by Robin Hobb
‘I don’t know, exactly. My link with him is gone. It had been faint before we went to Neatbay, and I always have a problem maintaining my link to Verity when I get into a fight. He says I put my guard up so strongly against those around me that I wall him out.’
‘I don’t understand any of that, but I knew of that problem. Are you sure that is when you lost him?’
So I told him, about a vague sense of Verity during the battle, and the possibility that he had been under attack at the same time. Burrich nodded impatiently.
‘But can’t you Skill out to him, now that things are calm? Renew the link?’
I took an instant, pushed down my own seething frustration. ‘No. I can’t. I don’t have the Skill that way.’
Burrich frowned. ‘Look. We know that messages have gone awry lately. How do we know that this one hasn’t been invented?’
‘We don’t, I suppose. Though it is hard to believe that even Regal would be so bold as to say Verity was dead if he was not.’
‘There is nothing I believe him incapable of,’ Burrich said quietly.
I straightened up from cleaning the mud out of Sooty’s hooves. Burrich was leaning on the door of Ruddy’s stall, staring off into the distance. The white streak in his hair was a vivid reminder of just how ruthless Regal could be. He had ordered Burrich killed as casually as one might swat an annoying fly. It had never seemed to give Regal a moment’s concern that he had not stayed dead. He had no fear of retribution from a stablemaster or a bastard.
‘So. What would he say when Verity came back?’ I asked quietly.
‘Once he was king, he could see that Verity never came back. The man who sits on the throne of the Six Duchies can do away with people who are inconvenient.’ Burrich did not look directly at me as he said this, and I tried to let the barb go by me. It was true. Once Regal was in power, I had no doubt that there would be assassins ready to do his bidding. Perhaps there already were some. That thought sent a queer chill through me.
‘If we want definite word that Verity is still alive, our only choice is to send someone to find him, and to come back with tidings of him.’ I considered Burrich.
‘Assuming the messenger managed to survive it, it would still take too long. Once Regal is in power, the word of a messenger is nothing to him. The bearer of such tidings would not dare speak them aloud. We need proof that Verity is alive, proof that King Shrewd will accept, and we need it before Regal comes into power. That one would not be King-in-Waiting long.’
‘King Shrewd and Kettricken’s child still stand between him and the throne,’ I protested.
‘That location has proven unhealthy for full grown, strong men. I doubt an ailing old man or an unborn child will find it any luckier a place to be.’ Burrich shook his head and set that thought aside. ‘So. You cannot Skill to him. Who can?’
‘Any of the coterie.’
‘Pah. I have faith in none of them.’
‘King Shrewd might be able to,’ I suggested hesitantly. ‘If he took strength from me.’
‘Even if your link with Verity is broken?’ Burrich asked intently.
I shrugged and shook my head. ‘I don’t know. That is why I said might.’
He ran a final hand down Ruddy’s newly sleek coat. ‘It will have to be tried,’ he said decisively. ‘And the sooner the better. Kettricken must not be left to fret and grieve if there is no cause for it. She might lose the child of it.’ He sighed and looked at me. ‘Go get some rest. Plan on visiting the King tonight. Once I see you go in, I will see that there are witnesses to whatever King Shrewd finds out.’
‘Burrich,’ I protested. ‘There are too many uncertainties. I do not even know that the King will be awake tonight, or able to Skill, or that he will if I ask it. If we do this, Regal, and all else, will know that I am a King’s Man in the Skill sense. And …’
‘Sorry, boy.’ Burrich spoke abruptly, almost callously. ‘There is more at stake here than your well-being. Not that I do not care about you. But I think you will be safer if Regal thinks you can Skill, and all know Verity is alive, than if all believe Verity is dead and Regal thinks it timely to be rid of you. We must try tonight. Perhaps we shall not succeed. But we must try.’
‘I hope you can get some elfbark somewhere,’ I grumbled to him.
‘Are you developing a fondness for that? Be wary.’ But then he grinned. ‘I am sure I can get some.’
I returned the grin, and then was shocked at myself. I didn’t believe Verity was dead. That was what I admitted to myself with that grin. I did not believe my King-in-Waiting was dead, and I was about to stand toe to toe with Prince Regal and prove it was so. The only way that could have been more satisfying would be if I could do it with an axe in my hands. Yet.
‘Do me one favour?’ I asked of Burrich.
‘What?’ he asked guardedly.
‘Be very, very careful of yourself.’
‘Always. See that you do the same.’
I nodded, then stood silent, feeling awkward.
After a moment, Burrich sighed and said, ‘Out with it. If I happen to see Molly, you’d like me to tell her … what?’
I shook my head at myself. ‘Only that I miss her. What else can I say to her? I’ve nothing to offer her but that.’
He glanced at me; an odd look. Sympathy, but no false comfort. ‘I’ll let her know,’ he promised.
I left the stables feeling that somehow I had grown. I wondered if I would ever stop measuring myself by how Burrich treated me.
I went directly to the kitchen, intending to get something to eat, then go and rest as Burrich had suggested. The watch-room was packed with the returning soldiers, telling stories to the ones who had stayed home while devouring stew and bread. I had expected that, and intended to find my own provisions and carry them off to my room. But within the kitchen everywhere, kettles were bubbling, bread was rising and meat was turning on spits. Kitchen servants were chopping, stirring, and going to and fro hurriedly.
‘There is a feast tonight?’ I asked stupidly.
Cook Sara turned to face me. ‘Oh, Fitz, so you’re back and alive and in one piece for a change.’ She smiled as if she had complimented me. ‘Yes, of course, there’s a feast to celebrate the victory at Neatbay. We would not neglect you.’
‘With Verity dead, we still sit down to feast?’
Cook looked at me levelly. ‘Were Prince Verity here, what would he wish?’
I sighed. ‘He would probably say to celebrate the victory. That folk need hope more than mourning.’
‘So exactly Prince Regal explained it to me this morning,’ Cook said with satisfaction. She turned back to rubbing spices into a leg of venison. ‘We’ll mourn him, of course. But you have to understand, Fitz. He left us. Regal is the one who stayed here. He stayed here to look after the King, and mind the coasts as best as he could. Verity is gone, but Regal is still here with us. And Neatbay is not fallen to the Raiders.’
I bit my tongue and waited for the fit to pass. ‘Neatbay did not fall because Regal stayed here to protect us.’ I wanted to make certain that Cook was connecting those two events, not merely mentioning them both in the same lecture.
She nodded as she kept rubbing the meat. Pounded sage, my nose told me. And rosemary. ‘It’s what’s been needed all along. Soldiers sent right away. Skilling is fine, but what’s the good of knowing what’s happening if no one does anything about it?’
‘Verity always sent out the warships.’
‘And they always seemed to get there too late.’ She turned to me, wipin
g her hands down the front of her apron. ‘Oh, I know you worshipped him, lad. Our Prince Verity was a good-hearted man, who wore himself to death trying to protect us. I’m not speaking against the dead. I’m only saying that Skilling and chasing down Elderlings are not the way to fight these Red Ships. What Prince Regal done, sending the soldiers and ships out the minute he heard, that’s what was needed all along. Maybe with Prince Regal in charge, we’ll survive here.’
‘What about King Shrewd?’ I asked softly.
She misunderstood my question. In doing so, she showed me what she really thought. ‘Oh, he’s as good as can be expected. He’ll even be down to the feast tonight, at least for a bit. Poor man. He’s suffering so much. Poor, poor man.’
Dead man. She as much as said it. King no longer, Shrewd was just a poor, poor man to her. Regal had it. ‘Do you think our queen will be at the feast?’ I asked. ‘After all, she has just heard of the death of her husband and king.’
‘Oh, I think she’ll be there,’ Sara nodded to herself. She turned the leg over with a thud, to begin pricking the other side full of herbs. ‘I’ve heard it said she’s saying she’s with child now.’ The cook sounded sceptical. ‘She’ll want to announce it tonight.’
‘Do you doubt she’s with child?’ I asked bluntly. Cook was not offended by it.
‘Oh, I don’t doubt she’s pregnant, if she says she is. It just seems a bit odd, is all, her telling it after word of Verity’s death came in instead of before.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Well, some of us are bound to wonder.’
‘Wonder what?’ I asked coldly.
Cook darted a glance at me and I cursed my impatience. Shutting her up was not what I wanted to do. I needed to hear the rumours, all of them.
‘Well …’ she hesitated, but could not deny my listening ears. ‘What’s always wondered, when a woman doesn’t conceive, and then when her husband’s away, suddenly she announces she’s pregnant by him.’ She glanced about to see who else might be listening. All seemed busy at their work, but I didn’t doubt a few ears were tilted our way. ‘Why now? All of a sudden. And if she knew she was pregnant, what was she thinking of, racing off in the middle of the night, right into battle? That’s strange behaviour for a queen carrying the throne’s heir.’
‘Well,’ I tried to make my voice mild. ‘I suppose when the child is born will show when it was conceived. Those who want to count moons on their fingers may do so then. Besides,’ and I leaned in conspiratorially, ‘I heard that some of her ladies knew of it before she left. Lady Patience, for instance, and her maid, Lacey.’ I would have to make sure that Patience bragged of her early knowledge, and that Lacey noised it about among the servants.
‘Oh. That one.’ Cook Sara’s dismissal quashed my hopes of an easy victory. ‘Well, not to offend, Fitz, but she can be a bit daft on occasion. Lacey, though, Lacey is solid. But she don’t say much, and don’t want to listen to what others have to say either.’
‘Well,’ I smiled and tipped her a wink. ‘That was where I heard it from. And I heard it well before we left for Neatbay.’ I leaned in closer. ‘Ask about. I bet you’ll find Queen Kettricken’s been drinking raspberry leaf tea for her morning sickness. You check, and see if I’m right. I’ll wager a silver bit I am.’
‘A silver bit? Oh. As if I’ve such to spare. But I’ll ask, Fitz, that I will. And shame on you for not sharing such a rich bit of gossip with me before. And all I tell you!’
‘Well, here’s something for you then. Queen Kettricken’s not the only one with child!’
‘Oh? Who else?’
I smiled. ‘Can’t tell you just yet. But you’ll be among the first to know, from what I’ve heard.’ I had no idea who might be pregnant, but it was safe to say that someone in the keep was, or would be, in time to substantiate my rumour. I needed to keep Cook pleased with me if I were to count on her for court talk. She nodded sagely at me, and I winked.
She finished her venison leg. ‘Here, Dod, come take this and put it on the meat-hooks over the big fire. Highest hooks, I want it cooked, not scorched. Go on with you, now. Kettle? Where’s that milk I asked you to fetch?’
I snagged bread and apples before I left for my room. Plain fare, but welcome to one as hungry as me. I went straight to my room, washed, ate and lay down to rest. I might have small chance at the King tonight, but I still wanted to be as alert as possible during the feast. I thought of going to Kettricken, to ask her not to mourn Verity just yet. But I knew I would never get past her ladies for a quiet word with her. And what if I were wrong? No. When I could prove Verity was still alive would be soon enough to tell her.
I awoke later to a tap on my door. I lay still for a moment, not sure if I had heard anything, then rose to undo my latches and open the door a crack. The Fool stood outside my door. I do not know if I was more surprised that he had knocked instead of slipping the latches, or at the way he was attired. I stood gaping at him. He bowed genteelly, then pushed his way into my room, closing the door behind him. He fastened a couple of latches, then stepped to the centre of the room and extended his arms. He turned in a slow circle for me to admire him. ‘Well?’
‘You don’t look like you,’ I said bluntly.
‘I am not intended to.’ He tugged his overjerkin straight, then plucked at his sleeves to display better not only the embroidery on them, but the slashes that showed off the rich fabric of the sleeves beneath them. He fluffed his plumed hat, set it once more upon his colourless hair. From deepest indigo to palest azure went the colours, and the Fool’s white face, like a peeled egg, peeping out of them. ‘Fools are no longer in fashion.’
I sat down slowly on my bed. ‘Regal has dressed you like this,’ I said faintly.
‘Hardly. He supplied the clothing, of course, but I dressed myself. If Fools are no longer in fashion, consider how lowly would be the valet of a Fool.’
‘How about King Shrewd? Is he no longer in fashion?’ I asked acidly.
‘It is no longer in fashion to be overly concerned with King Shrewd,’ he replied. He cut a caper, then stopped, drew himself up with dignity as befitted his new clothes, and took a turn about the room. ‘I am to sit at the Prince’s table tonight, and be full of merriment and wit. Do you think I shall do well at it?’
‘Better far than I,’ I said sourly. ‘Care you not at all that Verity is dead?’
‘Care you not at all that the flowers are blooming beneath the summer sun?’
‘Fool, it is winter outside.’
‘The one is as true as the other. Believe me.’ The Fool stood suddenly still. ‘I have come to ask a favour of you, if you can believe that.’
‘The second as easily as the first. What is it?’
‘Do you slay my king with your ambitions for your own?’
I looked at him in horror. ‘I would never slay my king! How dare you say it!’
‘Oh, I dare much, these days.’ He put his hands behind him and paced about the room. With his elegant clothes and unaccustomed postures, he frightened me. It was as if another being inhabited his body, one I knew not at all.
‘Not even if the King had killed your mother?’
A terrible sick feeling rose in me. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’ I whispered.
The Fool whirled at the pain in my voice. ‘No. No! You mistake me entirely!’ There was sincerity in his voice, and for an instant I could see my friend again. ‘But,’ he continued in a softer, almost sly tone. ‘If you believed the King had killed your mother, your much-cherished, loving, indulgent mother, had killed her and snatched her forever away from you, do you think you might then kill hi
m?’
I had been blind for so long that it took me a moment to understand him. I knew Regal believed his mother had been poisoned. I knew it was one source of his hatred for me, and for ‘Lady Thyme’. He believed we had carried out the killing. At the behest of the King. I knew it all to be false. Queen Desire had poisoned herself. Regal’s mother had been overly fond of both drink and those herbs which bring surcease from worry. When she had not been able to rise to the power she believed was her right, she had taken refuge in those pleasures. Shrewd had tried several times to stop her, had even applied to Chade for herbs and potions that would end her cravings. Nothing had worked. Queen Desire had been poisoned, it was true, but it was her own self-indulgent hand that had administered it. I had always known that. And knowing it, I had discounted the hate that would breed in the heart of a coddled son, suddenly bereft of his mother.
Could Regal kill over such a thing? Of course he could. Would he be willing to bring the Six Duchies to the teetering edge of ruin as an act of vengeance? Why not? He had never cared for the Coastal duchies. The Inland duchies, always more loyal to his Inland mother, were where his heart was. If Queen Desire had not wed King Shrewd, she would have remained Duchess of Farrow. Sometimes, when in her cups and heady with herby intoxicants, she would ruthlessly suggest that if she had remained as Duchess, she would have been able to wield more power, enough to persuade Farrow and Tilth to unite under her as Queen and shrug off their allegiance to the Six Duchies. Galen, the Skillmaster, Queen Desire’s own bastard son, had nurtured Regal’s hatred along with his own. Had he hated enough to subvert his coterie to Regal’s revenge? To me it seemed a staggering treason, but I found myself accepting it. He would. Hundreds of folk slain, scores Forged, women raped, children orphaned, entire villages destroyed for the sake of a princeling’s vengeance over an imagined wrong. It staggered me. But it fitted, as snugly as a coffin lid.