Читать книгу The Tawny Man Series Books 2 and 3 - Робин Хобб - Страница 15

A storm of gems they were.

Scaled wings jewel-like glittered.

Eyes flaming, wings fanning

The dragons came.

Too flashing bright for memory to hold.

The promise of a thousand songs fulfilled.

Claws shredding, jaws devouring

The King returned.

Verity’s Reckoning – Starling Birdsong

Air stirred against my cheek. I opened my eyes wearily. I had dozed off, despite the open window and chill morning. Before and below me stretched a vista of water. Waves tipped with white wrinkled under a grey sky. I got up from Verity’s chair with a groan; two steps carried me to the tower window. From here, the view was wider, showing me the steep cliffs and the clinging forest below this aspect of Buckkeep Castle. There was the taste of a storm in the air, and the wind was cutting its winter teeth. The sun was a hand’s-breadth above the far horizon, dawn long fled. The Prince had not come.

I was not surprised. Dutiful was probably still deeply asleep after last night’s festivities. No, it was no surprise that he should forget our meeting, or perhaps rouse just enough to decide it wasn’t that important and roll back into sleep. Yet I felt some disappointment, and it was not just that my prince had found sleep more important than meeting me. He had said he would meet me here, and then hadn’t. And had not even sent word to cancel the meeting and save me the time and trouble of being here. It was a trifling thing in a boy of his years, a bit of thoughtlessness. Yet what was minor in a boy was not so in a prince. I wanted to rebuke him for it, as Chade would have chastened me. Or Burrich. I grinned ruefully. In fairness, had I been any different at Dutiful’s age? Burrich had never trusted me to keep dawn appointments. I could well recall how he would thunder at my door to be sure I did not miss a lesson with the axe. Well, perhaps if our roles had been different, I would have gone and pounded on the Prince’s chamber door.

As it was, I contented myself with a message, drawn in the dust on the top of a small table beside the chair. ‘I was here; you were not.’ Brief and succinct, a rebuke if he chose to take it that way. And anonymous. It could just as easily have been a sulky page’s note to a tardy chambermaid.

I closed the window shutters and let myself out by the way I had come, through a side panel in the decorative mantel around the hearth. It was a narrow squeeze and it was tricky to properly seal it closed behind me. My candle had gone out. I descended a long and gloomy stair, sparsely lit by tiny chinks in the outer wall that let in thin fingers of light and wind. There was a level section that I negotiated through pitch dark; it seemed far longer than I recalled, and I was glad when my groping foot found the next stair. I made a wrong turn at the bottom of it. The third time I walked into a faceful of cobwebs, I knew I was lost. I turned around and groped my way back. When, some time later, I emerged into Chade’s chamber from behind the wine rack, I was dusty and irritable and sweaty. I was ill prepared for what met me there.

Chade started up from his seat before the hearth, setting down a teacup as he did so. ‘There you are, FitzChivalry,’ he exclaimed, even as a wave of Skill slammed into me.

Don’t see me, stink-dog man.

I staggered and then caught at the table to remain standing. I ignored Chade, who was scowling at me, to focus on Thick. The idiot serving-man, his face smudged with soot, stood by the work-hearth. His figure wavered before my eyes and I felt giddy. If I had not reset my walls the night before to guard against Nettle’s Skill-tinkering, I think he would have been able to wipe all image of himself from my mind. As it was, I spoke through gritted teeth.

‘I do see you. I will always see you. But that does not mean I will hurt you. Unless you try to hurt me. Or unless you are rude to me again.’ I was sorely tempted to try the Wit on him, to repel at him with a burst of sheer animal energy, but I did not. I would not use the Skill. I would have had to open my walls to do so, and it would have revealed to him what my strength was. I was not yet ready for that. Remain calm, I told myself. You have to master yourself before you can master him.

‘No, no, Thick! Stop that. He’s good. He can be here. I say so.’

Chade spoke to him as if he were three years old. And while I recognized that the small eyes in the round face that glowered at me were not the eyes of a man my intellectual equal, I also saw a flash of resentment there at being thus addressed. I seized on it, keeping my gaze on Thick’s face but speaking to Chade.

‘You don’t need to talk to him like that. He isn’t stupid. He’s …’ I groped for a word to express what I suddenly was certain of. Thick’s intelligence might be limited in some ways, but it was there. ‘… different,’ I ended lamely. Different, I reflected, as a horse was different from a cat and they both were different from a man. But not lesser. Almost I could sense how his mind reached in another direction from mine, attaching significance to items I dismissed even as he dismissed whole areas that anchored my reality.

Thick scowled from me to Chade and back again. Then he took up his broom and a bucket of ash and cinders from the fireplace and scuttled from the room. After the scroll rack had swung back into place behind him, I caught the flung thought-fragment. Dog-stinker.

‘He doesn’t like me. He knows I’m Witted, too,’ I complained to Chade as I dropped into the other chair. Almost sulkily, I added, ‘Prince Dutiful didn’t meet me in Verity’s tower this morning. He had said he would.’

My remarks seemed to drift past the old man. ‘The Queen wants to see you. Right away.’ He was neatly if not elegantly attired in a simple robe of blue this morning with soft fur slippers on his feet. Did they ache from dancing?

‘What about?’ I asked as I rose and followed him. We went back to the wine rack, and as we triggered the concealed door, I remarked, ‘Thick didn’t seem surprised to see me enter from here.’

Chade shrugged one shoulder. ‘I do not think he is bright enough to be surprised by something like that. I doubt that he even noticed it.’

I considered and decided that it might be true. To him, it might have no significance. ‘And the Queen wanted to see me because?’

‘Because she told me so,’ he replied a bit testily.

After that I kept silent and followed him. I suspected his head throbbed, as mine did. I knew he had an antidote to a night’s hard drinking, and knew also how difficult it was to compound. Sometimes it was easier to put up with the throbbing headache than to grind one’s way through creating a cure.

We entered the Queen’s private chambers as we had before. Chade paused to peer and listen to be sure there were no witnesses, then admitted us to a privy chamber, and from there to the Queen’s sitting room, where Kettricken awaited us. She looked up with a weary smile as we entered. She was alone.

We both bowed formally. ‘Good morning, my queen,’ Chade greeted her for us, and she held out her hands in welcome, gesturing us in. The last time I had been here, an anxious Kettricken had awaited us in an austere chamber, her thoughts centred solely on her missing son. This time, the room displayed her handiwork. In the middle of a small table, six golden leaves had been arranged on a tray of gleaming river pebbles. Three tall candles burning there gave off the scent of violets. Several rugs of wool eased the floor against winter’s oncoming chill, and the chairs were softened with sheepskins. A day-fire burned in the hearth, and a kettle puffed steam above it. It reminded me of her home in the Mountains. She had also arranged a small table of food. Hot tea exhaled from a fat pot. I noticed there were only two cups as Kettricken said, ‘Thank you for bringing FitzChivalry here, Lord Chade.’

It was a dismissal, smoothly done. Chade bowed again, perhaps a bit more stiffly than he had the first time, and retreated by way of the privy chamber. I was left standing alone before the Queen, wondering what all this was about. When the door closed behind Chade, she gave a sudden great sigh, sat down at the table and gestured at the other chair. ‘Please, Fitz,’ and her words were an invitation to drop all formality as well as to be seated.

As I took my place opposite her, I studied her. We were nearly of an age, but her years rode her far more graciously than mine did me. Where the passage of time had scarred me, it had brushed her, leaving a tracery of lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She wore a green gown today, and it set off the gold of her hair as well as carrying her eyes to the jade end of their spectrum. Her dress was simple, as was the plaiting of her hair; she wore no jewellery or cosmetics.

And she did not indulge in any kind of ceremony as she poured tea for me and set my cup before me. ‘There are cakes, too, if you wish,’ she said, and I did, for I had not yet broken my fast that day. Yet something in her voice, an edge of hoarseness, made me set down the cup I’d started to lift. She was looking aside from me, avoiding my eyes. I saw the frantic fluttering of her eyelashes, and then a tear brimmed over and splashed down her cheek.

‘Kettricken?’ I asked in alarm. What had gone awry that I did not know about? Had she discovered the Narcheska’s reluctance to wed her son? Had there been another Wit-threat?

She caught her breath raggedly and suddenly looked me full in the face. ‘Oh, Fitz, I did not call you here for this. I meant to keep this to myself. But … I am so sorry. For all of us. When first I heard, I already knew. I woke that dawn, feeling as if something had broken, something important.’ She tried to clear her throat and could not. She croaked out her words, tears coursing down her face. ‘I could not put my finger on the loss, but when Chade brought your tidings to me, I knew instantly. I felt him go, Fitz. I felt Nighteyes leave us.’ And then a sob racked her, and she dropped her face into her hands and wept like a devastated child.

I wanted to flee. I had almost succeeded in mastering my grief, and now she tore the wound afresh. For a time I sat woodenly, numbed by pain. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone?

But she seemed not to notice my coldness. ‘The years pass, but you never forget a friend like him.’ She was speaking to herself, her head bowed into her hands. Her words came muffled and thick with tears. She rocked a little in her chair. ‘I’d never felt so close to an animal, before we travelled together. But in the long hours of walking, he was always there, ranging ahead and coming back and then checking behind us. He was like a shield for me, for when he came trotting back, I always knew that he was satisfied no danger awaited us. Without his assurance, I am sure my own poor courage would have failed a hundred times. When we began our journey, he seemed just a part of you. But then I got to know him for himself. His bravery and tenacity, even his humour. There were times, especially at the quarry, when we went off to hunt and he alone seemed to understand my feelings. It was not just that I could hold tight to him and cry into his fur and know he would never betray my weakness. It was that he rejoiced in my strengths, too. When we hunted together and I made a kill, I could feel his approval like … like a fierceness that said I deserved to survive, that I had earned my place in this world.’ She drew breath raggedly. ‘I think I will always miss him. And I didn’t even get to see him again before …’

My mind reeled. Truly, I had not known how close they had been. Nighteyes also had kept his secrets well. I had known that Queen Kettricken had a predilection for the Wit. I had sensed faint questing from her when she meditated. I had often suspected that her Mountain ‘connection’ with the natural world would have a less kindly name in the Six Duchies. But she and my wolf?

‘He spoke to you? You heard Nighteyes in your mind?’

She shook her head, not lifting her face from her hands. Her fingers muffled her reply. ‘No. But I felt him in my heart, when I was numb to all else.’

Slowly I rose. I walked around the small table. I had intended only to pat her bent shoulders, but when I touched her, she abruptly stood and stumbled into my embrace. I held her and let her weep against my shoulder. Whether I would or not, my own tears welled. Then her grief, not sympathy for me but true grief at Nighteyes’ death gave permission to mine, and my mourning ripped free. All the anguish I had been trying to conceal from those who could not understand the depth of loss I felt suddenly demanded vent. I think I only realized that our roles had changed when she pushed me gently down into her chair. She offered me her tiny, useless handkerchief and then gently kissed my brow and both my cheeks. I could not stop crying. She stood by me, my head cradled against her breast, and stroked my hair and let me weep. She spoke brokenly of my wolf and all he had been to her, words I scarcely heard.

She did not try to stop my tears or tell me that everything would be all right. She knew it would not. But when my weeping finally had run its course, she stooped and kissed me on my mouth, a healing kiss. Her lips were salt with her own tears. Then she stood straight again.

She gave a sudden deep sigh as if setting aside a burden. ‘Your poor hair,’ she murmured, and smoothed it to my head. ‘Oh, my dear Fitz. How hard we used you! Both of you. And I can never …’ She seemed to feel the uselessness of words. ‘But … well … drink your tea while it is still hot.’ She moved apart from me, and after a moment I felt I again had control of myself. As she took my chair, I lifted her cup and drank from it. The tea was still steaming hot. Only a short time had elapsed, yet I felt as if I had passed some important turning point. When I took a breath, it seemed to fill my lungs more deeply than it had in days. She took up my cup. When I looked up at my queen, she gave me a small smile. Her tears had left her pale eyes outlined in red, and her nose was pink. She had never looked lovelier to me.

So we shared some time. The tea was a spice tea, friendly and enlivening. There were flaky rolls stuffed with sausage, and little cakes with tart fruit filling, and plain oatcakes, simple and hearty. I don’t think either of us trusted our voices to speak, and we didn’t have to. We ate in silence. I got up once to replenish the hot water in the teapot. When the herbs had steeped, I poured more tea for both of us. After a time of silence, she leaned back in her chair and said quietly, ‘So, you see, this supposed “taint” in my son comes from me.’

She spoke it as if we were continuing a conversation. I had wondered if she would make the connection. Now that she did, I grieved for the guilt and chagrin I heard in her voice. ‘There have been Witted Farseers before Dutiful,’ I pointed out. ‘Myself among them.’

‘And you had a Mountain mother. It’s possible that she was the source of your Wit. Perhaps Mountain blood carries it.’

I walked perilously close to the edge of the truth as I said, ‘I consider it just as likely that Dutiful could have gotten the Wit from his father as his mother.’

‘But –’

‘But it matters little where it came from,’ I interrupted the Queen ruthlessly. I wanted to divert this conversation. ‘The boy has it, and that is what we must deal with. When he first asked me to teach him about it, I was horrified. Now I think his instincts were true. Better he know as much as I can teach him about both his magics.’

Her face lit up. ‘Then you have agreed to teach him!’

Truly, I was out of practice at intrigue. Or perhaps, I reflected wryly, over the years my lady had learned that subtlety and gentleness could win her secrets that even Chade’s deviousness had not pried from me. The accuracy with which she read my face seemed to support the second theory.

‘I will say nothing of it to the Prince. If he wishes it to remain private between you, then so it shall be. When will you start?’

‘At the Prince’s earliest convenience,’ I replied evasively. I would not tattle that he had already missed his first lesson.

She nodded at that, and seemed content to leave it to me. She cleared her throat. ‘FitzChivalry. The reason I summoned you here was my intent to … make things right for you. As much as we can. In so many ways, I cannot treat you as you deserve. But whatever we can do for your comfort or pleasure, I desire that we do. You masquerade as Lord Golden’s servant, and I understand all the reasons for this. Still, it chagrins me that a prince of your bloodlines should go unacknowledged amongst his own folk. So. What can we do? Would you like other chambers prepared for you, ones that you could reach privately and where you could have things arranged for your comfort?’

‘No,’ I replied quickly, and hearing the brusqueness of my reply, I added, ‘I think things are best as they are now. I am as comfortable as I need to be.’ I would live here but I could not make it a home. It was useless to try. That private thought jolted me. Home, I reflected, was a place shared. The loft over the stable with Burrich, or the cottage with Nighteyes and Hap. And the chambers that I now shared with the Fool? No. For there was too much caution in both of us, too much privacy preserved, too many constraints of roles.

‘… arranged for a monthly allowance. After this, Chade will see you receive it, but I wanted you to have this today.’

And my queen was setting a purse before me, a little bag of cloth embroidered with stylized flowers. It clinked sturdily as she placed it on the table. I flushed in spite of myself, and could not hide it. I looked up to find her cheeks equally pink.

‘It does feel awkward, doesn’t it? Make no mistake in this, FitzChivalry. This is not pay for what you have done for me and mine. No coin could ever pay for that. But a man has expenses, and it is not fitting that you should have to ask for what you need.’

I understood her, but I could not forbear from saying, ‘You and yours are also mine, my queen. And you are right. No amount of coin could buy what I do for them.’

Another woman might have taken it as a rebuke. But my words brought a gleam of fierce pride to Kettricken’s eyes and she smiled at me. ‘I rejoice in the kinship we share, FitzChivalry. Rurisk was my only brother. No one can ever replace him. But you have come as close to that as it is possible for anyone to do.’

And at that, I thought we understood each other very well indeed. It warmed me that she claimed me through our kinship, through the bloodlines I shared with her husband and her son. Long ago, King Shrewd had first made me his with a bargain and a silver pin to seal it. Both pin and king were long gone now. Did our bargain still remain? King Shrewd had chosen to invoke his claim on me as the right of my king rather than as my grandfather. Now Kettricken, my queen, claimed me first as kin and second as brother. She struck no bargains. She would have scowled at the thought that any setting of terms to my loyalty was necessary.

‘I wish to tell my son who you truly are.’

That jolted me from my brief complacency. ‘Please, no, my queen. That knowledge is a danger and a burden. Why put it upon him?’

‘Why deny that knowledge to the Farseer heir?’

A long moment of silence held between us. Then I said, ‘Perhaps in time.’

I was relieved when she nodded. Then she took that from me when she said, ‘I will know when the time is right.’

She reached across the table to take my hand. When I let her have it, she turned it palm up and set something in it. ‘Long ago, you wore a small ruby-and-silver pin that King Shrewd gave you. One that marked you as his, and said that his door was always open to you. I would have you wear this now, in the same spirit.’

It was a tiny thing. A little silver fox with a winking green eye. It sat alertly, its brush curled around its feet. The image was fastened to a long pin. I studied it carefully. It was perfect.

‘This is the work of your own hands.’

‘I am flattered that you recall that I like working silver. Yes. It is. And the fox is that which you made my symbol here at Buckkeep.’

I unlaced my blue servant’s shirt and opened it. While she watched, I thrust the pin into the facing of the shirt. From the outside, nothing showed, but when I fastened my shirt again, I could feel the tiny fox against my breast.

I cleared my throat. ‘You honour me. And as you have said you hold me as close as your brother, then I shall ask a question that I am sure Rurisk would have asked you. I shall be so bold as to demand why you keep amongst your ladies one who once attempted to take your life. And that of your unborn child.’

Her glance was genuinely quizzical. Then, as if someone had poked her with a pin, she gave a small start, and ‘Oh, you mean Lady Rosemary.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘It has been so long … All of that was so very long ago, Fitz. You know, when I look at her, I do not even think of that. When Regal and his household returned here at the end of the Red Ship War, Rosemary was among the train. Her mother had died, and she had been … neglected. At first, I could not abide to have either her or Regal in my presence. But there were appearances to preserve, and his abject apologies and vows of loyalty to the unborn heir and me were … useful. It served to unite the Six Duchies, for with him he brought the nobility of Tilth and Farrow. And we needed that support, desperately. It would have been so easy for the Six Duchies to follow the Red Ship War with a civil strife. There are so many differences among the duchies. But Regal’s influence was enough to sway his nobles back to allegiance to me. Then Regal died, so strangely and so violently. It was unavoidable that there were mutterings that I had had him murdered in vengeance for old wrongs. Chade advised me strongly that I must make gestures among his nobles to bind them to me. So I did. I put Lady Patience in his place at Tradeford, for I felt I must have strong support there. But his other holdings I distributed judiciously amongst those that most needed quelling.’

‘And Lord Bright’s reaction to that?’ I asked. This was all news to me. Bright had been Regal’s heir, and was Duke of Farrow now. Much of what they had ‘distributed’ was doubtless his hereditary wealth.

‘I recompensed him in other ways. After his dismal performance at defending Buck and Buckkeep, he was on shaky ground. He could not protest strongly, for he had not inherited Regal’s influence with the nobles. Yet I strove to make him not only content with his lot, but a better ruler than he otherwise would have been. I saw to his schooling, in things other than fine wine and dress. Most of his years as Duke of Farrow have been spent right here in Buckkeep. Patience manages his Tradeford holdings for him, probably far better than he would have himself, for she has the common sense to appoint people who know what they are doing. And she sends reports to him monthly, far more detailed than he relishes, but I insist he go over them with one of my treasury men, not only to be sure he understands them, but also that he must profess he is satisfied with how they fare. And I think that now, he genuinely is.’

‘I suspect his duchess has something to do with that,’ I hazarded.

Kettricken had the grace to flush slightly. ‘Chade thought he might be better content wedded. And it is time he got himself an heir. Left single, he was an invitation to discord at the court.’

‘Who selected her?’ I tried not to sound cold.

‘Lord Chade suggested several young women of good family who had the … requisite qualities. After that, I saw that they were introduced. And that the families knew I would be pleased at the prospect of the Duke selecting one of their daughters. The competition spread rapidly amongst the chosen women. But Lord Bright selected his own bride from amongst them. I but saw that he had the opportunity to choose …’

‘Someone who was tractable and not too ambitious. A daughter of someone loyal to the Queen.’ I filled in the rest.

She met my eyes squarely. ‘Yes.’ She caught a small breath. ‘Do you fault me, FitzChivalry? You, who were my first instructor in managing the intrigues of the court to my advantage?’

I smiled at her. ‘No. In truth, I am proud of you. And from the look on Lord Bright’s face at last night’s festivities, you chose well for him, in heart as well as in allegiance.’

She gave a sigh, almost of relief. ‘Thank you. For I value your regard, FitzChivalry, as I ever have. I would not want to think I had shamed myself before you.’

‘I doubt that you could,’ I replied, truthfully as well as gallantly. Then, dragging the conversation back to my interest, ‘And Rosemary?’

‘After Regal died, most of his hangers-on dispersed to their family holdings, and some to inspect new holdings I had given them. No one claimed Rosemary. Her father had died before she was born. Her mother had his title, Lady Celeffa of Firwood, but the title was little more than words. Firwood is a tiny holding, a beggar’s fiefdom. There is a manor house there, but I am told it has not been inhabited in some years. But for being in Prince Regal’s favour, Lady Celeffa would never have come to court at all.’ She sighed. ‘So there was Rosemary, an orphan at eight, and not in favour with the Queen. I suspect you need little help to imagine how she was treated by the court.’

I had to wince. I could recall how I had been treated.

‘I tried to ignore her. But Chade would not let it rest. Nor in truth could I.’

‘She was a danger to you. A half-trained assassin, taught by Regal to hate you. She could not simply be left to wander about as she pleased.’

She was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Now you sound like Chade. No. She was worse than that. She was a neglected child in my home, a little girl blamed by me for becoming what she was taught to be. A daily rebuke to me for my own neglect of her and my hardness of heart. If I had been all to her that a lady should be to her page, Regal could not have taken her heart from me.’

‘Unless he had it before she ever came to you.’

‘And even then, I should have known it. If I had not been so focused on my own life and problems.’

‘She was your page, not your daughter!’

She was silent for a time. ‘You forget, I was raised in the Mountains, to be Sacrifice to my people, Fitz. Not a queen, such as you expect. I demand more of myself.’

I stepped to the side of that argument. ‘So it was your decision to keep her.’

‘Chade said I must either keep her or be rid of her entirely. I was filled with horror at his words. Kill a child for doing what she had been taught? And then his words made me see all of it clearly. It would have been kinder to kill her outright than to torture and neglect her as I had been doing. So. That night I went to her chamber. Alone. She was terrified of me, and her room was cold and near bare, the bedding gone unwashed I don’t know how long. She had outgrown her nightgown; it was torn at the shoulders and far too short for her. She curled up on the bed as far from me as she could get and just stared at me. Then I asked her which she would prefer, to be fostered out to Lady Patience or to be my page again.’

‘And she chose to be your page.’

‘And she burst into tears and threw herself to the floor and clung to my skirts and said she had thought I didn’t like her any more. She sobbed so hard that before I could calm her, her hair was plastered flat to her skull with sweat and she was shaking all over. Fitz, I was ashamed to have been so cruel to a child, not by what I had done, but simply by ignoring her. Only Chade and I ever knew that we suspected her of trying to harm me. But my simple shunning of her had given the lesser folk of the keep permission to be cruel and callous to her. Her little slippers were all gone to tatters …’ Her voice trailed off, and despite myself, I felt a stab of pity for Rosemary. Kettricken took a deep breath and resumed her tale. ‘She begged to be allowed to serve me again. Fitz, she was not even seven years old when she did Regal’s bidding. She never hated me, or understood what she did. To her, I am sure it was a game, to listen in secret and repeat all that she heard.’

I tried to be pragmatic and hard. ‘And greasing the steps so you would fall?’

‘Would she be told the why of it, or simply told to put the grease on the steps after I had gone up to the roof garden? To a child, it might have been framed as a prank.’

‘Did you ask her?’

A pause. ‘Some things are best left alone. Even if she knew the intent was to make me fall, I do not think she realized the full import of it. I think perhaps that I was two people to her, the woman that Regal wanted to bring down, and Kettricken whom she served every day. The one who should be blamed for her conduct is dead. And ever since I took her back to my side, she has been nothing but a loyal and diligent subject to me.’ She sighed and stared past me as she went on, ‘The past must be left in the past, Fitz. This is especially true for those who rule. I must wed my son to a daughter of an Outislander. I must promote trade and alliance with the folk who doomed my king to death. Shall I quibble about taking a little spy under my wing and turning her into a lady of my court?’

I took a deep breath. If in fifteen years she had not regretted her decision, no words of mine would change it now. Nor should they, perhaps. ‘Well. I suppose I should have expected it. You did not quibble to take an assassin as your advisor when you came to court.’

‘As my first friend here,’ she corrected me gravely. She furrowed her forehead. When I had met her, she had not had those lines on her brow and between her eyes, but now use had set them there. ‘I am not happy with this charade we must keep. I would have you at my side to advise me, and to teach my son. I would have you honoured as my friend as well as a Farseer.’

‘It cannot be,’ I told her firmly. ‘And this is better. I am more use to you in this role, and less risk to you and the Prince.’

‘And more risk to yourself. Chade has told me that Piebalds threatened you, right upon our doorstep in Buckkeep Town.’

I discovered that I hadn’t wanted her to know that. ‘It is a thing best handled by me. Perhaps I can tease them out into the open.’

‘Well. Perhaps. But I am ashamed that you face such things seemingly alone. In truth, I hate that such bigotry still exists in the Six Duchies, and that our nobles turn a blind eye to it. I have done what I could for my Witted folk, but progress has been slow. When the Piebald postings first began to appear, they angered me. Chade urged me not to act in the heat of that anger. Now, I wonder if it would not have been wise to let my wrath be known. My second reaction was that I wished to let my Witted folk know that my justice was available to them. I wanted to send out a summons, inviting the leaders of the Witted to come to me, that together we might hammer out a shield for them against the cruelty of these Piebalds.’ She shook her head.

‘Again Chade intervened, telling me that the Witted had no recognized leaders, and that they would not trust the Farseers enough to come to such a meeting. We had no go-between that they would trust, and no sureties we could offer them that this was not a plan to lure them in and destroy them. He persuaded me to abandon the idea.’ Her words seemed to come more reluctantly as she added, ‘Chade is a good councillor, wise in politics and the ways of power. Yet I sometimes feel that he would steer us solely on the basis of what makes the Six Duchies most stable, with less thought for justice for all my people.’ Her fair brow wrinkled as she added, ‘He says that the greater the stability of the country, the more chance there is for justice to prosper. Perhaps he is right. But often and often I have longed for the way you and I used to discuss these things. There, too, I have missed you, FitzChivalry. I dislike that I cannot have you at my side when I wish it, but must send for you in secret. I wish that I could invite you to join Peottre and I for our game today, for I would value your opinion of him. He is a most intriguing man.’

‘Your game with Peottre today?’

‘I shared some talk with him last evening. In the course of discussing the chance that Dutiful and Elliania would be truly happy, other talk of “chance” came up. And from there, we moved to games of chance. Do you recall a Mountain game played with cards and rune chips?’

I dredged through my memory. ‘I think you spoke of it to me once. And yes, I recall reading a scroll about it, when I was recovering from Regal’s first attempt on me.’

‘There are cards or tablets, either painted on heavy paper or carved on thin slabs of wood. They have emblems from our old tales, such as Old Weaver Man and Hunter in Hiding. The rune chips have runes on them, for Stone, Water and Pasture.’

‘Yes. I’m sure I’ve heard of it.’

‘Well, Peottre wants me to teach him to play it. He was very interested when I spoke of it. He says that in the Outislands they have a game played with rune cubes, where they are shaken and tumbled out. Then the players set out their markers onto a cloth or board that is painted with minor godlings, such as Wind and Smoke and Tree. It sounds as if it might be a similar game, does it not?’

‘Perhaps,’ I conceded. But her face had brightened at the prospect of teaching Peottre this new game in a way that was out of proportion to the pleasure I expected her to take in it. Did my queen find this bluff Outislander warrior attractive? ‘You must tell me more of this game later. I would like to hear if the runes on the dice are similar to the runes on your rune chips.’

‘That would be intriguing, wouldn’t it? If the runes resembled one another? Especially as some of the runes from my game were similar to the runes on the Skill-pillars.’

‘Ah.’ Kettricken was still capable of putting me off-balance. She had always seemed able to think along several lines at once, bringing oddly disparate facts together to make a pattern others missed. This had been how she had rediscovered the lost map to the kingdom of the Elderlings. I felt suddenly as if she had given me too much to think over.

I stood to excuse myself, bowed, and then wished I had words to thank her. An instant later it seemed a strange impulse, to thank someone for mourning someone you had loved. I made a fumbling effort, but she stopped me, coming to take both my hands in hers. ‘And perhaps only you understood what I felt at Verity’s loss. To see him transformed, to know he would triumph, and yet still to mourn selfishly that I would never again see him as the man he had been. This is not the first tragedy we have shared, FitzChivalry. We both have walked alone through much of our lives.’

It was unmannerly, but I did it anyway. I enfolded her in my arms and held her tightly for a moment. ‘He loved you so,’ I said, and my voice choked on the words I spoke for my lost king.

She rested her forehead on my shoulder. ‘I know that,’ she said quietly. ‘That love sustains me even now. Sometimes I think I can almost feel him still, at my shoulder, offering counsel when times are difficult. May Nighteyes be with you as Verity is with me.’

I held Verity’s woman for a long moment. Things could have been so different. Yet her wish was a good wish, and healing. I released her with a sigh, and the Queen and the serving-man parted to their daily tasks.