by Robin Hobb
Her answer seemed to embolden him. I wished I had heard the entire conversation. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he agreed. ‘And so, hearing that you would not tolerate what was being done to the Witted, I came to you. Maybe here in Buckkeep I can just be what I am and not get beaten for it. I promise I’ll never use it to any low end. I will vow myself to the Farseers and serve you well in any way you ask of me.’ He lifted his eyes to meet the Queen’s, not a bold stare but an honest, direct look from a boy confident that he had chosen the right path. I stared at Burrich’s son, seeing Molly mingled in the boy’s cheekbones and lashes. ‘And your father approved of this?’ Chade asked, stern but gentle.
The boy looked away. When he spoke, his voice was softer. ‘My father doesn’t know, sir. I just left when I knew that I couldn’t take it any more. I won’t be missed. You saw our home. He has other sons, good sons who are not Witted.’
‘That does not mean he won’t miss you, Nim.’
For the first time, the boy looked annoyed. ‘I’m not Nim. Nimble doesn’t have the Wit. I’m Swift, the other twin. See, that’s another reason that my father won’t miss me. He already has one of me that’s perfect.’
A shocked silence followed his words. I am sure he mistook the cause of it. When Kettricken spoke, she tried to mend it.
‘I knew Burrich, years ago. However much he may have changed, I am still certain that, Witted or no, he will miss you.’ Chade added, ‘When I spoke with Burrich, he seemed very fond and proud of all his children.’
For a moment, I thought the boy would break. Then he took a breath and said matter-of-factly, ‘Well, yes, but that was before.’ Chade must have looked at him blankly, for the boy elaborated painfully. ‘Before the taint came out in me. Before he knew I had the Wit.’
I saw Chade and Queen turn to one another and confer silently. After a moment Kettricken said softly, ‘Then, Swift, Burrich’s son, I say this to you. I am willing to take you into my service. But I think it best that I do so with your father’s consent. He must be told of your whereabouts. It is unfair to let your parents fear that you have come to a bad end.’
Even as she spoke, we all became aware of raised voices in the corridor outside the chamber. There was a light knock at the door and before they could respond, a hasty and heavier one. Kettricken nodded to a little page at her side, who went to answer it. When the door was opened, a guard stood before it, ready to relay a message. Behind him hulked Burrich, dark and scowling, and despite all the years that had passed, I quailed before that look. His black eyes glowered as he peered past the sentry into the room. Plainly dismissing the man as inconsequential, Burrich called out, ‘Chade. A word with you, please.’
It was Queen Kettricken who replied. ‘Burrich. Please, come in. Page, you are dismissed. Close the door behind you. No, Guardsmen Senna, I assure you, all is well. We have no need of your service just now. Close the door.’
Even as Burrich strode angrily into the chamber, the quiet courtesy of her words and her calm air as she received him took much of the wind from his sails. He walked with a swing to one leg where that joint did not bend well.
He went down on one knee before her, despite her, ‘Oh, Burrich, that is hardly necessary. Please. Get up.’
It cost him to haul himself back to his feet, yet he did. When he lifted his eyes to hers, I saw something that smote me. The palest of cataracts, the barest beginning of a creeping cloud, hazed his dark glance. ‘My queen. Lord Chade,’ he greeted them formally. Then, as if there was no more to say to them, he turned to Swift and said, ‘Boy. Get home. Now.’ When the lad dared to glance at the Queen for confirmation, Burrich growled, ‘I said, get home! Do you forget who your father is?’
‘No, sir. I do not. But how… how did you find me?’ Swift demanded in dismay.
Burrich snorted contemptuously. ‘Easily enough. You asked the smith in Trura which road led to Buckkeep. Now I’ve had a long, cold ride and you’ve annoyed these people enough. I’m taking you home now.’
I admired Swift then, for he stood his ground gamely before his father’s rising wrath. ‘I have asked asylum of the Queen. And if she grants it to me, I intend to stay.’
‘You’re talking nonsense. You need no asylum. You’ve worried your mother to hysteria and had your sister in tears for two nights. Now you’ll come home, and settle back into your place and do your duties. Without complaint.’
‘Sir,’ Swift replied. It was not assent, only a confirmation that he had heard Burrich’s words. Silently he lifted his dark eyes to the Queen. It was a strange sight, Burrich, older and grayer, and beside him, his son mirroring the stubborn gaze of his father.
‘If I might offer a suggestion — ’ Chade began, but Kettricken cut in with, ‘Swift, you have come far and quickly. I know you are wet, cold and tired. Tell the guardsman at the door to take you down to the kitchens and see you are fed, and then to let you stand before the hearth and get warm and dry. I wish to speak to your father.’
The boy hesitated, and Burrich’s scowl deepened. ‘Obey her, boy!’ he snapped at the lad. ‘That is your queen. If you cannot show the filial piety to obey your father, at least show you’ve the upbringing to obey your rightful queen. Make your bow, and then go as you were told.’
I saw the boy’s hopes die. He bowed stiffly but correctly and left. Even then, Swift did not scuttle from the room, but strode out, with dignity, as if to his own execution. When the door had closed behind him, Burrich swung his glance back to Kettricken. ‘I beg my queen’s pardon that you have been troubled with this. He’s a good enough lad, ordinarily. He’s just at… a difficult age.’
‘He has not troubled us. Truth to tell, I would willingly be so troubled, if that is what it takes to bring you to visit us. Will you sit down, Burrich?’ She gestured at an empty chair, one of several in a row before her.
Burrich held himself stiffly erect. ‘You are kind to offer it, but I have not the time to linger, my lady. I promised my wife I would return to her, with the boy, as swiftly as I could and-’
‘Must I command you to sit down, my stubborn old friend? Your good lady will forgive you the delay to rest yourself for a moment, I am sure.’
He was silent. Then, like a dog commanded to sit and stay, he walked to one of the chairs and sat down in it. Again, he waited.
After a pause, Kettricken recommenced. ‘After all these years this is an awkward way for all of us to come together again. And yet, no matter how awkwardly it came about, I am glad to see your face once more. Yes, and to see that you have a son with his father’s proud spirit.’
Another man might have warmed to that paternal compliment but Burrich only glanced down and tempered it with, ‘And I fear he has many of his father’s faults as well, my lady.’
Kettricken did not waste words or time. ‘The Wit, you mean.’
Burrich twitched to that as if she had cursed at him.
‘Swift told us, Burrich. I do not see it as a shameful thing. He told me he had come to me as I have forbidden men to persecute those with the Wit. He asked to take service with me. In truth, I would be glad to have such a stout-hearted lad to page for me. But I told him it must be with his father’s consent.’
He shook his head as he refused her. ‘I do not give it, my lady. Swift is far too young to live amongst strangers. To be raised so quickly and so far above his natural station could spoil him. He needs to remain at my side for some years yet, until he learns to control his boyish impulses.’
‘Until you’ve extinguished the Wit in him,’ Chade filled it in.
Burrich considered, then frowned. ‘I don’t believe that can be done. I’ve tried for many years to wipe it from myself. Still, it lingers. But if it cannot be purged from a man, he can nevertheless be taught to refuse it. Just as a man must learn to refuse all sorts of other vices.’
‘And you are so certain that it is a vice, and something to despise?’ Kettricken’s voice was gentle. ‘But for your possession of the Wit, I would have died at Regal’s hand
s, all those years ago. But for your Wit, Fitz would have perished in Regal’s dungeons.’
Burrich took a short breath. It seemed to catch in his throat, and he took another one, as a man who fights for control of himself. He looked up, blinking, and it wrung me to see that his lashes were wet with unshed tears. ‘You can speak his name,’ he said huskily. ‘And yet do not perceive that he is why I take the stand I do? Lady Queen, but for the Wit, Fitz would have learned the Skill well. But for the Wit he could never have been thrown into Regals dungeons. But of the Wit, he might even now be alive. The Wit doomed him to die and not even as a man. As a beast.’ He dragged in a shuddering breath. His voice rasped but he held himself straight and retained command of himself. ‘Every day I live, I live with my failure. My prince, Prince Chivalry, entrusted me with his only child, with the sole command that I raise him well. I failed my prince. I failed Fitz and I failed myself. Because I was weak. Because I had not the strength of will to be harsh with the boy where harshness was needed. And so he fell into the way of that vile magic, and he practiced it, and it brought about his downfall. He paid the price for my misplaced tenderness. He died, horribly, and alone, and as a beast.
‘My lady, I loved Fitz, first as my friend’s son, and then as my friend. I loved him just as I love my own son now. And I will not lose another boy to that low magic. I will not.’ Only on the last words did his deep voice begin to shake. His hands knotted and unknotted and then clenched into fists at his side. He regarded them both through his misted eyes.
‘Burrich. Old friend.’ Chade’s voice was thick. ‘Long ago, you sent me word Fitz had perished. I doubted it then. I still do. How can you be sure of his death? Remember what he said to both of us. That he intended to go south, to Chalced and beyond Chalced. Perhaps he did as he said he would and — ’
‘No. He did not.’ Burrich’s hands went slowly to his throat. He unfolded his collar, and then from beneath it, he drew a small and shining thing. My heart turned over in my chest and tears flooded my eyes. He showed it to both of them, gleaming on his calloused palm. ‘Do you recognize it? It’s the pin King Shrewd gave him, when he claimed the boy as his own.’ He sniffed loudly, and cleared his throat. ‘When I found his body, Fitz was long dead. Many a creature had gnawed on him. But this was still there, in the collar of the shirt he died in. He died as an animal, fighting with beasts almost like himself. He was the son of a prince, the son of the finest man I ever knew and he died like a dog.’ He abruptly closed his hand around the stickpin. He spoke not a word as he refastened it into his collar.
I sat in the dark, behind the wall, my hand tight over my own mouth. I tried not to choke on my tears and betray myself. I must keep my secret. I must remain dead to him. Never had I thought what his assumption of my death might mean to him. I had little considered how much grief and guilt he might bear over how he supposed I had died. Burrich still believed that I had succumbed to the Wit, had reverted to an animalistic lifestyle, a beastman living in the woods until the Forged ones attacked and killed me. It was not so far from the truth. For a time I had retreated into being a wolf in a man’s body. But I had dragged myself up and out of that refuge, and forced myself to become a man again. When the Forged ones had raided my home and attacked me, I had fled. Days passed before I realized that I had left my precious pin behind. Burrich had found the body of a Forged one I had killed. The shirt with the pin thrust into the collar had been on that body. And so he had assumed it was mine. For all these years, it had suited my purposes to leave him in ignorance of my survival. I had thought it the kindest thing for all of us. He and Molly had found a love and a life together. To discover I still lived could only damage that bond between them. It must remain so. It must. In a numbed stillness, I stood and peered at the man who felt responsible for my death. He must continue to carry that guilt. I could not change it.
‘Burrich. I do not think you failed anyone.’ Kettricken spoke softly. ‘And I do not see the Wit as a flaw in your son. Leave him here with me. Please.’
Burrich shook his head slowly and heavily. ‘You would not say that if he were your son. If he walked daily in danger of folk discovering what he was.’
I saw Kettricken’s shoulders rise as she drew breath and knew she was about to tell him that her own son was Witted. Chade realized the danger as well, for he cut in smoothly with, ‘I see your point, Burrich. I do not agree with it, but I see it.’ He paused, then asked, ‘What will you do to the boy?’
Burrich stared at him. Then he gave a brief bark of laughter. ‘What? Do you fear I’ll tan the hide off him? No. I’ll take him home, and keep him well away from animals, and work him daily until he is so tired that he falls asleep before he gets into his bed at night. No worse than that. His mother’s tongue will probably flay him worse than a cane ever could. Nor will his sister easily forgive him for the worry he’s given us.’ Then suddenly he scowled more blackly than ever ‘Did the lad tell you he was in fear of life or limb from me? For that’s a lie, and he knows it, and for that he might get the back of my hand.’
‘He said nothing of the kind,’ Kettricken said quietly. ‘Only that he could not stand it any more, to live at home and be forbidden the Wit.’
Burrich snorted. ‘No one dies from being forbidden the Wit. There’s a loneliness to giving it up, and well do I know that. But no one dies from avoiding the Wit. Using the Wit is how one dies from it.’ Burrich rose abruptly from his chair. I heard his bad knee crack as he rose and saw him wince. ‘My lady, forgive me, but if I sit too long, I’ll stiffen, and this day’s ride home will be all the harder for me.’
‘Then take a day here, Burrich. Go to the steams to ease that leg of injuries twice taken in defending a Farseer’s life. Eat well, and sleep in a soft bed tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough for your journey home.’
‘I cannot, my lady.’
‘You can. Must I command this comfort to you, also?’ The Queen’s voice was fond.
Burrich met her gaze squarely. ‘My queen, would you command me to break my word to my own lady?’
Kettricken gravely bowed her head to him. ‘Good man, your honor is the only thing as stiff as your stubbornness. No, Burrich, I would never command you to break your word. Too often has my own life depended upon it. I will let you go then, as you please. But you shall delay long enough to allow me to pack such gifts as I wish you to take back to your family. And while I do so, you may as well eat a hot meal and warm yourself at the hearth.’
Burrich was silent for a moment. Then, ‘As you wish, my lady.’ again, he went ponderously and painfully down upon one knee.
When he rose and waited her permission, Kettricken sighed. ‘You go, my friend.’
When the door had closed behind him, Kettricken and Chade sat silently for a time. They were the only people left in the chamber Then Chade turned and looked toward my peephole. He spoke softly. ‘You have a little time while he eats. Think hard. Shall I summon him back to this chamber? You could be alone here with him. You could put his heart at ease.’ He paused. ‘This is your decision, my boy. Neither I nor Kettricken will make it for you. But…’ His words died away. Perhaps he knew just how much I did not want his advice on this. In a soft voice, he added, ‘If you wish me to ask Burrich to come back to this chamber, tell Lord Golden to send me a message. If you do not, then… do nothing.’
Then the Queen arose, and Chade escorted her from the audience chamber. She gave one pleading backward glance at my wall before she left the room.
I don’t know how long I sat there in the dust and dimness. When my candle began to drown in its own wax, I rose and made my way back to my own small chamber. The corridor seemed long and dreary. I walked unseen, through dust and cobwebs and mouse-droppings. Like a ghost, I smiled stiffly to myself. Just as I walked through my life.
In my room, I took my cloak from its hook. I listened for a moment at the door, then stepped out into the central chamber of Lord Golden’s apartments. He sat alone at the table. He had pushed his br
eakfast tray aside. He did not appear to be doing anything. He gave me no greeting. I spoke without preamble.
‘Burrich is here. He followed his son Swift, Nimble’s twin. Swift is Witted, and sought asylum in the Queen’s service. Burrich refused to let her have the boy. He’s taking him home with him, to teach him not to use the Wit. He still thinks the Wit is evil. He blames it for my death. He also blames himself, that he did not beat it out of me.’
After a moment, Lord Golden turned his head indolently to look at me. ‘An interesting bit of gossip. This Burrich, he was Stablemaster here at one time, was he not? I don’t believe I’ve ever met him.’
For a time, I just looked at him. He returned my stare with a gaze devoid of interest. ‘I’m going down to Buckkeep Town today,’ I announced flatly.
He turned back to his contemplation of the tabletop. ‘As you will, Tom Badgerlock. I’ve no need of your services today. But be ready to go out tomorrow at noon. Lady Thrift and her niece have offered take me out hawking. I don’t care to keep a bird of my own, you know. Their talons spoil the sleeves of my coats. But perhaps I shall be able to add some feathers to my collection.’
My hand was on the door latch before he had finished his hateful charade. I shut it firmly behind me and went briskly down the stairs. I dared myself and fate. If I ran into Burrich in the hallway, he would know me. Let the gods decide for themselves if he should walk in guilty ignorance or pain-wracked truth. But I did not encounter him in the halls of Buckkeep, nor even glimpse him as I went past the guards’ dining hall. Then I snorted at my own foolish fancy. Doubtless they would take the Queen’s guest to the main hall, and there feed him well, alongside his wayward son. I did not let myself pause to consider any other temptations. I went out into the courtyard, and soon was striding down the road to Buckkeep Town.
The day was fine, clear and cold. It bit the tops of my cheeks and the tips of my ears, but my pace kept the rest of me warm. I played a dozen scenes in my head of how it might go were I to confront Burrich. He would embrace me. He would strike me and curse me. He would not recognize me. He would faint with shock. In some of these visions he welcomed me warmly with tears of joy, and in others he cursed me for all the years I had let him live in guilt. But in none of those scenes could I imagine how we would speak of Molly and Nettle, nor what would come after. If Burrich discovered that I was alive, could he keep it from Molly? Would he? Sometimes his honor operated on such a lofty scale that what was unthinkable for any other man became the only correct option for him.
