by Robin Hobb
‘You did try to kill me,’ Wintrow heard himself say calmly.
‘Yes. I did. I did at that.’ His father gave a baffled laugh, then gasped with the pain of it. ‘Damn me if I know why. But it certainly seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Wintrow sensed he would get no more explanation than that. Perhaps he didn’t want one. He was tired of trying to understand his father. He didn’t want to hate him. He didn’t want to feel anything for him at all. He found himself wishing his father had not existed in his life. ‘Why did it have to be this way?’ he wondered aloud.
‘You chose it,’ Kyle Haven asserted. ‘It didn’t have to be this way. If you had just tried it my way… just done as you were told, without question, we’d all be fine. Couldn’t you have, just once, trusted that someone else knew what was good for you?’
Wintrow glanced about the room as if looking about the entire ship. ‘I don’t think any of this was good for anyone,’ he observed quietly.
‘Only because you muddled it! You and the ship. If you both had cooperated, we’d be halfway to Chalced by now. And Gantry and Mild and… all of them would still be alive. You’re to blame for this, not I! You chose this.’
Wintrow tried to think of an answer to that, but none came. He began to bind his father’s head-wound as best as he could.
*
They worked her decks well, these brightly-clad pirates. Not since Ephron had sailed her had she enjoyed a crew so swiftly responsive to her. She found herself in turn accepting their competent mastery of her sails and rigging in a sort of relief. Under Brig’s direction, the former slaves moved in an orderly procession, drawing buckets of water and taking them below to clean her holds. Others pumped the filthy bilge out while still others worked with scrubbing stones on her deck. No matter how they abraded the blood stains, her wood would never release them. She knew that, but spoke no word of it. In time the humans would see the futility of it and give it up. The spilled food had been gathered and restowed. Some few worked at removing the chains and fetters that festooned her holds. Slowly they were restoring her to herself. It was the closest she had felt to content since the day she had been quickened.
Content. And there was something else she felt, something unsettling. Something much more fascinating than contentment.
She extended her awareness. In the mate’s cabin, Kyle Haven sat on the edge of the narrow bunk while his son silently washed the blood from the gash on his head. His ribs were already wrapped. There was a quiet in the room that went beyond silence, as if they did not even share a language. The silence ached. She pulled away from it.
In the captain’s salon, the pirate dozed restlessly. She was not aware of him as keenly as she was of Wintrow. But she could sense the heat of his fever, feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing. Like a moth drawn to a candle-flame, she approached him. Kennit. She tried the name on her tongue. A wicked man. And dangerous. A charming, wicked and dangerous man. She did not think she liked his woman. But Kennit himself… He had said he would win her to him. He could not, of course. He was not family. But she found that there was great pleasure in anticipating his attempts. My ladyof wood and wind, he had called her. My beauty. My swift one. Such silly things for a man to say to a ship. She smoothed her hair back from her face and took a deep breath.
Perhaps Wintrow had been right. Perhaps it was time she discovered what she wanted for herself.
36
SHE WHO REMEMBERS
‘I WAS WRONG. It is not She Who Remembers. Come away.’ ‘But… I do not understand,’ Shreever pleaded. She had a great gash down her shoulder where the white serpent had attacked her with his teeth. With his teeth, as if he were shark instead of serpent. A thick green ichor was already closing the wound, but it stung sharply as she hurried to keep pace with Maulkin. Behind them, Sessurea trailed, as puzzled as she was.
‘I do not understand either.’ Maulkin’s mane streamed behind him in the speed of his flowing. Behind them the white serpent still trumpeted mindlessly, gorging endlessly. Faint as old memories, the scent of blood wafted through the atmosphere. ‘I recall her scent. I have no doubt of her fragrance. But that… thing… is not She Who Remembers.’
Sessurea lashed his tail suddenly to draw even with them. ‘The white serpent,’ he asked suddenly, dread in his voice. ‘What was wrong with him?’
‘Nothing,’ Maulkin said in a terribly soft voice. ‘I fear nothing was wrong with him, except that he is further along in the passage we all make now. Soon, I fear, we shall all be just like him.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Shreever said again. But a cold dread was welling up in her, a sense that she would understand, if she chose to.
‘He has forgotten. That is all.’ Maulkin’s voice was devoid of any emotion.
‘Forgotten… what?’ Sessurea asked.
‘Everything,’ Maulkin said. His mane suddenly drooped, his colours dulled. ‘Everything except feeding and shedding and growing. All else, all that is real and significant, he has forgotten. As I fear we all shall forget, if She Who Remembers does not manifest herself to us soon.’ He turned abruptly, wrapping them both in his coiling embrace. They did not struggle, but took comfort in it. His touch sharpened their memories and cognizance. Together they settled slowly to the soft mud, sinking into it still entwined. ‘My tangle,’ he said fondly, and with a pang Shreever knew the truth of it. These three were all that was left of Maulkin’s tangle.
They relaxed in their leader’s embrace. Soon only their heads remained above the mud. They relaxed, their gills moved in unison. Slowly, comfortingly, Maulkin spoke the holy lore to them.
‘After the first birth, we were Masters. We grew, we learned, we experienced. And all that we learned, we shared with one another, so that wisdom ever grew greater. But no bodies are made to last for ever. So the time of mating came, and essences were exchanged and mixed and deposited. Our old bodies we lay down knowing we would take up new ones, as new beings. And we did. Small and new we emerged. We fed, we shed, and we grew. But we did not all remember. Only some. Some guarded for us the memories of all. And when the time was right, those who remembered called to us with their fragrances. They led us back, and gave us our memories. And we emerged again as Masters, to roam both Plenty and Lack, amassing still more wisdom and experience, to mingle it yet again at the time of mating.’
He paused in the familiar tale. ‘I do not recall, now, how many times this has come to pass,’ he confessed. ‘Cycle after cycle, we have survived. But this last time of shedding and growing… has not it been the longest ever? Do not more and more of us forget that we are meant to be Masters? I fear we decline, my tangle. Did I not once, long ago, recall far more than I do today? Did not you?’
His questions probed the uneasy place in Shreever’s heart. She tangled her ruff against his, daring the toxins that she might feel the sting of his memories and beings. Her thoughts came sharper to her. ‘Once, I remembered far more,’ she admitted. ‘Sometimes, I think all I remember clearly now is that you are the one to follow. The one with true memories.’
His trumpeting was deep and soft as he spoke. ‘If She Who Remembers does not come to us soon, even I may forget that,’ he cautioned her. ‘Remember this, then, above all else. That we must continue to seek She Who Remembers.’
Acknowledgements
The author would like to thank Gale Zimmerman of Software Alternatives, Tacoma, Washington for rendering swift and compassionate aid in stamping out the computer virus that nearly ate this book.
Assassin’s Apprentice
Book One of The Farseer Trilogy
Robin Hobb
A new legend begins…
In a faraway land in which members of the royal family are Named for the virtues they embody, one young boy will become a walking enigma.
Born on the wrong side of the sheets, Fitz, son of Chivalry, is a royal bastard, cast out into the world, friendless and lonely. Only his magical link with animals — that old art known as the Wit
— gives him solace and companionship. But the Wit, if used too often, is a perilous magic, and one abhorred by the nobility.
So when Fitz is taken from his warm stable and finally adopted into the royal household, he must give up his old ways and learn a new life: weaponry, scribing, courtly manners; and how to kill a man secretly, as he trains to become a royal assassin.
‘Refreshingly original’
JANNY WURTS
‘I couldn’t put this book down’
Starburst
ISBN 0 00 648009 8
Royal Assassin
Book Two of The Farseer Trilogy
Robin Hobb
‘We are here, Fitz, you and I, to change the future and the world…’
Fitz has a dream of Red-Ship Raiders sacking a coastal vilage, leaving not a single man, woman or child alive or unForged. Tortured by this terrible vision Fitz returns to the Six Duchies court where all is far from well.
King Shrewd has been struck down by a mysterious illness and King-in-waiting, Verity, spends all his time attempting to Skill storm and poor nagivation upon the Red-Ship Raiders. And when he leaves on an insane mission to seek out the mystical Elderlings, Fitz is left alone and friendless but for the wolf Nighteyes and the Kings Fool and his cryptic prophesies.
‘Grips from the opening pages… its magical heritage is convincingly detailed, the plot and characters strong.’
The Bookseller
ISBN: 0-00-648010-1
Assassin’s Quest
Book Three of The Farseer Trilogy
Robin Hobb
Keystone. Gate. Crossroads. Catalyst.
Fitz is about to discover the truth about the Fool’s prophecy. Having been resurrected from his fatal tortures in Regal’s dungeons, Fitz has once more foiled Regal’s attempts to be rid of him.
Now back in his own body, Fitz must begin the painful and slow process of learning the ways of a man again. He must learn to cast off the wild but carefree ways of the wolf and enter once more the human world: a world beset ever more viciously by the relentless Red Ship Raiders who are left free to plunder any coastal town they please. But more immediately, a world in which he finds he is utterly alone.
Unless Fitz can find Verity and help him in his quest, the Six Duchies will perish and there will be no safe place left to live…
‘Assassin’s Quest achieves a bittersweet powerful complexity rare in fantasy’
Locus
ISBN: 0-00-648011-X
The Elenium
David Eddings
His spectacular epic fantasy masterwork
The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight, The Sapphire Rose
complete in one volume
This compelling story of conflict between good and evil introduces the great Pandion Knight Sir Sparhawk, invincible warrior and master strategist, steadfast champion of Queen Ehlana. To save the life of his lovely young Queen, Sparhawk and his companions journey to the most dangerous regions of Eosia in a quest for the sacred jewel of the Troll-Gods, the Sapphire Rose.
Sparhawk and his allies must defeat the unholy triple alliance ranged against his Queen: Otha, degenerate sorcerer-king of the Zemochs; the renegade Pandion Knight Martel; and Annias, traitorous Primate of Cimmura and lover of Ehlana’s wicked aunt Arissa. But to do so, Sparhawk may have to unleash the full power of the sacred jewel — and no one can predict whether the world itself will survive.
With daring, wit and brilliant panache, David Eddings brings to vivid life the world of Eosia and its inhabitants — they will live forever in the minds of enchanted readers.
‘Sparhawk is the best-realised hero in current fantasy’
Daily Telegraph
ISBN 0 586 21867 X
This one is for
The Devil’s Paw
The Totem
The E J Bruce
The Free Lunch
The Labrador (Scales! Scales!)
The (aptly named) Massacre Bay
The Faithful (Gummi Bears Ahoy!)
The Entrance Point
The Cape St John
The American Patriot (and Cap’n Wookie)
The Lesbian Warmonger
The Anita J and the Marcy J
The Tarpon
The Capelin
The Dolphin
The (not very) Good News Bay
And even the Chicken Little
But especially for Rain Lady, wherever she may be now.
Copyright
HarperVoyager
An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London w6 8JB
www.harpervoyagerbooks.com
The paperback edition 2008 (15)
First published in Great Britain by Voyager 1998
Copyright © Robin Hobb 1998
Robin Hobb asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780007383467
EPub Version 1
THE MAD SHIP
Book II THE LIVESHIP TRADERS
Robin Hobb
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
MAP
SPRING
PROLOGUE
1 THE MAD SHIP
2 THE PIRATE’S LEG
3 THE CROWNED ROOSTER
4 BONDS
5 THE LIVESHIP OPHELIA
6 SATRAP COSGO
7 A BINGTOWN TRADER’S DAUGHTER
8 IMMERSIONS
9 BINGTOWN
10 HOMECOMING
11 JUDGEMENT
12 PORTRAIT OF VIVACIA
SUMMER
13 INTERLUDE
14 SERILLA’S CHOICE
15 TIDINGS
16 TAKING CHARGE
17 MAROONED
18 WISHES FULFILLED
19 AFTERMATH
20 PIRACY
21 SALVAGE
22 A CHANGE OF HEART
23 CONSEQUENCES
HIGH SUMMER
24 THE RINGSGOLD
25 THE LAUNCH OF THE PARAGON
26 COMPROMISES
27 KINGDOM’S FOUNDATION
28 DEPARTURE OF THE PARAGON
29 BINGTOWN CONVERGENCE
30 SHAKEDOWN
31 THE CALM
32 THE STORM
33 PROOFS
34 ORACLE
35 TREHAUG
36 DRAGON AND SATRAP
37 DEATH OF THE CITY
38 PARAGON’S CAPTAIN
39 DRAGON RISING
40 THE MEMORY OF WINGS
Copyright
Map
SPRING
PROLOGUE
A RECOLLECTION OF WINGS
BELOW THE SERPENTS, the beds of weeds swayed gently in the changing tide. The water was warm here, as warm as it had been in the south before they had migrated. Despite Maulkin’s declaration that they would no longer follow the silvery provider, her tantalizing scent hung in the saltwater. She was not far away; they trailed her still, but at a distance. Shreever considered confronting him about it, but decided against it. She eyed their leader anxiously. The injuries Maulkin had taken in his brief battle with the white serpent were healing slowly. The gouges disrupted the pattern of his scales. The golden false-eyes that ran the length of his body and proclaimed him a prophet were faded and dull.
Shreever, too, felt faded and dull.
They
had come far in search of One Who Remembers. Maulkin had been so confident at the beginning of their journey. Now he seemed as confused as she and Sessurea were. The three of them were all that remained of the great tangle of sea serpents who had begun the migration. The others in their tangle had lost faith in their quest, and had fallen away from Maulkin. The last she had seen of them, they had been following a great dark provider, feeding mindlessly on the unresisting flesh it distributed to them. That had been many tides ago.
‘Sometimes,’ Maulkin confided to Shreever quietly as they rested, ‘I lose my place in time. It seems to me that we have come this way before, done these things before, perhaps even shared these words before. Sometimes I believe it so strongly that I think today is actually a memory or a dream. I think, then, that perhaps we need do nothing, for whatever has happened to us will occur again. Or has, perhaps, already occurred.’ His voice was without strength or conviction.
She flanked him. They undulated gently in the current, finning no more than they must to maintain their position. Beneath them, Sessurea shook his mane suddenly, releasing a thin waft of toxins to alert them. ‘Look! Food!’ he bugled.
Silver and shimmering, the school of fish came gliding towards them like a blessing. Behind the fish, shadowing them and feeding from the edges of the school was another tangle of serpents. Three scarlets, a green, and two blues they were. The hunters were not a large tangle but they appeared lively and healthy. Their gleaming hides and full flesh contrasted markedly with the slipping scales and sunken sides of Maulkin’s tangle.