by Robin Hobb
‘It does not seem like Forged ones,’ I said and then, carefully, I asked, ‘Do you suspect a conspiracy of some kind?’
Verity snorted bitterly. ‘Of course. When do I not suspect conspiracies any more? But for this, at least, I think I can look further afield than Buckkeep to find the source.’ He halted abruptly, as if hearing how bluntly he had spoken. ‘Look into it for me, Fitz, will you? Ride out and about a bit, and listen. Tell me what they say in the taverns, and tell me what sign you find on the roads. Gather gossip of other attacks, and keep track of the detail. Quietly. Can you do that for me?’
‘Of course. But why quietly? It seems to me that if we alerted folk, we would hear more swiftly of what goes on.’
‘We would hear more, that’s true. More of rumours, and much more of complaint. So far these are individual complaints. I am the only one, I think, who has put together a pattern from them. I do not want Buckkeep itself up in arms, complaining that the King cannot even protect his capital city. No. Quietly, Fitz. Quietly.’
‘Just look into it quietly.’ I did not voice it as a question.
Verity gave his broad shoulders a small shrug. But it was more like a man shifting a burden than dislodging a load. ‘Put a stop to it where you can.’ His voice was small and he looked into the fire. ‘Quietly, Fitz. Very quietly.’
I nodded my head slowly. I had had these kinds of assignments before also. Killing Forged ones did not bother me as much as killing a man did. Sometimes I tried to pretend I was laying a restless soul to peace, putting a family’s anguish to a final end. I hoped I would not become too adept at lying to myself. It was a luxury an assassin could not afford. Chade had warned me that I must always remember what I truly was. Not an angel of mercy, but a killer who worked for the good of the King. Or the King-in-Waiting. It was my duty to keep the throne secure. My duty. I hesitated, then spoke.
‘My prince. As I was coming back, I saw our Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken. She was riding out with Prince Regal.’
‘They make a handsome pair, do they not? And does she sit her horse well?’ Verity could not entirely keep bitterness from his voice.
‘Aye. But in the Mountain style still.’
‘She came to me, saying she wished to learn to ride our tall lowland horses better. I commended the idea. I did not know she would choose Regal as a riding master.’ Verity leaned over his map, studying detail that was not there.
‘Perhaps she hoped you would teach her.’ I spoke thoughtlessly, to the man, not the prince.
‘Perhaps.’ He sighed suddenly. ‘Oh, I know she did. Kettricken is lonely, sometimes. Often.’ He shook his head. ‘She should have been married to a younger son, to a man with time on his hands. Or to a king whose kingdom was not on the verge of war and disaster. I do not do her justice, Fitz. I know this. But she is so … young. Sometimes. And when she is not being so young, she is so fanatically patriotic. She burns to sacrifice herself for the Six Duchies. Always I have to hold her back, to tell her that it is not what the Six Duchies need. She is like a gadfly. There is no peace in her for me, Fitz. Either she wants to be romped like a child, or she is quizzing me on the very details of some crisis I am trying to set aside for a few moments.’
I thought suddenly of Chivalry’s single-minded pursuit of the frivolous Patience, and caught a glimpse of his motives. A woman who was an escape for him. Who would Verity have chosen, had he been allowed to choose for himself? Probably someone older, a placid woman possessed of inner self worth and peace.
‘I grow so tired,’ Verity said softly. He poured himself more mulled wine, and stepped to the hearth to sip at it. ‘Do you know what I wish?’
It wasn’t really a question. I didn’t even bother to reply.
‘I wish your father were alive, and King-in-Waiting. And I his right-hand man still. He would be telling me what tasks I must tackle, and I would be doing as he asked. I would be at peace with myself, no matter how hard my work, for I would be sure he knew best. Do you know how easy it is, Fitz, to follow a man you believe in?’
He looked up at last to meet my eyes.
‘My prince,’ I said quietly. ‘I believe I do.’
For a moment, Verity was very still. Then, ‘Ah,’ he said. He held my eyes with his, and I did not need the warmth of his Skilling to feel the gratitude he sent me. He stepped away from the hearth, drew himself up straighter. My King-in-Waiting stood before me once more. He dismissed me with a tiny motion, and I went. As I climbed the stairs to my room, for the first time in my life I wondered if I should not be grateful to have been born a bastard.
SEVEN
Encounters
It has always been the custom and the expectancy that when a king or queen of Buckkeep wed, the royal spouse would bring an entourage of his or her own as attendants. Such had been the case with both of Shrewd’s queens. But when Queen Kettricken of the Mountains came to Buckkeep, she came as Sacrifice, as was her country’s custom. She came alone, with no women or men to attend her, not even a maid to be a confidante. No person in Buckkeep was there to give the comfort of familiarity to her in her new home. She began her reign surrounded completely by strangers, not just at her own social level, but extending down to servants and guards as well. As time progressed, she gathered friends to her, and found servants as well who suited her, though at first the idea of having a person whose life work was to wait on her was a foreign and distressing concept to her.
Cub had missed my company. Before I departed for Bearns, I had left him the carcass of a deer, well frozen and concealed behind the hut. It should have been ample to feed him for the time I was gone. But in true wolf fashion, he had gorged, and slept, and gorged and slept again, until the meat was gone. Two days ago, he informed me, leaping and dancing about me. The interior of the hut was a litter of well-gnawed bones. He greeted me with frantic enthusiasm, doubly informed by the Wit and his nose of the fresh meat I brought. He fell upon it ravenously and paid me no mind at all as I gathered his chewed bones into a sack. Too much of this type of litter would draw rats, and the keep rat-hounds would follow. I couldn’t chance that. I watched him surreptitiously as I tidied, saw the rippling of muscles in his shoulders as he braced his forefeet against the chunk of meat and tore a piece of flesh free. I noted, too, that all but the thickest deer bones had been cracked and licked clean of marrow. This was cub’s play no longer, but the work of a powerful young animal. The bones he had cracked were thicker than the bones in my arm.
But why would I turn on you? You bring the meat. And ginger cakes.
His thought was laden with meaning. This was the way of a pack. I, an elder, brought meat to feed Cub, a young one. I was the hunter, bringing him back a portion of my kill. I quested toward him and found that, for him, our separateness was fading. We were pack. It was a concept I had never encountered before, going deeper than companion or partner. I feared that to him it meant what bonding did to me. I could not permit it.
‘I am a human. You are a wolf.’ I spoke the words aloud, knowing he would get their meaning from my thoughts, but trying to force him to know in all his senses our differences.
Outwardly. Inside, we are pack. He paused and licked his nose complacently. Blood dotted his forepaws.
‘No. I feed you and protect you here. But only for a time. When you are able to hunt for yourself, I will take you to a far place and leave you there.’
I have never hunted.
‘I will teach you.’
That, too, is of the pack. You will teach me, and I will hunt with you. We will share many ki
lls and much rich meat.
I will teach you to hunt, and then I will set you free.
I am already free. You do not hold me here, save that I will it. He lolled his tongue out over white teeth, laughing at my assumption.
You are arrogant, Cub. And ignorant.
So teach me. He turned his head sideways to let his back teeth scissor meat and tendon from the bone he was working on. It is your pack duty.
We are not pack. I have no pack. My allegiance is to my king.
If he is your leader, then he is mine also. We are pack. As his belly filled, he was becoming more and more complacent about it.
I changed tactics. Coldly I told him, I am of a pack that you cannot be part of. In my pack, all are humans. You are not a human. You are a wolf. We are not pack.
A stillness welled in him. He did not try to reply. But he felt, and what he felt chilled me. Isolation, and betrayal. Loneliness.
I turned and left him there. But I could not hide from him how hard it was for me to leave him like that, nor conceal the deep shame at refusing him. I hoped he sensed also that I believed it was what was best for him. Much, I reflected, as Burrich had felt it was best for me when he took Nosy away from me because I had bonded to the puppy. The thought burned me and I did not just hasten away, I fled.
Evening was falling as I returned to the keep and made my way up the stairs. I visited my room for certain bundles I had left there, and then made my way downstairs again. My traitorous feet slowed as I passed the second landing. I knew that very shortly Molly would be coming this way, bearing away the tray and dishes from Patience’s meal. Patience seldom chose to dine in the hall with the other lords and ladies of the keep, preferring the privacy of her own rooms and Lacey’s easy companionship. Her shyness had begun to take on overtones of reclusiveness lately. But it was not concern over that which kept me loitering on the stairs. I heard the tap of Molly’s feet coming down the hall, I knew I should move on, but it had been days since I had even glimpsed her. Celerity’s shy flirtations had only made me more acutely aware of how I missed Molly. Surely it could not be too much for me to simply wish her ‘good evening’ as I might any other servant girl. I knew I should not, I knew that if Patience heard of it, I would be rebuked. And yet …
I pretended to be studying a tapestry on the landing, a tapestry that had hung there since before I had ever come to Buckkeep. I heard her footsteps approaching. I heard them slow. My heart was thundering high in my chest, the palms of my hands were moist with sweat as I turned to see her. ‘Good evening,’ I managed, between a squeak and a whisper.
‘Good evening to you,’ she said with great dignity. Her head went up a notch higher, her chin firmed. Her hair had been tamed into two thick braids and pinned about her head like a crown. Her dress of simple blue had a collar of delicate white lace, and there were lace cuffs to it as well. I knew whose fingers had worked that scalloped pattern. Lacey treated her well and gifted her with the work of her hands. That was good to know.
Molly did not falter as she passed me. Her eyes skittered sideways to me once, and I could not forebear to smile, and at my smile a blush so warm suffused her face and throat that almost I felt the heat of it. Her mouth went into a firmer line. As she turned and descended the stairs, her scent wafted back to me, lemon balm and ginger riding on the sweeter scent that was simply Molly’s own.
Female. Nice. Vast approval.
I leaped as if stung and spun about, expecting foolishly to discover Cub behind me. He was not, of course. I quested out, but he was not with me in my mind. I quested further, found him dozing on his straw in the hut. Don’t do that, I warned him. Stay out of my mind, unless I bid you be with me.
Consternation. What is it you bid me do?
Do not be with me, except when I wish you to.
Then how would I know when you wished me to be with you?
I will seek your mind when I want you.
A long quiet. And I shall seek yours when I want you, he offered. Yes, this is pack. To call when one needs help, and to be always ready to hear such a call. We are pack.
No! That is not what I am telling you. I am saying you must keep out of my mind when I do not wish you to be there. I do not wish to be always sharing thoughts with you.
You make no sense at all. Shall I only breathe when you are not snuffing the air? Your mind, my mind, it is all the pack mind. Where else shall I think, but here? If you do not wish to hear me, do not listen.
I stood dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the thought. I realized I was staring off into space. A serving-boy had just wished me good evening, and I had offered no response. ‘Good evening,’ I replied, but he had already passed me. He glanced back in puzzlement, to see if he was summoned, but I waved him on. I shook my head to clear it of cobwebs, and started down the hall to Patience’s room. I would discuss it with Cub later, and make him understand. And soon, he would be off on his own, out of touch, out of mind. I pushed the experience aside.
I tapped at Patience’s door and was admitted. I saw that Lacey had gone on one of her periodic rampages, and restored a sort of order to the room. There was even a cleared chair to sit upon. They were both glad to see me. I told them of my trip to Bearns, avoiding any mention of Virago. I knew that eventually Patience would hear of it, and confront me about it, and I would then assure her that gossip had greatly exaggerated our encounter. I hoped that would work. In the meantime, I had brought gifts back with me. Tiny ivory fish, drilled to be strung as beads or attached to a garment for Lacey, and for Patience amber and silver earrings. An earthenware pot of wintergreen berries preserved and sealed with a lid of wax.
‘Wintergreen? I’ve no taste for wintergreen.’ Patience was puzzled when I offered it to her.
‘Haven’t you?’ I feigned puzzlement. ‘I thought you told me it was a flavour and scent you missed from your childhood. Did not you have an uncle who brought you wintergreen?’
‘No. I recall no such conversation.’
‘Perhaps it was Lacey, then?’ I asked sincerely.
‘Not I, master. Stings my nose to taste it, though it has a nice scent in the air.’
‘Ah, well, then. My mistake.’ I set it aside on the table. ‘What, Snowflake? Not pregnant again?’ This I addressed to Patience’s white terrier who had finally decided to come forth and sniff at me. I could sense her doggy little mind puzzling over Cub’s scent on me.
‘No, she’s just getting fat,’ Lacey interjected for her, stooping to scratch her behind the ears. ‘My lady leaves sweetmeats and cakes about on plates, and Snowflake is always getting at them.’
‘You know you shouldn’t let her. It’s very bad for her teeth and coat,’ I rebuked Patience, and she replied that she knew it, but Snowflake was too old to be taught better. The conversation rambled from there, and it was another hour before I stretched and told them I must be going, to try once more to report to the King.
‘I was earlier turned aside from his door,’ I mentioned. ‘Though not by any guard. His man Wallace came to the door when I knocked, to refuse me entry. When I asked why there was no guard on the King’s door, he said they had been relieved of that duty. He had assumed it himself, the better to keep things quiet for the King.’
‘The King’s not well, you know,’ Lacey offered. ‘I’ve heard that he’s seldom seen out of his chambers before noon. Then, when he comes forth, he is like a man possessed, full of energy and appetite, but by early evening, he fades again, and begins to shuffle and mumble his words. He takes his dinner in his rooms, and cook says the tray comes back as fu
ll as it went up. It’s quite a worry.’
‘It is,’ I agreed, and made my departure, almost dreading to hear more. So the King’s health was now talk for the keep. That was not good. I must ask Chade about it. And I must see for myself. In my earlier attempt to report to the King, I had encountered only the officious Wallace. Wallace had been most brusque with me, as if I were come simply to pass the time of day, rather than to report after a mission. He behaved as if the King were the most delicate of invalids and took it upon himself to keep any one from bothering him. Wallace, I decided, had not been very well taught as to what the duties of his position were. He was a most annoying man. As I tapped, I was wondering how long it would take Molly to find the wintergreen. She must know I had meant it for her, it was a taste she had always been greedy for when we were children.
Wallace came to the door and opened it a crack to peer out. He frowned at discovering me. He swung the door wider, but filled the opening with his body, as if my glimpsing the King might do him harm. He gave me no greeting, only demanded, ‘Did not you come before, earlier today?’
‘Yes. I did. At that time you told me King Shrewd slept. And so I have come again, to make my report.’ I tried to keep my tone civil.
‘Ah. It is important, this report?’
‘I think the King can judge if it is, and send me away if he thinks I waste his time. I suggest you tell him I am here.’ I smiled belatedly, trying to soften the sharpness of my tone.
