The Complete Farseer Trilogy Omnibus

by Robin Hobb

  Justin leaped to his feet with a shriek and I braced myself for his onslaught. He fooled me, though. He fled squealing down the hall and I followed, knife in hand. He sounded just like a pig, and he was incredibly fast. No fox-tricks for Justin, he favoured the most direct route to the Great Hall, shrieking all the way. I laughed as I ran. Even now it seems to me incredible to recall that, but I cannot deny it. Did he suppose Regal would draw sword to defend him? Did he think, having killed my king, that anything in the world could stand between me and him?

  In the Great Hall, musicians had been playing and folk dancing, but Justin’s entrance put an end to that. I had gained on him so that there were scarce a score of steps between us when he caromed into one of the laden tables. Folk were still standing shocked at his entrance when I leaped on him and pulled him down. I punched the knife in and out of him half a dozen times before anyone thought they should interfere. As Regal’s Farrow-bred guards reached for me, I flung his twitching body into them, found a table at my back, and leaped onto it. I held up my dripping blade. ‘The King’s knife!’ I told them, and showed it round. ‘Taking blood in vengeance for the King’s death. That is all!’

  ‘He’s mad!’ someone cried. ‘Verity’s death has driven him mad!’

  ‘Shrewd!’ I cried in fury. ‘King Shrewd has fallen to treachery this night!’

  Regal’s Inlander guards hit my table in a wave. I had not thought there were that many of them. We all went down in a wave of food and crockery. Folk were screaming, but as many surged forwards to witness as retreated in horror. Hod would have been proud of me. With the King’s belt knife, I held off three men with short swords. I danced, I leaped, I pirouetted. I was much too fast for them and the cuts they did inflict on me caused me no pain. I scored two good slashes on two of them, simply because they did not think I would dare lunge close enough to inflict them.

  Somewhere back in the crowd, someone raised a cry. ‘Arms! To the Bastard! They are killing FitzChivalry!’ A struggle began but I could not see who was involved, nor give it any attention at all. I stabbed one of the guards in the hand and he dropped his blade. ‘Shrewd!’ Someone cried above the din. ‘King Shrewd is slain!’ By the sounds of the other struggle, more folk were becoming involved. I could not look to see. I heard another table crash to the floor, and a scream across the room. Then Buckkeep’s own guard came pouring into the room. I heard Kerf’s voice raised above the general din. ‘Separate them! Quell it! Try not to spill blood in the King’s own hall!’ I saw my attackers ringed, saw Blade’s look of consternation as he saw me and then cried out over his shoulder, ‘It’s FitzChivalry! They’re trying to take down the Fitz!’

  ‘Separate them! Disarm them!’ Kerf butted heads with one of Regal’s guards, dropping him. Beyond him I saw knots of struggling break out as Buck guards fell on Regal’s personal guard, battering blades down, and demanding that swords be sheathed. I had space for a breath, and could lift my eyes from my own struggle to see that, indeed, a great many folk had become involved, and not just guards. Fist fights had broken out amongst the guests as well. It looked to become both brawl and riot when suddenly Blade, one of our own guardsmen, shouldered between two of my attackers, sending them sprawling to the floor. He leaped forward and confronted me.

  ‘Blade!’ I greeted him with delight, thinking him an ally. Then, as I noticed his defensive stance, I told him, ‘You know I would not draw blade against you!’

  ‘I know that well, lad,’ he told me sadly, and the old soldier flung himself forward to trap me in a bear hug. I do not know who hit me on the back of the head, or with what.

  THIRTY

  Dungeons

  If a houndsman suspect that a dog-boy is using the Wit to defile and divert the hounds to his own ends, he should be watchful for these signs, if the boy speaks not overmuch to his fellows, be wary. If the hounds perk up before the boy is in sight, or whine before he has left, be watchful. If a hound will leave off his snuffing for a bitch in season, or turn aside from a bloodtrail and lie quiet at the boy’s word, be certain. Let the boy be hung, over water if possible, well away from the stables, and his body burned. Let every hound he has trained be drowned, as well as all sired by defiled hounds. A hound who has known the Wit use will neither fear nor respect any other master, but is sure to turn vicious when deprived of the Witted one. A Witted boy cannot be trusted to beat an unruly hound, nor will he suffer his Wit hound to be sold away, or used as bear-bait, no matter how old the dog. A Wit-boy will turn his master’s hounds to his own purposes, and never has any true loyalty to his master, but only to his Wit-hound.

  I woke up sometime. Of all the cruel jests fate had recently played on me, I decided that awakening was the cruellest. I lay still and catalogued my various discomforts. The exhaustion from my carris seed frenzy combined well with the exhaustion from my Skill battle with Justin and Serene. I had taken some nasty sword cuts to my right forearm, and one to my left thigh that I recalled not at all. None of them had been dressed; my sleeve and trousers were matted to my skin with dried blood. Whoever had knocked me unconscious had made sure of his work with several more blows. Other than that, I was fine. I told myself this a number of times, ignoring the trembling in my left leg and arm. I opened my eyes.

  The room I was in was small and stone. There was a pot in the corner. When I finally decided I could move, I craned my head enough to see that there was a door, with a small barred window in it. This was the light source, fed by a torch somewhere down a hallway outside. Oh. Yes. The dungeons. My curiosity satisfied, I closed my eyes again and slept. Nose to tail, I rested safe in a deep den covered over by the blowing snow. The illusion of safety was as much as Nighteyes could offer me. So weak was I that even his thoughts to me seemed misty. Safe. That was as much as he could convey.

  I awoke again. I could tell time had passed by how much thirstier I was. Other than that, everything was remarkably the same. This time I determined that the bench I was lying on was also made of stone. There was nothing between me and the stone save the clothes I wore. ‘Hey!’ I called. ‘Guards!’ There was no answer. Everything seemed a bit vague. After a time, I could not recall if I had already cried out, or if I were summoning the strength to do so. After a bit more time, I decided I did not have the strength. I went back to sleep. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

  I awoke to Patience’s voice arguing. Whoever she was arguing with wasn’t answering much, and wasn’t giving in. ‘It’s ridiculous. What are you afraid I’ll do?’ A silence. ‘I’ve known him since he was a child.’ Another silence. ‘He’s hurt. What possible damage can it do for me to at least look at his injuries? You can hang him whole as easily as you can wounded, can’t you?’ Another silence.

  After a time, I decided I might be able to move. I had a lot of bruises and scrapes I couldn’t account for, probably gained on the journey between the Great Hall and here. The worst part of moving was that it tugged my clothing against the scabbed-over cuts. I decided I could stand it. For such a small room, it was a very long way from the bed to the door. When I got there, I discovered I could just see out the little barred window. What I could see was the stone wall on the opposite side of the narrow corridor. I gripped the bars with my good left hand.

  ‘Patience?’ I croaked.

  ‘Fitz? Oh, Fitz, are you all right?’

  Such a question. I started to laugh and coughed instead, finishing with the taste of blood in my mouth. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t fine, but it wasn’t healthy for her to be too interested in me. Even as fuddled as I was, I knew that. ‘I’m all right,’ I croaked at last.

  ‘Oh, Fitz, the King is dead!’ she called to me from down the hall. The words tumbled from her in her haste to tell me all. ‘And Queen Kettricken is missing, and King-in-Waiting Regal says you are at the bottom of all of it. They say …’

  ‘Lady Patience, you’ll have to leave now,’ the guard attempted to break in. She ignored him.

  ‘… you went crazy in gr
ief over Verity’s death, and killed the King and Serene and Justin, and they don’t know what you’ve done with the Queen, and no one can …’

  ‘You cannot speak to the prisoner, madam!’ He spoke with conviction, but she paid no mind.

  ‘… find the Fool. Wallace, he’s the one, he said he saw you and the Fool quarrelling over the King’s body, and then he saw the Pocked Man, come to carry his spirit away. The man is crazy! And Regal accuses you, too, of the low magic, of having the soul of a beast! That’s how he said you killed the King. And –’

  ‘Madam! You have to leave now, or I will have to have you taken away.’

  ‘Then do that,’ Patience hissed at him. ‘I just dare you to try. Lacey, this man is bothering me. Ah! You dare to think of touching me! I, who was Chivalry’s Queen-in-Waiting! Now, Lacey, do not hurt him, he’s only a boy. A mannerless boy, but a boy nonetheless.’

  ‘Lady Patience, I beg you …’ A change of tone from the guard.

  ‘You can’t very well drag me away from here without leaving your post. Do you think I’m so stupid I can’t see that? What will you do? Attack two old women with your sword?’

  ‘Chester! Chester, where are you?’ The guard on duty bellowed. ‘Damn you, Chester!’ I could hear frustration in his voice as he yelled for his partner, who had taken a break. He was probably up in the watch-room off the kitchen. Drinking cold beer. Eating hot stew. A wave of dizziness passed over me.

  ‘Chester?’ The guard’s voice was fading. He had actually been fool enough to leave Lady Patience by his post, and go looking for his comrade. In a moment I heard the light patter of her slippers outside my door. I felt the touch of her fingers on my hand that gripped the bar. She was not tall enough to look in, and the corridor was so narrow she could not step back where I could see her. But the touch of her hand was as welcome as sunlight.

  ‘Keep watch for him coming back, Lacey,’ she directed, then spoke to me. ‘How are you, really?’ She spoke low, pitching her voice for my ears alone.

  ‘Thirsty. Hungry. Cold. In pain.’ I saw no point in lying to her. ‘What is happening in the keep?’

  ‘Complete disorder. The Buckkeep guards broke up the riot in the Great Hall, but then, outside, there was a brawl between some of the Inlanders that Regal brought in and the Buckkeep Guard. Queen Kettricken’s guard drove a wedge between them, and their officers beat their troops back into line. Still, it’s tense. The fighters weren’t all soldiers. Many a guest has a black eye or walks with a limp still. Luckily, no one amongst the guests took serious harm. Blade took about the worst injuries, they say. He went down keeping the Farrow men off you. Cracked his ribs and blacked his eyes. But Burrich says he will be all right. The lines have been drawn, however, and the dukes walk about bristling at one another like dogs.’

  ‘Burrich?’ I asked hoarsely.

  ‘Did not get involved at all,’ she said reassuringly. ‘He’s fine. If being ill-tempered and surly to all is fine. Which, for him, I suppose is normal.’

  My heart thundered inside me. Burrich. Why wasn’t he gone? I dared ask no more about him. One question too many, and Patience would get curious. So. ‘And Regal?’ I asked.

  She snorted. ‘One gets the feeling that what really irritates Regal is that he no longer has an excuse to abandon Buckkeep. Before, you know, he was taking King Shrewd and Kettricken inland so they would be safe, and gutting the castle so they might have familiar things about them. He has no such excuse now, and the Coastal dukes have demanded he stay and defend the keep, or at least put in that place a man of their choosing. He has offered his cousin Lord Bright of Farrow, but the Coastal dukes do not like him. Now that Regal finds himself suddenly a king, I do not think he is enjoying it as much as he expected to.’

  ‘Has he crowned himself then?’ A roaring threatened my ears. I stood by gripping the bars. Must not faint, I told myself. The guard would be back soon. I had only this time to hear what was going on.

  ‘We have all been much too busy burying the King, and then searching for the Queen. When the King was found dead, we were sent to wake her, but found her doors locked and no answer to our knocking. Finally Regal resorted to his men and axes again. The inner chamber door was closed and locked as well. But the Queen was gone. It is a great mystery to all of us.’

  ‘What does Regal say of it?’ My head was clearing of cobwebs. Oh, how I hurt.

  ‘Little, save that she and her child are surely dead, and you have brought it about somehow. He speaks wild charges of beast magic, saying you have slain the King with your Wit. All demand proof for his claims, and he keeps saying, soon, soon.’

  No mention of searching the roads and byways for Kettricken then. I had gambled that his Skill spies had not found out the whole of our plot. But, I cautioned myself, if he had sent out searchers, I doubted they were ordered to bring her back alive and safe.

  ‘What does Will do?’ I asked.

  ‘Will?’

  ‘Will, Hostler’s son. A member of the coterie.’

  ‘Oh. Him. I have not seen him about, that I recall.’

  ‘Ah.’ Another wave of dizziness threatened me. Suddenly logic eluded me. I knew I should ask more questions, but I could not think of what they should be. Burrich was still here, but the Queen and the Fool were gone. What had gone wrong? There was no safe way to ask Patience. ‘Does anyone else know you are here?’ I managed to ask. Surely, if Burrich had known she were coming, he would have sent a message.

  ‘Of course not! This was not an easy thing to plan, Fitz. Lacey had to get an emetic into the one guard’s food, so he would leave only one on watch. Then we had to watch for him to leave … Oh. Lacey said to bring you these. She is wise, that one.’ Her hand went away, and then came back, to fumble one, and then two small apples through the bars. They hit the floor before I could catch them. I resisted the urge to pounce on them immediately.

  ‘What do they say of me?’ I asked quietly.

  She was silent a moment. ‘Mostly, folk say that you are crazy. Some, that you were witched by the Pocked Man to bring death amongst us that night. There is some gossip that you had planned to lead a rebellion, and killed Serene and Justin because they found out about it. Others, not many, agree with Regal, saying you have the beast magic. Wallace, mostly, says such things. He declares the candles did not burn blue in the King’s chamber until you entered it. And he says the Fool was shouting that you had killed the King. But the Fool is gone, too. There have been so many omens of evil, and so many fear now …’ Her voice dwindled away.

  ‘I did not kill the King,’ I said quietly. ‘Justin and Serene did. That was why I killed them, with the King’s own knife.’

  ‘The guards are coming back!’ A hiss from Lacey. Patience ignored it.

  ‘But Justin and Serene weren’t even …’

  ‘I don’t have time to explain. It was done with Skill. But they did, Patience. I swear it.’ I paused. ‘What do they plan to do with me?’

  ‘It isn’t decided, really.’

  ‘We’ve no time for polite lies.’

  I actually heard her swallow. ‘Regal wants to hang you. He’d have had you killed right there that night, in the Great Hall, save that Blade held off his guards until the riot was quelled. Then the Coastal dukes stood up for you. Lady Grace of Rippon reminded Regal that no carrier of the Farseer blood can be put to death by sword or hanging. He did not wish to concede you were of royal blood, but too many raised a shout when he denied it. Now he swears he can show you have the Wit, and hanging is what must be done for one that uses beast magic.’

  ‘Lady Patience! You must leave now, you must, or I’m the one that will be hanging!’ The guard was back, with Chester evidently, for there were more than one set of footsteps. They were hurrying down to the cell. Patience let go of my fingers.

  ‘I will do what I can for you,’ she whispered. She had tried so hard not to let any fear come into her voice, but now it broke on those words.

  And then she was gone, scolding
at the guard like a jay bird all the way as Chester or whoever escorted her from the cells. The moment she was gone, I laboriously stooped down to gather up my apples. They were not large, and they were withered from being winter-stored, but I found them delicious. I ate even the stems. The little moisture they contained did nothing to quench my thirst. I sat on my bench for a bit, holding my head in my hands, forcing myself to stay alert. I knew I had to think, but it was terribly hard. My mind would not focus. I was tempted to pick my shirt free of the cuts on my arm, but forced myself to leave it alone. As long as they were not festering, I would not bother them. I could not afford to bleed. It took all my strength to hobble back to my door. ‘Guards!’ I croaked.

  They ignored me.

  ‘I want water. And food.’

  Where are you? Another answered my request.

  Beyond your reach, my friend. How are you?

  Fine. But I have missed you. You slept so deep, almost I thought you dead.

  Almost I thought myself dead. That night. Did you guide them to the horses?

  I did. And they left. Heart of the Pack told them I was a half-breed you had tamed. Like I was a cur, doing tricks.

  He sought to protect me, not to insult you. Why did not Heart of the Pack go with them?

  I do not know. What shall we do now?

  Wait.

  ‘Guards!’ I called again, as loudly as I was able. It wasn’t very loud.

  ‘Get back from the door.’ The man’s voice was right outside my cell. I had been so occupied with Nighteyes I had not heard him approach. I was not myself at all.

  A small panel at the bottom of the door slid open. A pot of water and a half a loaf were set inside. The panel closed again.

  ‘Thank you.’

  There was no reply. I picked them up, examined both carefully. The water smelled as if it had been standing for some time, but neither smell nor a cautious sip revealed any trace of poison. I broke the loaf into smaller pieces, looking for flecks in the dough or any discoloration. It was not fresh, but it was not poisoned in any way I could detect. And someone had eaten the other half of it. In a very short time, they were gone. I went and lay on my stone bench again, and tried to find the least uncomfortable position.