by Robin Hobb
The next day’s drive was almost comforting in its monotony. I paced along behind my sheep, and tried not to think. It was not as easy to do as previously. It seemed that whenever I blanked my mind to my worries, I heard Verity’s Come to me echoing inside my head. When we made camp that night, it was on the banks of a giant sinkhole with water at its centre. The talk about the fire was desultory. I think we were all more than a little weary of our trudging pace and longed to see the shores of Blue Lake. I wished simply to go to sleep, but I had first watch over the flock.
I climbed slightly up the hillside to where I could sit looking down on my woolly charges. The great bowl of the sinkhole cupped our whole caravan, with the small cook fire near the water showing like a star at the bottom of a well. Whatever wind blew passed us by, leaving us sheltered in a great stillness. It was almost peaceful.
Tassin probably thought she was being stealthy. I watched her come silently, her cloak pulled well up over her hair and about her face. She circled widely as if to pass by me. I did not follow her with my eyes, but listened to her as she went above me on the hillside and then came back down behind me. I caught her scent even in the still air and felt an involuntary anticipation. I wondered if I’d have the strength of will to refuse her a second time. Mistake it might be, but my body was all in favour of making it. When I judged her about a dozen steps away, I turned to look at her. She startled back from my gaze.
‘Tassin,’ I greeted her quietly, and then turned to look back at my sheep. After a moment, she came down the slope to stand a few steps away from me. I turned slightly and looked up at her without speaking. She pushed her hood back from her face and confronted me, challenge in her eyes and stance.
‘You’re him, aren’t you?’ she demanded breathlessly. There was a very slight edge of fear in her voice.
It was not what I’d expected her to say. I didn’t have to pretend surprise. ‘I’m him? I’m Tom the shepherd if that’s the him you mean.’
‘No, you’re him, that Wit Bastard the King’s Guard is seeking. Drew the teamster told me what they were saying in town, after Starling told that tale last night.’
‘Drew told you I was a Wit Bastard?’ I spoke carefully, as if baffled by her tumbling words. A terrible cold fear was welling up inside me.
‘No.’ A trace of anger mixed with her fear. ‘Drew told me what the King’s Guard said of him. A broken nose and a scar on the cheek and a white streak in his hair. And I saw your hair that night. You’ve a white streak in it.’
‘Any man who’s been hit on the head can have a white streak in his hair. It’s an old scar.’ I tilted my head and looked at her critically. ‘I’d say your face is healing well.’
‘You’re him, aren’t you?’ She sounded even angrier that I’d tried to change the subject.
‘Of course not. Look. He’s got a sword-slash on his arm, hasn’t he? Look at this.’ I bared my right arm for her inspection. The knife-slash I’d given myself was down the back of my left forearm. I was gambling that she’d know a slash taken defending myself should have been on my sword-arm.
She scarcely glanced at my arm. ‘Do you have any coin?’ she asked me suddenly.
‘If I’d had any coin, why would I have stayed in camp when the others went to town? Besides. Why would you care?’
‘I wouldn’t. But you would. You could use it to buy my silence. Otherwise, I might go to Madge with what I suspect. Or the teamsters.’ She lifted her chin defiantly at me.
‘Then they could look at my arm, as easily as you’ve done,’ I said wearily. I turned away from her to look back over my sheep. ‘You’re being a silly little girl, Tassin, letting Starling’s ghost tales get you all stirred up. Go back to bed.’ I tried to sound disgusted with her.
‘You’ve a scratch on your other arm. I saw it. Some might take it for a sword-slash.’
‘Probably the same ones that would take you for intelligent,’ I said derisively.
‘Don’t make mock of me,’ she warned me in a voice gone flat with ugliness. ‘I won’t be made fun of.’
‘Then don’t say stupid things. What’s the matter with you, anyway? Is this some sort of revenge? Are you angry because I wouldn’t bed you? I told you, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re pretty to look at, and I don’t doubt there’d be pleasure in touching you. But not for me.’
She spat suddenly on the ground beside me. ‘As if I’d have let you. I was amusing myself, shepherd. No more than that.’ She made a small sound in her throat. ‘Men. How can you look at yourself and think anyone would want you for your own sake? You stink of sheep, you’re skinny and your face looks like you’ve lost every fight you’ve ever been in.’ She turned on her heel, then seemed to abruptly remember why she’d come. ‘I won’t tell any of them. Yet. But when we get to Blue Lake, your master must pay you something. See you bring it to me, or I’ll have the whole town seeking you out.’
I sighed. ‘Whatever amuses you, I’m sure you’ll do. Create all the fuss you wish. When it comes to naught and folk laugh about it, it will probably give Dell one more reason to beat you.’
She turned away from me and went stalking off down the hillside. She lost her footing in the moonlight’s uncertainty and nearly took a tumble. But she recovered herself and then glared back at me, as if daring me to laugh. I had no such inclination. Despite my defiance of her, my stomach was clenched up under my throat. A hundred gold coins. Spread a rumour of it, and that much money was enough to start a riot. After I was dead, they’d probably decide they had the wrong man.
I wondered how well I’d do at crossing the rest of the Farrow plains alone. I could leave right after Creece relieved me on watch. I’d go to the wagon and get my things quietly and sneak away into the night. How much farther could it be to Blue Lake anyway? I was pondering that as I watched yet another figure slip away from the campsite and come up the slope toward me.
Starling came quietly, but not stealthily. She lifted a hand to me in greeting before she sat down companionably at my side. ‘I hope you didn’t give her any money,’ she greeted me affably.
‘Umph,’ I said, letting her take it however she wished.
‘Because you’re at least the third man who’s supposedly got her pregnant on this trip. Your master had the honour of being the first accused. Madge’s son was the second. At least I think he was. I don’t know how many fathers she’s selected for this possible child.’
‘I haven’t been with her, so she could scarcely accuse me of that,’ I said defensively.
‘Oh? Then you’re probably the only man in the caravan who hasn’t.’
That jolted me a bit. Then I thought about it and wondered if I would ever reach a place in which I ceased finding out how stupid I could be. ‘So you think she’s with child and is looking for a man to buy her out of her apprenticeship?’
Starling snorted. ‘I doubt she’s with child at all. She wasn’t asking to be married, only for coin to buy herbs to shake the child loose. I think Madge’s boy might have actually given her some. No. I don’t think she wants a husband, just some money. So she looks for ways that allow her a bit of a tumble, and a man who might pay her for it afterwards.’ She shifted, tossed aside an offending stone. ‘So. If you haven’t got her pregnant, what have you done to her?’
‘I told you. Nothing.’
‘Ah. That explains why she speaks so ill of you then. But only in the last day or so, so I supposed you “nothinged” her the night the rest of us went to town.’
‘Starling,’ I began warningly, and she raised a placating hand.
‘I shan’t say a word about whatever you didn’t do to her. Not another word. That’s not what I came up here to speak to you about anyway.’
She paused, and when I refused to ask the question, she did. ‘What do you plan to do after we get to Blue Lake?’
I glanced at her. ‘Collect my pay. Have a beer and a decent meal, a hot bath and a clean bed for one night at least. Why? What do you plan?’
&
nbsp; ‘I thought I might go on to the Mountains.’ She gave me a sideways glance.
‘To seek your songworthy event there?’ I tried to keep my question casual.
‘Songs are more likely to be found clinging to a man than bound to a place,’ she suggested. ‘I thought you might be going to the Mountains as well. We could travel together.’
‘You’ve still that idiotic notion that I’m the Bastard,’ I accused her flatly.
She grinned. ‘The Bastard. The Witted one. Yes.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I said flatly. ‘And even if you were right, why follow him to the Mountains? I’d take the chance for a bigger profit, and sell him to the King’s Guard. With a hundred gold pieces, who’d need to make songs?’
Starling made a small sound of disgust. ‘You’ve more experience of the King’s Guard than I have, I’m sure. But even I’ve enough to know that a minstrel who tried to claim that reward would probably be found floating in the river a few days later. While some guardsmen became suddenly very wealthy. No. I’ve told you. I’m not after gold, Bastard. I’m after a song.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ I warned her sharply. She shrugged and turned away. After a moment she twitched as if I’d poked her and then turned back to me with a grin widening across her face.
‘Ah. I believe I’ve worked it out. That’s how Tassin was squeezing you, isn’t it? Asking for money to still her tongue.’
I made no reply.
‘You’re smart to refuse her. Give her any and she’ll think she’s right. If she truly believed you were the Bastard, she’d be holding her secret to sell to the King’s Guard. Because she’s had no experience of them, and would believe she might actually get to keep the gold.’ Starling stood, stretching leisurely. ‘Well. I’m back to bed while I may. But keep my offer in mind. I doubt you’ll find a better one.’ She swirled her cloak about herself theatrically, then bowed to me as if I were the King. I watched her stroll away from me down the hill, sure-footed as a goat even in the moonlight. She reminded me briefly of Molly.
I considered slipping away from the camp and going on to Blue Lake on my own. I decided that if I did, Tassin and Starling would only become certain that they had guessed correctly. Starling might try to follow and find me. Tassin would try to find a way to collect the reward. I wanted neither of those things. Better to stick it out and plod along as Tom the shepherd.
I lifted my eyes to the night sky. Clear and cold it arched above me. The dead of the night had a nasty chill to it of late. By the time I got to the Mountains, winter would be more than just a threat. If only I hadn’t wasted those early months of summer being a wolf, I’d be in the Mountains by now. But that was another useless thought. The stars were close and bright tonight. It made the world seem a smaller place to have the sky so close. I felt suddenly that if I just opened up and reached for Verity, I would find him there, right at my fingertips. Loneliness swelled so suddenly inside me that I felt it would tear its way out of me. Molly and Burrich were no farther away than the closing of my eyes. I could go to them, could trade the hunger of not knowing for the pain of being unable to touch. The Skill walls, clutched so closely every waking moment since I had left Tradeford, now felt suffocating rather than shielding. I bowed my head to my drawn-up knees and hugged myself against the chill emptiness of the night.
After a time, the hunger passed. I lifted my head and looked out over the peaceful sheep, the cart and wagons, the motionless camp. A glance at the moon told me my watch was well over. Creece was never good about rousing himself to take his turn. So I stood and stretched and went down the hill to poke him from his warm blankets.
The next two days passed uneventfully, save that the weather grew colder and windier. On the evening of the third, just as we had settled for the night and I had taken up my first watch of the evening, I saw a dust cloud on the horizon. I thought little of it at first. We were on one of the more travelled caravan routes, and had stopped at a watering place. A wagon full of a tinker family had already been there. I assumed that whoever was raising the dust would also be seeking a water-place to rest for the night. So I sat and watched the dust get closer as the evening darkened. Slowly the dust resolved into figures on horseback, riding in an orderly formation. The closer they came, the more certain I became. King’s Guards. The light was too weak for me to see the gold and brown of Regal’s colours, but I knew.
It was all I could do to keep myself from leaping up and fleeing. Cold logic told me that if they were seeking me specifically, it would only take them a few minutes to ride me down. This vast plain offered me no near hiding places. And if they were not seeking me, to flee would only attract their attention, and make both Tassin and Starling certain in their suspicions. So I gritted my teeth and remained where I was, sitting with my stick across my knees watching the sheep. The riders bypassed me and the sheep and went directly to the water. I counted as they went past. Six of them. I recognized one of the horses, a buckskin colt Burrich had said would be a good courser someday. Seeing him reminded me too vividly of how Regal had plundered Buckkeep of every valuable thing before he left it to fend for itself. A tiny spark of anger ignited in me, one that somehow made it easier to sit and bide my time.
After a while, I decided that they were just on their way as we were, and had stopped only to water and rest for the night. Then Creece came lumbering out to find me. ‘You’re wanted in the camp,’ he told me with ill-conceived irritability. Creece always liked to sleep as soon as he’d eaten. I asked him what had changed our schedule as he settled down in my place.
‘King’s Guards,’ he huffed angrily. ‘Pushing everybody about, demanding to see every member of our caravan. They searched all the wagons, too.’
‘What are they looking for?’ I asked idly.
‘Damned if I know. Didn’t care to get a fist in the face for asking, either. But you suit yourself about finding out.’
I took my staff with me as I walked back into the camp. My short sword still hung at my side. I thought of concealing it, then decided against it. Anyone might carry a sword, and if I needed to draw it, I didn’t want to be wrestling with my trousers.
The camp was like a stirred hornets’ nest. Madge and her folk looked both apprehensive and angry. The guardsmen were currently harassing the tinker. One guardswoman kicked over a stack of tin pots with a fine clatter and then shouted something about searching anything she pleased, any way she pleased. The tinker stood by his wagon, his arms crossed on his chest. He looked as if he’d already been knocked down once. Two guardsmen had his wife and youngsters backed up against the tail of the wagon. The wife had a trickle of blood coming from her nose. She still looked ready to fight. I drifted into camp as silent as smoke and took a place beside Damon as if I’d always been there. Neither of us spoke.
The leader of the guards turned away from his confrontation with the tinker, and a shiver went up my back. I knew him. It was Bolt, favoured by Regal for his skill with his fists. I’d last seen him in the dungeon. He was the one who had broken my nose. I felt the beating of my heart pick up speed and heard my pulse in my ears. Darkness threatened the edges of my vision. I fought to breathe quietly. He paced to the centre of the camp and cast a disdainful eye over us. ‘This is everyone?’ he demanded more than queried.
We all bobbed nods. He cast his gaze over us and I looked down to avoid it. I forced my hands to be still, to stay away from both knife and sword. I tried not to let my tension show in my stance.
‘As sorry a lot of vagabonds as I’ve ever seen.’ His tone dismissed our importance. ‘Caravan master! We’ve been riding all day. Have your boy see to our horses. We’ll want food prepared, and more fuel gathered for the fire. And warm us some water for washing.’ He ran his glance over us again. ‘I want no trouble. The men we were looking for aren’t here, and that’s all we required to know. Just do as we ask, and there won’t be any problems. You can go about your normal business.’
There were a few mutters of agreement, but
mostly silence greeted this. He snorted his disdain for us, then turned to his riders and spoke quietly to them. Whatever orders he was giving did not seem to sit well with them, but the two that had cornered the tinker-woman came to heel at his words. They took over the fire Madge had built earlier, forcing the folk of our caravan to move off from it. Madge spoke quietly to her help, sending two off to care for the guards’ horses, and another to fetch water and set it to warm. She herself strode heavily past our cart toward her own wagon and the food stores.
An uneasy semblance of order returned to the camp. Starling kindled a second, smaller fire. The puppeteer’s troupe, the minstrel and the teamsters resettled next to it. The horse owner and her husband went quietly off to bed. ‘Well, seems to have settled down,’ Damon observed to me, but I noticed that he still twisted his hands nervously. ‘I’m off to bed. You and Creece settle out the watches between you.’
I started to go back to my sheep. Then I paused and looked back around the camp. The guards were silhouettes around the fire now, lounging and talking, while a single one of them stood slightly back of the group keeping a general watch. He was looking toward the other fire. I followed his gaze. I could not decide if Tassin was looking back at him, or simply staring off at the other guards about their fire. Either way, I suspected I knew what was on her mind.
I turned aside and went to the back of Madge’s wagon. She was scooping out beans and peas from sacks and measuring them into a soup kettle. I touched her lightly on the arm, and she jumped.
‘Beg pardon. Could you use some help with that?’
She raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Why would I?’
I glanced down at my feet and chose my lie carefully. ‘I didn’t care for how they looked at the tinker-woman, ma’am.’