fighting was over, Verity was carried off by the Elderlings, to feast with them in great honor and then sleep beside them in their magic castle until such time as Buck shall need to call on him again. So the truth became, as Starling had told me, something bigger than the facts. It was, after all, a time for heroes and all sorts of marvelous things to occur.
As when Regal himself came riding, at the head of a column of six thousand Farrowmen, to bring aid and supplies, not just to Buck, but to all the Coastal Duchies. The news of his return had preceded him, as had the barges of livestock, grain, and treasures from Tradeford Hall itself that came in a steady stream down the Buck River. All spoke in wonder, of how the prince had started up from a dream, and run half-dressed through the halls of Tradeford, miraculously foretelling the return of King Verity to Buckkeep and the summoning of the Elderlings to save the Six Duchies. Birds were sent, withdrawing all troops from the Mountains and offering his most humble apologies and generous monetary reparation to King Eyod. He summoned his nobles, to foretell to them that Queen Kettricken would bear Verity's child, and that, he, Regal, wished to be first to pledge fealty to the next Farseer monarch. In honor of the day, he had ordered all gallows pulled down and burned, all prisoners pardoned and freed, and the King's Circle was to be renamed the Queen's Garden, and planted with trees and flowers from all six of the duchies as a symbol of new unity. When later that day the Red-Ships attacked the outskirts of Tradeford, Regal himself called for his horse and armor, and rode to lead the defense of his folk. Side by side he fought, next to merchants and longshoremen, nobles and beggars. He gained in that battle the love of the common folk of Tradeford. When he announced his allegiance must always be to the child Queen Kettricken carried, they joined their vows to his.
When he reached Buckkeep, it is said he remained on his knees and robed only in sackcloth at the gate of Buckkeep Castle for some days until the Queen herself deigned to come forth and accept his most abject apologies for ever doubting her honor. Into her hands he returned both the crown of the Six Duchies, and the simpler band of the King-in-Waiting. He no longer wished, he told her, to hold any higher title than uncle to his monarch. The Queen's paleness and silence at his words were put down to the uneasy stomach her pregnancy gave her. To Lord Chade, the Queen's adviser, he returned all the scrolls and books of Skillmaster Solicity, with the plea that he guard them well, for there was much in them that could be turned to evil in the wrong hands. He had lands and a title he wished to confer on the Fool, as soon as he returned from his warrioring to Buckkeep. And to his dear, dear sister-in-law Lady Patience, he returned the rubies that Chivalry had given her, for they could never grace any neck as finely as they did her own.
I had considered having him erect a statue in my memory, but had decided that would be going too far. The fanatical loyalty I had imprinted on him would be my best memorial. While Regal lived, Queen Kettricken and her child would have no more loyal subject.
Ultimately, of course, that was not long. All have heard of the tragic, and bizarre death of Prince Regal. The rabid creature that savaged him in his bed one night left bloody tracks, not just on his bedclothes, but all about the bedchamber, as if it had exulted in its deed. Gossip had it that it was an extremely large river rat that had somehow journeyed with him all the way from Tradeford. It was most disturbing to all the folk in the Keep. The Queen had the rat dogs brought in, to scour every chamber, but to no avail. The beast was never captured or killed, though rumors of sightings of the immense rat were rampant among the keep servants. Some say that that was why, for months afterward, Lord Chade was seldom seen without his pet ferret.
CHAPTER FOURTY-ONE. The Scribe
IF THE TRUTH be known, Forging was not an invention of the Red-Ships. We had taught it well to them, back in the days of King Wisdom. The Elderlings that took our revenge on the OutIslands soared many times over that country of islands. Many Outlslanders were devoured outright, but many others were overflown by dragons so often that they were stripped of their memories and feelings. They became callous strangers to their own kin. That was the grievance that had rankled so amongst that long memoried folk. When the Red-Ships sailed, it was not to claim Six Duchies territory or wealth. It was for revenge. To do to us as so long ago we had done to them, in the days of their great-great-grandmothers.
What one folk know, another may discover. They had scholars and wise folk of their own, despite Six Duchies disdain of them as barbarians. So it was that mention of dragons were studied by them, in every ancient scroll they could find. While it would be difficult to find absolute proof, it seems to me that some copies of scrolls collected by the Skillmasters of Buck might actually have been sold, in the days before the Red-Ships menaced our coasts, to OutIslander traders who paid well for such things. And when the slow movement of glaciers bared, on their own shores, a dragon carved of black stone and outcroppings of more of that black stone, their wise men combined their knowledge with the insatiable lust for vengeance of one Kebal Rawbread. They resolved to create dragons of their own, and visit upon the Six Duchies the same savage destruction we had once served upon them.
Only one White Ship was driven ashore by the Elderlings when they cleansed Buck. The dragons devoured all her crew, down to the last man. In her hold were found only great blocks of shining black stone. Locked within them, I believe, were the stolen lives and feelings of the folk of the Six Duchies who had been Forged. Their studies had led the OutIslander scholars to believe that stone sufficiently imbued with life-force could be fashioned into dragons to serve the Outlslanders. It is chilling to think how close they came to discovering the complete truth of creating a dragon.
Circles and circles, as the Fool once told me. The OutIslanders raided our shore, so King Wisdom brought the Elderlings to drive them back. And the Elderlings Forged the Outlslanders with Skill when they flew over their huts so frequently. Generations later, they came to raid our shores and Forge our folk. So King Verity went to wake the Elderlings, and the Elderlings drove them back. And Forged them in the process. I wonder if once more the hate will fester until …
I sigh and set my quill aside. I have written too much. Not all things need to be told. Not all things should be told. I take up the scroll and make my slow way to the hearth. My legs are cramped from sitting on them. It is a cold damp day, and the fog off the ocean has found every old injury on my body and awakened it. The arrow wound is still worst. When cold tightens that scar, I feel its pull on every part of my body. I throw the vellum onto the coals. I have to step over Nighteyes to do it. His muzzle is graying now and his bones do not like this weather any more than mine do.
You are getting fat. All you do anymore is lie by the hearth and bake your brains. Why don't you go hunting?
He stretches and sighs. Go bother the boy instead of me. The fire needs more wood.
But before I can call him, my boy comes into the room. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of burning vellum and gives me a scathing look. 'You should have just asked me to bring more wood. Do you know how much good vellum costs?'
I make no reply, and he just sighs and shakes his head over me. He goes out to replenish the wood supply.
He is a gift from Starling. I have had him for two years now, and I am still not used to him. I do not believe I was ever a boy such as he is. I recall the day she brought him to me, and I have to smile. She had come, as she does, some twice or thrice a year, to visit me and chide me for my hermit ways. But that time she had brought the boy to me. He had sat outside on a skinny pony while she pounded on my door. When I opened to her, she had immediately turned and called to him, 'Get down and come inside. It's warm here.'
He had slid from the pony's bare back and then stood by him, shivering, as he stared at me. His black hair blew across his face. He clutched an old cloak of Starling's about his narrow shoulders.
'I've brought you a boy,' Starling announced, and grinned at me.
I met her gaze incredulously. 'Do you mean … he is mine?'
She shrugged at me. 'If you'll have him. I thought he might do you good.' She paused. 'Actually, I thought you might do him good. With clothing and regular meals and such. I've cared for him as long as I can, but a minstrel's life …' She let her words trail off.
'Then he is … Did you, did we …' I floundered my way through the words, denying my hope. 'He is your son? Mine?'
Her grin had widened at that, even as her eyes had softened in sympathy. She shook her head. 'Mine? No. Yours? I suppose it's possible. Did you pass through Flounder Cove about eight years ago? That's where I found
