Assassin's Quest (Farseer Trilogy, #3)

by Robin Hobb

What call has a Fool to be wise?’

‘What is it you know about Kettle that I do not?’ I looked at him uncomfortably. ‘About as much as I know about you that she does not.’ ‘Ah. That was well spoken. Those words could have been stolen from me,’ he conceded.

A lock does no more than keep an honest man honest, you know.

But in the oldest scrolls he found hints of great power awaiting a strongly Skilled man in the Mountains.

There was only my Wit-sense of life, trapped and desperate. For a moment it eluded me; then I brushed against it, and it quested back to me. It sought the feel of wind on skin, the warm pumping of blood, oh, the scents of the summer day, the sensation of my clothing against my skin, any and all that was part of the experience of living it hungered for.

I glanced up at the statue as I spoke. To my horror, there was a bright silver fingerprint on the girl’s upper arm, outlined in scarlet against her bronze-toned flesh.

‘No. There is worse.’ He glanced at the Fool. ‘I fear that when you speak to the Fool, he listens with Regal’s ears. I fear it was Regal who came to you that day, speaking with the Fool’s tongue, to ask you where Molly was.’

And the one who loves him best shall betray him most foully.” My own prophecy. I have known that since my eleventh year. Chade, I had told myself, when he was willing to take your child. Chade was your betrayer.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘But it was me. It was me.’ He got slowly to his feet. ‘I am sorry. So sorry.’

‘My lord king. I name myself Kestrel of Buck, once of Stanchion’s Coterie. But by my Skill I did slay a member of my own coterie, for jealousy over a man. To do so was high treason, for we were the Queen’s own strength. And I destroyed that. For this I was punished as the Queen’s Justice saw fit. My Skill was burned out of me, leaving me as you see me: sealed into myself, unable to reach beyond the walls of my own body, unable to receive the touch of those I had held dear. That was done by my own coterie. For the murder itself, the Queen banished me from the Six Duchies, for all time.

Even though the coterie member was not true to you, still, you had worked together. In killing him, you killed a part of yourself. And that is why you feel you have no Skill left to you.

I was the Fool and the Fool was me. He was the Catalyst and so was I. We were two halves of a whole, sundered and come together again. For an instant I knew him in his entirety, complete and magical, and then he was pulling apart from me, laughing, a bubble inside me, separate and unknowable, yet joined of me.

You do love me! I was incredulous. He had never truly believed it before. Before, it was words. I always feared it was born of pity. But you are truly my friend. This is knowing. This is feeling what you feel for me. So this is the Skill. For a moment he revelled in simple recognition.

Ah, little brother, you find your ears at last! My kill is ever your kill, and we shall be pack forever! The Fool recoiled at the wolf’s friendly onslaught. I thought he would break the circle. Then suddenly he leaned into it. Th...

I caught at the Fool’s wrist and held him beside me. Somewhere I felt Nighteyes as well. They were back within their own minds, but I could reach them easily. I drew strength from them, carefully, slowly. I drew their strength and love and turned it against Kettle, trying to force it into her through that tiny chink in her armour.

Papa said we were one soul in two bodies. Open, then, and let her out. Let both of you out to live.

I see what I must do now. I felt her overwhelming surge of joy and determination. I must let her out, I must put her into the dragon. She will live forever in the dragon, just as we planned it. The two of us, together again.

‘You should go and rest now, Fitz,’ she told me gently. ‘Go on. Go to sleep.’ A gentle suggestion. She did not know her own Skill-strength. I lay back and knew no more.

‘What goes on up there?’ I repeated patiently. ‘You know more of it than I do,’ he retorted. ‘You did something to Kettle. I could understand part of it, but not all. Then you fell asleep. And Kettle went up there and did something to Verity. I know not what, but Kettricken said it left them both weeping and shaking. Then Verity did something to Kettle. And they both began to laugh and to shout and to cry out it would work. I stayed long enough to watch both of them start attacking the stone around the dragon with chisels and mallets and swords and anything else that was to hand. While Kettricken sits silent as a shadow and watches them mournfully. They will not let her help. Then I came down here and found you unconscious. Or asleep. Whichever you prefer. And I have sat here a long time, watching over you and making tea or taking meat to anyone who yells at me for some. And now you are awake.’ I recognized his parody of me reporting to Verity, and had to smile.

The founder of the Farseer monarchy was, in fact, no more than a Raider grown weary of the sea life. Taker’s crew overwhelmed the original builders of the wooden fort at the mouth of the Buck River and made it their own. Over a number of generations, the black stone walls of Buckkeep Castle replaced it, and the Outislander raiders became residents and monarch.

Some attributed it to the rise to power in the Out Islands of a ferocious chieftain who espoused a bloody religion of vengeance.

Other Outislanders, never before united under one leader, were coerced into swearing fealty to him, under threat of Forging for those and their families who refused him. He and his raiders brought their vicious hatred to the shores of the Six Duchies. If he ever had any intent beyond killing, raping, and destroying, he never made it known. His name was Kebal Rawbread.

would rather be of real help to you,’ I muttered disconsolately as I turned away. ‘FitzChivalry!’ There was a sharp note to Verity’s voice, one I had not heard since I was a boy. I turned back to it with dread. ‘You overstep yourself,’ he told me bluntly. ‘My queen keeps these fires going and sharpens my chisels for me. Do you put yourself above such work?’ At such times, a brief answer suffices best. ‘No, sir.’

I Wit-quested toward it. Men. Four. No, five of them, moving softly up the hillside toward the hut.

‘If I tell you to, go out that window with Nettle. But not unless I say to. I think there are five of them.’ Molly nodded in the firelight. She drew her belt knife and stood between her child and danger.

As Molly got her other leg over the window sill and began to drop outside, the stout man leaped across the room and snatched Nettle from her arms. I heard Molly’s shriek of terror and fury. Then she ran away into the darkness. Disbelief. I could feel Burrich’s disbelief as plainly as my own.

‘Why?’ Burrich asked in consternation. ‘What have we ever done, that you attack us and threaten to kill my daughter?’ The stout man looked down at the red-faced baby screaming in his arms. ‘She’s not yours,’ he sneered. ‘She’s the Wit-Bastard’s bastard. We have it on the best authority.’ He lifted Nettle high as if he would dash her against the floor. He stared at Burrich. Burrich made an incoherent sound, half-fury, half-plea. He dropped his sword. By the door, the injured man groaned and tried to sit up. ‘She’s only a tiny baby,’ Burrich said hoarsely.

‘Let us go. You are mistaken. She’s my own blood, I tell you, and no threat to your king. Please. I have gold. I’ll take you to it. But let us go.’ Burrich, who would have stood and spat and fought to the death, dropped his sword and pleaded for the sake of my child.

Her voice shook only slightly as she added, ‘The child is Witted, of course. As am I. My bees will not harm us. But injure one of us, and they will rise up and follow you and give you no quarter. You shall die of a million burning stings. Think your swords will be of much use against my Wit-bees?’ She looked from face to face, her eyes flashing with anger and her threat as she clutched the heavy wooden hive box to her. One bee escaped it, to buzz angrily about the room. Red-beard’s eyes followed it, even as he exclaimed, ‘I don’t believe it!’ Burrich’s eyes were measuring the distance to his sword as Molly asked softly, almost coyly, ‘Don’t you?’ She smiled oddly as she lowered the hive to the floor.

She reached in and even as the stout man gasped aloud, she drew out her hand, gloved with moving bees. She closed the lid of the hive and then stood. She looked down at the bees coating her hand and said quietly, ‘The one with the red beard, little ones.’ Then she held her hand out as if offering them as a gift. It took a moment, but as each bee took flight, it unerringly sought out Red-beard. He flinched as first one and then another buzzed past him, and then came back, circling.

‘Give my baby to my man. Let them both come to me. Or you shall all die, most certainly and most horribly.’

Burrich. Take Nettle outside. Take her to where we picked mint yesterday. If they force me to act, I do not wish her to see it. It might make her fear the very bees who are her servants.’ Burrich obeyed. Of all the things I had witnessed that night, that seemed to me the most amazing.

‘You both were watching?’ I asked quietly. For an instant, I was touched. They both cared that much for my child. ‘She is my heir, too,’ Verity pointed out relentlessly. ‘Do you think I could stand by and do nothing if they had injured her?’

He would protect your cub as his own, he pointed out quietly. That is pack. He meant the words for comfort. I did not need them. Instead I reached to rest a hand on his ruff. Did you see how she stood and faced them down? I demanded with pride. A most excellent bitch, Nighteyes agreed.

‘Think you the baby will be Witted? Or be able to Skill?’ I had never stopped to consider it. ‘I hope not,’ I said immediately. And then wondered at my own words.

‘Maybe she could not finish her dragon,’ Kettricken speculated. ‘See how its hind feet and tail are still trapped in the stone? Maybe that’s why it’s so sad.’

On all other topics his mind seemed vague and wandering, but when he spoke to me of his dragon and the fashioning of it he was very much King Verity.

He stood and ran a silver hand tentatively over the dragon’s back. I caught my breath, for in the wake of his hand there was suddenly colour. A rich turquoise, with every scale edged in silver, followed the sweep of Verity’s finger. The hue shimmered there for an instant, then faded. Verity made a small sound of satisfaction. ‘When the dragon is full, the colour will stay,’ he told me.

‘Poor thing, nothing can be done for her, I fear. She persisted in trying to keep her human shape, and thus she held back from filling her dragon. There she is and likely to remain for all time.

‘I am not sure how to use the pillar.’ ‘It is no more complicated than a door, Fitz. Place your hand on it, and it draws on the Skill within you. Here, this symbol.’ He sketched with a finger in the dust. ‘That is the one for the place of the dragons. Simply put your hand on it and walk through. This,’ another sketch in the dust, ‘is the sign for the quarry. It will bring you back here.’

No, watch over the Queen for me, if you would. With pleasure. She shot a bird for me today. I sensed his admiration and sincerity. What finer thing than a bitch who kills efficiently? A bitch who shares well. See that you save some for me, as well.

made her understand me, I made her know you were in danger and she made him go after you. I made her understand me, I made her understand me! Nighteyes was in a puppyish frenzy.

‘He stirred a dragon! Not quite to wakening, but I felt one stir! We may yet wake them all!’ This was Verity, laughing and shouting to the others these good tidings

cannot explain the hurt I felt. He had taken what should have been mine and given it to Kettle. He owed that Skill-closeness to me, no other. Who else had come so far, given up so much for him? How could he deny me the carving of his dragon? It was Skill-hunger, pure and simple, but I did not know it then. At that time, all I could feel was how perfectly linked he was with Kettle, and how firmly he repulsed me from joining that link. He walled me out as tightly as if I were Regal. I had forsaken my wife and child and crossed all of the Six Duchies to be of service to him, and now he turned me away.

‘It is not for us to like or dislike,’ Verity said heavily. ‘It is the nature of dragons. They must be filled, and life is what fills them. It must be given willingly to create one. But dragons will take what they need to sustain them, once they rise in flight. What had you supposed that King Wisdom offered them in return for defeating the Red Ships?’

‘FitzChivalry. My dear friend. When the dragon is finished? Rather say that when Verity and I are finished, the dragon will be begun.’ ‘I don’t understand!’ I snarled in frustration. ‘But he told you. I said it again when I warned the Fool. Dragons feed on life. A whole life, willingly given. That is what it takes to make a dragon rise. And usually not just one.

But he does it, and the pain it costs him is one more thing he puts into the dragon. It will fuel his fury toward the Red Ships when he rises. In fact, there is only one thing he has held back from his dragon. Only one thing that may make him fall short of his goal.’ ‘What is that?’ I asked her unwillingly. Her old eyes met mine. ‘You. He has refused to allow you to be put into the dragon. He could do it, you know, whether you willed it or not. He could simply reach out and pull you into him. But he refuses. He says you love your life too much, he will not take it from you. That you have already laid down too much of it for a king who has returned you only pain and hardship.’

‘Your mother loved you,’ she said quietly. ‘You say you cannot recall her. Actually, you cannot forgive her. But she is there, with you, in your memories. She was tall and fair, a Mountain woman. And she loved you. It was not her choice to part from you.’

the Catalyst who has changed my living death to dying life,

You will live to love again. You know you have lost your springtime girl, your Molly on the beach with the wind in her brown hair and red cloak. You have been gone too long from her, and too much has befallen you both. And what you loved, what both of you truly loved, was not each other. It was the time of your life. It was the spring of your years, and life running strong in you, and war on your doorstep and your strong, perfect bodies. Look back, in truth. You will find you recall fully as many quarrels and tears as you do love-making and kisses. Fitz. Be wise. Let her go, and keep those memories intact. Save what you can of her, and let her keep what she can of the wild and daring boy she loved. Because both he and that merry little miss are no more than memories any more.’

‘I will not die when the dragon is finished, Fitz. I will be consumed, that is true. Quite literally. But I will go on. As the dragon.’