by neetha Napew
“Like Eda and El themselves,” Riddle observed, and I nodded to myself.
Nobility and commoners are alike swayed by pomp and pageantry. Over the next few days, the castle and the town swelled with folk as it had not in years. The ceremony to honor the Prince’s Wit coterie was well attended, with far more folk than it would have ordinarily attracted. Cockle had the telling of the tale, and he acquitted himself well and with far more accuracy than I had come to expect of minstrels. Perhaps because he was Witted himself, he did not wish to be seen as embroidering the truth beyond what it would bear. So he told the tale with moving simplicity that made little of the type of magic Burrich and the coterie used and much that they had been willing to sacrifice all for their prince.
Cockle, Swift, Web, and Civil were formally recognized as the Prince’s Wit coterie. There was some small grumbling at that, as older nobles recalled well that once the word had only been applied to the circle of Skilled ones who aided a king. Chade assured them that there would indeed eventually be a Skill coterie, as well, as soon as suitable candidates could be tested and selected.
The Queen conveyed Withywoods to Molly rather than Nettle, so that it might be seen as granted to Burrich’s line in token of his service. Molly accepted it gravely and I knew that the monies from that estate would provide well for her and all her children. Lady Nettle was presented as the newest of the Queen’s circle of ladies, and Swift officially apprenticed to the Witmaster Web. Web spoke briefly but strongly of the power of Burrich’s magic, and bemoaned that the man had been forced to hide it rather than educate his son in it. He hoped there would never be such a waste of talent again. Then Web solved for me the riddle that he had given me when first we set out on the voyage. For he said that Burrich briefly rallied before he died, enough to bid his son farewell, and to die with the Warrior’s Prayer on his lips. For, “Yes,” he had sighed on his dying breath, and all knew that was the ultimate prayer one could offer to life. Acceptance.
I pondered that during the evening when I sat in my workroom. My hands were slick with lamp oil. It had spread through the Skill scrolls, making many of the old letters fuzzy and swollen to my weary eyes. It was a discouraging, tiresome task. I pushed the scroll away from me, wiped my hands on a rag, and poured myself a little more brandy.
I was not certain I agreed with Web’s thoughts, and yet it seemed to me that “yes” had been Burrich’s word for life. Certainly, there seemed to be very little glory or satisfaction in saying “no” to it. I had said it often enough to have felt fully the truth of that.
I had sought in vain for another opportunity to speak to Molly alone. Always, she seemed surrounded by her children. Slowly it came to me, sitting there alone by my fire, that they were a part of her. Likely there would be very little chance of finding her alone and apart from them. The opportunity I had so long denied myself was here and now, but rapidly slipping away from me.
The next morning, on the eve of the wedding, I went to the steams early in the day. I washed myself and shaved more carefully than I had in years. Back in the tower room, I brushed my hair back into a warrior’s tail, and then took out the selection of clothing that the Fool had inflicted on me. I dressed slowly in the blue doublet and the white shirt, finishing it with the Buck blue leggings. I was now definitely a Buckman, but no longer looked like servant or guardsman. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled ruefully. Patience would approve. I looked dangerously like my father’s son. I dared myself, and then moved the silver fox pin from the inside of my doublet to the outside. The little fox winked at me and I smiled back.
I left the secret labyrinth and walked through the corridors of Buckkeep Castle. Several times I felt eyes on me, and once a man stopped dead before me and squinted at me with a frown, as if struggling to remember something. I passed him by. The castle was acrawl with hastening servants and nobles socializing with one another. I made my way to the Violet Chamber and knocked firmly.
Nettle opened the door. I had not been prepared for that, thinking that young Chivalry would have been the first I must confront. She stared at me, and then recognized me with a visible start. She said nothing until I asked, “May I come in? I would speak to your mother and brothers.”
“I don’t think that’s wise. Go away,” she said, and began to shut the door, but Chivalry caught the edge of it, asking her, “Who is it?” and then, in an aside to me, “Don’t mind her, sir. Dress of a lady and manners of a fishwife.”
The room seemed full of children. I had never before realized how many seven children were. Swift and Nimble were sitting on the floor by the hearth, a game of Stones spread out before them, with Steady watching the play. Swift looked up, saw me, and his mouth opened in an O of surprise. I saw his twin poke him, demanding, “What is it? It’s your turn.” Hearth and Just, wrestling on the bed, ignored me. I suddenly realized the size of the promise that Burrich had demanded of me; it was easily seven times what Chivalry had asked of him when he handed me over to his right-hand man to raise. The blankets were rucked about by the tussling youngsters on the bed and the candelabrum on the night table was in obvious danger of being overset. And then, before Nettle could shut the door on me or Chivalry invite me in, Molly entered from the adjoining chamber. She halted, staring at me.
I think she would have thrown me out if she’d had the chance. Hearth stood up on the bed and made a spring for his brother, who evaded him by rolling away. I took two swift steps and caught the six-year-old before he hit the floor. He wriggled away from me immediately, charging back into battle with his brother. They suddenly reminded me of a litter of puppies, and I smiled as I said, “I promised Burrich that I would look after his sons. I can’t do that if I don’t know them. I’ve come to introduce myself.”
Swift stood up slowly to face me. The question in his eyes was plain. I took a breath. I found my answer. Yes. “My name is FitzChivalry Farseer. I grew up in the stables of Buckkeep. Your father taught me all things he thought a man should know. I would pass that on to his sons.”
Chivalry had caught Nettle’s uneasiness, and the name unsettled him even more. He moved to put his body between the smaller children and me. It was so instinctive of him that I had to smile, even when he said, “I think I can pass my father’s teachings on to my brothers, sir.”
“I expect that you will. But you will have other things to think of, as well. Who cares for your stock and stables right now, when you are all away?”
“Oxworthy. A man from our village who used to come to help out with the heavy work from time to time. He can manage it well enough, for a few days, though I will have to return to our holdings right after the Prince’s wedding.”
“It’s not his business!” Nettle interjected indignantly.
I knew I had to face her down or let her drive me off. “I made a promise, Nettle. Swift witnessed it. I do not think your father would have asked that of me unless he wished the raising of his small sons to be my business. That sets it out of your hands.”
“But not out of mine,” Molly interjected firmly. “And for many reasons, I think this unwise.”
I took a breath and steeled my will. I turned to look at Chivalry. “I love your mother. I have for years, for years before she chose your father. Yet I promise you, I will not try to take his place with any of you. Only to do what he asked of me. To look after you all.” I looked back at Molly. Her face was so white I thought she would faint. “No secrets,” I told her. “No secrets among us.”
Molly sat down heavily on the bed. Her two youngest boys immediately came to her, Hearth climbing into her lap. She put her arms around him reflexively. “I think you had better go,” she said faintly. Steady came to his mother and put a protective arm around her.
Swift stood suddenly. “No secrets? Will you tell them you are Witted, then?” It was a challenge.
I smiled at him. “I believe you just did that for me.” I took a breath and looked at Nettle. “I will also be instructing your sister in the Skill.�
� At Chivalry’s blank look, I said, “The King’s magic, the old magic. She has it. She talks with dragons. You should chat with her about it sometime. It was why she was first brought here to Buckkeep, to serve her prince. I believe your father had some ability in the Skill for he served as King’s Man to King-in-Waiting Chivalry. The man for whom your eldest brother is named.”
Swift was staring at me uncertainly. “Web said we were not to speak of who you really were. That there were still some who’d like to see you dead. That your life was in our hands.”
I bowed to him. “Yes. I put my life in your hands.” I looked at Nettle and added, “If you’d truly like to be rid of me, it would be fairly simple for you.”
“Please, Fitz.” Molly sounded desperate. “Go. I need to speak to my children privately. I wish you had not given such a heavy secret to my younger ones. I scarcely trust them to wash their necks each day, let alone to preserve such a confidence.”
I felt a bit foolish then, and I bowed, saying only, “As you will, Molly,” and left. I got five steps past the closing of the door before my knees began to shake so badly that I had to lean up against the wall for a moment. A passing servant asked me if I was ill, but I assured her I would be fine. Yet as I found my strength and walked away down the corridor, I wondered if I would be.
Then Nettle’s sudden Skilling hit me with the force of a mallet.The dragons are coming! Tintaglia bids us have live meat waiting for them, in the “customary” place!
It was good fortune that brought us dragons on the Prince’s wedding day, but Nettle’s inspiration that the tribute Tintaglia had demanded so imperiously be referred to as the Dragon’s Feast. Hapless steers, beribboned with blue streamers, were penned not far from the Witness Stones, awaiting their fate. Tintaglia and Icefyre were not present for the ceremony itself, which was just as well. The well-wishers who came to witness the Prince and Elliania make their vows in the center of the Witness Stones crowded both hillsides. The couple was splendid in blue and white. They stood in the center of the stones under a serendipitously blue sky and spoke their promises loudly and clearly.
I was amongst the guards who stood in a line to keep an area near the cattle pens cleared for the dragons. They appeared as small jewels in the sky just as the Prince had finished his promises to his bride and his dukes. They flew nearer, and the crowd oohed and aahed as if they were an acrobatic troupe brought especially for their pleasure. The dragons grew larger and even larger and soon we had no problems in keeping an area cleared for them to alight as people began to realize the size of the creatures that were approaching. A hush came over the crowd as it became apparent that Tintaglia fled the ardently pursuing Icefyre. Above the Witness Stones, they wheeled and cavorted and mock-battled, swooping low enough that the wind of their wings tousled hair and flapped scarves. Together they soared, gleaming black and silvery blue, up in an abrupt, almost vertical climb, and then Icefyre lunged and caught his mate. They coupled in a display of wanton lust that delighted the gathered witnesses as a good omen for their prince and new princess. No one with even a drop of the Skill in them could have been completely immune to the passions of those great beasts. It infected the crowd with a wave of both sentiment and amorousness that made that evening’s festivities a night long and fondly remembered by many.
The dragons cared little for any of that. They coupled several times, with loud trumpeting and mock challenges to one another, and then fell on the bullocks with a zeal for feeding that was horrifying to witness. The pens did not hold the panicky cattle and one guardsman was trampled and several dozen onlookers sent scrambling for safety before Tintaglia and Icefyre completed their slaughter and settled in to feeding. That was bloody and messy enough that even those who had stayed behind to watch the dragons kill the cattle decided to go back to the castle, or to watch from a safer distance.
Yet even though the dragons paid little attention to the occasion, their presence was a triumph for our prince. Before the dukes dispersed to their separate duchies, they met and agreed to recognize Dutiful as King-in-Waiting. It was an end to Dutiful’s quest worthy of any minstrel’s song, and many were made about it, and sung often in the days to come. The feasting and rejoicing in Buckkeep Castle went on for a full twenty days until the onset of wintry weather convinced the nobility that they ought to seek their own keeps and holdings before travel became completely unpleasant. The castle settled back, very gradually, into a routine. Yet for all that winter, it remained a livelier place than it had in many a year. The King-in-Waiting and his young bride attracted not just the youthful nobility of the Six Duchies, but the younger kaempra of the Out Islands. Alliances were made that had nothing to do with trade, and wedding plans set that spanned the two countries. Among those who announced their intentions were Lord Civil and Lady Sydel.
Yet it was a time of departures, too. I made farewell to Hap and his master, for they would follow their lord back to his keep for the winter. My boy seemed genuinely happy, and if I was not pleased to part with him, I was pleased that he had found a choice that gave him so much satisfaction. Web took Swift off with him, saying it was time the boy got out and met more of his own folk, to understand better all the nuances of the Wit and to make him appreciate the necessity of using it with discipline. My declaration of love for his mother had raised a new wall between Swift and me. I was not sure it was one I could soon breach, and yet I felt better knowing that I had spoken honestly to him. Web tried to talk me into going with them, saying that I too would benefit, but I begged off yet again, promising that truly, truly, one day I would make time. He smiled, and reminded me that no man could make time, but only use that which he was given wisely. I promised him I’d try to do that, and waved them farewell from the gates of Buckkeep.
The dragons departed with the first frost, and we were not sorry to bid them farewell. They were each capable of eating a couple of cattle a day. Nettle warned us early in their visit that if we did not supply them willingly, they would likely take whatever they fancied. Our herds and flocks were well culled before the chill of winter drove them south. I was amused one night to become aware of Nettle and Tintaglia in dream-talk. Nettle dream-rode with Tintaglia. She flew slightly behind Icefyre, heading south as they flew through the night. The sweep of cool wind, the stars overhead, and the rich smells of the slumbering earth below were intoxicating.
And beyond that desert, you will find some of the richest, fattest herds in this part of the world. Or so I have heard so.Nettle was casual with her recommendation.
Desert? Dry sand? I have been longing for a good dust bath. Wet sand clings beneath my scales, and water cannot polish old blood from one’s scales like sand does.
I think you will find much there to your liking. I have heard that the cattle of Chalced are easily twice the size of what we raise here, and so fat that the meat catches fire if you try to cook it over an open flame.
Nettle’s dream was rich with the smell of roasting meat and dripping fat. It almost made me hungry.I have never heard of the cattle of Chalced being exceptionally fat or large, I objected.
We were not conversing with you,Nettle pointed out severely.And what I know of Chalced, I know from my father’s stories of that place. I think they would profit much from a visit from hungry dragons. And then she tumbled me out of her dream and I awoke on the floor by my bed.
Dutiful, Chade, Nettle, Thick, and I continued to meet in early mornings to study and expand our understanding of the Skill. Nettle was courteous, but spoke to me only as it was necessary. I did not push against that wall, either, but instructed Dutiful, Thick, and her as a group. Soon my paltry advantage over them was apparent, and we proceeded to learn as a coterie. What we learned from the recovered scrolls made us go more slowly rather than more quickly for it rapidly became apparent that we wielded our magic like a boy wields a sword, with little understanding of either the danger or the potential of it. Chade desperately wished to experiment with the Portal Stones, as we began to call them. The
Elderling cities and their hints of both treasure and secrets enticed him. Only the extreme aversion that both Thick and I evinced toward them convinced him that he should wait until he had a better mastery of the magic before attempting such a thing. Perhaps the most positive outgrowth of it was that Chade agreed that in spring he would arrange a Calling after the old tradition, and that from among those who came, we would select Skill candidates who would be trained according to the careful procedures outlined in the scrolls.
Despite my duties, winter dragged for me. The day after the wedding, Molly and five of her sons had departed Buckkeep. She did not bid me farewell in any way. I bled inside for three days and then, lacking all other advisers in matters of the heart, took my sorry account of my foolishness to Patience and Lacey. They listened carefully, praised my courage and honesty, condemned my stupidity, and then revealed that Molly had already told them the whole story. After chiding me for rushing in just as they had warned me not to do, Patience announced that I had best return to Tradeford with her for the winter, to keep myself busy and to give Molly some time. I narrowly begged my way out of that. Yet bidding them farewell was difficult for me, and I promised I would come to visit before the year was out.
“If we’re still alive,” Patience conceded cheerfully. They promised to send me a monthly missive along with the report of the holdings that they sent to the Queen, and I promised to do likewise. I watched them set forth, mounted on horses amidst the guard the Queen had insisted on sending with them, for despite their years they both disdained the comforts of a litter. I stood in the road, staring after them until a curve in the road took them out of sight.
