by Robin Hobb
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 where 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 me. 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 take not 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 on 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 afterwards.’
‘Do you find it so?’
‘Yes. But it could be the circumstances. Yet Verity seemed often depressed, and he uses 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 to the 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.’
Without a doubt, the time that I spent under Galen’s tutelage was the worst period of my life at Buckkeep. But the week that followed that night with Chade runs a close second. We were an ant-hill, kicked apart. No matter where I went in the keep, there were constant reminders that the foundations of my life had been shattered. Nothing would ever be as it was before.
There was a great influx of folk from the Inland duchies, come to witness Regal becoming King-in-Waiting. Had not our stables been so depleted already, it would have taxed Burrich and Hands to keep up with them. As it was, it seemed as if Inlanders were everywhere, tall, tow-headed Farrow men, and brawny Tilth farmers and cattlemen. They were a bright contrast to the glum Buckkeep soldiers with their mourning-cropped hair. Not a few clashes occurred. The grumble from Buckkeep Town took the form of jests comparing the invasion of the Inlanders to the raids of the Outislanders. The humour had always a bitter edge.
For the counterpoint to this influx of folk and business in Buckkeep Town was the outflow of goods from Buckkeep. Rooms were stripped shamelessly. Tapestries and rugs, furniture and tools, supplies of all kinds were drained out of the keep, to be loaded on barges and taken upriver to Tradeford, always to be ‘kept safe’ or ‘for the comfort of the King’. Mistress Hasty was at her wits’ end to house so many guests when half the furniture was being hauled off to barges. Some days it seemed that Regal was attempting to see that all he could not carry off with him was devoured before he left.
At the same time, he was sparing no expense to be sure that his crowning as King-in-Waiting would be as full of pomp and ceremony as possible. I truly did not know why he bothered with it at all. To me, at least, it seemed plain he planned on abandoning four of the six duchies to their own devices. But as the Fool had once warned me, there was no point to trying to measure Regal’s wheat with my bushels. We had no common standard. Perhaps to insist the dukes and nobles of Bearns and Rippon and Shoaks come to witness him assume Verity’s crown was some subtle form of revenge I could not understand. Little enough did he care what hardship it worked upon them to come to Buckkeep at a time when their shores were so beleaguered. I was not surprised that they were slow to arrive, and that when they did, they were shocked at the sacking of Buckkeep. Word of Regal’s plan to remove himself and the King and Kettricken had not been spread to the Coastal duchies by any other means than
rumour.
But long before the Coastal dukes arrived, while I still endured the greater general chaos, the rest of my life began to rattle into pieces. Serene and Justin began to haunt me. I was aware of them, often physically following me, but just as often Skilling at the edges of my consciousness. They were like pecking birds come after any loose thoughts I might have, snatching at casual daydreams or any unguarded moment of my life. That was bad enough. But I saw them now as only the distraction, the diversion created to keep me from being aware of Will’s more subtle haunting. So I set my guards most strongly about my mind, knowing well I probably shielded out Verity as well. I feared this was their actual intent, but dared reveal that fear to no one. I watched constantly behind myself, using every sense Nighteyes and I possessed. I vowed I would be more wary, and set myself the task of discovering what the other coterie members worked at. Burl was at Tradeford, ostensibly helping prepare the place for King Shrewd’s comfort. I had no idea where Carrod was, and there was no one I could ask discreetly. The only thing I could discover for certain was that he was no longer on the Constance. So I worried. And became almost mad with worry that I did not detect Will shadowing after me any more. Did he know I had become aware of him? Or was he so good I could not detect him? I began to live my life as if every move I made were watched.
Horses and breeding stock were not all that was taken from the stables. Burrich told me one morning that Hands was gone. He had not time to bid anyone goodbye. ‘They took the last of the good stock yesterday. The best is long gone, but these were good horses, and they were taking them overland to Tradeford. Hands was simply told he was to go along. He came to me, protesting, but I told him to go. At least the horses will have well-trained hands taking care of them in their new home. Besides, there is nothing for him here. There is no stable left for anyone to be Stablemaster over.’
I followed him silently on what had once been our morning rounds. The mews held only ancient or injured birds. The clamour of dogs had been reduced to a sparse baying and a few yips. The horses that remained were the unsound, the almost promising, the past their prime, the injured that had been kept in the hopes of breeding something from them. When I came to Sooty’s empty stall, my heart stood still. I could not speak. I leaned on her manger, my face in my hands. Burrich put a hand on my shoulder. When I looked up at him, he smiled oddly. He shook his cropped head. ‘They came for her and Ruddy yesterday. I told them they were fools, they had taken them last week. And truly they were fools, for they believed me. They did get your saddle.’
‘Where?’ I managed to ask.
‘Better you don’t know,’ Burrich said darkly. ‘One of us dangling as a horse thief would be quite enough.’ No more would he say of it to me.
A late afternoon visit to Patience and Lacey was not the quiet interlude I had hoped for. I knocked, and there was an uncharacteristic pause before the door was opened. I found the sitting room in a shambles, worse than I had ever seen it, and Lacey dispiritedly trying to put things to rights. A great many more things were on the floor than usual.
‘A new project?’ I hazarded, attempting a bit of levity.
Lacey looked at me glumly. ‘They came this morning to take my lady’s table away. And my bed. They claimed they were needed for guests. Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, with so much of the rest of the things gone upriver. But I greatly doubt that we’ll see either item again.’
‘Well, perhaps they’ll be waiting for you when you get to Tradeford,’ I suggested inanely. I had not realized the whole extent of the liberties Regal was taking.
There was a very long silence before Lacey spoke. ‘Then they’ll wait a long time, FitzChivalry. We are not among those to be taken to Tradeford.’
‘No. We’re among the odd folk to be left here, with the oddments of furniture.’ This from Patience as she abruptly re-entered the room. Her eyes were red and her cheeks pale, and I suddenly knew she had hidden herself when I first knocked until she had her tears under control.
‘Then surely you shall return to Withywoods,’ I suggested. My mind was working very swiftly. I had assumed that Regal was moving the entire household to Tradeford. Now I wondered who else was to be abandoned here. I put myself at the head of the list. I added Burrich and Chade. The Fool? Perhaps that was why he seemed lately to be Regal’s creature. That he might be allowed to follow the King to Tradeford.
Odd, how I had not even considered that the King and Kettricken were to be whisked not only out of Chade’s reach, but mine. Regal had renewed his orders confining me to Buckkeep itself. I had not wanted to trouble Kettricken to override them. I had, after all, promised Chade not to make waves.
‘I cannot return to Withywoods. August rules there, the King’s nephew, he who was head of Galen’s coterie, before his accident. He has no fondness for me, and I have no right to demand to be there. No. We shall be staying here, and making the best we can of it.’
I floundered for whatever comfort I could offer. ‘I have a bed still. I shall have it brought down here for Lacey. Burrich will help me bring it.’
Lacey shook her head. ‘I’ve made up a pallet, and I’ll be comfortable enough. Keep it where it is. Perhaps they daren’t take it from you. Were it down here, no doubt it would just be carried off tomorrow.’
‘Has King Shrewd no care for what is happening?’ Lady Patience asked of me sadly.
‘I do not know. All are turned away from his door these days. Regal has said he is too ill to see anyone.’
‘I thought perhaps it was just me he would not see. Ah, well. Poor man. To lose two sons, and see his kingdom come to this. Tell me, how is Queen Kettricken? I have not had a chance to go see her.’
‘Well enough, last I saw her. Grieved by her husband’s death, of course, but …’
‘Then she was not injured in her fall? I feared she would miscarry.’ Patience turned aside from me, to gaze at a wall bereft of a familiar tapestry. ‘I was too cowardly to go and see her myself, if you would know the truth. I know too well the pain of losing a child before you have held it in your arms.’
‘Her fall?’ I said stupidly.
‘Had not you heard? On those awful steps coming down from the Queen’s Garden. There was talk that some statuary had been removed from the gardens, and she had gone up to see what, and on her way back down she fell. Not a great tumbling fall, but heavily. On her back on those stone steps.’
I could not keep my mind on Patience’s conversation after that. Much of it centred on the depletion of the libraries, a thing I did not wish to think of anyway. As soon as I graciously could, I excused myself, on the flimsy promise that I would bring them direct word of the Queen.
I was turned away from Kettricken’s door. Several ladies told me at once not to fret, not to worry, she was fine, but she needed to rest, oh, but it was terrible … I endured enough to be sure that she had not miscarried, then fled.
But I did not go back to Patience. Not yet. Instead, I slowly climbed the stairs to the Queen’s Garden. I carried a lamp with me, and went most carefully. On the tower top, I found it was as I had feared. The smaller and more valuable of the statuary had been removed. Only the sheer weight had saved the larger pieces, I was sure. The missing bits took away the careful balance of Kettricken’s creation, and added to the desolation of the garden in winter. I shut the door carefully behind me and went down the steps. Ever so slowly. Ever so carefully. On the ninth step down, I found it. I nearly discovered it as Kettricken had. But I caught my balance and then crouched low to study the step. Lamp-black had been mixed with the grease, to take the sheen off it and blend it with the well-used steps. It was right where the foot would most naturally fall, especially if one were hastening down the stairs in a temper. Close enough to the tower top that a slip could be blamed on slush or mud from the gardens still on a shoe. I rubbed at the black on the step that came off on my fingers, then sniffed at it.
‘A fine bit of pork fat,’ observed the Fool. I leapt to my feet and nearly fell
down the steps. A wild pinwheeling of my arms brought my balance back.
‘Interesting. Do you think you could teach me to do that?’
‘Not funny, Fool. I have been followed of late, and my nerves are a jangle.’ I peered down the stairwell into the darkness. If the Fool had crept up on me, could not Will? ‘How’s the King?’ I demanded quietly. If this attempt had been made on Kettricken, I had no faith in Shrewd’s safety.
‘You tell me.’ The Fool stepped out of the shadows. Gone were his fine clothes, replaced with an old motley of blue and red. It went well with the new bruises that mottled one side of his face. On his right cheek, the flesh had been split. One arm carried the other close to his chest. I suspected a dislocated shoulder.
‘Not again,’ I gasped.
‘Exactly what I said to them. They paid small attention. Some folk just have not the knack of conversation.’
‘What happened? I thought you and Regal …’
‘Yes, well, not even a Fool can seem stupid enough to please Regal. I did not wish to leave King Shrewd’s side today. They were questioning him relentlessly about what had happened the night of the feast. I became perhaps a trifle too witty in suggesting other ways they might amuse themselves. They threw me out.’
My heart sank in me. I was sure I knew exactly which guard had assisted him out the door. It was as Burrich had always warned me. One could never know what Regal might dare. ‘What did the King tell them?’
‘Ah! Not, was the King all right? or was the King recovering? No. Only “what did the King tell them?” Do you fear your precious hide is in danger, princeling?’
‘No.’ I could feel no resentment at his question, or even how he phrased it. I deserved it. I had not taken good care of our friendship lately. Despite that, when he needed help, he had come to me. ‘No. But as long as the King says nothing of Verity being alive, then Regal has no reason to …’
‘My king was being … taciturn. It had started out as a pleasant conversation between father and son, with Regal telling him how pleased he should be to have him finally as King-in-Waiting. King Shrewd was rather vague, as he often is these days. Something about it irritated Regal, and he began to accuse him of not being pleased, or even being opposed. Finally he began to insist there was a plot, a conspiracy to see that he never came to the throne. No man is so dangerous as the man who cannot decide what he fears. Regal is that man. Even Wallace was put ajar by his rantings. He had brought the King one of his brews, to deaden his mind along with his pain, but as he brought it near, Regal dashed it from his hands. He then spun on the poor trembling Wall’s Ass and accused him of being part of the conspiracy. He claimed Wallace had intended to drug our king to keep him from speaking what he knew. He ordered Wallace from the room, saying the King would have no need of him until he had seen fit to speak plainly to his son. He ordered me out as well, then. My reluctance to leave was overcome by a couple of his hulking Inland ploughmen.’