A whisper again. “And what do you conclude from all this?” he asked me, as if it were a puzzle he had set me as a lesson.
“May I speak frankly of my suspicions?” I asked quietly.
A nod.
I sighed in relief. As I spoke of the picture that had emerged for me over the past weeks, I felt a great burden
lifting. Chade would know what to do. And so I spoke, quickly, tersely. Regal knew that the King was dying of disease. Wallace was his tool, to keep the King sedated and open to Regal’s whisperings. He would discredit Verity, he would strip Buckkeep of every bit of wealth that he could. He would abandon Bearns to the Red-Ships, to keep them busy while Regal acted on his own ambitions. Paint Kettricken as a foreigner with ambitions to the throne. A devious, disloyal wife. Gather power to himself. His eventual aim, as ever, was the throne. Or at least as much of the Six Duchies as he could gather to himself. Hence his lavish entertainments for the Inland Dukes and their nobles.
Chade nodded unwillingly as I spoke. When I paused, he injected softly, “There are many holes in this web you say Regal is weaving.”
“I can fill in a few,” I whispered. “Suppose the coterie that Galen created is loyal to Regal? Suppose all messages go to him first, and only those he approves continue to their intended destination?”
Chade’s face grew still and grave.
My whisper grew more desperate. “What if messages are delayed just enough to make our efforts to defend ourselves pathetic? He makes Verity look a fool, he undermines confidence in the man.”
“Wouldn’t Verity be able to tell?”
I shook my head slowly. “He is powerfully Skilled. But he cannot be listening everywhere at once. The strength of his talent is his ability to focus it so tightly. To spy on his own coterie, he would have had to give off watching the coast waters for Red-Ships.”
“Does he … is Verity aware of this discussion right now?”
I shrugged ashamedly. “I don’t know. That is the curse of my flaws. My link with him is erratic. Sometimes I know his mind as clearly as if he stood beside me and spoke it aloud. At other times I am scarcely aware of him at all. Last night, when they spoke through me, I heard every word. Right now …” I felt about inside myself, a pocket-patting sort of thinking. “I
feel nothing more than that we are still linked.” I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I felt drained.
“Tea?” Chade asked me gently.
“Please. And if I could just sit for a bit longer, quietly. I don’t know when my head has throbbed this badly.”
Chade set the kettle over the fire. I watched with distaste as he mixed brewing herbs for it. Some elfbark, but not near as much as I would have required earlier. Peppermint and catmint leaves. A bit of precious ginger root. I recognized much of what he used to give Verity for his Skill exhaustion. Then he came back to sit close beside me again. “It could not be. What you suggest would require blind loyalty from the coterie to Regal.”
“It can be created by one strongly Skilled. My flaw is a result of what Galen did to me. Do you remember Galen’s fanatical admiration of Chivalry? That was a created loyalty. Galen could have done it to them, before he died, when he was finishing their training.”
Chade shook his head slowly. “Do you think Regal could be so stupid as to think the Red-Ships would stop at Bearns? Eventually they will want Buck, they will want Rippon and Shoaks. Where does that leave him?”
“With the Inland Duchies. The only ones he cares about, the only ones with which he has a mutual loyalty. It would give him a vast perimeter of land as an insulation against anything the Red-Ships might do. And like you, perhaps, he may believe they are not after territory, but only a raiding grounds. They are sea folk. They will not come that far inland to trouble him. And the Coastal Duchies will be too busy fighting the Red-Ships to turn on Regal.”
“If the Six Duchies loses her seacoast, she loses her trade, her shipping. How pleased will his Inland Dukes be with that?”
I shrugged. “I do not know. I have not all the answers, Chade. But this is the only theory I’ve been able to put together in which almost all the pieces fit.”
He rose, to pour steaming water from the kettle into a fat brown pot. He rinsed it well with the boiling water, then dumped in the paper of herbs he had compounded. I watched
him pour the boiling water over the herbs. The scent of a garden filled his chambers. I took the image of the old man putting the lid on the pot, wrapped up the homey simple moment of him setting the pot on the tray with some cups, and stowed it carefully somewhere in my heart. Age was creeping up on Chade, just as surely as disease devoured Shrewd. His deft movements were no longer quite so sure, his bird alertness not as quick as it once had been. My heart ached suddenly with my glimpse of the inevitable. As he set a warm cup of steaming tea in my hand, he frowned at my expression.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered. “Do you want some honey in that?”
I shook my head to his questions, took a sip of tea, and near scalded my tongue. A pleasant taste overlay the bite of the elfbark. After a few moments I felt my mind clear and a pain I had scarcely been aware of went back to sleep. “That’s much better.” I sighed, and Chade sketched a bow at me, pleased with himself.
He leaned close again. “It is still a weak theory. Perhaps we simply have a self-indulgent Prince, who pleases himself with entertainments for his flatterers while the heir is away. He neglects protecting his coastline because he is shortsighted, and because he expects his brother will come home and tidy up his mess. He raids the treasury and sells off horses and cattle to amass wealth to himself while there is no one to stop him.”
“Then why paint Bearns as a traitor? And set up Kettricken as an outsider? Why spread rumors of ridicule about Verity and his quest?”
“Jealousy. Regal has always been his father’s spoiled pet. I do not think he would turn on Shrewd.” Something in Chade’s voice made me realize this was what he desperately wished to believe. “I supply the herbs that Wallace administers to Shrewd for his pain.”
“I do not doubt your herbs. But I think others are added to them.”
“What would be the point? Even if Shrewd dies, Verity is still the heir.”
“Unless Verity dies first.” I held up my hand as Chade opened his mouth to protest. “It need not really happen. If
Regal controls the coterie, he can supply word of Verity’s death at any time. Regal becomes king-in-waiting. Then …” I let my words trail off.
Chade let out a long sigh. “Enough. You have given me enough to ponder. I will look into these ideas, with my own resources. For now, you must watch over yourself. And Kettricken. And the Fool. If there is even a drop of truth in your theories, you all become obstacles to Regal’s goal.”
“And what of you?” I asked quietly. “What is this caution we now must suffer?”
“There is a chamber, whose wall adjoins this one. Always before, it was left empty. But one of Regal’s guests is now ensconced in it. Bright, Regal’s cousin, and heir to Farrow Duchy. The man is a very light sleeper. He has complained to the servants of rats squeaking in the walls. Then, last night, Slink overset a kettle, with quite a clatter. It awoke him. The man is overly curious as well. He asks servants now if spirits have ever been known to walk in Buckkeep. And I have heard him tapping at the walls. I think he suspects this chamber. It need not concern us all that much; soon he will be leaving, I’m sure. But a bit more caution is called for.”
I felt there was more, but whatever he did not wish to say would not be gained by questions. I asked one more, however. “Chade. Are you still able to see the King once a day?”
He glanced down at his hands and shook his head slowly. “Regal seems to suspect my existence. I will admit that to you. At least, he suspects something, and seems always to have some of his folk lurking about. It makes life difficult. But enough of our worries. Let us try to think of how things may go right.”
And then Chade began a long discussion of Elderlings, based on what little we knew of them. We chatted of how it would be if Verity succeeded, and speculated what form the Elderlings’ aid would take. Chade seemed to speak with great hope and sincerity, even enthusiasm. I tried to share it, but my belief was that the salvation of the Six Duchies depended on eliminating the viper in our midst. It was not long before he sent me back to my own room. I lay down on the bed, intending
to rest for just a few minutes before facing the day, but instead fell into a deep sleep.
We were blessed with storms for a time. Each day that I woke to driving wind and rain against my shutters was a day to be treasured. I tried to be unobtrusive about the Keep, avoiding Regal even if it meant taking all my meals in the watch room, drifting out of any room that Justin and Serene might enter. Will, too, had returned from his Skill post at the Red Tower in Bearns. On rare occasions I saw him in company with Serene and Justin. More often he dawdled in the hall at table, his half-lidded eyes always seeming on the verge of closing. His dislike of me was not the focused hatred that Serene and Justin shared for me, but all the same I avoided him as well. I told myself I was wise, but feared myself a coward. I attended my king as often as I was allowed to. It was not often enough.
Came a morning when I was jolted awake to someone pounding on my door and yelling my name. I stumbled from my bed and jerked the door open. A white-faced stable boy stood shaking on my doorstep. “Hands says come to the stables. Right now!”
He gave me no time to reply to his urgent message, but raced off as if seven kinds of demons were after him.
I pulled on yesterday’s clothes. I thought of splashing my face with water, or smoothing my hair back into its tail afresh, but those thoughts occurred to me halfway down the stairs. As I raced across the courtyard I could already hear the raised voices of a quarrel in the stable. I knew Hands would not have called me for a simple squabble among stable hands. I could not imagine what he would call me for. I pushed open the stable doors, then shoved my way past a gaggle of stable boys and grooms to get to the center of the commotion.
It was Burrich. He was no longer shouting. Travel worn and weary, he now stood silent. Hands was beside him, white-faced but standing firm. “I had no choice,” he said quietly in answer to something Burrich had said. “You would have had to do the same.”
Burrich’s face looked ravaged. His eyes were unbelieving, empty with shock. “I know,” he said after a moment. “I
know.” He turned to look at me. “Fitz. My horses are gone.” He swayed slightly on his feet.
“It wasn’t Hands’s doing,” I said quietly. Then I asked, “Where is Prince Verity?”
His brows knit and he looked at me oddly. “You did not expect me?” He paused, said more loudly, “Messages were sent ahead of me. Didn’t you get them?”
“We’ve heard nothing. What happened? Why are you back?”
He looked around at the gaping stable boys, and something of the Burrich I knew came into his eyes again. “If you have not heard yet, then it is not for gossip and common talk. I must go straight to the King.” He drew himself up straight, looked around again at the boys and grooms. The old whiplash was back in his voice as he demanded, “Have you no work to do? I shall be looking over how you have cared for things in my absence as soon as I return from the Keep.”
Like fog in the sunlight, the workers dissipated. Burrich turned to Hands. “Would you care for my horse? Poor Ruddy’s been poorly treated these last days. Treat him well, now that he’s home.”
Hands nodded. “Of course. Shall I send for the healer? I could have him waiting here for you when you come back.”
Burrich shook his head. “What can be done for this, I can do for myself. Come, Fitz. Give me your arm.”
In disbelief, I offered my arm and Burrich took it, leaning on me heavily. For the first time I glanced down. What I had taken to be heavy winter leggings at first glance was actually a thick wrap of bandaging on his bad leg. He favored it, putting most of his weight on me as he limped along. I could feel the exhaustion thrumming through him. Up close, I could smell the sweat of pain on him. His clothing was stained and torn, his hands and face begrimed. This was as unlike the man I knew as anything I could imagine. “Please,” I said quietly as I helped him toward the castle. “Is Verity all right?”
He gave me a ghost of a smile. “You think our prince could be dead, and I still be alive? You insult me. Besides, use your wits. You’d know if he was dead. Or injured.” He paused and studied me carefully. “Wouldn’t you?”
It was plain what he spoke of. Ashamedly, I admitted, “Our link is not reliable. Some things are clear. Some are not. Of this, I knew nothing. What’s happened?”
He looked thoughtful. “Verity said he would try to send word through you. If you’ve relayed no tidings to Shrewd, then this information should first go to the King.”
I asked no more questions.
I had forgotten how long it had been since Burrich had seen King Shrewd. Mornings were not the King’s best times, but when I mentioned this to Burrich, he said he would rather report immediately at a bad time than delay information. So we knocked and, to my surprise, were admitted. Once within, I realized this was because Wallace was nowhere about.
Instead, as I entered, the Fool asked me graciously, “Back for more Smoke?” Then, as he caught sight of Burrich, the mocking grin faded from his face. His eyes met mine. “The Prince?”
“Burrich has come to report to the King.”
“I shall try to rouse him. Though the way he has been of late, one might as well report to him sleeping as awake. He takes as much notice either way.”
Accustomed as I was to the Fool’s mockery, this still jarred me. The sarcasm bit wrong, for there was too much resignation in his voice. Burrich looked at me worriedly. He whispered, “What is wrong with my king?”
I shook my head at him for quiet and tried to get him to take a seat.
“I stand before my king, until he bids me be seated,” he said stiffly.
“You are injured. He would understand.”
“He is my king. That is what I understand.”