by Robin Hobb
"You do me more honor than I deserve, sir. But, Duke Brawndy, it is as you have said. These are evil times, and uncertain. With you, your daughter is safe. At my side, she could know only greater uncertainty. What we have discussed here, today, some would call treason. I will not have it said that I took your daughter to bind you to me in a questionable endeavor, nor that you gave your daughter for such a reason." I forced myself to look back at Celerity, to meet her eyes. "Brawndy's daughter is safer than FitzChivalry's wife. Until my position is more certain, I pledge no one to me in any way. My regard for you is great, Lady Celerity. I am not a Duke, nor even a lord. I am as I am named, an illegitimate son of a Prince. Until I can say I am more than that, I will seek no wife, nor court any woman."
Celerity was clearly displeased. But her father nodded slowly to my words. "I see the wisdom of your words. My daughter, I fear, sees only the delay." He looked at Celerity's pout, smiled fondly. "Someday she will understand that the people who seek to protect her are the people who care for her." He ran his eyes over me as if I were a horse. "I believe," he said quietly, "that Buck will stand. And that Verity's child shall inherit the throne."
I left him with those words echoing in my mind. Again and again, I told myself I had done nothing wrong. If I had not reached forth to claim Buckkeep, another would have.
"Who?" Chade demanded angrily of me some hours later.
I sat looking down at my feet. "I don't know. But they would have found someone. And that person would have been far more likely to cause bloodshed. To act at the King-in-Waiting ceremony, and jeopardize our efforts to get Kettricken and Shrewd clear of this mess."
"If the Coastal Dukes are as close to rebellion as your report indicates, then perhaps we should reconsider that plan."
I sneezed. The room still smelled of bitterbark. I had used too much. "Brawndy did not come to me speaking of rebellion, but of loyalty to the true and rightful King. And that was the spirit in which I responded. I have no wish to overthrow the throne, Chade, only to secure it for its lawful heir."
"I know that," he said briefly. "Otherwise I-would go straight to King Shrewd with this ... madness. I know not what to call it. It is not treason, quite, and yet ..."
"I am no traitor to my king." I spoke with quiet vehemence.
"No? Let me ask you this, then. If, despite, or save us all, because of our efforts to save Shrewd and Kettricken, they both perish with the child unborn, and Verity never returns. What then? Will you still be so eager to cede the throne to the rightful King?"
"Regal?"
"By the line of succession, yes."
"He is no king, Chade. He's an indulged Princeling, and always will be. I've as much Farseer blood as he does."
"And so you might say of Kettricken's child, when the time came. Do you see what a dangerous path we set ourselves on when we set ourselves above our places? You and I, we swore to the Farseer line, of which we are but random shoots. Not to King Shrewd alone, or to a wise King alone, but to uphold the rightful King of the Farseer line. Even if he is Regal."
"You would serve Regal?"
"I have seen more foolish Princes than he become wise as they aged. What you contemplate will bring us civil war. Farrow and Tilth-"
"Have no interest in any kind of a war. They will say good riddance to us and let the Coastal Duchies go. Regal has always said as much."
"And he probably thinks he believes it. But when he finds that he cannot buy fine silk, and that the wines of Bingtown and beyond no longer flow up the Buck River to his palate, he will think better. He needs his port cities, and he will come back for them."
"So what are we to do? What should I have done?"
Chade sat down across from me, clasped his mottled hands between his bony old knees. "I do not know. Brawndy is desperate indeed. If you had loftily refused him and rebuked him with treason, well ... I don't say he'd have done away with you. But remember he had no hesitation about dealing quickly with Virago when she represented a threat to him. This is all too much for one old assassin. We need a King."
"Aye."
"Could you Skill again to Verity?"
"I fear to try. I do not know how to guard against Justin and Serene. Or Will." I sighed. "Still, I will try. Surely Verity will know if they ride with my Skilling." Another thought intruded. "Chade, tomorrow night, when you lead Kettricken to escape, you must find a moment or two, to tell her of what has transpired, and assure her of my loyalty."
"Oh, those will be reassuring tidings to give her as she flees back to the Mountains. No. Not tomorrow night. I will see that word reaches her, when she is safe. And you must continue to try to reach Verity, but beware of having your Skilling spied upon. Are you sure our plans are unknown to them?"
I had to shake my head. "But I believe they are safe. I had told all to Verity when first I Skilled him. It was not until the end that he said someone tried to spy upon us."
"You probably should have killed Justin," Chade grumbled to himself. Then he laughed at my outraged look. "No, no, calm yourself. I will not rebuke you that you refrained from it. Would that you had been so circumspect with the scheme that Brawndy brought you. Even a breath of this would be sufficient for Regal to have your neck stretched. And were he ruthless and foolish, he could try to hang his dukes as well. No. Let us not even think of that! The halls of Buckkeep would run blood before that was done. Would you had found a way to turn the conversation, before ever he made you such an offer. Save, as you say, that they might have found another. Ah, well. We cannot put old heads on young shoulders. Unfortunately, Regal could remove your young head from your young shoulders all too easily." He knelt and put another piece of wood on the fire. He took a breath and sighed it out. "Have you got all other things in readiness?" he asked abruptly.
I was only too glad to change the topic. "As much as I could. Burrich will be in place and waiting, in the alder copse where the dog fox used to den."
Chade rolled his eyes. "How do I find that? Ask a passing dog fox?"
I smiled inadvertently. "Close. Where will you emerge from Buck Castle?"
He was stubbornly silent for a moment. Still, that old fox hated to reveal his back door. Finally he said, "We will come out of the grain shed, the one third back from the stables."
I nodded slowly. "A gray wolf will meet you. Follow him silently, and he will show you a way out of the walls of Buck that does not take you through the gates."
For a long moment Chade just looked at me. I waited. For condemnation, for a look of disgust, even for curiosity. But the old assassin had studied too long how to mask his feelings. He said at last, "We are fools if we do not use every weapon that comes to hand. Is he any ... danger to us?"
"No more than I am. You need not wear wolfsbane, nor offer him mutton to be allowed to pass." I was as familiar with the old folklore as Chade was. "Simply show yourself, and he will appear to guide you. He will take you through the walls, and out to the copse where Burrich waits with the horses."
"Is it a long walk?"
I knew he was thinking of the King. "It is not overly long, but it is not short, and the snow is deep and unpacked. It will not be easy to scrabble through the gap in the wall, but it can be done. I could ask Burrich to meet you at the wall instead, but I do not wish to draw attention to it. Perhaps the Fool could help you manage?"
"He will have to, from the sound of things. I am not willing to bring any others in on this plot. Our position seems only to become more and more untenable."
I bowed my head to the truth of that. "And you?" I ventured to ask.
"My tasks are done as completely as they could be, ahead of time. The Fool has assisted me. He has spirited away both clothing and coin for his king's journey. Shrewd has reluctantly agreed to our plan. He knows it is wise, but every part of it chafes him. Despite all, Fitz, Regal is his son, his favored youngest. Even having felt Regal's ruthlessness, it is still hard for him to say the Prince threatens his life. You see how he is bound: to admit that Reg
al would turn on him is to admit he was wrong about his son. To flee Buckkeep is even worse, for that is admitting not only that Regal would turn on him, but that flight is his only option. Our king has never been a coward. It galls him now to run from one who should be most loyal of all to him. Yet he must. Of that I have convinced him; mostly, I'll admit, by saying that without his acknowledgment, Kettricken's child will have a poor claim on the throne." Chade sighed. "All is as ready as I can make it. I have prepared the medicines, and all is well packed."
"The Fool understands he cannot go with his king?"
Chade rubbed his forehead. "He intends to follow, a few days behind. He would not be dissuaded entirely. The best I could do was to get him to travel separately."
"Then it but depends on me to find a way to empty the King's room of witnesses, and for you to spirit him away."
"Ah, yes," Chade observed mirthlessly. "All is well planned and ready to carry out, save for the actual deed."
We stared together into the fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Escapes and Captures
THE OUTBREAK OF strife between the coastal and Inland Duchies at the end of King Shrewd's reign was not a new sundering, but rather a resumption of old differences. The four Coastal Duchies, Bearns, Buck, Rippon, and Shoaks, were a kingdom long before the Six Duchies came to be. When the unified battle tactics of the Chalced States convinced King Wielder that their conquest would be unprofitable, he turned his ambitions inland. The Farrow region, with its scattered nomadic tribal populations, fell easily to the organized armies he led. The more populous and settled Tilth grudgingly surrendered to him when the erstwhile King of that region found his territory surrounded and his trade routes severed.
Both the old kingdom of Tilth and the region that would come to be known as Farrow were held as conquered territory for over a generation. The wealth of their granaries, orchards, and herds were exploited lavishly for the benefit of the Coastal Duchies. Queen Munificence, granddaughter of Wielder, was wise enough to see that this was breeding discontent in the inland areas. She showed great tolerance and wisdom in elevating the tribal elders of the Farrow folk and the former ruling families of Tilth to nobles. She used marriages and grants of land to forge alliances between coastal and inland folk. She first referred to her kingdom as the Six Duchies. But all of her political maneuvers could not change the geographic and economic interests of the different areas. Climate, folk, and livelihoods of the Inland Duchies remained vastly different from that of the coastal peoples.
During Shrewd's reign, the differing interests of the two regions were exacerbated by the offspring of his two queens. His elder sons, Verity and Chivalry, were the sons of Queen Constance, a noblewoman of Shoaks with relatives among the nobility of Bearns as well. She was very much of the coastal folk. Shrewd's second queen, Desire, was from Farrow, but traced her family lineage back to the long foundered royalty of Tilth as well as to distant Farseer connections. Hence came her oft-repeated claim that her son Regal was more royal than either of his half brothers, and hence had more right to the throne.
With the disappearance of King-in-Waiting Verity and rumors of his death, and the obvious failing of King Shrewd, it appeared to the Coastal Dukes that power and title would be passed on to Prince Regal, born of inland lineage. They preferred to align with the unborn child of Verity, a coastal Prince, and predictably did all they could to retain and consolidate power in the coastal bloodlines. Threatened as the Coastal Duchies were by Raiders and Forgings, it was really the only rational choice they could make.
The King-in-Waiting ceremony was too long. Folk were assembled well ahead of time, to allow Regal to make a stately entrance through our ranks and ascend to the high seat, where a drowsing King Shrewd awaited him. Queen Kettricken, pale as a wax taper, stood behind Shrewd at his left shoulder. Shrewd was bedecked in robes and fur collars and the full regalia of the royal jewels, but Kettricken had resisted Regal's suggestions and enticements. She stood very tall and straight in a plain robe of purple, belted above her rounding belly. A simple circlet of gold confined the cropped remnants of her hair. Other than that band of metal at her temples, she might have been a servant standing ready to attend Shrewd. I knew she saw herself still as Sacrifice rather than queen. She could not see that the starkness of her attire made her look dramatically foreign to the court.
The Fool was there as well, in a well-worn motley of black and white, and with Ratsy once more atop his scepter. He had striped his face in black and white as well, and I wondered if this was to camouflage his bruises, or simply to complement his motley. He had appeared sometime before Regal had, and had very obviously enjoyed the spectacle he created by sauntering up the aisle, waving Ratsy about in airy benediction, before he curtsied to the assemblage and then plopped gracefully at the King's feet. Guards had begun to move to intercept him, but were blocked by grinning, craning people. When he arrived at the dais and seated himself, the King had reached down to absently tousle the Fool's sparse locks, and so he had been suffered to remain where he was. Scowls or grins were exchanged over the Fool's performance, depending largely on how deeply one had pledged his allegiance to Regal. I myself feared that it would be the Fool's last prank.
The atmosphere in the Keep all day had been like to that of a seething pot. My trust that Beams was a tight-lipped man had been misplaced. Entirely too many minor nobles were suddenly nodding to me, or catching my eye for an exchanged look. I feared it could not be missed by any of Regal's minions, and so had kept myself to my room or, for a good part of the early afternoon, in Verity's tower, where I had vainly attempted to Skill forth to him. I had chosen that spot in the hopes of invoking his memory cleanly to my mind, but I failed. Instead I found myself straining for a hint of Will's footstep on the tower stairs, or a brush of Justin's or Serene's presence against my Skill sense.
After I gave up on Skilling, I sat long, pondering the unsolvable riddle of how I would empty the King's room of guards. Outside, I could hear the pounding of the sea and the wind, and when I opened the windows briefly the gusting storm fair blew me across the room. Most saw this as a fair day for the ceremony; the rising storm might keep Raiders berthed wherever they were at present and assure us no new raids. I watched the freezing rain putting a crust on the banked snow while making the roads treacherously slick, and imagined Burrich traveling through it by night with the Queen and King Shrewd in his litter. It was not a task I would enjoy.
The tone for something of great portent to happen had been well set. Now, in addition to stories of the Pocked Man and snakes on the hearth, there was despair in the kitchens. The day's bake of bread had failed to rise, and the milk had curdled in the casks before even the cream could be skimmed from it. Poor Cook Sara had been shaken to her core and declared that never before had such a thing dared to happen in her kitchens. The pig men would not even let the soured milk be given to the swine, so sure were all that it was cursed. The failure of the bread had meant twice the catch-up work for the kitchen servants, who were already overburdened with feeding all the guests who had come for the ceremony. I could now vouch that the tempers of an entire Keep could be disturbed by an unhappy kitchen crew.
There had been short rations for the watch room, and the stew had been overly salted, while somehow the beer had gone flat. The Duke of Tilth complained of vinegar instead of wine in his rooms, which led the Duke of Beams to comment to those of Shoaks and Rippon that even a bit of vinegar would have been welcome as a sign of hospitality in their rooms. The unfortunate remark was conveyed somehow to Mistress Hasty, who soundly scolded all the chamberlains and serving folk who had not somehow managed to spread the thin cheer left at Buckkeep to include the lesser guest rooms. There was a complaint among the lesser servants that an order had come down to keep expenses for those guests to a minimum, but no one could be found who would admit to giving such an order, or even to passing it down. And so the day had gone, so that I had been altogether relieved to isolate myself in
Verity's tower.
But I dared not miss the King-in-Waiting ceremony, for too much would have been inferred from that. And so I stood, an uncomfortable victim of a shirt with overfull sleeves and some very itchy leggings, patiently awaiting Regal's entrance. My mind was not on his pomp and ceremony; rather it whirled with questions and worries of my own. I fretted over whether Burrich had been able to smuggle out the horses and litter. It was dark now. He was probably sitting outside in this storm, in the pathetic shelter of the alder copse. He would have blanketed the horses, no doubt, but that would do little against the sleet that now fell steadily. He had given me the name of the smithy where Sooty and Ruddy had been taken. Somehow I must find a way to keep up the man's weekly bribes, and to check on them often to be sure they were well cared for. This he had made me promise to entrust to no one else. Would the Queen be able to retire alone to her room? And again and again, how was I to empty King Shrewd's room that Chade might spirit him away?
A mutter of wonder broke me from my reverie. I glanced toward the dais where everyone seemed to be staring. There was a brief flickering, and for an instant one of the white tapers burning there flickered blue. Then another spat a spark, and burned blue for an instant. There was another mutter, but the wayward candles settled after that to burning evenly and well. Neither Kettricken nor King Shrewd appeared to notice anything amiss, but the Fool sat up and shook Ratsy at the errant candles in rebuke.
At length Regal did appear, resplendent in red velvet and white silk. A little maid walked before him, swinging a censer of sandalwood incense. Regal smiled upon all as he advanced leisurely toward the throne, meeting many an eye and nodding many an acknowledgment on his way to that high seat. I am sure it did not go off so finely as Regal had planned. King Shrewd faltered and then looked puzzled over the scroll that had been given him to read. At length Kettricken took it from his shaky hands, and he smiled up at her as she read aloud the words that must have cut her to the heart. It was a careful listing of the children that King Shrewd had sired, including a daughter who had died in infancy, by the order of their births, and then by order of their deaths, all leading up to Regal as sole survivor and legitimate heir. She did not hesitate at Verity's name, but read aloud the brief statement "Lost to misfortune while on a quest to the Mountain Kingdom"-as if it were an ingredient list. Of the child she carried, no mention was made. A child as yet unborn was an heir, but not a King-in-Waiting.