The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy Omnibus (163 page)

He ducked his head, pushed the door open and left, shutting it behind him. I listened to his fading footsteps on the stair and felt his presence fade from my Wit-sense. Then I let out my breath in a long sigh. I had sent him to do a hard thing. I hoped Burrich’s son had the spine to do it. I hoped, without real belief, that the boy’s return would be enough to mend the family. I wandered over to the parapet wall and stood staring down at the rocks below.

Do
not disdain those who find that their strongest Skill-talent is in the fashioning of dreams. It is a talent most often manifested among Solos. These lone Skill-users, while not as effective as a coterie, can employ their unique talents to serve their monarchs in ways both subtle and effective. Ominous dreams sent to an enemy lord can make him reconsider his actions, while dreams of victory and glory can fortify the courage of any military leader. Dreams can be rewards, and in some cases can offer balm to those who are discouraged or weary at heart.

Treeknee’s
Lesser Uses of the Skill

That evening I told Chade that Swift had become desperately homesick and that I’d sent him home in the hopes that he could mend things with Burrich. The old man nodded distractedly: the boy was the least of his concerns.

I also told him of my conversation with Web, finishing with, ‘He knows who I am. I think he has since he arrived here.’

Chade’s reaction to that was more emphatic. ‘Damn! Why must you start coming unravelled now, when I have so much else to deal with?’

‘I don’t think I’m unravelling,’ I said stiffly. ‘Rather I think that this is knowledge that someone has possessed all along, and now it has come round to bite us. What do you suggest I do?’

‘Do? What can you do?’ he demanded testily. ‘It’s known, boy. All we can do is hope that Web truly has as much goodwill toward us as he appears to have. And that the knowledge is not widespread amongst the Witted.’ He thumped a leather case to settle the scrolls
inside and then began to tie it shut. ‘Holly, you say?’ he asked after a moment. ‘You think Holly told Web?’

‘So he seemed to imply.’

‘And when is the last time you saw her?’

‘Years ago, when I lived among the Witted. She was Rolf’s wife.’

‘I know that! My wits aren’t failing me that badly.’ He pondered while he rolled the next scroll up. ‘There isn’t time,’ he finally announced. ‘I’d send you off to see this Holly if there was, to discover how many people she has told. But there just isn’t time. So, think with me, Fitz. How will they use this?’

‘I’m not sure that Web intends to use it at all. The way he said it was as if he wished to help me. I felt no threat from him, nor even that he was holding my secret over my head. It was more as if he were urging me toward honesty with Swift as the best way to break through to him.’

‘Hmm.’ The old man replied thoughtfully, tying the last case shut. ‘Push the teapot this way.’ Then, as he poured, ‘Web is a puzzle, isn’t he? The man knows a great deal, and it isn’t just those Witted tales he tells. I would not call him an educated man, yet, as he puts it, anything he has ever decided he needed to know, he’s found a way to learn.’ Chade’s gaze went distant as he spoke. Plainly he had spent some time pondering Web’s significance. ‘I did not like Civil’s proposal that Dutiful have a “Witted Coterie” as he did not have a Skilled one. No public mention has been made of such a thing. Yet, nonetheless, it seems to have come into existence. There is Civil Bresinga with his cat, that minstrel Cockle and Web. All plan to accompany us on this voyage. And I sense, though the Prince is reluctant to speak of it, that they are a “coterie” of sorts. There is a closeness when all of them are in the room that excludes me. Web is plainly the heart-stone of the group. He is more like a priest than a leader; that is, he does not command, but he counsels them, and speaks often of serving “the spirit of the world” or “the divine”. He has no qualms that such words may make him appear foolish. If he had ambitions, he’d be a dangerous man. With what he knows, he could bring all of us tumbling down. The very few times he has spoken to me, it has been in a very indirect way. I feel as if
he is urging us toward an action, but he does not tell us what it is that he hopes we will do. Hmm.’

‘So.’ I ticked the possibilities off on my fingers. ‘Maybe Web simply wanted me to be honest with Swift. Well, with the boy gone, that’s no longer an issue. But perhaps he wants me to reveal to all who I really am. Or perhaps he wants the Farseers to admit that the Prince is Witted. Or, if the two things were presented at once, it would be as good as saying that the Wit runs in the Farseer blood.’ And then my tongue froze. Did the Wit truly run in the Farseer line? The last prince to have definitely had it was the Piebald Prince, and he had left no issue. The crown had passed to a different Farseer bloodline. So, perhaps I had got the Wit from my Mountain-bred mother. And passed it on when Verity had usurped my body for the conception of Dutiful. That was a little bit of the puzzle that I’d never given Chade, nor did I ever intend to. Dutiful, I was convinced, was the son of Verity’s spirit. Yet now I wondered uncomfortably if by the use of my body, Verity had passed on some of my tainted magic to his son.

‘Fitz,’ Chade said, and I startled at his voice, my thoughts having carried me so far afield. ‘Don’t worry so. If Web meant to do us harm, there’d be little advantage in tipping his hand. He’s going with us on the Prince’s quest, so we can keep an eye on him. And talk to him. You, especially, should seek him out. Pretend you wish to learn more of the Wit. That will win him over to you.’

I sighed softly. I was sick of deception. I said as much to Chade. He snorted callously.

‘You were born for deception, Fitz. Born for it. Just as I was, just as all bastards are. We’re tricky things, sons but not heirs, royal but not princes. I would have thought that by now you would have accepted that.’

I only said, ‘I’ll try to get to know Web better on the voyage and see what he’s about.’

Chade nodded sagely. ‘A ship’s a good place to do that. Little for men to do but talk on a voyage. And if he proves to be a danger to us … well.’

He didn’t have to say that many mishaps could befall a man at sea. I wished he had said nothing at all. But he was talking on.

‘Did you put it into Starling’s head to go with us? For she asked. Gave the Queen a long-winded speech about how a minstrel should go to bring home a clean telling of the Prince’s adventure.’

‘Not I. Did the Queen give her permission?’

‘I refused it, saying that all the places on the Prince’s ship were already spoken for, and that the minstrel Cockle had already claimed a spot. Why? Do you think she’d be useful?’

‘No. I fear this may be like the last quest I went on; the less truth that comes home with us, the better.’ I was relieved that Chade had refused Starling, and yet some sneaking part of me was mildly disappointed. That feeling shamed me too much to examine it closely.

The next day, I managed to see Hap. It was only a brief visit, and we talked while he worked. One of the journeymen was doing an inlay project, and had asked Hap to do the sanding of the pieced bits. It looked deadly dull to me, but Hap seemed absorbed in the work when I approached him. He smiled wearily when I greeted him, and gravely accepted the small gifts and mementos I’d brought him. When I asked how he was, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Svanja and I are still together, her parents still don’t know, and I’m still juggling that with my duties as an apprentice. But I think I’m managing it. My hope is that if I apply myself here, I can make journeyman quickly. Once I have that status, I think I can present myself to Svanja’s father as a likely marriage prospect for his daughter.’ He sighed. ‘I’m so tired of the sneaking about, Tom. I think Svanja relishes it, that it makes it more exciting for her. But for me, well, I like things settled and done right. Once I’m a journeyman, I can make everything as it should be.’

I bit my tongue before saying that apprenticeships lasted years, not months. We both knew that. What mattered was that Hap was not shirking his training, but delving into it in the hopes of realizing his dreams. What more could I ask of him? So I embraced my son and told him I would be thinking of him. The hug he returned me was fierce. ‘I won’t shame you, Tom. I promise I won’t shame you.’

With the rest of the guardsmen, I loaded my sea chest onto a
wagon and followed it down to the docks. Buckkeep Town was decked for Spring Fest. Flowers garlanded door lintels and banners fluttered. The doors to taverns and common houses stood open, with song and the smell of holiday food wafting from them. Some of the men grumbled about missing the holiday but the first day of Spring was a fortuitous day for beginning a journey.

Tomorrow morning, we’d make a show of escorting the Prince aboard. Today we boarded the
Maiden’s Chance
and jostled companionably for space on the lower deck allotted to us. Our area was dark, airless and thick with the stink of men in close quarters and the bilge below us. I hit my head twice on the low joists, and after that walked hunched. We would be crowded cheek by jowl, with little privacy and no quiet. The smoke-darkened timbers seemed to breathe out a miasma of oppressiveness. The water lapped loudly against the outside of the hull if to remind me that only a plank of wood stood between the cold, wet sea and me.

I stowed my gear quickly, already anxious to be out of there. I little cared where my trunk was lashed down; I resolved to spend as much time above deck in the open air as I could. About half the guard were veterans of this sort of journey. They made much of the fact that we had an area separate from the working sailors, whom they despised as drunks, thieves and brawlers. Personally, I suspected the seamen regarded the guardsmen in much the same light.

I settled my belongings quickly and headed up to the deck. I could not linger there, for it was crowded with sailors and passengers, all with some task in mind that involved pushing past me. Crates were being lifted from the docks and swung overhead before being guided down through the hatches and stowed below decks. The sailors who weren’t shouting at each other were swearing loudly about the landsmen in their way.

Once on the docks again, I breathed a sigh of relief. All too soon, I’d be trapped aboard that ship with no opportunity to escape. But as I came down the gangway, my relief evaporated. On the dock stood the Fool as Lord Golden, fuming. A retinue of servants bearing boxes, crates, bags and packages of all descriptions stood behind him. Blocking him was a harassed scribe with a scroll. He was shaking his head, his eyes nearly shut, as Lord Golden harangued him.

‘Well, obviously there has been a mistake! What seems to elude you is that the error is not mine. For months, it has been settled that I am to accompany the Prince on his quest! Who better can advise him than a man like me who has travelled far and experienced many cultures? So take yourself out of my way! I myself shall select a suitable cabin, as you insist that none has been allotted to me, and move my comforts into it while you trot about and discover who is responsible for this gross error.’

The scribe had never paused in his head shaking and when he spoke, I was certain he was repeating words he’d already uttered. ‘Lord Golden, I humbly regret any error that has been made. My list came directly from Lord Chade’s hands, and my instructions were most explicit. Only those listed here are to be settled aboard the Prince’s ship. Nor am I allowed to leave my post here, to run and ask if some mistake has been made. My orders are quite clear on that.’ As if hoping to be rid of Golden, he added, ‘Perhaps you have been assigned to one of the accompanying vessels.’

Lord Golden gave an exasperated sigh. As he turned to his servant, his eyes seemed to skate past me, but for the tiniest instant, our gazes met. ‘Put that down!’ he commanded the man, and the servant lowered a box to the ground with relief. Lord Golden promptly sat down on it. As he crossed his green-hosed legs, he gestured imperiously at all of his other servants. ‘All of you! Set your burdens down where you are.’

‘But … you’re blocking the … please, Lord Golden …’

He ignored the scribe’s anguish. ‘Here I shall remain until this matter is resolved,’ he announced in a wounded voice. He crossed his arms on his chest. Lifting his chin, Lord Golden gazed out over the waters as if nothing else in the world concerned him at all.

The scribe darted a look past him. His servants and equipment formed an effective blockade of the dock. Other passengers were beginning to clog the docks behind him, and longshoremen with barrows and tubs of supplies were gathering, too. The scribe took a breath and tried to summon authority. ‘Sir, you will have to remove yourself and your belongings until this is resolved.’

‘I shall not. So I suggest you send a runner to Lord Chade and
have him give you the authority to let me board. For nothing less will satisfy me.’

My heart sank. I knew that Lord Golden’s remark was intended more for me than for the scribe. He had seen me. He expected I would hasten back to Buckkeep Castle and drop a word in Chade’s ear that would bring a speedy solution to his quandary. He did not yet suspect that his difficulty was of my making, and that even if I regretted it, Chade would stand firm. As I turned away from the milling spectacle he was creating, I saw him give me the ghost of a wink. No doubt he thought that Lord Golden’s grand departure from Buckkeep Town would become one of the town’s legends.

I wanted to see no more of it. As I trudged up the steep streets that led back to the castle, I told myself there was no reason to agonize. Lord Golden would sit there until evicted from the spot. No worse than that. And when we sailed tomorrow without him, well, he’d remain safely in Buckkeep whilst the rest of us went off to whatever discomfort and boredom the journey could offer us. No worse than that.

Nonetheless, the rest of the day dragged for me. After days of last-minute rushing, I found my final hours empty. There was nothing left to do. My space in the guard barracks was empty of all save the clothing and weapon I would wear on the morrow. The Prince’s Guard would go forth handsomely. Leggings, shirt and over tunic were all of Buckkeep blue. The Farseer buck was embroidered on the breast. My new boots had been made to my feet and didn’t pinch. I’d already greased them well against wet. Although it was spring, the cloaks we’d been given were of thick wool against the expected cold of the Out Islands. The Fool’s gift sword laid out atop my colours seemed like a rebuke. I left it there, safe as anything was safe in a barracks where a man’s honour was most of what he possessed in the world.