two queens. His elder sons, Verity and Chivalry, were the sons of Queen Constance, a noblewoman of Shoaks with relatives among the nobility of Bearns as well. She was very much of the coastal folk. Shrewd's second queen, Desire, was from Farrow, but traced her family lineage back to the long foundered royalty of Tilth as well as to distant Farseer connections. Hence came her oft-repeated claim that her son Regal was more royal than either of his half brothers, and hence had more right to the throne.
With the disappearance of King-in-Waiting Verity and rumors of his death, and the obvious failing of King Shrewd, it appeared to the Coastal Dukes that power and title would be passed on to Prince Regal, born of inland lineage. They preferred to align with the unborn child of Verity, a coastal Prince, and predictably did all they could to retain and consolidate power in the coastal bloodlines. Threatened as the Coastal Duchies were by Raiders and Forgings, it was really the only rational choice they could make.
The King-in-Waiting ceremony was too long. Folk were assembled well ahead of time, to allow Regal to make a stately entrance through our ranks and ascend to the high seat, where a drowsing King Shrewd awaited him. Queen Kettricken, pale as a wax taper, stood behind Shrewd at his left shoulder. Shrewd was bedecked in robes and fur collars and the full regalia of the royal jewels, but Kettricken had resisted Regal's suggestions and enticements. She stood very tall and straight in a plain robe of purple, belted above her rounding belly. A simple circlet of gold confined the cropped remnants of her hair. Other than that band of metal at her temples, she might have been a servant standing ready to attend Shrewd. I knew she saw herself still as Sacrifice rather than queen. She could not see that the starkness of her attire made her look dramatically foreign to the court.
The Fool was there as well, in a well-worn motley of black and white, and with Ratsy once more atop his scepter. He had striped his face in black and white as well, and I wondered if this was to camouflage his bruises, or simply to complement his motley. He had appeared sometime before Regal had, and had very obviously enjoyed the spectacle he created by sauntering up the aisle, waving Ratsy about in airy benediction, before he curtsied to the assemblage and then plopped gracefully at the King's feet. Guards had begun to move to intercept him, but were blocked by grinning, craning people. When he arrived at the dais and seated himself, the King had reached down to absently tousle the Fool's sparse locks, and so he had been suffered to remain where he was. Scowls or grins were exchanged over the Fool's performance, depending largely on how deeply one had pledged his allegiance to Regal. I myself feared that it would be the Fool's last prank.
The atmosphere in the Keep all day had been like to that of a seething pot. My trust that Bearns was a tight-lipped man had been misplaced. Entirely too many minor nobles were suddenly nodding to me, or catching my eye for an exchanged look. I feared it could not be missed by any of Regal's minions, and so had kept myself to my room or, for a good part of the early afternoon, in Verity's tower, where I had vainly attempted to Skill forth to him. I had chosen that spot in the hopes of invoking his memory cleanly to my mind, but I failed. Instead I found myself straining for a hint of Will's footstep on the tower stairs, or a brush of Justin's or Serene's presence against my Skill sense.
After I gave up on Skilling, I sat long, pondering the unsolvable riddle of how I would empty the King's room of guards. Outside, I could hear the pounding of the sea and the wind, and when I opened the windows briefly the gusting storm fair blew me across the room. Most saw this as a fair day for the ceremony; the rising storm might keep Raiders berthed wherever they were at present and assure us no new raids. I watched the freezing rain putting a crust on the banked snow while making the roads treacherously slick, and imagined Burrich traveling through it by night with the Queen and King Shrewd in his litter. It was not a task I would enjoy.
The tone for something of great portent to happen had been well set. Now, in addition to stories of the Pocked Man and snakes on the hearth, there was despair in the kitchens. The day's bake of bread had failed to rise, and the milk had curdled in the casks before even the cream could be skimmed from it. Poor Cook Sara had been shaken to her core and declared that never before had such a thing dared to happen in her kitchens. The pig men would not even let the soured milk be given to the swine, so sure were all that it was cursed. The failure of the bread had meant twice the catch-up work for the kitchen servants, who were already overburdened with feeding all the guests who had come for the ceremony. I could now vouch that the tempers of an entire Keep could be disturbed by an unhappy kitchen crew.
There had been short rations for the watch room, and the stew had been overly salted, while somehow the beer had gone flat. The Duke of Tilth complained of vinegar instead of wine in his rooms, which led the Duke of Bearns to comment to those of Shoaks and Rippon that even a bit of vinegar would have been welcome as a sign of hospitality in their rooms. The unfortunate remark was conveyed somehow to Mistress Hasty, who soundly scolded all the chamberlains and serving folk who had not somehow managed to spread the thin cheer left at Buckkeep to include the lesser guest rooms. There was a complaint among the lesser servants that an order had come down to keep expenses for those guests to a minimum, but no one could be found who would admit to giving such an order, or even to passing it down. And so the day had gone, so that I had been altogether relieved to isolate myself in Verity's tower.
But I dared not miss the King-in-Waiting ceremony, for too much would have been inferred from that. And so I stood, an uncomfortable victim of a shirt with overfull sleeves and some very itchy leggings, patiently awaiting Regal's entrance. My mind was not on his pomp and ceremony; rather it whirled with questions and worries of my own. I fretted over whether Burrich had been able to smuggle out the horses and litter. It was dark now. He was probably sitting outside in this storm, in the pathetic shelter of the alder copse. He would have blanketed the horses, no doubt, but that would do little against the sleet that now fell steadily. He had given me the name of the smithy where Sooty and Ruddy had been taken. Somehow I must find a way to keep up the man's weekly bribes, and to check on them often to be sure they were well cared for. This he had made me promise to entrust to no one else. Would the Queen be able to retire alone to her room? And again and again, how was I to empty King Shrewd's room that Chade might spirit him away?
A mutter of wonder broke me from my reverie. I glanced toward the dais where everyone seemed to be staring. There was a brief flickering, and for an instant one of the white tapers burning there flickered blue. Then another spat a spark, and burned blue for an instant. There was another mutter, but the wayward candles settled after that to burning evenly and well. Neither Kettricken nor King Shrewd appeared to notice anything amiss, but the Fool sat up and shook Ratsy at the errant candles in rebuke.
At length Regal did appear, resplendent in red velvet and white silk. A little maid walked before him, swinging a censer of sandalwood incense. Regal smiled upon all as he advanced leisurely toward the throne, meeting many an eye and nodding many an acknowledgment on his way to that high seat. I am sure it did not go off so finely as Regal had planned. King Shrewd faltered and then looked puzzled over the scroll that had been given him to read. At length Kettricken took it from his shaky hands, and he smiled up at her as she read aloud the words that must have cut her to the heart. It was a careful listing of the children that King Shrewd had sired, including a daughter who had died in infancy, by the order of their births, and then by order of their deaths, all leading up to Regal as sole survivor and legitimate heir. She did not hesitate at Verity's name, but read aloud the brief statement 'Lost to misfortune while on a quest to the Mountain Kingdom' — as if it were an ingredient list. Of the child she carried, no mention was made. A child as yet unborn was an heir, but not a King-in-Waiting.
The child could not step forward to claim that title until he or she was at least sixteen.
Kettricken had taken from Verity's chest the simple silver circlet with the blue gem that was crown for a King-in-Waiting, and the pendant of gold and emerald in the shape of a leaping buck. These she passed first to King Shrewd, who looked down at them as if bewildered. He made no move to bestow them upon Regal. At length Regal reached for them, and Shrewd allowed him to take them out of his hands. And so Regal set the crown upon his own head, and slipped the pendant about his own neck, and stood before us all, the new King-in-Waiting of the Six Duchies.
Chade's timing was slightly off. The candles did not seriously begin to flicker blue until the Dukes were wending their ways forward to pledge once more to House Farseer. Regal tried to ignore this phenomenon, until the muttering of the folk threatened to drown out Duke Ram of Tilth's oath. Then Regal turned and casually pinched out the offending candle. I admired his aplomb, especially when a second candle almost immediately went blue, and he repeated the gesture. I myself thought it was a bit too much of a portent when a torch set in a sconce by the main door suddenly whooshed out a blue flame and a foul stench before it guttered dark. All eyes had turned to watch it. Regal waited it out, but I saw the clench of his jaw and the tiny vein that throbbed on his temple.
I do not know how he had planned to end his ceremony, but he brought it to a rather abrupt close after that.
