Fool's Fate ttm-3

by Robin Hobb

  I nodded, noting but not commenting that her stockings didn't match. Patience had never cared much for detail.

  "What sort of keepsakes?" I asked.

  "It scarcely matters now. As you are alive, I intend to keep them."

  "What were they?" I asked, intensely curious.

  "Oh. A painting you gave me, don't you know? And, when you were dead, I took a lock of your hair. I've worn it in a locket ever since." While I was speechless, she leaned up on an elbow. "Lacey, come have a lie-down for a bit. You know I don't like you to be too far away if I need you. Your hearing isn't what it used to be." To me, she confided, "They've given her a narrow little bed in a closet of a room. Fine if your maid is a slip of a girl, but hardly appropriate for a mature woman. Lacey!"

  "I'm right here, dearie. You needn't shout." The old serving woman came round to the other side of the bed. She looked a bit uncomfortable at the prospect of lying down in front of me, as if I might think it improper that she should share a lady's bed. It made perfect sense to me. "I am tired," she admitted as she sat down. She had brought a shawl, and she spread it over Patience's legs.

  I brought a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down backward on it. "Where should I begin?" I asked her. "Begin by sitting on that chair properly!" And after I had corrected that, she said, "Don't tell me what that vile pretender did to you to kill you. I saw enough of it on your body and I could not bear it then. Tell me, instead, how you survived."

  I thought briefly, considering. "You know I am Witted."

  "I thought you might be," she conceded. She yawned. "And?"

  And so I launched into my tale. I told her of seeking refuge in my wolf, and how Burrich and Chade had called me back to my body. I told her of my slow recovery, and of Chade's visit. I thought she had drowsed off then, but when I tried to rise, her eyes flew open. "Sit down!" she commanded me, and when I had done so, she took my hand, is if to keep me from creeping away. "I'm listening. Go on."

  I told her of Burrich leaving, and of the Forged Ones. I explained to her how Burrich had come to believe I had died there, and returned to Molly to protect her and the child she carried. I told her of my long journey from Buck to Tradeford, and of Regal's King's Circle there. She opened one eye. "It's all a garden, now. I've plants and trees and flowers from all over the Six Duchies and beyond. Monkey-tail vine from Jamaillia, and blue- needle bush from the Spice Isles. And a lovely herb-knot in the very middle of where it used to be. You'd like it, Tom. You will like it, when you come to live with me."

  "I'm sure I'll like it," I said, scrupulously avoiding the topic of where I might or might not live. "Shall I go on, or do you want to nap now?" A gentle snore buzzed from Lacey's side of the bed. "Go on. I'm not the least bit sleepy. Go on."

  But in the midst of my telling her how I had attempted to kill Regal, she dozed off. I sat still a time longer, waiting until her grip slackened on my hand and I could slip clear of her.

  I walked silently to the door. As I lifted the latch, Lacey raised up on one elbow. There was nothing wrong with her hearing, and I suspected that despite her crooked fingers, one would still find a blade up her sleeve. So I nodded to her and left Patience sleeping as I slipped from the room.

  I went down to the guardroom and ate heartily. There is nothing like a steady diet of salt fish to make one appreciate bread and butter and cold roast fowl. My enjoyment of the meal was somewhat dampened by the knowledge that evening was drawing on. Guardsmen seemed always hungry, and no one made any comment when I carried off half a loaf of bread and a goodly wedge of cheese with me. From my meal, I went immediately to a storeroom where I helped myself to a carry basket and two sausages. I added the loaf and cheese to the basket. I took my trove up to Chade's tower room. Thick had been there. He had done a cursory dusting of the table and mantel and set out a bowl of fruit. A little fire burned on the hearth. There was a small supply of firewood in the hod, a bundle of tapers on the table, and water in the barrel. I shook my head in wonder at the man. After all he had been through, he was home for one day and still remembered his old duties. I put half a dozen yellow and purple plums into my carry basket and nested a bottle of Chade's wine between the bread and cheese. I was folding feverfew and dried willow bark into a twist of paper when I felt Chade nudge at my mind. What?

  I need to speak to the Queen, Fitz.

  Cannot you use Thick instead? I was just on my way to the Skill-pillars. This will not take long.

  I will have to find a way to arrange quiet time with Queen Kettricken.

  I have already contacted her, through Thick. The message she sent back was, yes, immediately. If you go to her private sitting room, she will come to you shortly. Very well. You seem cross.

  I am worried about the Fool. I have some things here I'd like to take back to him. Fresh fruit and herbs for fever.

  I understand, Fitz. But this should not take long. Then, you can sleep the night through, and go in the morning. Very well. I released our contact. Very well. And what else could I have said? He was right. Many of the thoughts Dutiful had conveyed to his mother would have been difficult for Thick to grasp, let alone pass on. I tried not to resent the time it stole from me. The Fool would be fine, I told myself. He had been through the changes before, and who better than the Black Man to tend him? He had even told me that he needed time apart from me, time to think. Time to think without watching the face of someone who had witnessed what had befallen you. Besides, it was better that I serve this duty than Nettle, I told myself sternly. She needed to be home, with her family, and doubtless her family needed her there. I found a clean piece of cloth and covered the bread. I went down the long dim stairs to wait upon the Queen. It did not take a short time. Chade and Dutiful were quarreling, and Chade had attempted to steal a march upon the Prince by contacting the Queen first. He and the Prince were to board the ship to sail home tomorrow afternoon. The Narcheska was to have come with them, but earlier in the day, she had gone to Dutiful and begged that she might have three more months in the company of her family before she left them to come to Buckkeep. The Prince had granted it to her, privately, without consulting Chade.

  Very privately, Chade seethed, and I wondered if he intended that I pass on to the Queen that the asking of the boon and the granting of it had occurred in a setting of an intimacy of which the councilor did not approve. "Very discreetly was this matter discussed between the Prince and the Narcheska," was what I told her. "I see," she replied, and I wondered if she did.

  As of yet, there has been no public announcement. It is not too late for us to retract this permission. I fear it will throw all our plans awry if the girl is allowed to stay here. For one thing, it will mean that when she arrives, if she keeps her promise to arrive at all, it will be in the storms of winter rather than in time for the nuptials to be celebrated with the autumn harvest. The Prince will be returning to his nobles without a bride, indeed, with nothing visible to show for the time and expense of this expedition. If, as we have hoped, you planned to press for the Dukes to declare him King-in-Waiting, this will be a lackluster event to base it on. Tales of dragons rescued and dragon heads on hearthstones will mean little to nobles who have seen not so much as a scale of a dragon, let alone the bride and alliance won by such valor. And I fear the longer the Narcheska lingers among her women here, the harder they will make it for her to depart from them. Their reluctance to give her up has grown hourly. They mourn her as one going to her death, as vanishing from their world forever. When these thoughts had been delivered to the Queen, she suggested to Chade, "Perhaps, then, it would be wiser to give her more time to bid her people farewell. Please add many assurances that visitors will always be welcome, and that she will periodically return to visit there, as well. Have you extended welcome to any of her clan who wish to accompany her, not just to witness the wedding, but to stay on that she need not feel so alone here?"

  As I passed her words on to Chade, I was reminded starkly of how alone Kettricken had been when she jou
rneyed from the mountains, without so much as a personal maid to accompany her. Did she recall her early days of being alone in a foreign court where no one spoke her mother tongue or recognized her customs? It is a part of the difficulty. As I understand it, a woman's bond to her land is sacred. The women in line to rule their mothershouses seldom leave their homeland at all. They live on it, die on it, and go back into it. All that goes into a woman or comes forth from her is expected to stay on her own lands. So, no women of power will travel with her when she comes to Buckkeep. Peottre will accompany her, and perhaps a couple of her male cousins. Arkon Bloodblade will come, and a goodly number of leaders from other clans will come, to confirm the trade alliances they have formed with our visiting nobles. But she will not have an entourage of servants and ladies.

  "I see," Kettricken replied slowly. We were alone in her sitting room. She had poured wine for us, and the glasses rested, neglected, on the low table. The room had been restored since last I saw it. As ever, Kettricken sought her peace in simplicity. A single flower floated in a low pottery dish and the candles were shielded to a gentle glow. The candles released a calming perfume into the air, but Kettricken was tense as a treed cat. She saw me looking at her hands clenched on the edge of the table and carefully relaxed them. "Does Chade hear all that I say to you?" she asked me softly.

  "No. He is not with me that way, not riding with me as Verity used to do. That takes a great deal of concentration. And demands a total loss of privacy of thought. I have not invited him to do that. So, he hears only what you tell me to say to him."

  Her shoulders lowered a trifle as she relaxed. "Sometimes my councilor and I are at odds. When we spoke through Nettle… well. It was difficult, for Chade and I were both being so circumspect, taking care not to involve her in matters far beyond her ability or need to understand. But now you are here." She lifted her head slightly. Almost, she smiled. "I take strength from you, FitzChivalry. In an odd way, when you Skill for me, you serve me as a Queen's Man." She drew herself up straight. "Tell Chade that in this matter, the Prince's word to his affianced one will not be compromised. If he feels winter is not an auspicious time for this wedding, then let us offer to postpone it until spring, when the crossing will doubtless be safer and more pleasant for the Narcheska. In the matter of the Prince being hailed as King-in-Waiting, well, that has always been up to his dukes. If he must bring home a woman as trophy for them to find him worthy of the title, then the title means little to me. He will, eventually, reign over them. It is my opinion that his kindness and consideration to his future bride may well strengthen this alliance rather than be seen as weakness." She paused, as if thinking, pinching her lips firmly together. Then, "Tell him that, please." She took up her wineglass and sipped from it. This is not wise, Fitz. Cannot you reason with her? The Prince is besotted with Elliania. He must be made to see that it is more important to both their futures that he now gratifies the wishes of his dukes rather than his bride's mother. The sooner this marriage is a reality, the sooner they will see him as a man approaching kingship rather than a boy-prince. He is far too impetuous, following the impulse of his heart when the good of the Six Duchies demands that only his head make his decisions. Make her understand, Fitz, that we have spent the summer doing the Narcheska's will, and now it is time for his dukes to see that they still have his heart, and that their regard is more important to him than the well-wishes of the Out Islands.

  I pondered his words for a moment and then opened my eyes to the Queen's anxious gaze. "This is what Chade thinks," I said, and relayed the gist of the message.

  The subtlety was not lost on Kettricken. "And what do you think, FitzChivalry?"

  I bowed my head to her. "I think you are the Queen. And that Prince Dutiful will someday be King."

  "Then you counsel me to ignore my councilor's advice and give support to my son?"

  "My lady queen, I am very glad that I do not have to give you advice in this area."

  She almost smiled. "You do if I ask you for it."

  I was silent for quite a time, thinking furiously.

  "Is your chair uncomfortable?" she asked solicitously. "You shift as if it is full of fire ants." I settled back into it resolutely. "I would find a way between, my lady. It would please his dukes if the Prince were wed and an heir produced, but he is still very young, not even of an age to be a King-in-Waiting. The nuptials and the title can, perhaps, wait. Let the Narcheska have her time with her mother and sister. I have been there and seen how power is wielded. Although Oerttre is Narcheska still, for she is alive, for Elliania to depart will be as profound an abdication as when my father passed the crown to Verity. Some will dispute who should next inherit the title. While she is a presence there, she can make firm her younger sister's claim. And I think it would be in the Six Duchies' best interest to see that her line of the family remains securely in power. Our dukes can be placated in other ways. Trade is what will enrich their coffers, and the Narwhal and Boar clans are not the only ones interested in what we have to offer them. Throw wide the gates. Invite their kaempras, their warrior leaders. Men all, they will not scruple to leave their mothershouses, if by doing so they can gain a trade advantage. Let that be what we celebrate this autumn harvest. Begin now to plan a Harvest Fest that will display for them the riches of our Six Duchies. Encourage the dukes to attend, with their families and nobles of their duchies. Celebrate the trade alliances now, and let the wedding be the capstone when it occurs." Kettricken leaned back in her chair and regarded me carefully. "And when did you learn to be so sagacious, FitzChivalry?"

  "A wise old man taught me that diplomacy is the velvet glove that cloaks the fist of power. Persuasion, not force, works best and lasts longest. Make this alliance in the dukes' best interest and they will be eager to welcome and honor the Narcheska when she arrives."

  I did not add that he had taught me that when he had been content to move behind the walls of Buckkeep and manipulate the throne unseen.

  "Would that he still recalled that. Tell him your thoughts, but phrase them as if they were mine." I longed not to be a party to Chade's haggling with the Queen, but there was no way to avoid it. I witnessed, more clearly than I wished, the subtle way in which they wrestled for the power of the Farseer throne. Age and experience of the Six Duchies were on Chade's side. I winced as several times he insisted that it was her Mountain upbringing that blinded Kettricken to the political necessity of showing the Out Islands a strong will. I had known that Chade had amassed power to himself. I do not think he meant any ill; I believe that he genuinely felt that he fought for the best interests of the Six Duchies. Had I manipulated the power of the throne for that long, doubtless I too would have felt a proprietary right to it. At the same time, I saw too clearly that if Kettricken did not stand firm, Dutiful could inherit a hollow crown.

  And so, against my will, I began to make suggestions to Kettricken that would outflank Chade and to throw my strength toward her side. It was not long before Chade was aware of it, I am sure. And yet the wily old badger only seemed to relish the game more as he heaped objections and possibilities ever higher. Night deepened and then ventured toward dawn. The old man seemed tireless in his arguments, but I was not, and I watched my queen's pallor grow.

  Finally, during a pause in a very convoluted argument in which Chade had been sorting dukes and Outislander kaempras into sets and predicting where each group would side, my weariness got the better of me.

  "Just tell him no," I suggested. "Tell him the Prince has given his word to his fiancee, and it will not be abrogated by you or by Chade. Tell him that if it is an error, it is the Prince's error, and learning the consequences of errors is one of the best tutors that any young ruler can have."

  My throat was hoarse and my mouth dry with talking. My head seemed too big and heavy for my neck and my eyeballs to have been rolled in sand. I reached for the wine bottle to pour us each a little more, but as I extended my hand, Kettricken seized it in both of her own. I lifted my e
yes to hers, startled. Her blue gaze burned as I had never seen it blaze before; it made her eyes seem dark and a little wild.

  "You tell him, Sacrifice. Do not say it comes from me. I wish you to tell him it is your decision. That as the rightful if uncrowned King, this is what you decree."

  I blinked and stared. "I… cannot."

  "Why not?"

  The answer did not make me feel brave. "If once I take that stance, I cannot step aside from it. If once I declare myself so to Chade, then I must ever guard that right, the right of final say, from him."

  "Until Dutiful puts on his full crown. Yes."

  "My life would never be my own again."

  "This is the life that has always waited for you. This is your life, your own life, which you have never taken up. Take it up now."

  "Have you discussed this with Dutiful?"

  "He knows that I regard you as Sacrifice. When I told him that, he did not dispute it."

  "My queen, I…" I pressed the heels of my hands to my throbbing temples. I wanted to say I had never even considered such a role. But I had. I had come two breaths from it on the night King Shrewd died. I had been ready to step up and seize the power of the throne. Not for myself, but to guard it for the Queen until Verity returned. I teetered on accepting the shadow crown she offered. Was it truly hers to give?

  Chade pushed into my thoughts. It is late and I am an old man. Enough of this. Tell her—

  No. It was not hers to give. It was mine to take.No, Chade. Our prince has given his word, and it will not be abrogated by any of us. If it is an error, it is the Prince's error, and learning the consequences of errors is one of the best tutors that any young ruler can have.

  Those are not the Queen's words.

  No. They are mine.

  A long absence of thought followed my words. I could feel Chade there, I could almost sense his steady breathing as he stacked up my words and considered them from every angle. When next he touched minds with me, I could feel his smile, and strangely, the welling of his pride. Well. After fifteen years, do we finally have a true Farseer on the throne again?