cap jingled wearily. “The only way to find out would be to go there.” He looked up at me. “If you command it, I shall do so.”
“Summon Verity,” I told him instead. “I have instructions for him.”
“Our soldiers cannot arrive in time to stop this raid,” he reminded me. “Only to help to douse the fires and assist the folk there in picking from the ruins what is left to them.”
“Then so they shall do,” I said heavily.
“First, let me help you return to your bed, my king. Before you take a chill. And let me bring you food.”
“No, Fool,” I told him sadly. “Shall I eat and be warm, while the bodies of children are cooling in the mud? Fetch me instead my robe and buskins. And then be off to find Verity.”
The Fool stood his ground boldly. “Do you think the discomfort you inflict on yourself will give even one child another breath, my liege? What happened at Siltbay is done. Why must you suffer?”
“Why must I suffer?” I found a smile for the Fool. “Surely that is the same question that every inhabitant of Siltbay asked tonight of the fog. I suffer, my fool, because they did. Because I am king. But more, because I am a man, and Isaw what happened there. Consider it, Fool. What if every man in the Six Duchies said to himself, ‘Well, the worst that can befall them has already happened. Why should I give up my meal and warm bed to concern myself with it?’ Fool, by the blood that is in me, these are my folk. Do I suffer more tonight than any one of them did? What is the pain and trembling of one man compared with what happened at Siltbay? Why should I shelter myself while my folk are slaughtered like cattle?”
“But two words are all I need say to Prince Verity.” The Fool vexed me with more words. “‘Raiders’ and ‘Siltbay,’ and he knows as much as any man needs to. Let me rest you in your bed, my lord, and then I shall race to him with those words.”
“No.” A fresh cloud of pain blossomed in the back of my skull. It tried to push the sense from my thoughts, but I held firm. I forced my body to walk to the chair beside the hearth. I managed to lower myself into it. “I spent my youth defining the borders of the Six Duchies to any who challenged them. Should my life be too valuable to risk now, when there is so little left of it, and all of that riddled with pain? No, Fool. Fetch my son to me at once. He shall Skill for me, since my own strength for it is at an end this night. Together, we shall consider what we see, and make our decisions as to what must be done. Now go. GO!”
The Fool’s feet pattered on the stone floor as he fled.
I was left alone with myself. Myselves. I put my hands to my temples. I felt a painful smile crease my face as I found myself.
So, boy. There you are
. My king slowly turned his attention to me. He was weary, but he reached his Skill toward me to touch my mind as softly as blowing spiderweb. I reached clumsily, attempting to complete the Skill bond and it all went awry. Our contact tattered, fraying apart like rotten cloth. And then he was gone.
I hunkered alone on the floor of my bedchamber in the Mountain Kingdom, uncomfortably close to the hearth fire. I was fifteen, and my nightclothes were soft and clean. The fire in the hearth had burned low. My blistered fingers throbbed angrily. The beginnings of a Skill headache pulsed in my temples.
I moved slowly, cautiously as I rose. Like an old man? No. Like a young man whose health was still mending. I knew the difference now.
My soft, clean bed beckoned, like a soft clean tomorrow.
I refused them both. I took the chair by the hearth and stared into the flames, pondering.
When Burrich came at first light to bid me farewell, I was ready to ride with him.
2
The Homecoming
B UCKKEEP HOLD OVERLOOKS
the finest deep-water harbor in the Six Duchies. To the north, the Buck River spills into the sea, and with its waters carries most of the goods exported from the interior Duchies of
“Summon Verity,” I told him instead. “I have instructions for him.”
“Our soldiers cannot arrive in time to stop this raid,” he reminded me. “Only to help to douse the fires and assist the folk there in picking from the ruins what is left to them.”
“Then so they shall do,” I said heavily.
“First, let me help you return to your bed, my king. Before you take a chill. And let me bring you food.”
“No, Fool,” I told him sadly. “Shall I eat and be warm, while the bodies of children are cooling in the mud? Fetch me instead my robe and buskins. And then be off to find Verity.”
The Fool stood his ground boldly. “Do you think the discomfort you inflict on yourself will give even one child another breath, my liege? What happened at Siltbay is done. Why must you suffer?”
“Why must I suffer?” I found a smile for the Fool. “Surely that is the same question that every inhabitant of Siltbay asked tonight of the fog. I suffer, my fool, because they did. Because I am king. But more, because I am a man, and Isaw what happened there. Consider it, Fool. What if every man in the Six Duchies said to himself, ‘Well, the worst that can befall them has already happened. Why should I give up my meal and warm bed to concern myself with it?’ Fool, by the blood that is in me, these are my folk. Do I suffer more tonight than any one of them did? What is the pain and trembling of one man compared with what happened at Siltbay? Why should I shelter myself while my folk are slaughtered like cattle?”
“But two words are all I need say to Prince Verity.” The Fool vexed me with more words. “‘Raiders’ and ‘Siltbay,’ and he knows as much as any man needs to. Let me rest you in your bed, my lord, and then I shall race to him with those words.”
“No.” A fresh cloud of pain blossomed in the back of my skull. It tried to push the sense from my thoughts, but I held firm. I forced my body to walk to the chair beside the hearth. I managed to lower myself into it. “I spent my youth defining the borders of the Six Duchies to any who challenged them. Should my life be too valuable to risk now, when there is so little left of it, and all of that riddled with pain? No, Fool. Fetch my son to me at once. He shall Skill for me, since my own strength for it is at an end this night. Together, we shall consider what we see, and make our decisions as to what must be done. Now go. GO!”
The Fool’s feet pattered on the stone floor as he fled.
I was left alone with myself. Myselves. I put my hands to my temples. I felt a painful smile crease my face as I found myself.
So, boy. There you are
. My king slowly turned his attention to me. He was weary, but he reached his Skill toward me to touch my mind as softly as blowing spiderweb. I reached clumsily, attempting to complete the Skill bond and it all went awry. Our contact tattered, fraying apart like rotten cloth. And then he was gone.
I hunkered alone on the floor of my bedchamber in the Mountain Kingdom, uncomfortably close to the hearth fire. I was fifteen, and my nightclothes were soft and clean. The fire in the hearth had burned low. My blistered fingers throbbed angrily. The beginnings of a Skill headache pulsed in my temples.
I moved slowly, cautiously as I rose. Like an old man? No. Like a young man whose health was still mending. I knew the difference now.
My soft, clean bed beckoned, like a soft clean tomorrow.
I refused them both. I took the chair by the hearth and stared into the flames, pondering.
When Burrich came at first light to bid me farewell, I was ready to ride with him.
2
The Homecoming
B UCKKEEP HOLD OVERLOOKS
the finest deep-water harbor in the Six Duchies. To the north, the Buck River spills into the sea, and with its waters carries most of the goods exported from the interior Duchies of
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