The Complete Farseer Trilogy Omnibus

by Robin Hobb

  ‘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, wiping 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 him?’

  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.

  ‘I think perhaps the present Duke of Farrow should have a care for his health,’ I mused.

  ‘He shares his older sister’s fondness for fine wine and intoxicants. Well supplied with these, and careless of all else, I suspect he will live a long life.’

  ‘As perhaps King Shrewd might?’ I ventured carefully.

  A spasm of pain twitched across the Fool’s face. ‘I doubt that a long life is left to him,’ he said quietly. ‘But what is left might be an easy one, rather than one of bloodshed and violence.’

  ‘You think it will come to that?’

  ‘Who knows what will swirl up from the bottom of a stirred kettle?’ He went suddenly to my door, and set his hand to the latch. ‘That is what I ask you,’ he said quietly. ‘To forgo your twirling, Sir Spoon. To let things settle.’

  ‘I cannot.’

  He pressed his forehead to the door, a most un-Fool-like gesture. ‘Then you shall be the death of kings.’ Grieved words in a low voice. ‘You know … what I am. I have told you. I have told you why I am here. This is one thing of which I am sure. The end of the Farseer line was one of the turning points. Kettricken carries an heir. The line will continue. This is what was needed. Cannot an old man be left to die in peace?’

  ‘Regal will not let that heir be born,’ I said bluntly. Even the Fool widened his eyes to hear me speak so plain. ‘That child will not come to power without a king’s hand to shelter under. Shrewd, or Verity. You do not believe Verity is dead. You have as much as said so. Can you let Kettricken endure the torment of believing it is so? Can you let the Six Duchies go down in blood and ruin? What good is an heir to the Farseer throne, if the throne is but a broken chair in a burned-out hall?’

  The Fool’s
shoulders slumped. ‘There are a thousand crossroads,’ he said quietly. ‘Some clear and bold, some shadows within shadows. Some are nigh on certainties; it would take a great army or a vast plague to change those paths. Others are shrouded in fog, and I do not know what roads lead out to them, or to where. You fog me, Bastard. You multiply the futures a thousandfold, just by existing. Catalyst. From some of those fogs go the blackest, twisted threads of damnation, and from others shining twines of gold. To the depths or the heights, it seems, are your paths. I long for a middle path. I long for a simple death for a master who was kind to a freakish, jeering servant.’

  He made no more rebuke than that. He lifted the latches and undid the bolts and left quietly. The rich clothing and careful walk made him appear deformed to me, as his motley and capers never had. I closed the door softly behind him and then stood leaning against it as if I could hold the future out.

  I prepared myself most carefully for dinner that evening. When I was finally dressed in Mistress Hasty’s latest set of clothes for me, I looked almost as fine as the Fool. I had decided that as yet I would not mourn Verity, nor even give the appearance of mourning. As I descended the stairs, it seemed to me that most of the keep was converging on the Great Hall this evening. Evidently all had been summoned to attend, grand folk and humble.

  I found myself seated at a table with Burrich and Hands and other of the stable-folk. It was as humble a spot as I had ever been given since King Shrewd had taken me under his wing, and yet the company was more to my liking than that of the higher tables, for the honoured tables of the Great Hall were packed with folk little known to me, the dukes and visiting nobility of Tilth and Farrow for the most part. There were a scattering of faces I knew, of course. Patience was seated as almost befitted her rank, and Lacey was actually seated at a table above me. I saw no sign of Molly anywhere. There were a scattering of folk from Buckkeep Town, most of them the well-to-do, and most of them seated more favourably than I would have expected. The King was ushered in, leaning on the newly elegant Fool, followed by Kettricken.