The Complete Farseer Trilogy Omnibus

by Robin Hobb

  I closed my eyes and we plunged into the black river again. Once more I faced the desperate young man trapped in King Shrewd’s dying body. We tumbled together in the sweeping current of the world. ‘There’s no one here. No one here but us any more.’ Shrewd sounded lonely.

  I couldn’t find myself. I had no body, no tongue here. He held me under with him in the rush and the roar. I could hardly think at all, let alone remember what little of the Skill lessons I had retained from Galen’s harsh instruction. It was like trying to recite a memorized speech while being throttled. I gave up. I gave it all up. Then from somewhere, like a feather floating in a breeze, or a mote dancing in a sunbeam, came Verity’s voice telling me, ‘Being open is simply not being closed.’

  The whole world was a spaceless place, all things inside of all other things. I did not say his name aloud or think of his face. Verity was there, had always been right there and joining him was effortless. You live!

  Of course. But you won’t, spilling all over like this. You’re pouring out everything you have in one gush. Regulate your strength. Be precise. He steadied me, shaped me back into myself, then gasped in recognition.

  Father!

  Verity pushed at me roughly. Get back! Let go of him, he hasn’t the strength for this. You’re draining him, you idiot! Let go!

  It was like being repelled but rougher. When I found myself and opened my eyes, I was sprawled on my side before the fireplace. My face was uncomfortably close to it. I rolled over, groaning, and saw the King. His lips were puffing in and out with each breath, and there was a bluish cast to his skin. Burrich and Kettricken and the Fool were a helpless circle standing about him. ‘Do … something!’ I gasped up at them.

  ‘What?’ demanded the Fool, believing I knew.

  I floundered about in my mind, came up with the only remedy I could recall. ‘Elfbark,’ I croaked. The edges of the room kept turning black. I shut my eyes and listened to them panicking about. Slowly I understood what I had done. I had Skilled.

  I had tapped my king’s strength to do it.

  You will be the death of kings, the Fool had told me. A prophecy or a shrewd guess? A Shrewd guess. Tears came to my eyes.

  I smelled elfbark tea. Plain strong elfbark, no ginger or mint to disguise it. I prised my eyes open a crack.

  ‘It’s too hot!’ hissed the Fool.

  ‘It cools quickly in the spoon,’ Burrich insisted, and ladled some into the King’s mouth. He took it in, but I did not see him swallow. With the casual expertise of years in the stables, Burrich tugged gently at the King’s lower jaw, and then stroked his throat. He ladled another spoonful into his slack mouth. Not much was happening.

  Kettricken came to crouch by me. She lifted my head to her knee, put a hot cup to my mouth. I sucked at it, too hot, I didn’t care, I sucked in air with it, noisily. I swallowed it, fought choking against its bitterness. The darkness receded. The cup came back, I sipped again. It was strong enough to nearly numb my tongue. I looked up at Kettricken, found her eyes. I managed a tiny nod.

  ‘He lives?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Yes.’ It was all I could manage.

  ‘He lives!’ She cried it out aloud to the others, joy in her voice.

  ‘My father!’ Regal shouted the words. He stood swaying in the door, face red with drink and anger. Behind him I glimpsed his guard, and little Rosemary peeping around the corner, wide-eyed. Somehow she managed to slip past the men, to race to Kettricken and clutch at her skirts. For an instant, our tableau held.

  Then Regal swept into the room, ranting, demanding, questioning but giving no one a chance to speak. Kettricken kept a protective crouch beside me, or I swear Regal’s guards would have had me again. Above me, in his chair, the King had a bit of colour again in his face. Burrich put another spoonful of tea to his lips, and I was relieved to see him sip at it.

  Regal was not. ‘What are you giving him? Stop that! I won’t have my father poisoned by a stable-hand!’

  ‘The King had another attack, my prince,’ the Fool said suddenly. His voice cut through the chaos in the room, made a hole that became a silence. ‘Elfbark tea is a common restorative. I am sure that even Wallace has heard of it.’

  The Prince was drunk. He was not sure if he was being mocked or conciliated. He glared at the Fool, who smiled benignly back.

  ‘Oh.’ He said it grudgingly, not really wishing to be mollified. ‘Well, what then of him?’ He gestured at me in anger.

  ‘Drunk.’ Kettricken stood up, letting my head drop to the floor with a convincing thump. Flashes of light marred my vision. There was only disgust in her voice. ‘Stablemaster. Get him out of here. You should have stopped him before he got this far. Next time, see that you use your judgement when he has none of his own.’

  ‘Our Stablemaster is well known for having his own taste for the cup, lady queen. I suspect they have been at it together,’ Regal sneered.

  ‘The news of Verity’s death hit him hard,’ Burrich said simply. He was true to himself, offering an explanation, but no excuse. He took hold of my shirt-front, jerked me from the floor. With no effort at play-acting, I swayed on my feet until he gripped me more firmly. I caught a passing glimpse of the Fool hastily spooning another dose of elfbark into the King. I prayed no one would interrupt him. As Burrich ushered me roughly out of the room, I heard Queen Kettricken rebuking Regal, saying he should be below with his guests, and promising that she and the Fool could get the King to bed. As we were going up the stairs, I heard Regal and his guard going down. He was still muttering and then ranting, complaining that he was not stupid, he could tell a plot when he saw one. It worried me, but I was fairly certain he had no real idea of what had been going on.

  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. But in a gentler dose. Do you have any ginger or mint or rosehips?’

  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 cosier 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 dare say it is not a danger to me.’

  ‘You offer yourself very often to those who can.’ Bluntly spoken. ‘As often as y
ou 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 bear 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 over-indulgence 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 as if 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 half-lidded. 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 as 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 draught 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 salvagework. 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 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 any more. And I am lucky if my brother is lucid for half of them.’