The Farseer Series Books 2 and 3: Royal Assassin, Assassin’s Quest

I awoke in early evening. There was a fire in my hearth, and a neat pile of firewood in the hod. A little table had been drawn up near my bed, and some bread and meat and cheese was set out on a platter upon an embroidered cloth with tatted edges. A fat pot with brewing herbs in the bottom was waiting for water from the very large kettle steaming over the fire. A washtub and soap were set out on the other side of the hearth. A clean nightshirt had been left across the foot of my bed; it wasn’t one of my old ones. It might actually fit me.

My gratitude outweighed my puzzlement. I managed to get out of bed and take advantage of everything. Afterwards, I felt much better. My dizziness was replaced by a feeling of unnatural lightness, but that quickly succumbed to the bread and cheese. The tea had a hint of elfbark in it; I instantly suspected Chade and wondered if he were the one who’d tried to wake me. But no, Chade only summoned me at night.

I was dragging the clean nightshirt over my head when the door opened quietly. The Fool came slipping into my room. He was in his winter motley of black and white, and his colourless skin seemed even paler because of it. His garments were made of some silky fabric, and cut so loosely that he looked like a stick swathed in them. He’d grown taller, and even thinner, if that were possible. As always, his white eyes were a shock, even in his bloodless face. He smiled at me, and then waggled a pale pink tongue derisively.

‘You,’ I surmised, and gestured round. ‘Thank you.’

‘No,’ he denied. His pale hair floated out from beneath his cap in a halo as he shook his head. ‘But I assisted. Thank you for bathing. It makes my task of checking on you less onerous. I’m glad you’re awake. You snore abominably.’

I let this comment pass. ‘You’ve grown,’ I observed.

‘Yes. So have you. And you’ve been sick. And you slept quite a long time. And now you are awake and bathed and fed. You still look terrible. But you no longer smell. It’s late afternoon now. Are there any other obvious facts you’d like to review?’

‘I dreamed about you. While I was gone.’

He gave me a dubious look. ‘Did you? How touching. I can’t say I dreamed of you.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ I said, and enjoyed the brief flash of surprise on the Fool’s face.

‘How droll. Does that explain why you’ve been playing the fool yourself so much?’

‘I suppose. Sit down. Tell me what’s been happening while I was gone.’

‘I can’t. King Shrewd is expecting me. Rather, he isn’t expecting me, and that is precisely why I must go to him now. When you feel better, you should go and see him. Especially if he isn’t expecting you.’ He turned abruptly to go. He whisked himself out the door, then leaned back in abruptly. He lifted the silver bells at the end of one ridiculously long sleeve, and jingled them at me. ‘Farewell, Fitz. Do try to do a bit better at not letting people kill you.’ The door closed silently behind him.

I was left alone. I poured myself another cup of tea and sipped at it. My door opened again. I looked up, expecting the Fool. Lacey peeked in and announced, ‘Oh, he’s awake,’ and then, more severely, demanded, ‘Why didn’t you say how tired you were? It’s fair scared me to death, you sleeping a whole day round like that.’ She did not wait to be invited, but bustled into the room, clean linens and blankets in her arms and Lady Patience on her heels.

‘Oh, he is awake!’ she exclaimed to Lacey, as if she had doubted it. They ignored my humiliation at confronting them in my nightshirt. Lady Patience seated herself on my bed while Lacey fussed about the room. There was not much to do in my bare chamber, but she stacked my dirty dishes, poked at my fire, tich-tiched over my dirty bath water and scattered garments. I stood at bay by the hearth while she stripped my bed, made it up afresh, gathered my dirty clothes over her arm with a disdainful sniff, glanced about, and then sailed out the door with her plunder.

‘I was going to tidy that up,’ I muttered, embarrassed, but Lady Patience didn’t appear to notice. She gestured imperiously at the bed. Reluctantly I got into the bed. I don’t believe I have ever felt more at a disadvantage. She emphasized it by leaning over and tucking the covers around me.

‘About Molly,’ she announced abruptly. ‘Your behaviour that night was reprehensible. You used your weakness to lure her to your room. And upset her no end with your accusations. Fitz, I will not allow it. If you were not so sick, I would be furious with you. As it is, I am gravely disappointed. I cannot think what to say about how you deceived that poor girl, and led her on. So I will simply say that it will happen no more. You shall behave honourably to her, in every way.’

A simple misunderstanding between Molly and me had suddenly become a serious matter. ‘There’s been a mistake here,’ I said, trying to sound competent and calm. ‘Molly and I need to straighten it out. By talking together, privately. I assure you, for your peace of mind, that it is not at all what you seem to think it is.’

‘Bear in mind who you are. The son of a prince does not …’

‘Fitz,’ I reminded her firmly. ‘I am FitzChivalry. Chivalry’s bastard.’ Patience looked stricken. I felt again how much I had changed since I had left Buckkeep. I was not a boy any more for her to supervise and correct. She had to see me as I was. Still, I tried to soften my tone as I pointed out, ‘Not the proper son of Prince Chivalry, my lady. Only your husband’s bastard.’

She sat on the foot of my bed and looked at me. Her hazel eyes met mine squarely and held. I saw past her giddiness and distractibility, into a soul capable of more pain and vaster regret than I had ever suspected. ‘How do you think I could ever forget that?’ she asked quietly.

My voice died in my throat as I sought for an answer. I was rescued by Lacey’s return. She had recruited two serving maids and a couple of small boys. The dirty water from my bath and my dishes were whisked away by them, while Lacey set out a tray of small pastries and two more cups, and measured out fresh brewing herbs for another pot of tea. Patience and I were silent until the serving folk left the room. Lacey made the tea, poured cups for all, and then settled herself with her ever-present tatting.

‘It is precisely because of who you are that this is more than a misunderstanding.’ Patience launched back into the topic, as if I had never dared interrupt. ‘If you were just Fedwren’s apprentice, or a stable-hand, then you would be free to court and marry however you wished. But you are not, FitzChivalry Farseer. You are of the royal blood. Even a bastard,’ she stumbled slightly on the word, ‘of that line must observe certain customs. And practise certain discretions. Consider your position in the royal household. You must have the king’s permission to marry. Surely you are aware of that. Courtesy to King Shrewd demanded that you inform him of your intention to court, so that he might consider the case’s merits, and tell you if it pleased him or not. He would consider it. Is it a good time for you to wed? Does it benefit the throne? Is the match an acceptable one, or is it likely to cause scandal? Will your courting interfere with your duties? Are the lady’s bloodlines acceptable? Does the King wish you to have offspring?’

With each question she posed, I felt the shock go deeper. I lay back on my pillows and stared at the bed hangings. I had never really set out to court Molly. From a childhood friendship, we had drifted to a deeper companionship. I had known how my heart wished it to go, but my head had never stopped to consider it. She read my face plainly.

‘Remember, too, FitzChivalry, that you have already sworn an oath to another. Your life belongs to your king already. What would you offer Molly if you wed her? His leavings? The bits of time that he did not demand? A man whose duty is sworn to a king has little time for anyone else in his life.’ Tears stood suddenly in her eyes. ‘Some women are willing to take what such a man can honestly offer, and content themselves with it. For others, it is not enough. Could never be enough. You must …’ she hesitated, and it seemed as if the words were wrung from her. ‘You must consider that. One horse cannot bear two saddles. However much he may wish to …’ Her voice dwindled off on the last words. She closed her eyes as if something hurt her. Then she took a breath and went on briskly, as if she had never paused. ‘Another consideration, FitzChivalry. Molly is, or was, a woman of prospects. She has a trade, and knows it well. I expect she will be able to re-establish herself, after a time of hiring out. But what about you? What do you bring her? You write a fair hand, but you cannot claim a full scriber’s skills. You are a good stable-hand, yes, but that is not how you earn your bread. You are a prince’s bastard. You live in the keep, you are fed, you are clothed. But you have no fixed allowance. This could be a comfortable chamber, for one person. But did you expect to bring Molly here to live with you? Or did you seriously believe the King would grant you permission to leave Buckkeep? And if he did, then what? Will you live with your wife and eat the bread she earns with the work of her hands, and do naught? Or would you be content to learn her trade, and be a help to her?’

She finally paused. She did not expect me to answer any of her questions. I did not try. She took a breath and resumed. ‘You have behaved as a thoughtless boy. I know you meant no harm, and we must see that no harm comes of it. To anyone. But, most especially to Molly. You have grown up amidst the gossip and intrigues of the royal court. She has not. Will you let it be said she is your concubine, or worse, a keep whore? For long years now, Buckkeep has been a man’s court. Queen Desire was … the Queen, but she did not hold court as Queen Constance did. We have a queen at Buckkeep again. Already, things are different here, as you will discover. If you truly hope to make Molly your wife, she must be brought into this court one step at a time. Or she will find herself an outcast among politely nodding people. I am speaking plainly to you, FitzChivalry. Not to be cruel to you. But far better I am cruel to you now than that Molly live a lifetime of casual cruelty.’ She spoke so calmly, her eyes never leaving my face.

She waited until I asked hopelessly, ‘What must I do?’

For a moment she looked down at her hands. Then she met my eyes again. ‘For now, nothing. I mean exactly that. I have made Molly one of my serving-women. I am teaching her, as best I can, the ways of the court. She is proving an apt student, as well as a most pleasant teacher for me in the matters of herbs and scent-making. I am having Fedwren teach her letters, something she is most eager to learn. But for now, that is all that must be happening. She must be accepted by the women of the court as one of my ladies – not the bastard’s woman. After a time, you may begin to call upon her. But for now it would be unseemly for you to see her alone, or even seek to see her at all.’

‘But I need to speak to her alone. Just once, just briefly, then I promise I’ll abide by your rules. She thinks I deliberately deceived her, Patience. She thinks I was drunk last night. I have to explain …’

But Patience was shaking her head before the first sentence was out of my mouth, and continued until I faltered to a halt. ‘We have already had a sprinkling of rumours, because she came here seeking you. Or so the gossip was. I have crushed it, assuring everyone that Molly came to me because she was facing difficulties and her mother had been a tiring woman to Lady Heather during the time of Queen Constance’s court. Which is true, and hence she does have the right to seek me out, for was not Lady Heather a friend to me when I first came to Buckkeep?’

‘Did you know Molly’s mother?’ I asked curiously.

‘Not really. She had left, to marry a chandler, before I came to Buckkeep. But I did know Lady Heather, and she was kind to me.’ She dismissed my question.

‘But couldn’t I come to your chambers, and speak to her there, privately, and …’

‘I will not have a scandal!’ she declared firmly. ‘I will not tempt a scandal. Fitz, you have enemies at court. I will not let Molly become their victim for their aims of hurting you. There. Have I spoken plainly enough at last?’

She had spoken plainly, and of things of which I had believed her ignorant. How much did she know of my enemies? Did she think it merely social? Though that would be enough at court. I thought of Regal, and his sly witticisms, and how he could turn and speak softly to his hangers-on at a feast and all would smirk to one another and add soft-voiced comments to the Prince’s criticism. I thought how I would have to kill him.

‘By the set of your jaw, I see you understand.’ Patience arose, setting her teacup on the table. ‘Lacey. I believe we should leave FitzChivalry to rest now.’

‘Please, at least tell her not to be angry with me,’ I begged. ‘Tell her I wasn’t drunk last night. Tell her I never meant to deceive her, or to cause her any harm.’

‘I will carry no such message! Nor shall you, Lacey! Don’t think I didn’t see that wink. Both of you, I insist that you will be decorous. Remember this, FitzChivalry, I expect you to get some rest tonight.’

They left me. Although I tried to catch Lacey’s eyes and win her alliance, she refused to glance at me. The door closed behind them and I leaned back on my pillows. I tried not to let my mind rattle against the restrictions Patience had set upon me. Annoying as it was, she was right. I could only hope that Molly would see my behaviour as thoughtless rather than deceitful or conniving.

I arose from my bed and went to poke at the fire. Then I sat on the hearth and looked about my chamber. After my months in the Mountain Kingdom, it seemed a bleak place indeed. The closest my chamber came to decoration was a rather dusty tapestry of King Wisdom befriending the Elderlings. It had come with the chamber, as had the cedar chest at the foot of my bed. I stared up at the tapestry critically. It was old and moth-eaten; I could see why it had been banished to here. When I had been younger, it had given me nightmares. Woven in an old style, King Wisdom appeared strangely elongated, while the Elderlings bore no resemblance to any creatures I had ever seen. There was a suggestion of wings on their bulging shoulders. Or perhaps that was meant to be a halo of light surrounding them. I leaned back on the hearth to consider them.

I dozed. I awakened to a draught on my shoulder. The secret door beside the hearth that led up to Chade’s domain was wide open and beckoning. I arose stiffly, stretched, and went up the stone stairs. Thus had I first gone, so long ago, clad then as I was now in just my nightshirt. I had followed a frightening old man with a pocked visage and eyes sharp and bright as a raven’s. He had offered to teach me to kill people. He had also offered, wordlessly, to be my friend. I had accepted both offers.

The stone steps were cold. Here there were still cobwebs and dust and soot above the sconces on the walls. So the housekeeping hadn’t extended to this staircase. Nor to Chade’s quarters. They were as chaotic, disreputable and comfortable as ever. At one end of his chamber was his working hearth, bare stone floors and an immense table. The usual clutter overflowed it: mortars and pestles, sticky dishes of meat scraps for Slink the weasel, pots of dried herbs, tablets and scrolls, spoons and tongs, and a blackened kettle, still sending a reeking smoke curling into the chamber.

But Chade was not there. No, he was at the other end of the chamber, where a fatly cushioned chair faced a hearth with a dancing fire. Carpets overlay one another over the floor there, and an elegantly carved table held a glass bowl of autumn apples and a decanter of summer wine. Chade was ensconced in the chair, a partially unrolled scroll held to the light as he read it. Did he hold it farther from his nose than once he had, and were his spare arms more desiccated? I wondered if he had aged in the months I had been away, or if I had simply not noticed before. His grey woollen robe looked as well worn as ever, and his long grey hair overlay its shoulders and seemed the same colour. As always, I stood silent until he deigned to look up and recognize my presence. Some things changed, but some things did not.

He finally lowered the scroll and looked my way. He had green eyes, and their lightness was always surprising in his Farseer face. Despite the pox-like scars that stippled his face and arms, his bastard bloodlines were almost as plain marked as mine. I suppose I could have claimed him as a great-uncle, but our apprentice to master relationship was closer than a blood-tie. He looked me over and I self-consciously stood straighter under his scrutiny. His voice was grave as he commanded, ‘Boy, come into the light.’

I advanced a dozen steps and stood apprehensively. He studied me as intently as he had studied the scroll. ‘Were we ambitious traitors, you and I, we would make sure folk marked your resemblance to Chivalry. I could teach you to stand as he stood; you already walk as he did. I could show you how to add lines to your face to make you appear older. You have most of his height. You could learn his catch phrases, and the way he laughed. Slowly, we could gather power, in quiet ways, with none even recognizing what they were conceding. And one day, we could step up and take power.’

He paused.

Slowly I shook my head. Then we both smiled, and I came to sit on the hearth stones by his feet. The warmth of the fire on my back felt good.

‘It’s my trade, I suppose.’ He sighed and took a sip of his wine. ‘I have to think of these things, for I know that others will. One day, sooner or later, some petty noble will believe it an original idea and approach you with it. Wait and see if I am not right.’

‘I pray you are wrong. I have had enough of intrigues, Chade, and not fared as well at that game as I had expected to.’

‘You did not do badly, with the hand you were dealt. You survived.’ He looked past me into the fire. A question hung between us, almost palpably. Why had King Shrewd revealed to Prince Regal that I was his trained assassin? Why had he put me in the position of reporting to and taking orders from a man who wished me dead? Had he traded me away to Regal, to distract him from his other discontents? And if I had been a sacrificial pawn, was I still being dangled as bait and a distraction to the younger prince? I think not even Chade could have answered all my questions, and to ask any of them would have been blackest betrayal of what we were both sworn to be: King’s Men. Both of us long ago had given our lives into Shrewd’s keeping, for the protection of the royal family. It was not for us to question how he chose to spend us. That way lay treason.