Fool's Fate (Tawny Man, #3)

by Robin Hobb

Every small, unselfish action nudges the world into a better path. An accumulation of small acts can change the world.

And who was I to the White Prophet? I was his Catalyst. The Changer. I was the stone he would set to bump time’s wheel out of its rut. A small pebble can turn a wheel out of its path, he told me, but warned me that it was seldom a pleasant experience for the pebble.

The first difference was the existence of a Farseer heir, one who survived. That was me. Forcing me to survive, dragging me away from the deaths that constantly tried to eliminate me so that time’s wheels could jolt back into their comfortable ruts, became his life’s work. Death and near-death swallowed me, time after time, and each time he dragged me, battered and bruised, back from the brink to follow him again. He used me relentlessly, but not without regret.

But there were people who did not share his opinion, people who envisioned a future without a Farseer heir and without dragons. One of them decided to ensure that future by ridding herself of the fool who stood in her way.

Sometimes it seems unfair that events so old can reach forward through the years, sinking claws into one’s life and twisting all that follows it. Yet perhaps that is the ultimate justice: we are the sum of all we have done added to the sum of all that has been done to us. There is no escaping that, not for any of us.

Queen Kettricken had restored the Queen’s Garden to its former glory.

‘Because I don’t think I was asleep when it happened. I was trying to do the Skill-walking. Fi— Tom says it was easiest for him to bridge over to it from a light sleep. So I was in my bed, trying to be asleep but not too asleep, while reaching out with the Skill. And then I felt it.’ ‘What?’ Chade asked. ‘I felt it looking for me. With its great big whirly silver eyes.’ Thick was the one who answered. ‘Yes,’ the Prince confirmed slowly. My heart sank.

On the contrary, it seemed … infinitely benign. Restful and safe. I was afraid to touch it for fear that … I’d lose any desire to come back. It seemed like the end of something. An edge, or a place where something different begins. No. Like something that lives in a place where something different begins.’

‘I looked around and saw that I was at the edge of a milky river, on a very small clay beach. A great forest of immense trees stood at my back.

“So. You’ve seen me. Well, I don’t care. But you will. You’re one of his. Tell me. What do you know of a black dragon?”

‘I think the dragon is real. Moreover, I think we have heard of her before. Tintaglia, the Bingtown dragon. The one that masked boy spoke of.’

‘Can dragons Skill, then? Why would she demand to know what we knew of a black dragon? Does she mean Icefyre?’

‘All of those things, FitzChivalry, you could teach him as well as I, if you have a mind to.’

‘Of course, your words would only carry weight with him if you told him that you, too, are Witted. And they would have the most effect if you told him your true name, as well, and your relationship to his father. Yet he might be a bit young to share that secret fully.’

‘Your wolf still looks out of your eyes. You think that if you stand perfectly still, no one will see you. That won’t work with me, young man.’

‘Swift is not the only one who needs to be instructed in his magic,’ he said in a voice pitched for my ears alone. ‘But I will not teach anyone who does not come to me and ask for it. Tell that to the lad, too. That he must come to me and ask. I will not impose learning on him.’

‘Holly would love a day such as this. Clear skies and a light wind. How her hawk would soar!’ And there was the answer given to my unasked question, and I surmised that was a true show of mercy. He would not let me wonder who at Buckkeep had betrayed my secret, but told me plain that my true name had come to him from another source. Holly, widow to Black Rolf, who had tried to teach me the Wit so many years ago.

‘Is there any chance that you could stop seeing her for a time?’ ‘No.’ He answered without even drawing breath. He looked ahead as he spoke. ‘I can’t, Tom. I can no more put her aside than I could give up breath or water or food.’

Some said they brought him the finest Smoke herbs, as well as cindin, a Jamaillian vice recently come to Buckkeep. Others said they came to provide indulgence for his other ‘Jamaillian tastes’.

The others had already turned to re-enter the well-lit chamber. Yet Lord Golden paused a moment longer and gazed pensively at the spot where I had thought myself so well concealed. Then he inclined his head slightly to me before he turned and departed.

It was a place familiar to me from my days as the assassin’s apprentice.

I missed my wolf Nighteyes as I would miss my heart’s beating.

‘Fitz,’ someone said softly, and I spun, startled. The Fool stood framed in the doorway that was usually concealed by the wine rack. He could move more silently than anyone else I had ever known. Coupled with that, he was undetectable to my Wit-sense. Sensitive as I was to the presence of other living beings, he alone had the ability to take me completely by surprise. He knew it, and I think he enjoyed it. He smiled apologetically as he advanced into the room.

‘I am not the person I was born. Neither are you. I know no one who is. Truly, Fitz, all we ever know are facets of one another. Perhaps we feel as if we know one another well when we know several facets of that person.

When I show myself in a different light, I do not make a pretence. Rather I bare a different aspect to the world than they have seen before. Truly, there is a place in my heart where I am forever the Fool and your playfellow. And within me there is a genuine Lord Golden, fond of good drink and well-prepared food and elegant clothing and witty speech. And so, when I show myself as him, I am deceiving no one, but only sharing a different part of myself.’ ‘And Amber?’ I asked quietly. Then I wondered that I dared venture the question. He met my gaze levelly. ‘She is a facet of me. No more than that. And no less.’

Possession. He did not wish to be touched in a way that might let another possess him. Belatedly I recalled what Regal and his coterie had once done to him. They had found him, through the link I shared with him, and taken a bit of his consciousness and used it against me, to spy upon me and gain knowledge of Molly’s whereabouts. That betrayal still shamed and pained him.

It wasn’t your fault. I offered him comfort through our link. He refused it. Then, as if from a distance and yet clear, his thoughts reached mine. I knew it would happen. I’d foretold it myself, when I was a child. That the one closest to you would betray you. Yet I could not believe that it would be me. And so I fulfilled my own prophecy. We all survived. Barely.

His touch was gentle, but the sensation was an arrow in my heart. I physically spasmed, a speared fish, and then froze. The Fool ran through my veins, hot as liquor, cold as ice. For a flashing instant, we shared physical awareness. The intensity of it went beyond any joining I’d ever experienced. It was more intimate than a kiss and deeper than a knife thrust, beyond a Skill-link and beyond sexual coupling, even beyond my Wit-bond with Nighteyes. It was not a sharing, it was a becoming. Neither pain nor pleasure could encompass it. Worse, I felt myself turning and opening to it, as if it were my lover’s mouth upon mine, yet I did not know if I would devour or be devoured. In another heartbeat, we would be one another, know one another more perfectly than two separate beings ever should. He’d know my secret.

And I set no limits on that love. ‘It’s too much,’ I said brokenly. ‘No one can give that much. No one.’

the Fool said, ‘Prince Dutiful must not kill Icefyre. That is the most important thing that I must tell you, Chade. At all costs, the dragon’s life must be preserved.’ Chade had crossed to the bottles of spirits. He selected one, poured from it silently, and then turned back to us. ‘As the creature is frozen in a glacier, don’t you think it might be a bit late to worry about preserving his life?’ He sipped from his glass. ‘Or do you truly think that any beast could survive that long, bereft of warmth, water and food?’

‘I’ve no love of strife, Chade Fallstar,’ the Fool replied softly. ‘Yet even a war amongst men is not the worst thing that can occur.

‘Tintaglia, the Bingtown dragon, is the sole adult female dragon in the world. With every passing year, it becomes more apparent that the young ones which emerged from their cases will remain stunted and weak, unable to hunt or fly. Dragons mate in flight. If the hatchlings never fly, they can never mate. Dragons will die out in the world. And this time, it will be forever. Unless there remains one fully-formed male dragon. One who could rise to mate Tintaglia and sire a new generation of dragons.’

‘And not only the world but humanity itself does need dragons.’ ‘And why is that?’ Chade demanded disdainfully. ‘To keep the balance,’ the Fool replied. He glanced over at me, and then past me, out of the window and his eyes went far and pensive. ‘Humanity fears no rivals. You have forgotten what it was to share the world with creatures as arrogantly superior as yourselves. You think to arrange the world to your liking. So you map the land and draw lines across it, claiming ownership simply because you can draw a picture of it. The plants that grow and the beasts that rove, you mark as your own, claiming not only what lives today, but what might grow tomorrow, to do with as you please. Then, in your conceit and aggression, you wage wars and slay one another over the lines you have imagined on the world’s face.’

‘No. Dragons are no better than humans. They are little different at all from men. They will hold up a mirror to humanity’s selfishness. They will remind you that all your talk of owning this and claiming that is no more than the snarling of a chained dog or a sparrow’s challenge song. The reality of those claims lasts but for the instant of its sounding. Name it as you will, claim it as you will, the world does not belong to men. Men belong to the world. You will not own the earth that eventually your body will become, nor will it recall the name it once answered to.’

‘Give us your promise, as a Farseer, that when the time comes, Fitz may do as his judgment bids him.’

‘I give my word as a Farseer. I will not ask him to do anything against his will. There. Are you content, man?’ The Fool nodded slowly. ‘Oh, yes. I am content. For the decision will come to him, and that I see as clearly as anything that remains to me to see.’

When he straightened he spoke to me. His tone was warmer. ‘It was good to have a few moments with you today, Fitz. I’ve missed you.’ Then he gave a sudden small sigh, as if he had recalled an unpleasant duty. I suspected that his predicted death had just pushed itself to the forefront of his mind.

‘Not a horse or a dog, Fitz, no. I’d never think of you that way. No. You’re a sword. So you were made to be, by me, a weapon to be wielded. And he thinks you fit his hand the best.’ The old man snorted in contempt. ‘The man is, still, a fool.’ He looked at me and nodded. ‘You were wise to tell me of his plans. It is good we shall be leaving him behind.’ There seemed nothing to say to that.

I had seen both my friend and my mentor more clearly today than I liked.

As I pushed open the door, I instantly knew that the Fool had been there before me. He’d left his gift on the table beside my chair. I walked over to it and ran a finger down Nighteyes’ spine. My wolf was in his prime in the carving. A dead rabbit sprawled between his forepaws. His head was lifted, his dark eyes regarding me intelligently, patiently.

I had seen the Fool begin the carving when he sat at the table in my cabin. I had never guessed what it might be, had almost forgotten that he had promised to show it to me when it was finished. I touched the points of Nighteyes’ pricked ears. Then I sat down in the chair and stared into the fire, my wolf cradled in my hands.

As Dutiful stepped wearily into the room, Gilly leapt from the bed and sprang to confront him, menacing him with white teeth as he made abortive springs at his feet. ‘Yes, I’m glad to see you, too,’ Dutiful greeted him and swept the little animal up in one hand. He scratched the ferret’s throat gently and then set him down. Gilly immediately attacked his feet. Being careful not to tread upon him, Dutiful came into the room,

He was talking and untying the leather thongs that bound it as he came through the door. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of this a long time ago, when my mother first told me who you were. I guess because it was given to me so long ago, and then my mother put it away for me. Here!’ The wrappings fell away from it and he flourished it aloft. Grinning widely, he suddenly reversed his grip on it, and proffered it to me, the hilt resting on his left forearm. He grinned at me, his eyes blazing with delight and anticipation. ‘Take it, FitzChivalry Farseer. Your father’s sword.’ A shiver ran over me, standing up every hair on my body. I set the teacup aside and came slowly to my feet. ‘Chivalry’s sword?’ ‘Yes.’ I had not thought his grin could grow wider, but it did.

Dutiful was at my side, comparing his blade to mine. ‘Chivalry’s is longer!’ ‘He was taller than Verity. Yet this blade, I think, is lighter. Verity had the brawn to put behind a heavy stroke, and so I think Hod made his weapon. It will be interesting to see which weapon fits you best when you are grown.’

Even as I drew painful breath to scream, Nettle spoke softly by my ear. ‘It’s only a dream, Shadow Wolf. And it belongs to me. In my dreams, you will never come to harm. Open your eyes, now. Awake to your own world.’

‘Some day,’ she said quietly. ‘Some day you’ll realize that we were the perfect match, you and I. That in all of your days and places, I was the only one who truly understood you and loved you despite it.’ I gaped at her. In all our years together, she’d never said the word ‘love’ to me. She slid her fingers under my chin and closed my mouth for me. ‘We should have breakfast together more often,’ she suggested.

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.

‘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.’

And he himself now wears an earring, a sphere carved from wood. I’ve never seen him wear an earring before. I didn’t even know his ear was pierced for one. I wondered if they had talked, Lord Golden and Burrich. Perhaps the Fool had merely left those gifts with Queen Kettricken to be passed on to Burrich.

Then, I’ve a message for you. My heart stopped at those words. Oh? If I dream of the wolf again, my father says, I’m to tell him, you should have come home a long time ago. Tell him … A thousand messages flitted through my mind.