by Robin Hobb
At my door, I was well enough to work my latches. Burrich followed me in. "If I had a dog that was sick as often as you are, I'd put it down," he observed kindly. "Do you need more elfbark?"
"It wouldn't hurt me any. But in a gentler dose. Do you have any ginger or mint or rose hips?"
He gave me a look. I sat on my chair while he poked at the pathetic embers in my fireplace until he got them to glow. He built up a fire, put water in the kettle, and set it to heat. He found a pot and put in the flaked elfbark, then found a mug and wiped the dust out of it. He set the things out ready, then looked about himself. Something like disgust was on his face. "Why do you live like this?" he demanded.
"Like what?"
"In so bare a room, with so little care for it? I've seen winter-quarter tents that were homier than this room. It's as if you've never expected to stay here more than a night or two longer."
I shrugged. "I've never given it much thought."
There was a silence for a bit. "You should," he said unwillingly. "And you should think about how often you're hurt, or sick."
"This, what happened tonight, this couldn't be helped."
"You knew what it would do to you, but you went ahead with it anyway," he pointed out.
"I had to." I watched him pour steaming water over the elfbark in the pot.
"Did you? It seemed to me the Fool had a pretty convincing argument against it. Yet you went ahead. You and King Shrewd, both of you."
"So."
"I know a bit about the Skill," Burrich said quietly. "I was king's man to Chivalry. Not often, and it did not leave me as bad as you are now, save for once or twice. But I've felt the excitement of it, the—" He groped for words, sighed. "The completion of it. The oneness with the world. Chivalry once spoke to me about it. A man can get addicted, he said. So that he looks for excuses to Skill, and then finally he is absorbed into it." He added after a moment, "It is not unlike the rush of battle, in some ways. The sense of moving unhampered by time, of being a force more powerful than life itself."
"As I cannot Skill alone, I daresay it is not a danger to me."
"You offer yourself very often to those who can." Bluntly spoken. "As often as you willingly plunge yourself into dangerous situations that offer that same kind of excitement. In a battle, you go into a frenzy. Is that what happens to you when you Skill?"
I had never considered the two together in such a light. Something like fear nibbled at me. I pushed it aside.
"To be a King's Man is my duty. Besides, was not this evening your suggestion?"
"It was. But I would have let the Fool's words dissuade us from it. You were determined. You put no value at all on what it would do to you. Perhaps you should have a care for yourself."
"I know what I'm doing." I spoke more sharply than I intended, and Burrich did not reply. He poured the tea he had made, and handed it to me with a "see what I mean" look on his face. I took the mug and stared into the fire. He sat down on my clothing chest.
"Verity is alive," I said quietly.
"So I heard the Queen say. I had never believed he was dead." He accepted it very calmly. As calmly, as he added, "But we have no proof."
"Proof? I spoke to him. The King spoke to him. Isn't that enough?"
"For me, more than enough. For most other folks, well…"
"When the King recovers, he will hear me out. Verity lives."
"I doubt it will be enough to prevent Regal from proclaiming himself King-in-Waiting. The ceremony is scheduled for next week. I think he would have done it tonight, save that every Duke must be present to witness it."
Elfbark battling with exhaustion, or simply the unrelenting march of events, suddenly made the room tilt around me. I felt I had thrown myself in front of a wagon to stop it, and instead it had rolled over me. The Fool had been right. What I had done tonight counted for little, save the peace of mind it brought Kettricken. A sudden welling of despair filled me. I set down my empty cup. The Six Duchies kingdom was falling apart. My king-in-waiting, Verity, would return to a mockery of what he had left: a sundered country, a ravaged coastline, a plundered and empty Keep. Perhaps if I had believed in Elderlings, I could have found some way to believe it would all come out right. All I could see now was my failure.
Burrich was looking at me oddly. "Go to bed," he suggested. "A bleak spirit is sometimes what follows an overindulgence in elfbark. Or so I have heard."
I nodded. To myself, I wondered if that might account for Verity's often dour moods.
"Get some real rest. In the morning, things may look better." He gave a bark of laughter and smiled wolfishly. "Then again, they may not. But the rest will at least leave you better prepared to face them." He paused, sobering. "Molly came to my room, earlier."
"Is she all right?" I demanded to know.
"Bringing candles she knew I did not need," Burrich went on as if I had not spoken. "Almost as if she wanted an excuse to speak to me…"
"What did she say?" I rose from my chair.
"Not very much. She is always very correct with me. I am very direct with her. I simply told her you missed her."
"And she said?"
"Nothing." He grinned. "But she blushes very prettily." He sighed, suddenly serious. "And, as directly, I asked her if anyone had given her any further cause to fear. She squared her little shoulders and tucked in her chin like I was trying to force a bit in her teeth. She said she thanked me kindly for my concern, as she had before, but that she was capable of seeing to herself." In a quieter voice, he asked, "Will she ask for help if she needs it?"
"I don't know," I confessed. "She has her own store of courage. Her own way of fighting. She turns and confronts things. Me, I slink about and try to hamstring them when they aren't looking. Sometimes, she makes me feel a coward."
Burrich stood up, stretching so that his shoulders cracked. "You're no coward, Fitz. I'll vouch for you there. Perhaps you just understand odds better than she does. I wish I could put your mind at rest about her. I can't. I'll watch over her as well as I can. As much as she'll let me." He gave me a sideways glance. "Hands asked me today who the pretty lady is who calls on me so often."
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing. I just looked at him."
I knew the look. There would be no more questions from Hands.
Burrich left and I sprawled on my bed, trying to rest. I could not. I made my body be still, reasoning that at least my flesh would take some rest, even if my mind persisted in rattling on. A better man's thoughts would have been solely of his king's plight. I am afraid a good share of mine went to Molly, alone in her room. When I could stand it no more, I rose from my bed and ghosted out into the Keep.
Sounds of dying revelry still drifted up from the Great Hall below. The corridor was empty. I ventured silently toward the stairs. I told myself I would be very, very careful, that all I would do was tap at her door, perhaps go in for a few moments, just to see she was all right. No more than that. Just the briefest of visits…
You are followed. Nighteyes' new caution of Burrich made his voice but the tiniest whisper in my head.
I did not halt. That would have let my follower know I was suspicious. Instead I scratched my shoulder, making it an excuse to swivel my head about and glance behind me. I saw no one.
Snuff.
I did, a short breath followed by a deeper intake. A bare scent on the air. Sweat and garlic. I quested gently and my blood went cold. There, at the far end of the hall, concealed in a doorway. Will. Dark, slender Will, with his eyes always halflidded. The coterie member who had been recalled from Bearns. Very cautiously I touched the Skill shield that hid him from me, a subtle bidding that I not notice him, a quiet scent of self-confidence sent my way to bolster me in doing whatever I wished to do. Very guileful. Very artful, much more delicate a touch than either Serene or Justin had ever shown me.
A much more dangerous man.
I went to the landing of the stairs and took candles from the extra ones
stored there, then returned to my room as if that had been my sole errand.
When I closed my door behind me, my mouth was dry. I sighed out a shuddering breath. I forced myself to examine the guards that warded my mind. He had not been in me, that I could tell. He was not sniffing out my thoughts, then, but only imposing his on me to make it easier for him to shadow me. Had it not been for Nighteyes, he would have followed me right to Molly's door tonight. I forced myself to lie down on my bed again, to try to recall all of my actions since Will had returned to Buckkeep. I had been dismissing him as an enemy simply because he did not radiate the hatred for me that Serene and Justin did. He had always been a quiet and unimposing youth. He had grown to be an unremarkable man, scarce worth anyone's attention.
I had been a fool.
I do not think he has followed you before. But I cannot be sure either.
Nighteyes, my brother. How do I thank you?
Stay alive. A pause. And bring me ginger cake.
You shall have it, I promised fervently.
Burrich's fire had burned low and I still had not slept when I felt Chade's draft sweep through my room. It was almost a relief to rise and go to him.
I found him awaiting me impatiently, pacing about his small room. He pounced on me as I came out of the stairwell.
"An assassin is a tool," he informed me in a hiss. "Somehow, I never got that across to you. We are tools. We do not do anything of our own volition."
I stopped still, shocked at the anger in his voice. "I haven't killed anyone!" I said indignantly.
"Shush! Speak softly. I would not be too sure of that, were I you," he replied. "How many times have I done my job, not by putting the knife in myself, but simply by giving someone else sufficient reason and opportunity to do it for me?"
I said nothing.
He looked at me and sighed, the anger and strength going out of him. Softly he said, "Sometimes, the best you can do is just salvage work. Sometimes we have to resign ourselves to that. We are not the ones to set the wheels in motion, boy. What you did tonight was ill-considered."
"So the Fool and Burrich have both told me. I don't think Kettricken would agree."
"Kettricken and her child could both have lived with her grief. As could King Shrewd. Look at what they were. A foreign woman, widow of a dead King-in-Waiting, mother of a child that isn't visible yet, and who will be unable to wield power for years to come. Regal judged Shrewd to be but a doddering helpless old man, useful as a puppet perhaps, but harmless enough. Regal had no immediate reason to put them aside. Oh, I agree Kettricken's position was not as secure as it could be, but she was not in direct opposition to Regal. That is where she is now."
"She did not tell him what we had discovered," I said unwillingly.
"She did not have to. It will show, in her bearing and in her will to resist him. He had reduced her to a widow. You have restored her to a Queen-in-Waiting. But it is for Shrewd that I worry. Shrewd is the one who holds the key, who can stand up and say, even in a whisper, `Verity still lives, Regal has no right to be king-in-waiting.' He is the one Regal must fear."
"I have seen Shrewd, Chade. Really seen him. I do not think he will betray what he knows. Beneath that faltering body, beneath the numbing drugs and the savage pain, there is a shrewd man still."
"Perhaps. But he is buried deep. Drugs, and pain even more so, will drive a sagacious man to foolish acts. A man dying of his wounds will leap to his horse to lead a last charge. Pain can make a man take risks, or assert himself in strange ways."
What he was saying made all too much sense. "Cannot you counsel him against letting Regal know that he knows Verity is alive?"
"I could try, perhaps. Were not that damnable Wallace always in my way. It was not so bad at first; at first, he was tractable and useful, easy to manipulate from afar. He never knew I was behind the herbs the peddlers brought him; never even suspected I existed. But now he clings to the King like a limpet, and not even the Fool can drive him away for long. I seldom have more than a few minutes with Shrewd at a time anymore. And I am lucky if my brother is lucid for half of them."
There was something in his voice. I lowered my head, shamed. "I am sorry," I said quietly. "Sometimes I forget that he is more to you than just your king."
"Well. We were never really that close, that way. But we are two old men, who have grown old together. Sometimes that is a greater closeness. We have come through time to your day and age. We can talk together, quietly, and share memories of a time that exists no more. I can tell you how it was, but it is not the same. It is like being two foreigners, trapped in a land we have come to, unable to return to our own, and having only each other to confirm the reality of the place we once lived. At least, once we could."
I thought of two children running wild on the beaches of Buckkeep, plucking sheel off the rocks and eating them raw. Molly and I. It was possible to be homesick for a time, and to be lonely for the only other person who could recall it. I nodded.
"Ah. Well. Tonight we contemplate salvage. Now. Listen to me. On this I must have your word. You will not take actions of major consequence without conferring with me first. Agreed?"
I looked down. "I want to say yes. I am willing to agree to it. But lately even small actions of mine seem to take on consequences like a pebble in a landslide. And events pile up to where I have to make a choice suddenly, with no chance to consult anyone else. So I cannot promise. But I will promise to try. Is that enough?"
"I suppose. Catalyst," he muttered.
"So the Fool calls me, too," I complained.
Chade stopped abruptly in the midst of starting to say something. "Does he really?" he asked intently.
"He clubs me with the word every chance he gets." I walked down to Chade's hearth and sat down before his fire. The heat felt good. "Burrich says that too strong a dose of elfbark can lead to bleak spirits afterward."
"Do you find it so?"
"Yes. But it could be the circumstances. Yet Verity seemed often depressed, and he used it frequently. Again, it could be the circumstances."
"It may be we shall never know."
"You speak very freely tonight. Naming names, ascribing motives."
"All is gaiety in the Great Hall tonight. Regal was certain he had bagged his game. All his watches were relaxed, all his spies given a night's liberty." He looked at me sourly. "I am sure it will not be the same again for a while."
"So you think what we say here can be listened to."
"Anywhere I can listen and peep, from there it is possible I could be overheard and spied upon. Only just possible. But one does not get to be as old as I am by taking chances."
An old memory suddenly made sense. "You once told me that in the Queen's Garden, you are blind."
"Exactly."
"So you did not know—"
"I did not know what Galen was putting you through, at the time he was doing it. I was privy to gossip, much of it unreliable and all of it far after the fact. But on the night he beat you and left you to die… No." He looked at me strangely. "Had you believed I could know of such a thing and take no action?"
"You had promised not to interfere with my instruction," I said stiffly.
Chade took his chair, leaned back with a sigh. "I don't think you will ever completely trust anyone. Or believe that someone cares about you."
Silence filled me. I didn't know the answer. First Burrich and now Chade, forcing me to look at myself in uncomfortable ways.
"Ah, well," Chade conceded to my silence. "As I began to say earlier. Salvage."
"What do you want me to do?"
He breathed out through his nose. "Nothing."
"But…"
"Absolutely nothing. Remember this at all times. King-in-Waiting Verity is dead. Live that belief. Believe that Regal has the right to claim his spot, believe he has the right to do all the things he does. Placate him for now, give him nothing to fear. We must make him believe he has won."
I thought for a moment
. Then I stood and drew my belt knife.
"What are you doing?" Chade demanded.
"What Regal would expect me to do, did I truly believe Verity was dead." I reached in back of my head, to where a leather thong bound my hair back in a warrior's tail.
"I have shears," Chade pointed out in annoyance. He went and got them and stood behind me. "How much?"
I considered. "As extreme as I can be, short of mourning him as a crowned King."
"Are you sure?"
"It's what Regal would expect of me."
"That's true, I suppose." With a single clip, Chade took off my hair at the knot. It felt strange to have it suddenly fall forward, short, not even to my jaw. As if I were a page again. I reached up and felt its shortness as I asked him, "What will you be doing?"
"Trying to find a safe place for Kettricken and the King. I must make all things ready for their flight. When they go, they must vanish like shadows when the light comes."
"Are you sure this is necessary?"
"What else is left for us? They are no more than hostages now. Powerless. The Inland Dukes have turned to Regal, the Coastal Dukes have lost faith in King Shrewd. Kettricken has made herself allies amongst them, however. I must tug at the strings she has spun and see what I can arrange. At least we can see them placed where their safety cannot be used against Verity when he comes back to reclaim his crown."
"If he returns," I said gloomily.
"When. The Elderlings will be with him." Chade looked at me sourly. "Try to believe in something, boy. For my sake."