Tawny Man 02 - Golden Fool

by Robin Hobb

  ‘How could you allow this to happen?’ he demanded of me. ‘Why didn’t you keep me informed? Is the Prince well? Has he been harmed?’

  ‘He is fine—’ I began, but Kettricken cut in suddenly with, ‘How could he allow this to happen? Councillor, you go too far. For many years you have advised me, and you have advised me well. But if you forget your place again, we will part company. You are to counsel, not to make decisions and certainly not to circumvent my will! Do you think I have not considered well every aspect of this? Follow my thoughts, then, you who taught me to plot this way. Fitz is here, and through him I shall know if my son suffers even an indignity. At my son’s side is a woman familiar with Old Blood ways, a woman loyal to me, and capable of handling a weapon if she must. In my possession are a dozen folk, all at risk if anything befalls Dutiful, plus one man who seems of great significance to them. You dismissed their request for a hostage, saying that if we failed to offer one, they might protest but in the end would still vouchsafe their people to us. Laurel counselled me otherwise; she knows well the distrust they have for the Farseers, and the generations of abuse it is founded on. She said we must offer a hostage, one of good standing. Who, then, could I offer? Myself? That was my first thought. But then, who remains here to treat with them? My son, seen by many as an untried lad? No. I had to remain here. I pondered my other choices. A noble, fearful and disdainful of them, over the protests of my other dukes? You? Then I would be bereft of your counsel. FitzChivalry? To make him valuable enough, his identity would have to be revealed. And so I settled on my son. He is valuable to both sides, and most valuable alive. They have made no secret to me in these negotiations of the fact they know he is Witted. Hence, in some ways, he is one of their own as much as he is ours. He is sympathetic to their situation, for he shares it. I doubt not that while he is with them, he will learn more than he would if he had stayed here by my side during these formal negotiations. And what he learns will make him, ultimately, a better king for all his people.’ She halted. A bit breathlessly, she added, ‘Well, Councillor. Show me my error.’

  Chade sat looking at her, mouth ajar. I did not bother to conceal my admiration. Then Kettricken grinned at me, and I saw green sparks ignite in Chade’s eyes.

  He shut his mouth with a snap. ‘You might have told me first.’ he said bitterly. ‘I do not relish being made to look like a fool.’

  ‘Then choose to look merely surprised, like the rest,’ Kettricken advised him tartly. More gently, she added, ‘Old friend, I know that I have made you concerned for my son’s safety and hurt your feelings. But if I had taken you into my confidence on this, you would have prevented me from doing it. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Perhaps. But that still…’

  ‘Peace,’ she hushed him. ‘It is done, Chade. Now accept it. And I beg you, do not let it hinder you from being just and resourceful as we enter into this negotiation.’ As quickly as that, she silenced him. She turned to me. ‘You I shall want behind the wall, FitzChivalry, witness to everything. And of course, it is also your function to monitor my son’s well-being. He may be able to convey to you information that can put us at an advantage.’ She pretended calmness as she asked, ‘Are you aware of him right now?’

  ‘Not in a direct way,’ I admitted. ‘Not riding with him as once Verity rode with me. That is an aspect of the Skill that he has not yet fully acquired. But… a moment.’ I took a breath and reached for him. Dutiful? I am with Chade and the Queen. All is well with you?

  We are fine. Is Chade very angry with her?

  Don’t be concerned with that. She deals well with him. They merely wanted to be sure we could reach one another.

  That we can, I am in a conversation with Fleria, their leader. Let me pay attention to it now, or she will think I am more halfwit than Wilted.

  When I brought my attention back to Chade and Kettricken, the old man was scowling at me. ‘And what makes you smile?’ he demanded, as prickly as if I had mocked him.

  ‘My prince made a jest with me. He is well. And as the Queen surmised, he is conversing with their leader. Fleria.’

  The Queen turned to Chade triumphantly. ‘There. Do you see? Already he has her name, a bit of information long denied us.’

  ‘You mean, she has told him some name to call her by,’ Chade rejoined irritably. Then, to me, ‘Why cannot I hear him? What must I do, to perfect my talent to work as I need it to?’

  ‘The fault may not be with you. Dutiful has finally mastered directing his thoughts only to me. Not even Thick would have been aware of his Skilling to me, I think. It could be that, as you and the Prince work together, you will establish a stronger link of your own. And you may become more receptive to the magic as you work with it more often. But, until then—’

  ‘Until then, you must wait to discuss this later. Even the most laggardly of our guests should be warm and clad in dry garb by now. Come, Chade. We are to meet them in the east gathering hall. And you, Fitz, off to your post. If we hear anything that will affect my son’s safety, I wish him to know of it immediately.’

  Another woman might have waited for Chade, or have gone to a looking-glass briefly. Not Kettricken. She rose and swept from the room, completely confident that her councillor would be on her heels and that I would scuttle off to my spy-post. The look Chade shot me as he left mingled pride and chagrin.

  ‘I may have taught her too well,’ he observed to me in a whisper.

  I re-entered the rat-warren of corridors. In the workroom, I provided myself with sufficient candles and a cushion for my comfort. As I made my roundabout way to my listening-post, Gilly joined me. He was disappointed to discover I had no raisins with me today, but contented himself with the adventure instead.

  All the negotiations I have ever witnessed begin with at least a day of boredom. This was no exception. Despite the mystery of the masked Old Bloods, that first long afternoon was a morass of manoeuvring and suspicion cloaked behind extreme courtesy and reserve. The delegates did not wish to reveal where in the Six Duchies each came from, let alone their names. That was nearly all that was resolved by the end of that first session: that they must at least name the duchy each came from, and that complaints of treatment in that duchy must be documented with the name of the person who was wronged as well as dates and specific details.

  Web remained the exception to every rule in this. He furnished the only moment that was interesting to me that entire first day. He introduced himself as coming from Buck, from a small coastal town on our border with Beams. He was a fisherman by trade, and the last scion of what had once been a large Old Blood family. Most of his immediate family had perished during the Red Ship Wars, with his aged grandmother surrendering to her years only last spring. He was unmarried and childless, but did not count himself alone as he was bonded to a sea-bird, one that was even now riding the winds over Buckkeep Castle. Her name was Risk, and if the Queen was interested in meeting her, he would be happy to call her down to one of the tower tops.

  He alone lacked the reserve and the suspicion that the rest of the Old Blood shared. His loquaciousness more than made up for the silence of many of the others. He seemed to take Queen Kettricken at her word that she wished to put an end to Old Blood persecution. He not only took some moments to publicly thank her for that, but also for making this gathering possible. He said she had brought together Old Blood people in a way that had not happened for generations, not since they had been forced to hide their magic and no longer live together in communities. From there, he launched into the importance of Old Blood children being able to acknowledge openly their magic so that they might learn it completely. He included Prince Dutiful amongst them, and said he shared her sorrow that her son’s magic must remain both hidden and uneducated.

  He paused then. I wondered what he expected. That the Queen would thank him for his sympathy and concern? I saw Chade’s tension. Despite what the Old Blood claimed to ‘know’, Chade had counselled Kettricken not to admit to them that her son w
as Witted. The Queen skirted the issue nicely, telling her that she shared his concern for children that must grow up in an atmosphere of secrecy, their talents uneducated.

  And so it went for that long evening. Web was the only one who seemed not only willing but insistent to share information about himself and his Wit. I began to recognize the distance that the Old Blood folks kept from him. It was as much confusion as awe. Like many a man labelled either god-touched or mad, folk were unsure what to make of him. He made them uneasy; they were not sure if they should emulate him or drive him from their midst. I swiftly deduced that alone of the folk there, he had come on his own. No community had selected him to represent them; he had simply heard of the Queen’s summoning and answered it. The woman in the forest had seemed to set great store by him, but I was not at all sure that every Witted person in the room shared her high regard. And then he won my queen.

  ‘A man with nothing to lose,’ he said at one point, ‘is often in the best position to sacrifice himself for the gain of others.’

  That set Kettricken’s eyes to shining at him, and I knew that both Chade and I wished that he had chosen any other word but ’sacrifice’.

  The talk lasted until the evening meal. Chade and the Queen left them to eat in privacy, but I did not scruple to watch them remove their hoods and masks. I saw no one I recognized either from my contacts with Rolf’s Old Bloods or from the Piebalds I had hunted. They ate well, commenting freely on how good the food was. One small Wit-beast that had passed by me unnoticed now emerged. A woman had a squirrel that came out and scampered about on the table, foraging amongst the serving dishes without remonstrance from anyone. This meal and the casual conversation were what the Queen and Chade truly wished me to witness. I was not surprised when Chade soon joined me at my post.

  Silently we listened to our guests discuss the direction of the conversation and if they thought the Queen was truly listening to them. There were two Old Bloods, a man calling himself Boyo and a woman using the name Silvereye, who were particularly vocal. I sensed that they knew one another well, and perceived themselves as the leaders of this group. They attempted to rally the others into taking a firm stance with the Queen. Boyo recited a list of demands they should make, with Silvereye enthusiastically nodding to each one. Several were unrealistic and others raised difficult questions. Boyo claimed descent from a noble family which had been stripped of title and estates during the time of the Piebald Prince frenzy. He wanted all restored to him, with the promise that those who helped him insist on it would be made welcome as dwellers and workers on his family lands. Surely all could see that a noble of acknowledged Old Blood could improve conditions for all of them. I myself did not see that clear connection, but some of them nodded at his words.

  Silvereye had more vengeance then restitution in mind. She proposed that those who had executed Witted ones should themselves receive the same treatment. Both were adamant that the Queen must offer reparations for old wrongs before any discussion of how Witted and unWitted could live peaceably alongside one another.

  My heart sank at these words. In the dim light of our hooded candle, Chade looked weary. I knew the Queen had hoped to take the opposite approach and attempt to solve today’s problems and eliminate tomorrow’s rather than go back scores of years and try to render justice. Chade leaned over close to me to whisper in my ear, ‘If they hold that line, then all of this will have been for naught. Three days will not suffice even to discuss such things. And even a presentation of such demands will drive the dukes to equally stringent demands of their own.’

  I nodded. I set my hand upon his wrist. Let us hope they are but two, and that calmer heads will prevail. That Web, for instance. He did not seem bent on revenge.

  Chade’s brow had furrowed when I began my Skill-attempt. After I had finished, he nodded his head slowly. I got the gist of his returned thought Where… Web?

  In the far corner. Just watching them all.

  And indeed he was. It appeared almost as if he were dozing, but I suspected that he was watching and listening as carefully as we were. For a time longer, Chade and I crouched there together. Then he suggested to me quietly, ‘Go and eat. I’ll keep watch while you’re gone. We shall want you to remain at this post as long as you can this evening.’

  And so I did. When I returned, I brought more cushions and a blanket, a bottle of wine and a handful of raisins for the ferret who accompanied me. Chade gave a sniff, plainly indicating that he thought I indulged myself, and then vanished. The Old Bloods re-masked themselves before they allowed the servants into the room to clear away. Musicians and jugglers followed, and the Queen and Chade joined them for this entertainment. Also included were the dukes’ representatives. These were all fairly young men and they did not make a good showing. They clustered together, plainly uneasy at the thought of spending the evening in the company of Witted folk, and spoke mostly amongst themselves. They were supposed to join the Queen and Chade in a discussion tomorrow with the Old Bloods. I foresaw that little progress would be made and felt some concern for my prince.

  I reached for him, and in a moment felt his acknowledgment. Where are you and what are you doing?

  I’m sitting and listening to an Old Blood minstrel sing songs from olden days. We’re at a sort of shelter at the head end of a valley. From the look of it, I would say it was thrown together especially for this purpose. I guess they did not want to take us to any of their real homes for fear of later reprisals.

  Are you comfortable?

  A bit cold, and the food is very basic. But it’s no worse than an overnight hunt would be. They are treating us well. Let my mother know I am safe.

  I shall.

  And how goes it at Buckkeep?

  Slowly. I’m sitting behind a wall watching Old Bloods watch a juggler. Dutiful, I doubt that any real progress will be made in the next three days.

  I suspect you are right. I think we should take the attitude of one old man here. He keeps telling everyone it will be a triumph if we have these talks at all without bloodshed. And that will be more than any Farseer has offered Old Blood in his lifetime.

  Hmm. Perhaps he has something there.

  The Old Bloods I watched made an early night of it. Doubtless they were weary both from the journey and from the tension. I was glad to seek my own bed but first decided on a trip down to the guardroom to see what gossip might be offered. The guardroom, I had long ago discovered, was the best place to hear rumour and innuendo, and to judge the temper of the folk at large.

  On my way there, I was shocked to encounter Web wandering about in the quiet night halls of the castle. He greeted me warmly by name. ‘Are you lost?’ I asked him courteously.

  ‘No. Only curious. And my head too full of thoughts to sleep. Where are you going?’

  ‘To find a late meal,’ I told him, and he suddenly decided that was the very thing he needed himself. I was reluctant to take one of our Old Blood emissaries into the guardroom, but he refused the suggestion that he find a quiet hearth in the Great Hall and wait there for me. As he walked beside me, dread rose in me that we might face some sort of encounter there, but he seemed immune to such fears, asking me endless questions about the tapestries, banners and portraits we passed.

  When we entered the guardroom, all talk died for a moment. My heart sank at the hostile glances we received, and sank still more when I saw Blade Havershawk at the end of the table nearest the hearth. I averted my face as I observed, ‘Our queen’s guest would like a slice off the joint, fellows, and a mug of ale.’ I made this heavy-handed reminder of the hospitality we owed in the hopes it would warm the room. It didn’t.

  ‘Rather we was sharing it with our prince,’ someone said portentously.

  ‘As would I,’ Web agreed heartily. ‘For I scarce got the chance to say two words to him before he rode off with my comrades. But as he dines with them tonight and listens to their tales, so I would break bread with you and hear the stories of Buckkeep Castle.’

/>   ‘Don’t know as we feed Witted at the table round here,’ someone observed snidely.

  I took breath, knowing I must make some reply and find some way to get Web out of the room uninjured, but Blade spoke before me. ‘Once we did,’ he said slowly. ‘And he was one of our own and we loved him well, until we were stupid enough to let Regal take him from us.’

  ‘Oh, not that old tale!’ someone groaned, and another chimed in with, ‘Even after he killed our king, Blade Havershawk? Did you love him well then?’

  ‘FitzChivalry didn’t kill King Shrewd, you young knot-head. I was there and I know what happened. I don’t care what a drove of snake-tongued minstrels have sung since. Fitz didn’t kill the King he loved. He did kill those Skill-users, and I warrant it was as he claimed. They killed Shrewd.’

  ‘Aye. That’s how I always heard the tale, too,’ Web sounded enthused. As I watched in horror, he squeezed past men who pointedly did not step out of his way until he reached Blade’s side. ‘Is there room beside you on that bench, old warrior?’ he asked amiably. ‘For I would hear it told again, from the lips of a man who was there.’

  There followed for me the longest evening I’d ever spent in the guardroom. Web was full of curiosity, and stopped Blade a hundred times in his telling of that fateful night to pose piercing questions that soon had the men around the table asking questions of their own. Had the torches truly burned blue and the Pocked Man been seen on that night when Regal claimed the throne was rightfully his? And the Queen had fled that night of blood, had she not? And when she returned to Buckkeep, had she shed no light on. those events?

  Full strange it was to hear that debate, and know that speculation still raged after all the years. The Queen had always asserted FitzChivalry had murdered in justified rage the true killers of the King, but no proof had ever been offered that was so. Still, the men agreed, their queen was no fool, nor had she reason to lie on that topic. As if one Mountain bred as she was would ever lie! And from there they clambered on to the hoary tale of how I had clawed my way out of the grave, leaving an empty coffin behind, The empty coffin at least had been shown, though no man could say if my body had been spirited away or if I had truly transformed into a wolf and escaped it. The gathered guards were sceptical of Web’s claim that no Witted one could transform in that way. From there, the talk went to his own beast, a gull of some sort. Again, he extended the invitation that any who wished might meet his bird on the morrow. A few shook their heads in superstitious fear, but others were plainly intrigued and said they would come.