by Robin Hobb
‘The tea is brewed,’ Dutiful announced, and lifted the teapot. For the first rime, I became aware that the boy was serving me, much as I would have served Chade or Shrewd at his age. With respect and deference. ‘Stop,’ I said, and put out a hand to cover his. I forced the teapot back to the table. As I picked it up and poured my own tea, I warned him, ‘Dutiful, my prince. Listen to me. I must be Tom Badgerlock to you, in every way. Today, for now, we will speak of this. But after this, I must revert to my role as Tom Badgerlock. You must see me as him, and you must see Lord Golden only as Lord Golden. You have been handed a blade with no handle. There is no safe way to grip nor wield this secret that you know now. You rejoice in knowing who I am, and in seeing me as a link to your father. I wish, with all my heart, that it was as simple and good as that. But this secret, breathed in the wrong company, brings us all down. We know that our queen would try to protect me. Think what it would do. I am not only a known user of the Wit, but also the supposed murderer of King Shrewd. Not to mention that I killed several of Galen’s Coterie, before a room full of witnesses. Nor am I as dead as many think I should be. For me to be revealed as living would stir the hatred and fear of the Witted to new heights just as our Queen is trying to put an end to their persecution.’
‘To our persecution,’ the Prince corrected me mildly. He sat back in his chair and pondered it a bit, as if working out the consequences for himself. He looked uncomfortable as he said, ‘You’ve already accidentally put a crimp in the Queen’s plans. Despite all Chade’s efforts to take no official interest in your fate, there were still rumours that the death of “Keppler”, Padget and that other man went unpunished simply because they were suspected to be Witted.’
‘I know. Chade told me. And that you were accused of having the Wit as well.’
The Prince bowed his head to that. ‘Yes. Well, I do, don’t I? And the Piebalds know that, and perhaps some of those who style themselves Old Blood know it as well. Right now, the Old Blood have an interest in keeping my secret. They want this convocation as much as the Queen does. But the deaths of those three men have made them far more cautious. They talk now of demanding more sureties before they will commit to endangering themselves by coming here.’
‘They want hostages.’ My mind made the leap. ‘They want an exchange of people, some of ours to hold at risk while their folk are in our hands. How many?’
The Prince shook his head. ‘Ask that of Chade. Or my mother. From the way they argue, I suspect that she communicates directly with the Old Bloods, and only tells the old man what she thinks he needs to know. It frustrates him. I think she has managed to calm their fears and reschedule the meeting. Chade swore that it would he impossible without granting them ridiculous demands. Yet she had done it. But she will not tell Chade how, and that agitates him. She has reminded him that she is Mountain-bred, and that granting a demand he would see as “ridiculous”, or accepting a risk that he would declare “unacceptable” are for her a matter of principle.’
‘I can’t think of anything he would find more upsetting than to see a pie he couldn’t get his fingers into.’ I spoke mildly even as I wondered uneasily where Kettricken’s Mountain ethics on being Sacrifice for her people might lead us.
Dutiful seemed to sense my reservations. ‘I agree. And yet, in this, I will side with my mother. It is time she forced him to cede the upper hand to her. If she does not insist upon it now, it does not bode well for me to have any real power when I come to the throne.’
His words put a chill down my spine. He was right. The only reassuring part was that he could look at it so levelly and coolly. Then a wry thought twisted my perception. The Prince could see Chade’s machinations because he was as much Chade’s student as he was Kettricken’s Mountain son. He spoke on as casually as if we were discussing the weather.
‘But, that is not what we were talking about. You say your true identity cannot become known. I agree that cannot happen right now. There would definitely be a faction interested in ensuring your death. A great many people would hate and fear you. And the Farseers would he accused of sheltering a regicide simply because you were one of the family. Even more interesting might be how it would affect both the Old Bloods and the Piebalds. The Witted Bastard has been a rallying point for them for years, and the rumour of your survival is like a revered legend amongst them. To hear Civil speak of you, you are almost a god.’
‘You haven’t discussed me with Civil?’ Alarm flooded me.
‘Of course not! Well, not you as you. The legend of FitzChivalry, the Witted Bastard, is what we have discussed. And only in passing, I assure you. Though I think your identity would be as safe with Civil as it is with me.’
I sighed, heartsick and weary. ‘Dutiful. Your loyalty is admirable. But I doubt Civil’s. The Bresingas have betrayed you twice. Will you allow them to do it a third time?’
He looked stubborn. ‘They were coerced, Tom… It feels strange to call you that, now.’
I refused to be distracted. ‘Become accustomed to it again. And if Civil is threatened again, and again spies for them, or worse?’
‘He has no one left for them to threaten.’ He halted suddenly and looked at me. ‘You know, I have neither apologized nor thanked you. I sent you to Civil’s aid without considering that it might be a risk to you. And you went, and you saved my friend’s life, even though you yourself don’t like him much. As a result, you nearly died.’ He cocked his head at me. ‘How do I thank you for that?’
‘You don’t need to. You are my prince.’
His face grew very still. Kettricken lurked in his eyes as he said, ‘I don’t much like that. It seems to make us more distant. I would that you and I were only cousins.’
I looked at him closely as I asked, ‘And do you think that would make a difference? That I would have refused to help your friend because you were “only” my cousin?’
He smiled at me, and then gave a sigh of vast satisfaction. ‘I still don’t quite believe it’s real,’ he said quietly. A look somewhat like guilt crossed his face. ‘And Thick and I are not supposed to be coming to visit you yet. Chade forbade it, or any attempts to Skill to you until you were stronger. I didn’t mean to wake you when we came up here. I only wanted to look at you again. And when I saw the scars were back, I leaned too close.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
I sat for a time in silence, uncomfortable and yet basking in his regard. How strange to be loved simply for who I was. It was almost a relief when Thick reappeared, pushing the secret door open with his shoulder. His hands were full and he was puffing with effort from his trot up the stairs. He had helped himself to a whole pie intended to serve a dozen men.
I watched him with satisfaction as he brought his loot to the table. He was grinning broadly, well pleased with himself. I realized I had never seen that expression on his face before. His small, separated teeth and protruding tongue in that round, wide face gave him the look of a cheerful goblin. If I had not known him, I probably would have found the result appalling, but his smirk was answered by a conspiratorial grin from the Prince, and I found myself smiling on both of them.
Thick set the pie down with a clack on the worktable, officiously pushing my dishes to one side to give himself room to work. He hummed as he set to work, and I recognized the refrain of his Skill-song. His surliness seemed to have vanished. I noticed that the knife he used to cut the staggeringly large portions of pie was the one I had bought for him in town on that horrid day. So somehow my purchases had made it up to Buckkeep and to him. The Prince found plates and Thick plopped the servings onto them. He took great care not to soil his new clothes while he did so, and later ate with a caution worthy of a great lady in a new gown. We divided that monstrous pie and left nothing in the pan, and for the first time since I had been injured food tasted good to me.
TWENTY-THREE
Revelations
The un-Witted often tell fearsome tales of Witted ones who take on the forms of animals f
or nefarious reasons. Those of Old Blood will flatly state that no human, no matter how tightly bonded to his animal partner, can take on the shape of that animal. What Old Bloods speak about only reluctantly is that a human can inhabit the body of his beast partner. Usually this happens temporarily and only in extreme circumstances. The body of the human does not vanish; indeed, it remains very vulnerable at such times and may even appear dead. Extreme physical damage to a human’s body or imminent death may make a human consciousness take refuge in his Wit-beast’s body. Old Blood folk disparage this practice and strongly urge against it.
Among Old Blood, it is strictly forbidden that such an arrangement become permanent. An Old Blood human who flees his dying body and takes refuge in that of his Wit-partner becomes an outcast from the Old Blood community. The same is true for a human who takes in the fleeing soul of his animal partner. Such an act is regarded as extreme selfishness as well as being both immoral and unwise. All who grow up in the Old Blood communities are warned that no matter how tempting the circumstance, no happiness will result for either partner. Death is better.
In this significant way, Old Blood practitioners of the magic differ from the so-called Piebalds. Piebalds relegate their Wit-beasts to a lesser status than their human partners, and see nothing wrong with a human choosing to extend his life by sharing the body of his Wit-partner after his own human body has perished. In some cases, the human becomes the dominant spirit in the animal’s body, all but driving it out of its own flesh. Given the long life span of some creatures such as tortoises, geese and certain tropical birds, an unscrupulous human could take such a partner late in life with the deliberate intention of providing himself with a body after his own death. In such a way, a human could extend his life for a century or more.
— Badgerlock’s Old Blood Tales
I emerged from my convalescence like a new-hatched thing crawling out into the sunlight for the first time. The world dazzled and overwhelmed me, and I felt amazement at my life. More, Dutiful’s new regard for me was something that I wore like a warm coat. I felt that affirmation the next morning as I stood in the courtyard of Buckkeep Castle and watched the folk of the keep come and go around me at their daily tasks. The day seemed very bright, and to my surprise, I could smell the end of winter in the air. The trodden snow underfoot seemed heavier and denser and the blue of the sky overhead deeper. I drew in a deep breath and then stretched and heard my joints crackle from disuse. Today I’d cure that.
I still didn’t trust my legs to carry me down to Buckkeep Town, so I went to the stables. The stable-boy who regularly cared for Myblack took one look at me and told me he’d ready my mare for me. I leaned gratefully on her manger and watched him. He treated her well and she was docile under his touch. When I took the reins from him, I thanked him for caring for the horse I had neglected. He gave me a puzzled look and confided, ‘Well, I can’t say that she’s seemed to miss you. Content with her own company, that’s this one.’
Halfway down the steep hill-path to town, I began regretting my decision to ride. Myblack seemed bent on arguing with the reins and showed me just how little strength had come back to my hands and arms. Despite our little battle of wills, she did carry me to Gindast’s shop. There I was both disappointed and elated to find that Hap had little time to visit. Although he came swiftly to me when he saw me at the door, he explained apologetically that one of the journeymen was allowing him to help with the roughing-in of a carving on a headboard. If he went with me, the man would likely choose one of the other apprentices for the task. I assured him that another day would be soon enough and that I had no news for him other than that I was feeling better. I watched him hurry off, chisel and scribe in hand, and felt only pride in my boy.
As I remounted Myblack, I glimpsed three of the younger apprentices. They were peering at me around the corner of a shed and whispering to one another. Well, I was known in Buckkeep Town now as a man who had killed three other men. Murder or justified slaying, it mattered not. I’d have to expect a certain amount of finger-pointing and gossip. I hoped it would not hurt Hap’s standing among them. I pretended not to notice them and rode off.
I went next to Jinna’s cottage. When she opened her door to me, she first gave a little breathless gasp at sight of me. She stared at me for a moment, then looked past me and up and down the street, as if expecting Hap. I’m alone today,’ I said. ‘May I come in?’
‘Well. Tom. Of course. Come inside.’ She stared at me as if my wasted appearance rattled her. Then she stepped back to allow me into her house. Fennel snaked into the cottage between my feet.
Inside, I sank down into the chair by her fireside gratefully. Fennel immediately settled in my lap. ‘So sure of your welcome, aren’t you, Cat? As if the world was made for you.’ I stroked him and then looked up to find Jinna watching me apprehensively. Her concern touched me. I managed a smile. I’m going to be all right, Jinna. I had both feet in death’s mouth but I managed to step back. I’ll be myself again, with time. Right now, I’m a bit dismayed at how tired I am just from the ride down here.’
‘Well.’ Her hands tangled together as she spoke. Then she gave herself a little shake as if coming back to herself. She cleared her voice and spoke more strongly. ‘It doesn’t surprise me a bit. You’re no more than bones, Tom Badgerlock. Look how your shirt hangs on you! Sit still a bit and I’ll make you a strengthening tisane.’ At the look on my face, she amended that to, ‘Or perhaps just a cup of tea. And some bread and cheese.’
Fish? Fennel asked me.
Jinna says cheese.
Cheese isn’t fish, but it’s better than nothing.
‘Tea and bread and cheese sounds good. I grew very weary of broth and tisanes and mush when I was recovering. In truth, I am most tired of all of being an invalid. I’m determined that I’ll get up and move around a bit every day from now on.’
‘Probably the best thing for you,’ she agreed distractedly. She cocked her head and stared at me. ‘But what’s this? Your Badgerlock is gone!’ and she pointed at my hair.
I managed a blush. ‘I’ve dyed it. In an effort to look more youthful, I’m afraid. My sickness has taken a grave toll on my appearance.’
‘It has, I must agree. But to dye your hair as a remedy… well. Men. Now.’ She gave her head a small shake as if to clear it. I wondered what was troubling her, but an instant later she seemed to have set it aside. ‘Have you heard what has happened between Hap and Svanja?’
‘I have,’ I assured her.
‘Well. I saw it coming.’ And then, as she put water on to heat, she went on to tell me, with many tongue cluckings, what I already knew: that Svanja had forsaken Hap for her returning sailor, and had shown her silver earrings to every other girl in town.
I let her explain it all to me as she sliced bread and cheese for us. When she had finished her say, I observed, ‘Well, it’s likely the best for both of them. Hap is more focused on his apprenticeship, and Svanja has a suitor her parents approve of. His heart is a bit bruised over it, but I think he’ll recover.’
‘Oh, aye, he’ll recover, while Svanja’s sailor boy is in port,’ Jinna observed sourly as she brought a tray to the little table between the chairs. ‘But you mark my words. The moment that lad has a deck under his feet again, Svanja will be after Hap once more.’
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ I observed mildly. ‘And even did she come to him, I think Hap has learned his lesson. Once burnt, twice shy.’
‘Hmph. Once bedded, ever eager, would be a better saying in this case. Tom, you need to warn him and warn him severely. Don’t let him fall to her wiles again. Not that she’s a wicked girl, only one that wants what she wants, when she wants it. She does as much damage to herself as she does to those young men.’
‘Well. I hope my lad has more common sense than that,’ I observed as she took the other chair.
‘So do I,’ she rejoined. ‘But I doubt it.’ Then, as she looked at me, her voice and face lapsed into stillness again. She
looked at me as if she saw a stranger. I saw her start to speak twice and then each time still her words.
‘What?’ I asked finally. ‘Is there more to this Svanja-sailor tale that I don’t know? What’s wrong?’
After a heavy silence, she asked quietly, ‘Tom, I—We’ve been friends for a time, now. And we know more than just a bit about each other. I’ve heard… Never mind what I’ve heard. What really happened that afternoon on Falldown Street?’
‘Falldown Street?’
She looked aside from me. ‘You know the place. Three men dead, Tom Badgerlock. And some tale of a stolen purse of gemstones and a serving-man determined to get them back. Another might believe it. But then, half-dead yourself, you stop to kill a horse?’ She got up to take the purring kettle off the fire and poured water into the teapot. In a very soft voice, she said, ‘I’d been warned off you the week before, Tom. Someone told me you were a dangerous man to befriend. That something bad might befall you soon, and it would be better for me if it didn’t happen in my house.’
I gently pushed the cat from my lap and took the kettle of hot water from her shaking hands. ‘Sit down,’ I suggested gently. She sat and folded her hands in her lap. As I put the kettle back on the hearth, I tried to think calmly. ‘Will you tell me who warned you?’ I asked as I turned back to her. I already knew the answer.
