Robin Hobb - The Golden Fool

Chade’s tight grip on my wrist told me that all of this was new to him, not just that Civil planned to reveal himself but also that Dutiful had said his friend might accompany him on his quest. His Skilling was erratic, but it reached me. Did I say I would turn an error to an advantage? I may have succeeded too well, and our advantage overshot into yet another error. I merely wanted the boy to say the Queen had treated him well and fairly, not make himself the ambassador for Old Blood at court.

I joined my thoughts to his. He does not perceive it is a risk for the Prince to admit to an Old Blood friend. He sees only the danger to himself, and that he would gladly risk it for Dutiful. Do you think you can talk him out of it?

I’m not sure I’d be wise to, Chade conveyed to me. His spirit has captured their imagination. Look.

It was not an overwhelming outpouring of support. Web was the only one who was grinning wildly and proclaiming how proud he was of young Lord Bresinga. The others, with the notable exception of the scowling Silvereye, were more reserved in their approval, and it varied over a wide spectrum of levels. Both the minstrel and Boyo looked enthused. Sally, partly won over already by how her beast had been treated, was smiling gently. Others were discussing it more pragmatically. The Queen couldn’t very well let him be put to death, not when he’d already claimed asylum and she had promised that no Witted ones would be killed solely because of their magic. Likely he was as safe as he could possibly be. And well it might be that a young man both noble and handsome might win some hearts over to the Old Blood side. His declaration could not hurt their cause.

Then the town man, Bosk, came to stand before Civil. He was twisting his fingers together as if he might unscrew them from his hands. Then, in an uncertain voice, he asked, ‘Farseers killed Piebalds. Are you sure?’

‘I’m very sure,’ Civil said softly. His hand went up and touched his throat. ‘Very sure indeed.’

‘Their names,’ the man whispered. ‘Do you know their names?’

Civil stood still and silent for a moment. Then, ‘Keppler. Padget. And Swoskin. Those were the names I knew them by. But Prince Dutiful called Keppler by another name, from his time amongst the Piebalds. He called him Laudwine.’

Bosk shook his head, plainly disappointed. But someone else in the room asked loudly, ‘Laudwine?’ She pushed to the front and I recognized Silvereye. ‘That can’t be so! He was the leader of the Piebalds. If he’d been killed, I’d have heard of it.’

‘Oh, would you?’ the minstrel asked curiously. The look on his face was not pleasant.

‘I would,’ she snapped. ‘Make of that what you will. I know folk who know Laudwine, and yes, some of them are Piebalds. I am not one, myself, though my recent conversations here have made me see what drove them to such extreme acts.’ She turned a shoulder to the minstrel, excluding him as she demanded of Civil, ‘How long ago did this happen? And what proof do you have that what you say is true?’

The lad took a step back from her, but he answered. ‘Well over a month ago. As for proof… what proof can you expect me to give? I saw what I saw, but I fled as soon as I could. It shames me to admit it, but it is so. Still, I doubt what is common talk in Buckkeep Town is false. A one-armed man and his horse were killed, as well as a small dog. And the other two men in the house.’

‘His horse, too!’ Silvereye exclaimed, and I saw her take it as a double loss.

‘If this is so, it is a major blow to the Piebalds,’ Bosk declared. ‘It might well mean the end of them.’

‘No. It will not!’ Silvereye was adamant. ‘The Piebalds are stronger than a single man. They will not give up this fight until we have had justice. Justice and revenge.’

Bosk stood up and walked towards her slowly, his fists knotted. His threat would have been pathetic if it had not been so sincere. ‘Maybe I should take my revenge where I can get it,’ he suggested breathlessly. His voice nearly broke on the next words. ‘If I posted your name as Witted, and you were hanged and burned, would it scald your Piebald friends? Perhaps I should take your advice. Do to them exactly what was done to me.’

‘You are so stupid! Can’t you see they are fighting for all of us, and deserve our support? I had heard rumours that Laudwine had discovered something, something that could topple Farseers from power. Perhaps that secret died with him, but perhaps it did not.’

‘Now you are the one being stupid,’ Civil broke determinedly. ‘Topple the Farseers? Now there is a plan! Bring down the only queen who has ever tried to halt the hanging and burning. And what will that gain us? Only widespread persecution, with no fear of reprisals or guardsmen coming to intervene. If Old Blood attempts to overthrow the monarchy, it will be seen as proof that we are as evil and untrustworthy as our enemies have claimed. Are you mad?’

‘She is,’ Web said quietly. ‘And for that we should pity her, not condemn her.’

‘I don’t want your pity!’ Silvereye spat out. ‘I need no one’s pity. Nor do I need your help. Grovel to this Farseer Queen. Forgive all that has been done to you, and let them use you as their servants. I do NOT forgive, and in my time I will have my revenge. I will.’

‘We’ve done it,’ Chade whispered by my ear. ‘Or perhaps I should say that Silvereye has done it for us. She has driven into our fold any who do not dream of blood and burning. And that is most of them, I think. See if I am not right.’

And with that he left me, scuttling off like a grey spider through the tunnels. It wasn’t until late that night that I finally left my post to go and find food and then to take some sleep. But it went as he had said it would. Civil remained with the Old Bloods, and when the Queen, Chade and the Six Duchies delegates returned, he stood before them and greeted them as a Witted noble. I saw the discomfort on the faces of the delegates as he assured them that in every duchy there were Witted nobility, forced for generations to keep their magic small and silent. Several of the young men he spoke to now knew him well. They had ridden with him, drunk with him and gamed at table with them. They exchanged glances with one another, and their plain message was, ‘if he is Witted, who else might be also?’ But Civil either did not see or ignored their reservations as he pushed on with his proclamation. He intended now to let his magic burn bright for the good of Prince Dutiful and the Farseer reign. He pledged himself to this, and I thought I saw grudging admiration on three of the delegates’ faces. Perhaps this Old Blood youth could act as a proof against their prejudice.

The last day of Kettricken’s Witted convocation showed solid progress. The minstrel appeared unmasked, and asked her permission to remain at court. The Queen presented to her Six Duchies delegates a proclamation that from this date henceforward, executions could only be carried out legally under the aegis of each of her ducal houses, with the head of each house liable for any injustices which occurred in his own duchy. Each duchy was to have only one gallows, and that was to be under the control of the ruling house. Not only was each duchy to prevent local officials from executing prisoners, but dukes and duchesses must review individually every such execution. Killings carried out otherwise would be seen as murders, and the Queen’s judgement would be available against such killers. It did not solve the problem of how Old Bloods could safely bring such charges without fear of reprisals, but at least it established consequences formally for them.

Of such tiny steps, Chade assured me, would our progress be made. When I rode forth with the Queen’s guard to escort our Old Blood delegates back to their friends and receive our Prince and Laurel in return, I marked a solid change in the folk. There was talk and laughter amongst themselves as they rode, and some interchanges even with the guard. Sally, her cow and her calf trailing her, rode alongside Lord Civil Bresinga, and seemed to feel great honor at this fine young lord’s conversation with her. On his other side rode Boyo. His evident efforts to claim equality with Lord Bresinga were rather undermined by that young man’s egalitarian attitude towards Sally. Civil’s cat rode on his saddle behind him.