I sensed her calming herself.
‘This was why he left you here, Fitz. To see these things for me.’
‘What?’ It was my turn to be jolted.
‘I thought you had known. You must have wondered why he did not ask you to accompany him. It was because I asked him who I should trust, as an advisor. He said to rely on you.’
Had he forgotten Chade’s existence, I wondered, and then realized that Kettricken knew nothing of Chade. He must have known I would function as a go-between. Inside myself, I felt Verity’s agreement. Chade. In the shadows as always.
‘Think with me again,’ she bade me. ‘What will happen next?’
She was right. This was not an isolated instance.
‘We will have visitors. The Duke of Bearns and his lesser nobles. Duke Brawndy is not a man to send emissaries on a mission like that. He will come himself and he will demand answers. And all the Coastal dukes will be listening to what is said to him. His coast is the most exposed of all, save that of Buck itself.’
‘Then we must have answers worth hearing,’ Kettricken declared. She closed her eyes. She set her hands to her forehead for a moment, then pressed her own cheeks. I realized how great a control she was keeping. Dignity, she was telling herself, calm and rationality. She took a breath and looked at me again. ‘I go to see King Shrewd,’ she announced. ‘I shall ask him about everything. This whole situation. I shall ask him what he intends to do. He is the King. His position must be affirmed to him.’
‘I think that is a wise decision,’ I told her.
‘I must go alone. If you go with me, if you are always at my side, it will make me appear weak. It may give rise to rumours of a schism in the reign. You understand this?’
‘I do.’ Though I longed to hear for myself what Shrewd might say to her.
She gestured at the maps and items I had sorted onto a table. ‘You have a safe place for those?’
Chade’s chambers. ‘I do.’
‘Good.’ She gestured with a hand, and I realized I was still blocking her from the door. I stepped aside. As she swept past me, her mountainsweet scent engulfed me for a moment. My knees went weak, and I cursed the fate that sent emeralds to rebuild houses when they should have girdled that graceful throat. But I knew, too, with a fierce pride, that if I set them in her hands this moment, she would insist they be spent for Ferry. I slipped them into a pocket. Perhaps she would be able to rouse King Shrewd’s wrath, and he would rattle the coin loose from Regal’s pocket. Perhaps, when I returned, these emeralds could still clasp that warm skin.
If Kettricken had looked back, she would have seen the Fitz blushing with her husband’s thoughts.
I went down to the stables. It had always been a soothing place for me, and with Burrich gone I felt a certain obligation to look in on it from time to time. Not that Hands had shown any signs of needing my help. But this time as I approached the stable doors, there was a knot of men outside them, and voices raised in anger. A young stable-boy hung onto the headstall of an immense draught-horse. An older boy was tugging at a lead attached to the horse’s halter, attempting to take the horse from the boy, as a man in Tilth colours looked on. The usually placid animal was becoming distressed at the tugging. In a moment, someone was going to get hurt.
I stepped boldly into the midst of it, plucking the lead from the startled boy’s hand even as I quested soothingly toward the horse. He did not know me as well as he once had, but he calmed at the touch. ‘What goes on here?’ I asked the stable-boy.
‘They came and took Cliff out of his stall. Without even asking. He’s my horse to take care of each day. But they didn’t even tell me what they were doing.’
‘I have orders …’ began the man who had been standing by.
‘I am speaking to someone,’ I informed him, and turned back to the boy. ‘Has Hands left orders with you about this horse?’
‘Only the usual ones.’ The boy had been close to tears when I first came on the struggle. Now that he had a potential ally, his voice was firming. He stood up straighter and met my eyes.
‘Then it’s simple. We take the horse back to his stall until we have other orders from Hands. No horse moves from the Buckkeep stable without the knowledge of the acting Stablemaster.’ The bo
y had never let go his grip on Cliff’s headstall. Now I placed the lead rope in his hands.
‘Exactly what I thought, sir,’ he told me chirpily. He turned on his heel. ‘Thank you, sir. Come on, Cliffie.’ The boy marched off with the big horse lumbering placidly after him.
‘I have orders to take that animal. Duke Ram of Tilth wishes him sent up the river immediately.’ The man in Tilth colours was breathing through his nose at me.
‘He does, does he? And has he cleared that with our Stablemaster?’ I was sure he had not.
‘What goes on here?’ This was Hands come running, very pink about the ears and cheeks. On another man it might have looked funny. I knew it meant he was angry.
The Tilth man drew himself up straight. ‘This man, and one of your stable-hands interfered when we came to get our stock from the stables!’ he declared haughtily.
‘Cliff isn’t Tilth stock. He was foaled right here at Buckkeep. Six years ago. I was present at the time,’ I pointed out.
The man gave me a condescending look. ‘I was not speaking to you. I was speaking to him.’ He jerked a thumb at Hands.
‘I have a name, sir,’ Hands pointed out coldly. ‘Hands. I’m acting as Stablemaster while Burrich is gone with King-in-Waiting Verity. He has a name, too. FitzChivalry. He assists me from time to time. He belongs to my stable. As does my stable-boy, and my horse. As to you, if you have a name, I haven’t been told it. I know of no reason why you should be in my stable.’
Burrich had taught Hands well. We exchanged a glance. In accord, we turned our backs and began to go back into the stables.
‘I am Lance, a stableman for Duke Ram. That horse was sold to my duke. And not just him. Two spotted mares, and a gelding as well. I have the papers here.’
As we turned back slowly, the Tilth man proffered a scroll. My heart lurched at the sight of a blob of red wax with the buck sign mashed into it. It looked real. Hands took it slowly. He gave me a sideways glance, and I moved to stand beside him. He had some letters, but reading was usually a lengthy business for him. Burrich had been working on it with him, but letters did not come easily to him. I looked over his shoulder as he unrolled the scroll and began to study it.