The Complete Farseer Trilogy

‘Whoa. Be slow and careful. You have a grievance, but we cannot have discord within the keep itself right now. Carry it with you until you can settle it quietly, for the King’s sake.’ I bowed my head to the wisdom of his counsel. He lifted the cover from a small roast fowl, dropped it again. ‘Why would you want to learn this Skill anyway? It’s a miserable thing. No fit occupation for a man.’

‘To help you,’ I said without thinking, and then found it true. Once it would have been to prove myself a true and fit son to Chivalry, to impress Burrich or Chade, to increase my standing in the keep. Now, after watching what Verity did, day after day, with no praise or acknowledgement from his subjects, I found I only wanted to help him.

‘To help me,’ he repeated. The storm winds were slackening. With exhausted resignation, he lifted his eyes to the window. Take the food away, boy. I’ve no time for it now.’

‘But you need strength,’ I protested. Guiltily, I knew he had taken time with me he should have taken for food and sleep.

‘I know. But I have no time. Eating takes energy. Odd to realize that. I have none extra to give to that just now.’ His eyes were questing afar now, staring through the sheeting rain that was just beginning to slacken.

‘I’d give you my strength, Verity. If I could.’

He looked at me oddly. ‘Are you sure? Very sure?’

I could not understand the intensity of his question, but I knew the answer. ‘Of course I would.’ And more quietly, ‘I am a King’s man.’

‘And of my own blood,’ he affirmed. He sighed. For a moment he looked sickened. He looked again at the food, and again out of the window. ‘There is just time,’ he whispered. ‘And it might be enough. Damnation to you, Father. Must you always win? Come here, then, boy.’

There was an intensity to his words that frightened me, but I obeyed. When I stood by his chair, he reached out a hand. He placed it on my shoulder, as if he needed assistance to rise.

I looked up at him from the floor. There was a pillow under my head, and the blanket I had brought up earlier had been tossed over me. Verity stood, leaning out of the window. He was shaking with effort, and the Skill he exerted was like battering waves I could almost feel. ‘Onto the rocks,’ he said with deep satisfaction, and whirled from the window. He grinned at me, an old, fierce grin that faded slowly as he looked down on me.

‘Like a calf to the slaughter,’ he said ruefully. ‘I should have known that you didn’t know what you were talking about.’

‘What happened to me?’ I managed to ask. My teeth chattered against each other, and my whole body shook as with a chill. I felt I would rattle my bones out of their joints.

‘You offered me your strength. I took it.’ He poured a cup of the tea, then knelt to hold it to my mouth. ‘Go slowly. I was in a hurry. Did I say earlier that Chivalry was a bull with his Skill? What must I say about myself then?’

He had his old bluff heartiness and good nature back. This was a Verity I had not seen for months. I managed a mouthful of the tea, and felt the elfbark sting my mouth and throat. My shivering eased. Verity took a casual gulp from the mug.

‘In the old days,’ he said conversationally, ‘a king would draw on his coterie. Half a dozen men or more, and all in tune with one another, able to pool strength and offer it as needed. That was their true purpose. To provide strength to their king, or to their own key man. I don’t think Galen quite grasps that. His coterie is a thing he has fashioned. They are like horses and bullocks and donkeys, all harnessed together. Not a true coterie at all. They lack the singleness of mind.’

‘You drew strength from me?’

‘Yes. Believe me, boy, I would not have, except that I had a sudden need, and I thought you knew what you offered. You yourself named yourself as a King’s man, the old term. And as close as we are in blood, I knew I could tap you.’ He set the mug down on the tray with a thump. Disgust deepened his voice. ‘Shrewd. He sets things in motion, wheels turning, pendulums swaying. It is no accident that you are the one to bring me my meals, boy. He was making you available to me.’ He took a swift turn about the room, then stopped, standing over me. ‘It will not happen again.’

‘It was not so bad,’ I said faintly.

‘No? Why don’t you try to stand then? Or even sit up? You’re just one boy, alone, not a coterie. Had I not realized your ignorance and drawn back, I could have killed you. Your heart and breath would just have stopped. I’ll not drain you like this, not for anyone. Here.’ He stopped and without effort lifted me and placed me in his chair. ‘Sit here a bit. And eat. I don’t need it now. And when you are better, go to Shrewd for me. Say that I say you are a distraction. I wish a kitchen-boy to bring my meals, from now on.’

‘Verity,’ I began.

‘No,’ he corrected me. ‘Say “my prince”. For in this, I am your prince, and I will not be questioned on it. Now eat.’

I bowed my head, miserable, but I did eat, and the elfbark in the tea worked to revive me faster than I had expected. Soon I could stand, to stack the dishes on the tray, and then to carry them to the door. I felt defeated. I lifted the latch.

‘FitzChivalry Farseer.’

I halted, frozen by the words. I turned slowly.

‘It’s your name, boy. I wrote it myself, in the military log, on the day you were brought to me. Another thing I had thought you knew. Stop thinking of yourself as the bastard, FitzChivalry Farseer. And be sure that you see Shrewd today.’

‘Goodbye,’ I said quietly, but he was already staring out of the window again.

And so high summer found us all. Chade at his tablets, Verity at his window, Regal courting a princess for his brother, and I, quietly killing for my king. The Inland and Coastal Dukes took sides at the council tables, hissing and spitting at one another like cats over fish. And over it all was Shrewd, keeping each piece of web as taut as any spider, and alert to the least thrumming of a line. The Red Ships struck at us, like ratfish on beef bait, tearing away bits of our folk and Forging them. And the Forged folk became a torment to the land, beggars or predators or a burden to their families. Folk feared to fish, to trade, or to farm the rivermouth plains by the sea. And yet the taxes had to be raised to feed the soldiers and the watchers who seemed unable to defend the land despite their growing numbers. Shrewd had grudgingly released me from my service to Verity. My king had not called for me in over a month when one morning I was abruptly summoned to breakfast.

‘It’s a poor time to wed,’ Verity objected. ‘I have no time for it. Let us be but promised for a year or so. Surely that will be enough for you.’

I looked at the sallow, fleshless man who shared the King’s breakfast table and wondered if this were the bluff, hearty prince from my childhood. He had worsened so much in just a month. He toyed with a bit of bread, set it down again. The outdoors had gone from his cheeks and eyes; his hair was dull, his musculature slack. The whites of his eyes were yellowed. Burrich would have wormed him if he’d been a hound.

Unasked, I said, ‘I hunted with Leon two days ago. He took a rabbit for me.’

Verity turned to me, a ghost of his old smile playing on his face. ‘You took my wolfhound for rabbits?’

‘He enjoyed it. He misses you, though. He brought me the rabbit, and I praised him but it didn’t seem to satisfy him.’ I couldn’t tell him how the hound had looked at me, not for you as plain in his eyes as in his bearing.

Verity picked up his glass. His hand quivered ever so slightly. ‘I am glad he gets out with you, boy. It’s better than …’

‘The wedding,’ Shrewd cut in, ‘will hearten the people. I am getting old, Verity, and the times are troubled. The people see no end to their troubles, and I do not dare promise them solutions we do not have. The Outislanders are right, Verity. We are not the warriors who once settled here. We have become a settled people – a settled people who can be threatened in ways that nomads and rovers have no care for. And we can be destroyed in those same ways. When settled people look for security, they look for continuity.’

Here I looked up sharply. Those were Chade’s words, I’d bet my blood on it. Did that mean that this wedding was something Chade was helping to engineer? My interest became keener, and I wondered again why I had been summoned to this breakfast.

‘It’s a matter of reassuring our folk, Verity. You have not Regal’s charm, nor the bearing that let Chivalry convince anyone that he could take care of any matter. This is not to slight you; you have as much talent for the Skill as I have ever seen in our line, and in many eras your soldierly skills in tactics would have been more important than Chivalry’s diplomacy.’

This sounded suspiciously like a rehearsed speech to me. I watched Shrewd pause. He put cheese and preserves on some bread and bit into it thoughtfully. Verity sat silent, watching his father. He seemed both attentive and bemused, like a man trying desperately to stay awake and be alert when all he can think of is putting his head down and closing his eyes. My brief experiences of the Skill and the split concentration it demanded to resist its enticements while bending it to one’s will made me marvel at Verity’s ability to wield it every day.

Shrewd glanced from Verity to me and back to his son’s face. ‘Putting it simply, you need to marry. More, you need to beget a child. It would put heart into the people. They would say, “well, it cannot be as bad as all that, if our prince does not fear to marry and have a child. Surely he would not be doing that if the whole kingdom were on the verge of crumbling.”’

‘But you and I would still know better, wouldn’t we, Father?’ There was a hint of rust in Verity’s voice, and a bitterness I had never heard there before.

‘Verity,’ Shrewd began, but his son cut in.

‘My king,’ he said formally. ‘You and I do know that we are on the brink of disaster. And now, right now, there can be no slackening of our vigilance. I have no time for courting and wooing, and even less time for the more subtle negotiations of finding a royal bride. While the weather is fine, the Red Ships will raid. And when it turns poor, and the tempests blow their ships back to their own ports, then we must turn our minds and our energies to fortifying our coastlines, and training crews to manage raiding ships of our own. That is what I want to discuss with you. Let us build our own fleet, not fat merchant ships to waddle about tempting raiders, but sleek warships, such as we once had and our oldest shipwrights still know how to make. And let us take this battle to the Outislanders, yes, even through the storms of winter. We used to have such sailors and warriors amongst us. If we begin to build and train now, by next spring we could at least hold them away from our coast, and possibly by winter we could …’

‘It will take money. And money does not flow fastest from terrified men. To raise the funds we need, we need to have our merchants confident enough to continue trading and farmers unafraid to pasture their flocks on the coast meadows and hills. It all comes back, Verity, to your taking a wife.’

Verity, so animated when speaking of warships, leaned back in his chair. He seemed to sag in on himself, as if some piece of structure inside him had given way. I almost expected to see him collapse. ‘As you will, my king,’ he said, but as he spoke he shook his head, denying the affirmation of his own words. ‘I will do as you see wise. Such is the duty of a prince to his king and to his kingdom. But as a man, Father, it is a bitter and empty thing, this taking of a woman selected by my younger brother. I will wager that having looked on Regal first, when she stands beside me, she will not see me as any great prize.’ Verity looked down at his hands, at the battle and work scars that now showed plainly against their paleness. I heard his name in his words when he said softly, ‘Always I have been your second son. Behind Chivalry, with his beauty, strength and wisdom. And now behind Regal, with his cleverness and charm and airs. I know you think he would be a better king to follow after you than I. I do not always disagree with you. I was born second and raised to be second. I had always believed my place would be behind the throne, not upon it. And when I thought that Chivalry would follow you to that high seat, I did not mind it. He gave me great worth, my brother did. His confidence in me was like an honour; it made me a part of all he accomplished. To be the right hand of such a king was better than to be king of many a lesser land. I believed in him as he believed in me. But he is gone. And I tell you nothing surprising when I say to you that there is no such bond between Regal and me. Perhaps there are too many years; perhaps Chivalry and I were so close we left no room for a third. But I do not think he has been seeking for a woman who can love me. Or one who …’

‘He has been seeking a queen!’ Shrewd interrupted harshly. I knew then that this was not the first time this had been argued, and sensed that Shrewd was most annoyed that I had been privy to these words. ‘Regal has been seeking a woman, not for you, or himself, or any such silliness. He has been seeking a woman to be queen of this country, of these Six Duchies. A woman who can bring to us the wealth and the men and the trade agreements that we need now, if we are to survive these Red Ships. Soft hands and a sweet scent will not build your warships, Verity. You must set aside this jealousy of your brother; you cannot fend off the enemy if you do not have confidence in those who stand behind you.’

‘Exactly,’ Verity said quietly. He pushed his chair back.

‘Where do you go?’ Shrewd demanded irritably.

‘To my duties,’ Verity said shortly. ‘Where else have I to go?’

For a moment, even Shrewd looked taken aback. ‘But you’ve scarcely eaten …’ he faltered.

‘The Skill kills all other appetites. You know that.’

‘Yes.’ Shrewd paused. ‘And I know, too, as you do, that when this happens, a man is close to the edge. The appetite for the Skill is one that devours a man, not one that nourishes him.’

They both seemed to have forgotten about me entirely. I made myself small and unobtrusive, nibbling on my biscuit as if I were a mouse in a corner.

‘But what does the devouring of one man matter, if it saves a kingdom?’ Verity did not bother to disguise the bitterness in his voice, and to me it was plain that it was not the Skill alone of which he spoke. He pushed his plate away. ‘After all,’ he added with ponderous sarcasm, ‘it is not as if you do not have yet another son to step in and wear your crown. One unscarred by what the Skill does to men. One free to wed where he will, or will not.’

‘It is not Regal’s fault that he is unSkilled. He was a sickly child, too sickly for Galen to train. And who could have foreseen that two Skilled princes would not be enough?’ Shrewd protested. He rose abruptly and paced the length of the chamber. He stood, leaning on the windowsill and peering out over the sea below. ‘I do what I can, son,’ he added in a lower voice. ‘Do you think I do not care, that I do not see how you are being consumed?’

Verity sighed heavily. ‘No. I know. It is the weariness of the Skill that speaks so, not I. One of us, at least, must keep a clear head and try to grasp the whole of what is happening. For me, there is nothing but the sensing out, and then the sorting, the trying to fix navigator out from oarsman, to scent out the secret fears that the Skill can magnify, to find the faint hearts in the crew and prey upon those first. When I sleep, I dream them, and when I try to eat, they are what sticks in my throat. You know I have never relished this, Father. It never seemed to me worthy of a warrior, to skulk and spy about in men’s minds. Give me a sword and I’ll willingly explore their guts. I’d rather unman a man with a blade than turn the hounds of his own mind to nipping at his heels.’

‘I know, I know,’ Shrewd said gently, but I did not think he really did. I, at least, did understand Verity’s distaste for his task. I had to admit I shared it, and felt him somehow dirtied by it. But when he glanced at me, my face and eyes were empty of any judgement. Deeper within me was the sneaking guilt that I had failed to learn the Skill, and was no use to my uncle at this time. I wondered if he looked at me, and thought of drawing on my strength again. It was a frightening thought, but I steeled myself to the request. But he only smiled at me kindly, if absently, as if no such thought had ever crossed his mind. And as he rose, and walked past my chair, he tousled my hair as if I were Leon.

‘Take my dog out for me, even if it is only for rabbits. I hate to leave him in my rooms each day, but his poor dumb pleading was a distraction from what I must do.’

I nodded, surprised at what I felt emanating from him. A shadow of the same pain I had felt at being separated from my own dogs.

‘Verity.’

He turned at Shrewd’s call.

‘Almost I forgot to tell you why I had called you here. It is, of course, the mountain princess. Ketkin, I think her name was …’

‘Kettricken. I at least remember that much. A skinny little child, the last time I saw her. So, she is the one you have selected?’

‘Yes. For all the reasons we have already discussed. And a day has been set. Ten days before Harvestday. You will have to leave here during the first part of Reaptime in order to reach there in time. There will be a ceremony there, before her own people, binding the two of you and sealing all the agreements and a formal wedding later, when you arrive back here with her. Regal sends word that you must …’

Verity had halted, and his face darkened with frustration. ‘I cannot. You know I cannot. If I leave off my work here while it is still Reaptime, there will be nothing to bring a bride back to. Always, the Outislanders have been greediest and most reckless in the final month before the winter storms drive them back to their own wretched shore. Do you think it will be any different this year? Like as not I would bring Kettricken back here to find them feasting in our own Buckkeep, with your head on a pike to greet me!’

King Shrewd looked angered, but kept his temper as he asked, ‘Do you really think they could press us that greatly if you left off your efforts for twenty days or so?’

‘I know it,’ Verity said wearily. ‘I know it as surely as I know that I should be at my post right now, not arguing here with you. Father, tell them it must be put off. I’ll go for her as soon as we’ve a good coat of snow on the ground, and a blessed gale lashing all ships into their ports.’

‘It cannot be,’ Shrewd said regretfully. ‘They have beliefs of their own, up in the mountains. A wedding made in winter yields a barren harvest. You must take her in the autumn when the lands are yielding, or in late spring, when they till their little mountain fields.’

‘I cannot. By the time spring comes to their mountains, it is fair weather here, with Raiders on our doorsills. Surely they must understand that!’ Verity moved his head about, like a restless horse on a short lead. He did not want to be here. Distasteful as he found his Skill work, it called to him. He wanted to go to it, wanted it in a way that had nothing to do with protecting his kingdom. I wondered if Shrewd knew that. I wondered if Verity did.

‘To understand something is one thing,’ the King expounded. ‘To insist they flaunt their traditions is another. Verity, this must be done, done now.’ Shrewd rubbed his head as if it pained him. ‘We need this joining. We need her soldiers, we need her marriage gifts, we need her father at our back. It cannot wait. Could not you perhaps go in a closed litter, unhampered by managing a horse, and continue your Skill work as you travel? It might even do you good, to get out and about a bit, to have a little fresh air and …’

‘NO!’ Verity bellowed the word, and Shrewd turned where he stood, almost as if he were at bay against the windowsill. Verity advanced to the table, and pounded upon it, showing a temper I had never suspected in him. ‘No and no and no! I cannot do the work I must do to keep the Raiders from our coast while being rocked and jolted in a horse litter. And no, I will not go to this bride you have chosen for me, to this woman I scarce recall, in a litter like an invalid or a witling. I will not have her see me so, nor would I have my men sniggering behind me, saying, “oh, this is what brave Verity has come to, riding like a palsied old man, pandered off to some woman as if he were an Outislander whore”. Where are your wits that you can think such stupid plans? You’ve been among the mountain folk, you know their ways. Think you a woman of theirs would accept a man who came to her in such a sickly way? Even their royals expose a child if it is born less than whole. You’d spoil your own plan, and leave the Six Duchies to the Raiders while you did it.’

‘Then perhaps …’

‘Then perhaps there is a Red Ship right now, not so far that they cannot see Egg Island, and already the captain of it is discounting the dream of ill omen he had last night, and the navigator is correcting his course, wondering how he could have so mistaken the landmarks of our coastline. Already all the work I did last night while you slept and Regal danced and drank with his courtiers is coming undone, while we stand here and yatter at one another. Father, arrange it. Arrange it any way you wish and can, so long as it does not involve me doing anything save the Skill while fair weather plagues our coast.’ Verity had been moving as he spoke, and the slamming of the King’s chamber door almost drowned out his final words.

Shrewd stood and stared at the door for some moments. Then he passed his hand across his eyes, rubbing them, but for weariness or tears or just a bit of dust, I could not tell. He looked about the room, frowning when his eyes encountered me, as if I were a thing puzzlingly out of place. Then, as if recalling why I were there, he observed dryly, ‘Well, that went well, didn’t it? Still, and all, a way must be found. And when Verity rides to claim his bride, you will go with him.’

‘If you wish, my king,’ I said quietly.

‘I do.’ He cleared his throat, then turned to look out of his window again. ‘The princess has a single sibling, an older brother. He is not a healthy man. Oh, he was well and strong once, but on the Ice Fields he took an arrow through his chest. Passed clean through him, so Regal was told. And the wounds on his chest and back healed. But during the winters, he coughs blood, and in summer he cannot sit a horse nor drill his men for more than half the morning. Knowing the mountain folk, it is full surprising that he is their King-in-Waiting still. Usually they do not tolerate weaklings.’

I thought quietly for a moment. ‘Among the mountain people the custom is the same as ours. Male or female, the offspring inherit by the order of their birth.’

‘Yes. That is so,’ Shrewd said quietly, and I knew that already he was thinking that seven duchies might be stronger than six. This was why I had been summoned to breakfast.

‘And Princess Kettricken’s father?’ I asked. ‘How is his health?’

‘As hale and hearty as one could wish, for a man of his years. I am sure he will reign long and well for at least another decade, keeping his kingdom whole and safe for his heir.’

‘Probably by then, our troubles with the Red Ships will long be over. Verity will be free to turn his mind to other things.’

‘Probably,’ King Shrewd agreed quietly. His eyes finally met mine. ‘When Verity goes to claim his bride, you will go with him. You understand what your duties will be? I trust to your discretion.’

I inclined my head to him. ‘As you wish, my king.’

NINETEEN

Journey

To speak of the Mountain Kingdom as a kingdom is to start out with a basic misunderstanding of the area and the folk who people it. It is equally inaccurate to refer to the region as Chyurda, although the Chyurda do make up the dominant folk there. Rather than one stretch of united countryside, the Mountain Kingdom consists of various hamlets clinging to the mountainsides, of small vales of arable land, of trading hamlets sprung up along the rough roads that lead to the passes, and clans of nomadic herders and hunters who range the inhospitable countryside in between. Such a diverse people are unlikely to unite, for their interests are often in conflict. Strangely, though, the only force more powerful than each group’s independence and insular ways is the loyalty they bear to the ‘King’ of the mountain folk.