The Farseer Series Books 2 and 3: Royal Assassin, Assassin’s Quest. Robin Hobb
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Within me, Verity was silent, waiting and watching, and learning much. At my expense, I thought bitterly, and then strove to call back the thought.
Moving calmly and unthreateningly, I pulled one wrist free of a bulldog’s grip. I turned back the collar of my jerkin and drew the pin out. I held it up for all to see.
‘I recall no such thing,’ Regal snapped, but Shrewd sat up.
‘Come closer, boy,’ he instructed me. Now I shrugged clear of my guards and tugged my clothing straight. Then I bore the pin up to the King’s bedside. Deliberately, King Shrewd reached out. He took the pin away from me. My heart sank inside me.
‘Father, this is …’ Regal began annoyedly, but Shrewd interrupted him.
‘Regal. You were there. You do recall it, or you should.’ The King’s dark eyes were as bright and alert as I remembered them, but also plain were the lines of pain about those eyes and the corner of his mouth. King Shrewd fought for this lucidity. He held the pin up and looked at Regal with a shadow of his old calculating glance. ‘I gave the boy this pin. And my word, in exchange for his.’
‘Then I suggest you take them both back again, pin and word. You will never get well with this type of disruption going on in your rooms.’ Again, that edge of command in Regal’s voice. I waited, silent.
The King lifted a shaky hand to rub his face and eyes, ‘I gave those things,’ he said, and the words were firm, but the strength was fading from his voice. ‘Once given, a man’s word is no longer his to call back. Am I right about this, FitzChivalry? Do you agree that once a man has given his word, he may not take it back?’ The old test was in that question.
‘As ever I have, my king, I agree with you. Once a man has given his word, he may not call it back. He must abide by what he has promised.’
‘Good, then. That’s settled. It’s all settled.’ He proffered the pin to me. I took it from him, relief so immense it was like vertigo. He leaned back into his pillows. I had another dizzying moment. I knew those pillows, this bed. I had lain there, and looked with the Fool down on the sack of Siltbay. I had burned my fingers in that fireplace …
The King heaved a heavy sigh. There was exhaustion in it. In another moment, he would be asleep.
‘Forbid him to come and disturb you again, unless you summon him,’ Regal commanded.
King Shrewd pried his eyes open one more time. ‘Fitz. Come here, boy.’
Like a dog, I came closer to him. I knelt by his bed. He lifted a thinned hand, patted me awkwardly. ‘You and I, boy. We have an understanding, don’t we?’ A genuine question. I nodded. ‘Good lad. Good. I’ve kept my word. You see that you keep yours, now. But,’ he glanced at Regal, and that pained me, ‘it were better if you came to see me in the afternoons. I am stronger in the afternoons.’ He was slipping away again.
‘Shall I come back this afternoon, sire?’ I asked quickly.
He lifted a hand and waved it in a vaguely denying gesture. ‘Tomorrow. Or the next day.’ His eyes closed and he sighed out as heavily as if he would never breathe in again.
‘As you wish, my lord,’ I concurred. I bowed deeply, formally. As I straightened, I carefully returned the pin to my jerkin lapel. I let them all spend a moment or two watching me do that. Then, ‘If you will excuse me, my prince?’ I requested formally.
‘Get out of here,’ Regal growled.
I bowed less formally to him, turned carefully and left. His guards’ eyes watched me go. I was outside the room before I recalled that I had never brought up the subject of me marrying Molly. Now it seemed unlikely I would have an opportunity to for some time. I knew that afternoons would now find Regal or Wallace or some spy of theirs always at King Shrewd’s side. I had no wish to broach that topic before anyone save my king.
Fitz?
I’d like to be alone for a while just now, my prince. If you do not mind?
He vanished from my mind like a bursting soap bubble. Slowly I made my way down the stairs.
Prince Verity chose to unveil his fleet of warships on the mid-day of Winterfest that decisive year. Tradition would have had him wait until the coming of better weather, to launch them on the first day of Springfest. That is considered a more auspicious time to launch a new ship. But Verity had pushed his shipwrights and their crews hard to have all four vessels ready for a mid-winter launch. By choosing the mid-day of Winterfest, he ensured himself a large audience, both for the launch and for his words. Traditionally, a hunt is held that day, with the meat brought in seen as a harbinger of days to come. When he had the ships pushed out of the sheds on their rollers, he announced to the gathered folk that these were his hunters, and that the only prey that would slake them would be Red Ships. The reaction to his announcement was muted, and clearly not what he had hoped for. It is my belief that the people wanted to put all thoughts of the Red Ships from their minds, to hide themselves in winter and pretend that the spring would never come. But Verity refused to let them. The ships were launched that day, and the training of the crews begun.
Nighteyes and I spent the early afternoon hunting. He grumbled about it, saying it was a ridiculous time of day to hunt, and why had I wasted the early dawn hours tussling with my littermate? I told him that that was simply a thing that had to be, and would continue to be for several days, and possibly longer. He was not pleased. But neither was I. It rattled me not a little that he could be so clearly aware of how I spent my hours even if I had no conscious sense of being in touch with him. Had Verity been able to sense him?
He laughed at me. Hard enough to make you hear me sometimes. Should I batter through to you and then shout for him as well?
Our hunting success was small. Two rabbits, neither with much fat. I promised to bring him kitchen scraps on the morrow. I had even less success at conveying to him my demand for privacy at certain times. He could not grasp why I set mating apart from other pack activities such as hunting or howling. Mating suggested offspring in the near future, and offspring were the care of the pack. Words cannot convey the difficulties of that discussion. We conversed in images, in shared thoughts, and such do not allow for much discretion. His candour horrified me. He assured me he shared my delight in my mate and my mating. I begged him not to. Confusion. I finally left him eating his rabbits. He seemed piqued that I would not accept a share of the meat. The best I had been able to get from him was his understanding that I did not want to be aware of him sharing my awareness of Molly. That was scarcely what I wanted but it was the best way I could convey it to him. The idea that at times I would want to sever my bond to him completely was not a thought he could comprehend. It made no sense, he argued. It was not pack. I left him wondering if I would ever again really and truly have a moment to myself.
I returned to the keep and sought the solitude of my own room. If only for a moment, I had to be where I could close the door behind me and be alone. Physically, anyway. As if to fuel my quest for quiet, the halls and stairways were full of hurrying folk. Servants were cleaning away old rushes and spreading new ones, fresh candles were being placed in holders, and boughs of evergreen were hung in festoons and swags everywhere. Winterfest. I didn’t much feel like it.
I finally reached my own door and slipped inside. I shut it firmly behind me.
‘Back so soon?’ The Fool looked up from the hearth where he crouched in a semi-circle of scrolls. He seemed to be sorting them into groups.
I stared at him with unconcealed dismay. In an instant, it flashed into anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell me of the King’s condition?’
He considered another scroll and, after a moment, set it in the pile to his right. ‘But I did.