by Robin Hobb
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I do not believe Verity is dead. King Shrewd used to be strong in the Skill, I am told. That is no longer the case. His illness has stolen it away, as it has stolen so many other things. But, if we can persuade him to try, if we can rouse him to the effort, I can offer him my strength to sustain him. He may be able to reach Verity.’
‘It will kill him.’ The Fool spoke his challenge flatly. ‘I have heard of what the Skill takes out of a man. My king has not that left to give.’
‘I don’t think it will. If we reach Verity, Verity will break it off before it hurts his father. More than once, he has drawn back from draining my strength, to be sure of not injuring me.’
‘Even a Fool can see the failure of your logic.’ The Fool tugged at the cuffs of his fine new shirt. ‘If you reach Verity, how will we know it is true, and not a show?’
I opened my mouth in an angry protest, but the Fool held up a forbidding hand. ‘Of course, my dear, dear Fitz, we should all believe you, as you are our friend, who has only our very best interests at heart. But there may be a few others prone to doubt your word, or regard you as so selfless.’ His sarcasm bit at me like acid, but I managed to stand silent. ‘And if you don’t reach Verity, what do we have? An exhausted and drained king to be further flaunted about as incapable. A grieving queen, who must wonder, in addition to all her other pains, if perhaps she grieves for a man who is not dead yet. That is the worst type of grieving there is. No. We gain nothing, even if you succeed, for our belief in you would not be enough to stop the wheels that are already turning. And we have much to lose if you fail. Too much.’
Their eyes were on me. There was question even in Burrich’s dark eyes, as if he debated the wisdom of what he had urged me to do. Kettricken stood very still, trying not to pounce on the bare bone of hope that I had thrown at her feet. I wished that I had waited, to talk first with Chade. I suspected I would never have another chance after this night, to have these people in this room, Wallace out of the way and Regal busy below. It had to be now or it would not be.
I looked at the only one who was not watching me. King Shrewd idly watched the leap and play of the flames in his hearth. ‘He is still the King,’ I said quietly. ‘Let us ask him, and let him decide.’
‘Not fair! He is not himself!’ The Fool flung himself between us. He stood high on his feet to try to look me in the eye. ‘On the herbs fed him, he is as tractable as a plough horse. Ask him to cut his own throat, and he’ll wait for you to hand him the knife.’
‘No.’ The voice quavered. It had lost its timbre and resonance. ‘No, my Fool, I am not so far gone as that.’
We waited, breathless, but King Shrewd spoke no more. At last I slowly crossed the room. I crouched down beside him, tried to make his eyes meet mine. ‘King Shrewd?’ I begged.
His eyes came to mine, darted away, came back unwillingly. At last he looked at me.
‘Have you heard all we have said? My king, do you believe Verity is dead?’
He parted his lips. His tongue was greyish behind them. He took a long breath. ‘Regal told me Verity is dead. He had word …’
‘From where?’ I asked gently.
He shook his head slowly. ‘A messenger … I think.’
I turned to the others. ‘It would have to have come by messenger. From the mountains, for Verity must be there by now. He was nearly in the mountains when Burrich was sent back. I do not believe a messenger would come all the way from the mountains, and not stay to convey such news to Kettricken herself.’
‘It might have come by relay,’ Burrich said unwillingly. ‘For one man and one horse, it is too exhausting a trip. A rider would have to exchange horses. Or pass on the word to another rider, who would go on, on a swift horse. The last is most likely.’
‘Perhaps. But how long would such word take, to come to us all the way from the mountains? I know Verity was alive on the day Bearns departed here. Because that was when King Shrewd used me to speak to him. That night when I all but fainted on this hearth. That was what had happened, Fool.’ I paused. ‘I believe I felt him with me during the battle at Neat Bay.’
I saw Burrich count back the days in his mind. He shrugged unwillingly. ‘It is still possible. If Verity were killed that day, and word were sent out immediately, and the riders and horses were both good … it could be so. Barely.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ I turned to the rest of them, tried to force my hope into them. ‘I don’t believe Verity is dead.’ I turned my eyes up to King Shrewd once more. ‘Do you? Do you believe your son could have died, and you not feel anything?’
‘Chivalry … went like that. Like a fading whisper. “Father”, he said, I think. Father.’
A silence seeped into the room. I waited, crouched on my heels, for my king’s decision. Slowly his hand lifted, as if it had a life of its own. It crossed the small space to me, rested on my shoulder. For a moment that was all. Just the weight of my king’s hand on my shoulder. King Shrewd shifted slightly in his chair. He took a breath through his nostrils.
I closed my eyes and we plunged into the black river again. Once more I faced the desperate young man trapped in King Shrewd’s dying body. We tumbled together in the sweeping current of the world. ‘There’s no one here. No one here but us any more.’ Shrewd sounded lonely.
I couldn’t find myself. I had no body, no tongue here. He held me under with him in the rush and the roar. I could hardly think at all, let alone remember what little of the Skill lessons I had retained from Galen’s harsh instruction. It was like trying to recite a memorized speech while being throttled. I gave up. I gave it all up. Then from somewhere, like a feather floating in a breeze, or a mote dancing in a sunbeam, came Verity’s voice telling me, ‘Being open is simply not being closed.’
The whole world was a spaceless place, all things inside of all other things. I did not say his name aloud or think of his face. Verity was there, had always been right there and joining him was effortless. You live!
Of course. But you won’t, spilling all over like this. You’re pouring out everything you have in one gush. Regulate your strength. Be precise. He steadied me, shaped me back into myself, then gasped in recognition.
Father!
Verity pushed at me roughly. Get back! Let go of him, he hasn’t the strength for this. You’re draining him, you idiot! Let go!
It was like being repelled but rougher. When I found myself and opened my eyes, I was sprawled on my side before the fireplace. My face was uncomfortably close to it. I rolled over, groaning, and saw the King. His lips were puffing in and out with each breath, and there was a bluish cast to his skin. Burrich and Kettricken and the Fool were a helpless circle standing about him. ‘Do … something!’ I gasped up at them.
‘What?’ demanded the Fool, believing I knew.
I floundered about in my mind, came up with the only remedy I could recall. ‘Elfbark,’ I croaked. The edges of the room kept turning black. I shut my eyes and listened to them panicking about. Slowly I understood what I had done. I had Skilled.
I had tapped my king’s strength to do it.
You will be the death of kings, the Fool had told me. A prophecy or a shrewd guess? A Shrewd guess. Tears came to my eyes.
I smelled elfbark tea. Plain strong elfbark, no ginger or mint to disguise it. I prised my eyes open a crack.
‘It’s too hot!’ hissed the Fool.
‘It cools quickly in the spoon,’ Burrich insisted, and ladled some into the King’s mouth. He took it in, but I did not see him swallow. With the casual expertise of years in the stables, Burric
h tugged gently at the King’s lower jaw, and then stroked his throat. He ladled another spoonful into his slack mouth. Not much was happening.
Kettricken came to crouch by me. She lifted my head to her knee, put a hot cup to my mouth. I sucked at it, too hot, I didn’t care, I sucked in air with it, noisily. I swallowed it, fought choking against its bitterness. The darkness receded. The cup came back, I sipped again. It was strong enough to nearly numb my tongue. I looked up at Kettricken, found her eyes. I managed a tiny nod.
‘He lives?’ she asked softly.
‘Yes.’ It was all I could manage.
‘He lives!’ She cried it out aloud to the others, joy in her voice.
‘My father!’ Regal shouted the words. He stood swaying in the door, face red with drink and anger. Behind him I glimpsed his guard, and little Rosemary peeping around the corner, wide-eyed. Somehow she managed to slip past the men, to race to Kettricken and clutch at her skirts. For an instant, our tableau held.
Then Regal swept into the room, ranting, demanding, questioning but giving no one a chance to speak. Kettricken kept a protective crouch beside me, or I swear Regal’s guards would have had me again. Above me, in his chair, the King had a bit of colour again in his face. Burrich put another spoonful of tea to his lips, and I was relieved to see him sip at it.
Regal was not. ‘What are you giving him? Stop that! I won’t have my father poisoned by a stable-hand!’
‘The King had another attack, my prince,’ the Fool said suddenly. His voice cut through the chaos in the room, made a hole that became a silence. ‘Elfbark tea is a common restorative. I am sure that even Wallace has heard of it.’
The Prince was drunk. He was not sure if he was being mocked or conciliated. He glared at the Fool, who smiled benignly back.
‘Oh.’ He said it grudgingly, not really wishing to be mollified. ‘Well, what then of him?’ He gestured at me in anger.
‘Drunk.’ Kettricken stood up, letting my head drop to the floor with a convincing thump. Flashes of light marred my vision. There was only disgust in her voice. ‘Stablemaster. Get him out of here. You should have stopped him before he got this far. Next time, see that you use your judgement when he has none of his own.’
‘Our Stablemaster is well known for having his own taste for the cup, lady queen. I suspect they have been at it together,’ Regal sneered.
‘The news of Verity’s death hit him hard,’ Burrich said simply. He was true to himself, offering an explanation, but no excuse. He took hold of my shirt-front, jerked me from the floor. With no effort at play-acting, I swayed on my feet until he gripped me more firmly. I caught a passing glimpse of the Fool hastily spooning another dose of elfbark into the King. I prayed no one would interrupt him. As Burrich ushered me roughly out of the room, I heard Queen Kettricken rebuking Regal, saying he should be below with his guests, and promising that she and the Fool could get the King to bed. As we were going up the stairs, I heard Regal and his guard going down. He was still muttering and then ranting, complaining that he was not stupid, he could tell a plot when he saw one. It worried me, but I was fairly certain he had no real idea of what had been going on.
At my door, I was well enough to work my latches. Burrich followed me in. ‘If I had a dog that was sick as often as you are, I’d put it down,’ he observed kindly. ‘Do you need more elfbark?’
‘It wouldn’t hurt me. But in a gentler dose. Do you have any ginger or mint or rosehips?’
He gave me a look. I sat on my chair while he poked at the pathetic embers in my fireplace until he got them to glow. He built up a fire, put water in the kettle and set it to heat. He found a pot and put in the flaked elfbark, then found a mug and wiped the dust out of it. He set the things out ready, then looked about himself. Something like disgust was on his face. ‘Why do you live like this?’ he demanded.
‘Like what?’
‘In so bare a room, with so little care for it? I’ve seen winter-quarter tents that were cosier than this room. It’s as if you’ve never expected to stay here more than a night or two longer.’
I shrugged. ‘I’ve never given it much thought.’
There was a silence for a bit. ‘You should,’ he said unwillingly. ‘And you should think about how often you’re hurt, or sick.’
‘This, what happened tonight, this couldn’t be helped.’
‘You knew what it would do to you, but you went ahead with it anyway,’ he pointed out.
‘I had to.’ I watched him pour steaming water over the elfbark in the pot.
‘Did you? It seemed to me the Fool had a pretty convincing argument against it. Yet you went ahead. You and King Shrewd, both of you.’
‘So?’
‘I know a bit about the Skill,’ Burrich said quietly, ‘I was King’s Man to Chivalry. Not often, and it did not leave me as bad as you are now, save for once or twice. But I’ve felt the excitement of it, the –’ he groped for words, sighed. ‘The completion of it. The oneness with the world. Chivalry once spoke to me about it. A man can get addicted, he said. So that he looks for excuses to Skill, and then finally he is absorbed into it.’ He added after a moment, ‘It is not unlike the rush of battle, in some ways. The sense of moving unhampered by time, of being a force more powerful than life itself.’
‘As I cannot Skill alone, I dare say it is not a danger to me.’
‘You offer yourself very often to those who can.’ Bluntly spoken. ‘As often as you willingly plunge yourself into dangerous situations that offer that same kind of excitement. In a battle, you go into a frenzy. Is that what happens to you when you Skill?’
I had never considered the two together in such a light. Something like fear nibbled at me. I pushed it aside.
‘To be a King’s Man is my duty. Besides, was not this evening your suggestion?’
‘It was. But I would have let the Fool’s words dissuade us from it. You were determined. You put no value at all on what it would do to you. Perhaps you should have a care for yourself.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’ I spoke more sharply than I intended, and Burrich did not reply. He poured the tea he had made, and handed it to me with a ‘see what I mean’ look on his face. I took the mug and stared into the fire. He sat down on my clothing chest.
‘Verity is alive,’ I said quietly.
‘So I heard the Queen say. I had never believed he was dead.’ He accepted it very calmly. As calmly as he added, ‘But we have no proof.’
‘Proof? I spoke to him. The King spoke to him. Isn’t that enough?’
‘For me, more than enough. For most other folks, well …’
‘When the King recovers, he will bear me out. Verity lives.’
‘I doubt it will be enough to prevent Regal from proclaiming himself King-in-Waiting. The ceremony is scheduled for next week. I think he would have done it tonight, save that every duke must be present to witness it.’
Elfbark battling with exhaustion, or simply the unrelenting march of events suddenly made the room tilt around me. I felt I had thrown myself in front of a wagon to stop it, and instead it had rolled over me. The Fool had been right. What I had done tonight counted for little, save the peace of mind it brought Kettricken. A sudden welling of despair filled me. I set down my empty cup. The Six Duchies kingdom was falling apart. My King-in-Waiting Verity would return to a mockery of what he had left: a sundered country, a ravaged coastline, a plundered and empty keep. Perhaps if I had believed in Elderlings, I could have found some way to believe it would all come out right. All I could see now was my failure.
Burric
h was looking at me oddly. ‘Go to bed,’ he suggested. ‘A bleak spirit is sometimes what follows an over-indulgence in elfbark. Or so I have heard.’
I nodded. To myself, I wondered if that might account for Verity’s often dour moods.
‘Get some real rest. In the morning, things may look better.’ He gave a bark of laughter and smiled wolfishly. ‘Then again, they may not. But the rest will at least leave you better prepared to face them.’ He paused, sobering. ‘Molly came to my room, earlier.’
‘Is she all right?’ I demanded to know.
‘Bringing candles she knew I did not need,’ Burrich went on as if I had not spoken. ‘Almost as if she wanted an excuse to speak to me …’
‘What did she say?’ I rose from my chair.
‘Not very much. She is always very correct with me. I am very direct with her. I simply told her you missed her.’
‘And she said?’
‘Nothing.’ He grinned. ‘But she blushes very prettily.’ He sighed, suddenly serious. ‘And, as directly, I asked her if anyone had given her any further cause to fear. She squared her little shoulders and tucked in her chin as if I was trying to force a bit in her teeth. She said she thanked me kindly for my concern, as she had before, but that she was capable of seeing to herself.’ In a quieter voice, he asked, ‘Will she ask for help if she needs it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I confessed. ‘She has her own store of courage. Her own way of fighting. She turns and confronts things. Me, I slink about and try to hamstring them when they aren’t looking. Sometimes, she makes me feel a coward.’
Burrich stood up, stretching so that his shoulders cracked. ‘You’re no coward, Fitz. I’ll vouch for you there. Perhaps you just understand odds better than she does. I wish I could put your mind at rest about her. I can’t. I’ll watch over her as well as I can. As much as she’ll let me.’ He gave me a sideways glance. ‘Hands asked me today who the pretty lady is who calls on me so often.’
