Chapter 33
Family
So I shall have to travel to Buckkeep, in the heat of summer, because I dare not trust either the tidings I bring or the items that must be transferred to a courier. My old Lacey has declared she will make the journey with me, despite a weakness of her breath that has taken her lately. I beg that, for her sake, you will find us quarters that do not require the climbing of too many stairs.
I will require a private audience with you, for the time has come when I should reveal a secret I have concealed for many years. As you are not a stupid woman, I suspect you have guessed part of it already, but I should still like to sit down and discuss with you what had best be done for the good of the young woman involved.
I knew her at once by her close-cropped head. But there her resemblance to my dream-image of her stopped. The traveling dress she wore was green, cut for riding, and she carried a cloak of sensible brown homespun. Plainly, she saw herself as looking like her mother, for thus she had appeared in my dreams. To my eyes, she more strongly resembled Molly’s father but with some Farseer elements thrown into the mix. It was a Farseer gaze that she fixed on me as I emerged, at once dashing my hope that I might walk past her unrecognized. I halted where I stood.
I froze and waited dumbly for what might come. She continued to regard me levelly. After a moment, she said quietly, “Do you think that if you stand very still, I can’t see you, Shadow Wolf?”
I smiled foolishly. Her voice was low-pitched, deeper than one might expect in a girl, like Molly’s at that age. “I… no, of course not. I know you can see me. But… how did you know me?”
She came two steps closer. I looked around us and then I walked away from the steams, well aware that for a young noblewoman of the Buckkeep court to be seen casually chatting with an older guardsman might excite gossip. She walked beside me, following me unquestioningly as I led her toward a secluded bench in the Women’s Garden. “Oh, it was very easy. You had promised you’d reveal yourself to me, did you not? I knew you were coming home. Dutiful said as much when we spoke last night, that soon I would be freed of these duties for a time. So, when the Queen summoned me and told me I might return home, to comfort my mother for a time, I knew what it meant. That you were here. Then.” And she smiled, a genuine smile of pleasure. “I encountered Thick, on his way up to the Queen as I was leaving her. I knew him by his music, as well as by his name. And he knew me, at first glance. Such a hug he gave me! It shocked Lady Sydel, but she will recover. I asked Thick where his traveling companion was. He shut his eyes for a moment, and told me, ‘In the steams.’ So I came and I waited there.”
I wished that Thick had warned me. “And you knew me when you saw me?”
She gave a small hmph. “I recognized the dismay on your face at being found out. None of the other men who have come out gawked at me that way.” She gave me a sideways glance, well pleased with herself, but there were little sparks in her eyes. I wondered if mine looked like that when I was angry. She spoke calmly and competently, just as Molly sometimes used to do when she was storing up fuel for a rage. After a moment’s reflection, I decided she had the right to be annoyed with me. I had promised to make myself known to her when I returned. And I had intended to evade that promise.
“Well. You’ve found me,” I said lamely, and instantly knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say to her. “Small thanks to you!” She seated herself solidly on the bench. I stood, well aware of the disparity in our apparent ranks. She had to look up at me, but it did not seem that way when she demanded, “What is your name, sir?”
So I had to give her the name by which I was known when I wore the blue of a Buckkeep Guard. “Tom Badgerlock, my lady. Of the Prince’s Guard.”
She suddenly looked like a cat with a mouse between her paws. “That’s convenient for me. The Queen said she would have a guardsman accompany me on my journey home. I’ll take you.” It was a challenge flung down.
“I am not free to go, my lady.” It sounded like an excuse and I hastily added, “I take over your duties, as you have guessed. I act as go-between for Lord Chade, Prince Dutiful, and our gracious queen.”
“Surely Thick could do that.”
“His magic is strong, but he has his limits, my lady.”
“My lady!” she muttered disdainfully. “And what shall I call you, then? Lord Wolf?” She shook her head, exasperated with me. “I know you are telling me the truth. Worse luck for me.” Her shoulders slumped suddenly, and her youth and grief were more apparent. “It is not an easy tale I bring home to my mother and brothers. But they deserve to know the manner of our father’s death. And that Swift did not abandon him.” Without thinking, she lifted her hands and ran them through her shortened hair until it stood up in spires and peaks all over her head. “This magic of the Skill has not been an easy burden for me. It has snatched me from my home, and kept me here when my mother needs me most.” Turning to me accusingly, she demanded, “Why did you choose me, of all people, to give this magic to?”
It shocked me. “I didn’t. I didn’t choose you. You had it, you were born with the magic. And, for some reason, we connected. I didn’t even realize you were there, watching my life, for a very long time.”
“There were times when that was obvious,” she observed, but before I wondered what I had unwittingly shown her of myself, she added, “And now I have it, like some disease, and it means that I am ever in service to my queen. And to King Dutiful, when he succeeds her. I don’t suppose you can even imagine what a burden that could be to me.”
“I have some inkling of it,” I replied quietly. Then, when she continued to sit unmoving before me, I asked her, “Should not you be on your way? Daylight is the best time for travel.”
“We have just met, and you are so anxious for us to be parted.” She looked down at the ground beneath her feet. Suddenly, she was Nettle from our dreams as she shook her head and said, “This is not at all how I imagined our first meeting would be. I thought you would be happy to see me, and we would laugh and be friends.” She gave a small cough and then admitted shyly, “A long time ago, when I first had dreams about you and the wolf, I used to imagine that we would really meet some day. I pretended you would be my age and handsome, in a wolfish way, and find me pretty. That was silly, wasn’t it?”
“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” I said carefully. “I definitely find you pretty, however.” She gave me a look that said that such compliments from an aging guardsman made her uncomfortable. Her illusions about me had made a barrier I had not expected. I came closer to her, and then crouched down beside her to look up into her eyes. “Could we, perhaps, begin this again?” I put out a hand to her and said, “My name is Shadow Wolf. And Nettle, you cannot imagine how many years I have longed to meet you.” Without warning, my throat closed tight. I hoped I would not get teary. My daughter hesitated, and then set her hand in mine. It was slender, like a lady’s hand should be, but brown from the sun and her palm against mine was callused. The touch strengthened our Skill-bond and it was as if she squeezed my heart rather than my fingers. Even if I had wanted to hide what I felt from her, I could not have done so. I think it breached some wall she had held. She looked up into my face, on a level with hers now. Our eyes met, and suddenly her lower lip trembled like a baby’s. “My papa is dead!” she stammered out. “My papa is dead, and I don’t know what to do! How can we go on? Chivalry is such a boy still, and Mama knows nothing of the horses. Already, she speaks of selling them off and moving to a town, saying she cannot abide to be where my father so emphatically is not!” She choked and then gasped, “It’s all going to fall apart. I’m going to fall apart! I can’t be as strong as everyone expects me to be. But I have to.” She drew herself up straight and faced me. “I have to be strong,” she repeated, as if that would turn her bones to iron. It seemed to work. No tears. Hers was a desperate courage. I caught her in my arms and held her tight. For the first time in her life or mine, I held my daughter. Her cropped hair was bristly against my chin and all I could think was how much I loved her. I opened myself to her and let it flood from me into her. I felt her shock, both at the depth of my feeling and that a relative stranger would touch her so. I tried to explain.