He revealed that he had offered to release Elliania from their mutual bond. It was after they had come close to quarreling. She saw no reason why they could not be married and yet allow her to remain as Narcheska of the Narwhals, with Dutiful coming and going as the other husbands and lovers did. It had, he confided to his mother through me, deeply hurt her when he said he could not give up his throne to be her husband. She asked me, why not? Was not that what I was asking of her, that she forsake home, family, and title to become my wife in a strange place, and moreover, to rob her clan of the children that should be rightfully theirs? It was difficult, Mother. She made me see it all in a different light. Even now, when I think of it, I wonder if what we do is right.
“But she would be Queen, here! Do not they recognize what honor and power would go with such a title?” And when I had passed Kettricken’s words to her son, I felt his regret as he said, She will not be Clan Narwhal anymore. When, at first, her mother would not release her, she became angry. She threatened to leave her clan without her mother’s permission. It was a very ugly moment. Peottre stood by her, but almost all the women of the clan opposed Elliania. Her mother said that if she left, she would be forsaking them, to become a… well, they have a word for it. It is not an honorable one to call a woman. It is one who has stolen from her own people to give to strangers. Many of their rules, including their ones for hospitality, insist that family must be provided for first. This, then, is a grave insult.
I relayed Kettricken’s concern. But it has been resolved, now? She leaves her people with her honor intact? I think it has. Her mother and the Great Mother have consented. Still, you know how a thing may be said in words but not meant in the heart. It is like how some of our nobles tolerate the Old Blood. To the letter of the law, but with no heart to be fair to them.
I know well what you mean. It has been difficult here, Dutiful, while you were gone. I have done my best, but I look forward to Web’s return. The bloodshed has been appalling, and many of my lesser nobles are muttering that it is as they said, that the Witted are little better than the animals they mate with, and that freed of the curb of punishment, they are happy to slaughter one another. The Old Blood’s zeal to eliminate the Piebalds has blackened the reputation of the Witted rather than cleared it.
And so their talk wandered, from one thing to another. After a time, it was almost as if they forgot I was there. I grew hoarse repeating to Kettricken all that Dutiful wished to say to her. I sensed his relief that neither Chade nor Nettle were a party to the conversation. He confided many doubts, and yet also the small, sweet triumphs of his courtship of his bride. There was a particular shade of green that she liked, and he took great pains in describing it, for he hoped that the personal chambers that welcomed her to Buckkeep could incorporate it. He had many minor complaints over how Chade had handled the most recent round of negotiations, and many areas in which he wanted the Queen to rein in her Chief Councilor. Here, Queen and Prince did not precisely agree, and I was again hard put to serve only as go-between without injecting any of my own thoughts. And gradually, as they employed my magic for the best interests of the Farseer throne, I began to be aware of the Skill-current. It pulled me in a new way. Not the impulsive, dive-into-it-and-be-lost-forever temptation I knew only too well, but like music heard in another chamber, lovely music that draws the attention away from what one is supposed to be doing until one becomes immersed in only it. At first it was distant, like the thunder of rapids heard while one drifts in the calm part of the river. It drew me, but not strongly. I thought I was ignoring it. The Prince’s words to the Queen and her replies flowed through me and I scarce had to pay attention to what I said or the thoughts I sent to Dutiful.
It began to seem that the Skill itself was flowing through me, as if I were the river, and I was only jolted from it when the Queen leaned forward and shook me, hard. “Fitz!” she cried out, and Fitz! I dutifully relayed to Dutiful.
Then, “Wake him however you must. Throw water in his face, pinch him. I fear if I retreat now, he will go under all the way.”
And even as I spoke Dutiful’s words to the Queen, she took up her cup of cooling tea and dashed it in my face. I spluttered, coughed, and was once more fully aware of my surroundings. “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my sleeve over my face. “That has never happened to me before. At least, not in this fashion.”
The Queen offered me a kerchief. “We’ve had some minor difficulties of this type with Nettle. It was one reason Chade wanted you to be here as soon as possible.”
“He said something of the kind. I wish he had been more specific. I would have found a way to come sooner.”
“She will need instruction in the Skill, Fitz. It should begin soon. Actually, it should have begun long ago.”
“I know that, now,” I admitted humbly. “A lot of things should have begun long ago. I’m home now, and I intend to begin them soon.”
“How about now?” Kettricken asked me levelly. “I could summon my maid, and send for Nettle. You could meet her now.”
A wave of dread washed through me. “Not yet!” And then I amended it to “Not like this, my lady, please. Let me be clean and shaven. And rested.” I took a breath. “And fed,” I added, trying not to make it sound like a remonstrance.
“Oh, Fitz, I am sorry! I have let my own needs and desires run rampant over yours. A selfish act. I apologize.”
“A necessary act,” I assured her. Then, “Shall I find Dutiful again? Or Chade? I know there is still much you need to know.”
“Not just now. I judge it best that you refrain from Skilling for a time.”
I nodded. Left alone in my own mind, I felt almost empty, as if I could no longer string together a thought of my own. It must have showed, for she leaned forward to set her hand on mine. “Some brandy, Lord FitzChivalry?”
“Please,” I replied, and my queen rose to get it for us.
Sometime later, I twitched my eyes open. A shawl had been put around me and my chin rested on my chest. My brandy waited on the table before me. Kettricken was sitting quietly at the table, looking at her folded hands. I knew she meditated and I did not wish to disturb her. Yet she seemed aware that I had awakened almost as soon as I opened my eyes. She gave me a weary smile. “My queen, I offer my humblest apologies.”
“You have been long without rest.” She muffled a small yawn of her own and said, “I sent for breakfast, and let my maid know I am famished. She will wish to tidy this room before she sets it out for me here. Conceal yourself until you hear me knock.”
And so I spent some short time sitting on the steps in the darkness behind the concealed panel. I closed my eyes, but did not sleep. Yet it was not the burdens of the Six Duchies throne that weighted my thoughts. I was but a tool to be used in that sorting. I would eat with the Queen, visit the steams and shave, sleep for a short time, and then find a way to slip out of the castle and go back to the Witness Stones. I would raid the storeroom first, I decided, and take with me cheese and fruit and wine for the Fool and the Black Man. Perhaps they would enjoy some fresh bread. I smiled to myself, thinking how they would welcome the change in food. Perhaps the Fool would be better and able to travel. If he was, I could bring them both to Buckkeep, where I would know the Fool was safe. And finally I would be free, to go to Molly, and heal the rift of years. I heard the Queen’s tap on the wall.