All had become aware of the lead man’s burden. We halted on the road. Like a curtain parting, Kettricken’s guard opened to allow him to approach her. A terrible silence held as he handed her the baton, and then the small scroll. The red sealing wax flaked away from her nail. I watched it fall to the muddy road. Slowly she opened the scroll and read it. Something went out of her in that reading. Her hand fell to her side. She let the scroll follow the wax to the mud, a thing done with, a thing she never wished to peruse again. She did not faint, nor cry out. Her eyes looked afar, and she set her hand gently atop her
belly. And in that motion, I knew it was not Shrewd who was dead, but Verity.
I reached for him. Somewhere, surely somewhere, coiled small inside me, a spark of a link, the tiniest thread of a connection … no. I did not even know when it had vanished. I recalled that whenever I fought, I was likely to break my link with him. It did not help. I recalled now what had seemed just an oddity on the night of the battle. I had thought I had heard Verity’s voice, crying out, issuing orders that made no sense. I could not recall one individual word of what he might have shouted. But now it seemed to me that they had been battle orders, orders to scatter, to seek cover perhaps, or … but I could not recall anything with certainty. I looked over at Burrich, to find the question in his eyes. I had to shrug. “I don’t know,” I said quietly. His brow furrowed as he considered this.
Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken sat very still on her horse. No one moved to touch her, no one spoke a word. I glanced at Burrich, met his eyes. I saw fatalistic resignation there. This was the second time he had seen a King-in-Waiting fall before ascending the throne. After a long silence, Kettricken turned in her saddle. She surveyed her guard, and the mounted soldiers who followed her. “Prince Regal has had tidings that King-in-Waiting Verity is dead.” She did not raise her voice, but her clear words carried. Merriment faded, and the triumph went out of many an eye. She gave it a few moments to settle in. Then she nudged her horse to a walk, and we followed her back to Buckkeep.
We approached the gate unchallenged. The soldiers on watch looked up at us as we passed. One made a sketchy salute to the Queen. She did not notice it. Burrich’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing.
Within the castle courtyard, it seemed an ordinary day. Stable help came to take the horses while other servants and folk moved about on the ordinary business of the Keep. Somehow the very familiarity of it rattled against my nerves like stones. Verity was dead. It did not seem right that life should go on in such a workaday fashion.
Burrich had helped Kettricken to dismount into a cluster of her ladies. A part of me noted the look on Foxglove’s face as
Kettricken was hustled away by court ladies who were exclaiming over how worn she looked, was she well, amid exclamations of sympathy, regret, and sorrow. A twinge of jealousy passed over the face of the captain of the Queen’s guard. Foxglove was but a soldier, sworn to protect her queen. She could not, at this time, follow her into the Keep, no matter how much she cared about her queen. Kettricken was in the care of her court ladies now. But I knew Burrich would not stand guard alone before Kettricken’s door tonight.
The solicitous murmuring of her ladies on Kettricken’s behalf was enough to let me know that the rumor of her pregnancy had been spread. I wonder if it had yet been shared with Regal. I was well aware that some gossip circulated almost entirely through the women before becoming common knowledge. I suddenly wanted very badly to know if Regal knew that Kettricken carried the heir to the throne. I handed Sooty’s reins to Hands, thanked him, and promised to tell him all later. But as I headed for the Keep Burrich’s hand fell on my shoulder.
“A word with you. Now.”
Sometimes he treated me almost as if I were a Prince, sometimes as less than a stable boy. These words now were no request. Hands gave me Sooty’s reins back with a wry smile and vanished to see to other animals. I followed Burrich as he led Ruddy into the stables. He had no problem finding an empty stall for Ruddy near Sooty’s regular stall. There were only too many stalls available. We both began matter-of-factly to work on the horses. The old familiarity of that routine, seeing to a horse while Burrich worked nearby, was comforting. Our end of the stable was relatively quiet, but he waited until no one was about before asking, “Is it true?”
“I don’t know, exactly. My link with him is gone. It had been faint before we went to Neatbay, and I always have a problem maintaining my link to Verity when I get into a fight. He says I put my guard up so strongly against those around me that I wall him out.”
“I don’t understand any of that, but I knew of that problem. Are you sure that is when you lost him?”
So I told him, about a vague sense of Verity during the
battle, and the possibility that he had been under attack at the same time. Burrich nodded impatiently.
“But can’t you Skill out to him, now that things are calm? Renew the link?”
I took an instant, pushed down my own seething frustration. “No. I can’t. I don’t have the Skill that way.”
Burrich frowned. “Look. We know that messages have gone awry lately. How do we know that this one hasn’t been invented?”
“We don’t, I suppose. Though it is hard to believe that even Regal would be so bold as to say Verity was dead if he was not.”
“There is nothing I believe him incapable of,” Burrich said quietly.
I straightened up from cleaning the mud out of Sooty’s hooves. Burrich was leaning on the door of Ruddy’s stall, staring off into distance. The white streak in his hair was a vivid reminder of just how ruthless Regal could be. He had ordered Burrich killed as casually as one might swat an annoying fly. It had never seemed to give Regal a moment’s concern that he had not stayed dead. He had no fear of retribution from a stablemaster or a bastard.
“So. What would he say when Verity came back?” I asked quietly.
“Once he was king, he could see that Verity never came back. The man who sits on the throne of the Six Duchies can do away with people who are inconvenient.” Burrich did not look directly at me as he said this, and I tried to let the barb go by me. It was true. Once Regal was in power, I had no doubt there would be assassins ready to do his bidding. Perhaps there already were some. That thought put a queer chill up me.
“If we want definite word that Verity is still alive, our only choice is to send someone to find him, and to come back with tidings of him.” I considered Burrich.
“Assuming the messenger managed to survive, it would still take too long. Once Regal is in power, the word of a messenger is nothing to him. The bearer of such tidings would not dare speak them aloud. We need proof that Verity is alive, proof that King Shrewd will accept, and we need it before
Regal comes into power. That one would not be king-in-waiting long.”
“King Shrewd and Kettricken’s child still stand between him and the throne,” I protested.
“That location has proven unhealthy for full-grown, strong men. I doubt an ailing old man or an unborn child will find it any luckier a place to be.” Burrich shook his head and set that thought aside. “So. You cannot Skill to him. Who can?”
“Any of the coterie.”
“Pah. I have faith in none of them.”
“King Shrewd might be able to,” I suggested hesitantly. “If he took strength from me.”
“Even if your link with Verity is broken?” Burrich asked intently.
I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know. That is why I said ‘might.’”
He ran a final hand down Ruddy’s newly sleek coat. “It will have to be tried,” he said decisively. “And the sooner the better. Kettricken must not be left to fret and grieve if there is no cause for it. She might lose the child of it.” He sighed and looked at me. “Go get some rest. Plan on visiting the King tonight. Once I see you go in, I will see that there are witnesses to whatever King Shrewd finds out.”
“Burrich,” I protested, “there are too many uncertainties. I do not even know that the King will be awake tonight, or able to Skill, or that he will if I ask it. If we do this, Regal, and all else, will know that I am a King’s Man in the Skill sense. And—”
“Sorry, boy.” Burrich spoke abruptly, almost callously. “There is more at stake here than your well-being. Not that I do not care about you. But I think you will be safer if Regal thinks you can Skill, and all know Verity is alive, than if all believe Verity is dead and Regal thinks it timely to be rid of you. We must try tonight. Perhaps we shall not succeed. But we must try.”
“I hope you can get some elfbark somewhere,” I grumbled to him.
“Are you developing a fondness for that? Be wary.” But then he grinned. “I am sure I can get some.”
I returned the grin, and then was shocked at myself. I didn’t believe Verity was dead. That was what I admitted to myself with that grin. I did not believe my king-in-waiting was dead, and I was about to stand toe to toe with Prince Regal and prove it was so. The only way that could have been more satisfying would be if I could do it with an ax in my hands. Yet.
“Do me one favor?” I asked of Burrich.
“What?” he asked guardedly.
“Be very very careful of yourself.”
“Always. See that you do the same.”
I nodded, then stood silent, feeling awkward.
After a moment Burrich sighed and said, “Out with it. If I happen to see Molly, you’d like me to tell her … what?”
I shook my head at myself. “Only that I miss her. What else can I say to her? I’ve nothing to offer her but that.”
He glanced at me: an odd look. Sympathy, but no false comfort. “I’ll let her know,” he promised.
I left the stables feeling that somehow I had grown. I wondered if I would ever stop measuring myself by how Burrich treated me.
I went directly to the kitchen, intending to get something to eat, then go rest as Burrich had suggested. The watch room was packed with the returning soldiers, telling stories to the ones who had stayed home while devouring stew and bread. I had expected that, and intended to find my own provisions and carry them off to my room. But within the kitchen, everywhere, kettles were bubbling, bread was rising, and meat was turning on spits. Kitchen servants were chopping, stirring, and going to and fro hurriedly.
“There is a feast tonight?” I asked stupidly.
Cook Sara turned to face me. “Oh, Fitz, so you’re back and alive and in one piece for a change.” She smiled as if she had complimented me. “Yes, of course, there’s a feast to celebrate the victory at Neatbay. We would not neglect you.”
“With Verity dead, we still sit down to feast?”
Cook looked at me levelly. “Were Prince Verity here, what would he wish?”
I sighed. “He would probably say to celebrate the victory. That folk need hope more than mourning.”
“So exactly Prince Regal explained it to me this morning,” Cook said with satisfaction. She turned back to rubbing spices into a leg of venison. “We’ll mourn him, of course. But you have to understand, Fitz. He left us. Regal is the one who stayed here. He stayed here to look after the King, and mind the coasts as best as he could. Verity is gone, but Regal is still here with us. And Neatbay is not fallen to the Raiders.”
I bit my tongue and waited for the fit to pass. “Neatbay did not fall because Regal stayed here to protect us.” I wanted to make certain that Cook was connecting those two events, not merely mentioning them both in the same lecture.
She nodded as she kept rubbing the meat. Pounded sage, my nose told me. And rosemary. “It’s what’s been needed all along. Soldiers sent right away. Skilling is fine, but what’s the good of knowing what’s happening if no one does anything about it?”
“Verity always sent out the warships.”
“And they always seemed to get there too late.” She turned to me, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. “Oh, I know you worshiped him, lad. Our Prince Verity was a goodhearted man, who wore himself to death trying to protect us. I’m not speaking against the dead. I’m only saying that Skilling and chasing down Elderlings are not the way to fight these Red-Ships. What Prince Regal done, sending the soldiers and ships out the minute he heard, that’s what was needed all along. Maybe with Prince Regal in charge, we’ll survive here.”
“What about King Shrewd?” I asked softly.
She misunderstood my question. In doing so, she showed me what she really thought. “Oh, he’s as good as can be expected. He’ll even be down to the feast tonight, at least for a bit. Poor man. He’s suffering so much. Poor, poor man.”
Dead man. She as much as said it. King no longer, Shrewd was just a poor, poor man to her. Regal had it. “Do you think our queen will be at the feast?” I asked. “After all, she has just heard of the death of her husband and king.”
“Oh, I think she’ll be there.” Sara nodded to herself. She turned the leg over with a thud, to begin pricking the other side
full of herbs. “I’ve heard it said she’s saying she’s with child now.” The cook sounded skeptical. “She’ll want to announce it tonight.”
“Do you doubt she’s with child?” I asked bluntly. Cook was not offended by it.
“Oh, I don’t doubt she’s pregnant, if she says she is. It just seems a bit odd, is all, her telling it after word of Verity’s death came in instead of before.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, some of us are bound to wonder.”
“Wonder what?” I asked coldly.
Cook darted a glance at me and I cursed my impatience. Shutting her up was not what I wanted to do. I needed to hear the rumors, all of them.
“Well …” She hesitated, but could not deny my listening ears. “What’s always wondered, when a woman doesn’t conceive, and then when her husband’s away, suddenly she announces she’s pregnant by him.” She glanced about to see who else might be listening. All seemed busy at their work, but I didn’t doubt a few ears were tilted our way. “Why now? All of a sudden. And if she knew she was pregnant, what was she thinking of, racing off in the middle of the night, right into battle? That’s strange behavior for a Queen carrying the throne’s heir.”
“Well”—I tried to make my voice mild—“I suppose when the child is born will show when it was conceived. Those who want to count moons on their fingers may do so then. Besides”—and I leaned in conspiratorially—“I heard that some of her ladies knew of it before she left. Lady Patience, for instance, and her maid Lacey.” I would have to make sure that Patience bragged of her early knowledge, and that Lacey noised it about among the servants.