by Robin Hobb
Wait! The Prince Skilled with desperate determination. In some way I did not understand, he caught at her and detained her. Who are you?
Nettle's shock went through me like a wave. She struggled a moment, but when his grip held, she demanded, Who am I? Who are you, who dare to intrude here so rudely? Let go of me.
Dutiful did not react well to her rebuke. Who am I? I am the Prince of all the Six Duchies. I go wherever I will.
For a moment, she was stunned to silence. Then, You are the Prince? Her disbelief was as evident as her scorn.
Yes, I am. And now you will stop wasting my time and tell me who you are! I winced at the snap of command in his voice. A terrible silent void stretched all around me. Then Nettle reacted as I had known she would.
Oh. Well, of course I will, since you ask me so nicely. Prince Mannerless, I am Queen I-Doubt-It-Very-Much of the Seven Dungheaps. And perhaps you go “wherever you will,” but when the where belongs to me, I will that you do not ever go there. Changer, you should cultivate nicer friends.
I saw what she had done. In the pause, she had seen exactly how he had fastened himself to her. And now, effortlessly, she shook herself free of him. And vanished.
I jolted awake with her disdain rattling against me like flung pebbles. Torn between awe for my daughter and dread for the dragon, I tried to recover myself. I needed to think what I could do. Instead, Chade pushed his way into my mind.
We need to talk. Privately. His Skill trembled with excitement.
Privately? Are you sure you know what the word means? Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to spy on me?
Not privately. Dutiful was furious with both of us as he broke in on our Skilling. Who is she? How long has this been going on? I demand to know. How dare you train another Skilled one and keep her existence concealed from me!
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Go back to sleep! Thick's ponderous Skilling was between a moan and a command. Go back to sleep and stop shouting. It was only Nettle and her dragon. Go back to sleep.
Everyone knows of her except me? This is intolerable. Dutiful's Skilling held fury and frustration, and that terrible sense of betrayal when one discovers one has been excluded from a secret. I demand to know who she is. Right now.
I fenced my thoughts tightly and prayed, even though I knew it would avail me nothing.
Chade? The Prince drove him out of his silence.
I do not know, my lord. The old man lied gracefully and without remorse. I both damned and admired him.
FitzChivalry.
There is a power to the naming of a man by his true name. I shuddered at the impact, and then swiftly begged, Do not call me by that name. Not here, not now, lest the dragon be listening. It was not the dragon I feared, but my daughter. Too many bits of my secrets were falling into her hands.
Tell me, Tom.
Not this way. If we must speak of this, let us speak voice to ear only. Near me in the dark, Thick pulled his blankets up over his head, groaning.
Meet me now. The Prince's voice was grim.
This isn't wise, Chade counseled us both. Let it wait until morning, my prince. There is no sense in inviting questions by summoning a man-at-arms to you in the middle of the night.
No. Now. What was truly unwise was for both of you to deceive me about this Nettle person. I will know now what is going on behind my back and why. It was almost as if I were in the mothershouse by the bed-benches. I could feel how his anger chased the chill from his bared chest as he threw his covers aside, sense how furiously he thrust his feet into his shoes.
Give me time to dress then, Chade conceded wearily.
No. Stay where you are, Councilor Chade. You say you know nothing? Then there is no sense in your bothering to come. I'll meet Fitz . . . Tom alone for this.
His anger roared like a fire now, and yet he still had refrained from saying my name. In some corner of my mind, I admired his restraint. But the greater part of my thoughts was taken up with a dilemma. This was my prince that was angry with me, and to his way of thinking, he was justified. How would I react to his questions? Who was I to him tonight? Friend, mentor, uncle, or subject? I became aware that Thick was sitting up on his blankets, watching me dress.
“I'll only be gone a short time. You'll be fine here alone,” I reassured him even as I wondered if that was so.
I don't want to leave Thick alone here, I Skilled to the Prince, hoping this excuse would spare me.
Then bring him. The Prince bit off his succinct order.
“Do you want to come?”
“I heard him,” Thick replied wearily. He heaved a huge sigh. “You're always making me go places I don't want to go,” he complained as he rummaged for clothing in the dark.
I felt a year had passed before he was dressed. He huffily refused any offer of assistance from me. Together we finally left the cottage and wound our way through the village. The odd twilight that passes for night in that part of the world lent its gray aspect to the world. It was oddly restful to my eyes and I finally identified the sensations. These dimmed colors reminded me of how Nighteyes had perceived the world on the evenings and dawns when we had hunted together. It was a gentle light, and undistracted by color, the eye was free to pick up the small movements of game. I walked light as the wind, but Thick shuffled disconsolately along beside me. Every now and then, he coughed. I reminded myself that he was still not completely well and tried to find patience with his slow pace.
Little bats flickered through the air over the town. I caught the furtive glide of a robber-rat as it slunk from a rain barrel to a doorstep. I wondered if it was the same one that Swift had tried to befriend, then put it out of my mind. We were drawing closer to the mothershouse. The courtyard was deserted. They posted no guard here, though they kept a lookout over the coast and harbor. Evidently they feared no attacks from within their own folk. I wondered then if Peottre had told me all he knew of Henja. Certainly he and the Narcheska seemed wary of the woman and he had said she was an outsider. Why, then, did he not post a guard against her?
I led Thick away from the main door. We approached the mothershouse from behind, past the stone walls and hedges that confined the sheep. Around the corner of a shed, the Prince was waiting for us near some bushes beside the privies. He shifted restlessly as he watched us approach, and I sensed his impatience. I lifted a silent hand to gesture to him to join us in the concealment of the hedge. Then:
Don't come to me. Stand still. No, hide. Or go away.
I halted, confused by the Prince's sudden command. And then I saw what had rattled him. Elliania wore a cloak over her nightgown as she leaned out from the door and glanced around. I barely had time to put a hand on Thick's chest and urge him back out of sight behind the hedge line. The little man angrily slapped my hand from his chest. “I heard him,” he complained to me as I shushed him in vain.
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We have to be very quiet, Thick. The Prince doesn't want Elliania to know we are here.
Why not?
He just doesn't, that's all. We need to hide here and be very quiet. I crouched down on the earth behind the hedge and patted the ground by me invitingly. Thick, hunched in the grayness, scowled down at me. I longed simply to take him home but I was sure Elliania would hear his shuffling tread if we tried to leave. It was better to wait. Surely she wouldn't be long. She probably only needed to use the backhouse. I peered around the trunks of the hedge through a gap in the branches. Come join us here before she sees you, I Skill-suggested to the Prince.
No. She's seen me. Go away. I'll talk to you later. Then, disbelieving, I felt him raise his Skill-walls against me. He had grown stronger. It was by the Wit that I sensed him, poised and quivering in her steady-eyed regard as she came to him in the dusky light of a sun that scraped along the edge of the horizon, refusing to set.
I felt a lurch of dismay as I saw how swiftly
she went to him and how close she stood to him in the dimness. This was not the first time these two had met clandestinely. I wanted to turn my eyes away and yet I stared avidly, peering at them through the bushes. Her words barely reached me. “I heard the door open and close, and when I looked out the window, I saw you waiting here. ”
“I couldn't sleep. ” He reached out as if to take her hands, but then dropped his hands back to his sides. I felt more than saw the sharp glance he sent in my direction.
Go away. I'll speak to you tomorrow. His Skill-sending to me was tight and small. I doubted that even Thick was aware of it. Royal command was in his tone. He expected me to obey him.
I can't. You know this is dangerous. Send her back to her room, Dutiful.
I had no sense that he had received my thought. He had closed himself off to focus only on the girl. Behind me, Thick stood up, yawning and gaping. “I'm going back,” he announced sleepily.
Sshh. No. We have to stay here and be very quiet. Don't talk out loud. I peered at the young couple anxiously, but if Elliania had heard Thick, she gave no sign. I wondered uneasily where Peottre was, and what he would do to Dutiful if he found them together like this.
Thick sighed heavily. He crouched back down, and then sat flat on the ground. This is stupid. I want to go back to bed.
Elliania glanced down at Dutiful's hands at his side, and then, cocking her head, looked up at his face. “So. Who are you waiting for?” Her eyes narrowed. “Lestra? Did she invite you to meet her here?”
A very odd smile appeared on Dutiful's face. Was he pleased that he had pricked her to jealousy? He spoke more softly than she did, but I could watch his lips form the words. “Lestra? Why would I wait by moonlight for Lestra?”
“There is no moon tonight,” Elliania pointed out sharply. “And as for why Lestra, why, because she would willingly give you her body to use as you wished. More for the sake of spiting me than because she found you handsome. ”
He crossed his arms on his chest. I wondered if he did so to hold in his satisfaction or to keep from taking her in his arms. She was slender as a willow, and her night braids fell to her hips. I could almost smell the warmth of her rising up to him. “So. Do you think she finds me handsome?”
“Who knows? She likes odd things. She has a cat with a crooked tail and too many toes. She thinks it's pretty. ” She shrugged. “But she would tell you that you were handsome, simply to win you. ”
“Would she? But perhaps I don't want Lestra to win me. She is pretty, but perhaps I don't want Lestra at all,” he suggested to her.
All the night held its breath as she looked up at him. I saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she took a deeper breath, daring herself. “Then what do you want?” she asked, soft as a breeze.
He didn't try to take her in his arms. I think she would have resisted that. Instead, he freed one hand from his crossed arms and, with the tip of one finger, lifted her chin. He leaned forward, bending down to take the kiss he stole from her. Stole? But she did not flee. Instead, she rose on her toes as only their mouths touched in the soft dimness.
I felt a lecherous old man, sprawled in the darkness of the hedge, spying on them. I knew he plunged himself into danger, that they both took foolish chances, but my heart leaped at the thought that my lad might know love as well as an arranged marriage. When their kiss finally broke, I hoped he would send her back to her bedchamber. I wanted him to have this moment, but I also knew that I'd have to intervene if it looked like their experiment was going to venture past a kiss. I cringed at the thought, but steeled myself to the necessity of it.
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With dread, I heard her breathless question. “A kiss. That was all you wanted?”
“It is all I'll take now,” he countered. His chest was rising and falling as if he'd run a race. “I'll wait until I've earned more to take more. ”
An uncertain smile crossed her face. “You need not earn it if I choose to give myself to you. ”
“But . . . you said you would not be my wife until I brought you the dragon's head. ”
“In my land, a woman gives herself where she will. It is different from being married. Or a wife, as you call it. Once a girl is a woman, she can take whatever man she wishes into her bedskins. It does not mean she is wed to each of them. ” She glanced aside and added carefully, “You would be my first. Some consider that more special than to be vowed to one another. It would not make me your wife, of course. I will not be wife or wedded to you until you have brought the dragon's head here, to my mothershouse. ”
“I would like you to be my first, as well,” Dutiful said carefully. Then, as if uttering the words were as difficult as dragging a tree up by the roots, he added, “But not now. Not until I've done what I've said I'd do. ”
She was shocked, but not that he would keep his promise. “Your first? Truly? You've known no woman yet?”
It took him a long moment to admit it. “It is the custom of my land, though not all follow it. To wait until we are wed. ” He spoke stiffly, as if fearing she would mock him for his chastity.
“I would like to be your first,” she admitted. She stepped closer to him, and this time his arms settled around her. She melted her body against him as his mouth found hers.
My Wit made me aware of Peottre before they were. Engrossed as they were, I doubt either of them would have been aware of a herd of sheep passing around them, but I came to my feet as I saw the old warrior step around the corner of the mothershouse. His sword was on his hip and his eyes were dangerous. “Elliania. ”
She leaped back out of Dutiful's embrace. One guilty hand wiped her mouth as if to conceal the kiss she had taken. I give Dutiful full credit that he stood his ground. He swung his head to look steadily at Peottre. There was nothing of remorse or disgrace in his stance, nor anything of boyishness. He looked like a man interrupted while kissing a woman who belonged to him. I held my breath, wondering if I would better or worsen the situation by stepping into plain view.
The silence was as still and watchful as the night. The gaze held between Peottre and Dutiful. It was a measuring look, not quite a challenge. When Peottre spoke, his words were for Elliania. “You should go back to your bedchamber. ”
At his suggestion, she spun and fled. Her bare feet were silent on the dust of the courtyard. Even after she was gone, Dutiful and Peottre continued to regard one another. At last Peottre spoke. “The dragon's head. You promised. As a man, you gave your word. ”
Dutiful inclined his head once, gravely. “I did. As a man, I promised. ”
Peottre started to turn away. Dutiful spoke again.
“What Elliania offered me, she offered as a woman, not as the Narcheska. Is she free to offer that, by your customs?”
Peottre's spine stiffened. He turned slowly and spoke unwillingly. “Who else can offer that to you, save a woman? Her body belongs to her. She can share that with you. But she will not truly be your wife until you bring her the head of Icefyre. ”
“Ah. ”
Again, Peottre slowly turned to go, and again Dutiful's voice stopped him.
“Then she is more free than I am. My body and my seed belong to the Six Duchies. I am not free to share it where I would choose, but only with my wife. That is our custom. ” I almost heard him swallow. “I would that she knew that. That, by our customs, I cannot accept what she offers, except dishonorably. ” His voice dropped, and his next words were a request. “I would ask that she not tempt or taunt me with what I cannot honorably take. I am a man but . . . I am a man. ” His explanation was both awkward and honest.
So was Peottre's response. There was grudging respect in his voice as he said, “I will see that she knows that. ”
“Will she . . . will she think less of me? Will she think me less of a man?”
“I do not. And I will see that she understands what it costs a man to hold back from such an offer. ” He stood look
ing at Dutiful as if seeing him for the first time. When he spoke, there was great sadness in his words. “You are a man. You would be a good match for my sister-daughter. The granddaughters of your mother would enrich my line. ” He spoke the last as if it were a proverb rather than something that he could truly hope for. Then he turned and silently left.
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I saw Dutiful draw a deep breath and sigh it out again. I dreaded that he would reach for me with the Skill, but he did not. Instead, head bowed, he walked back into Elliania's mothershouse.
Thick had fallen asleep sitting on the ground, his head bowed heavily onto his chest. He moaned lightly as I gently shook him to wakefulness and helped him to his feet. “I want to go home,” he muttered as he tottered down the road beside me.
“Me, too,” I told him. And yet it was not Buckkeep that came to my mind, but a meadow overlooking the sea, and a girl in bright red skirts who beckoned me. A time, rather than a place. No road led there anymore.
Chapter 12
COUSINS
The toothy spires of the dragon's isle cup the glacier in its maw
As the gaping mouth of a dying man wells blood.
Young man, will you go there?
Will you climb the ice to win the regard of your fellow warriors?
Dare you cross the crevasses, seen and unseen?
Dare you brave the winds that sing of Icefyre, asleep within the ice?
He will burn your bones with cold, he will. The icy wind is his fiery breath.
With it he will blacken the skin of your face until it peels from the sore pink flesh beneath it.
Young man, will you venture there?
To win the favor of a woman, will you walk beneath the ice on the wet black stones that see no sky?
Will you find the secret cavern that gapes only when the tide retreats?
Will you count your own heartbeats to mark the passing of time until the sea waves return to grind you to a smear of blood against the deep blue ice above you?
