Golden Fool (33 page)

“Eda, mercy!” I heard the old assassin exclaim, and from the back of the hall there were exclamations of both horror and shock.

The envoy was young, younger than Dutiful and Hap, though he was as tall. Scales rimmed his eyes and framed his mouth. They were not cosmetic. A fringe of shaggy growths depended from his jaw. He drew himself up very straight. I had thought his hood exaggerated his height. Instead I saw now that the bones of his arms and legs were unnaturally long, yet somehow he still managed to convey grace rather than awkwardness. He looked directly at Kettricken, uncowed by her position, and spoke in a boy’s clear tenor.

“My name is Selden Vestrit, of the Bingtown Trader Vestrits, fostered by the Khuprus family of the Rain Wild Traders.” The second part of his introduction made no sense to me. No one lived in the Rain Wilds. The lands adjacent to the river were all swamp and bog and morass. It was one reason that the boundary between Chalced and Bingtown had never been firmly set. The river and its swampy shores defied them both. But what the boy spoke next was even more outrageous. “You have heard Serilla, who speaks for the Councils of Bingtown. There are others here who can speak for the Tattooed, those once-slaves and Bingtown citizens, and for the Bingtown Traders and for our Liveships. I speak for the Rain Wild Traders. But I also speak for Tintaglia, the last true dragon, sworn to aid Bingtown in our time of need. Her words do I bear.”

A shiver ran over me at the dragon’s name. I did not know why.

“She is tired of Chalced’s constant wrangling with her Bingtown folk. It distracts them and hinders them from another, greater work that she has in mind for them. This war Chalced is intent on waging imperils a far greater destiny.” He spoke as if he were not a man, with a contempt that dismissed petty human concerns. It was both chilling and inspiring. He swept us all with his eyes. I realized then that I had not imagined the faint bluish glow from his gaze. “Aid Bingtown in destroying Chalced and putting this war to an end, and Tintaglia will bestow on you her favor. And not only her favor, but also the favor of her offspring, rapidly growing in size, beauty, and wisdom. Aid us, and one day the Six Duchies’ legends of dragons rising to protect them will be replaced by the reality of a dragon ally.”

A stunned silence followed his words. I am sure they all misinterpreted it. Trader Jorban rashly grinned at what must have been the shock on Kettricken’s face, and dared to add, “I do not blame you for doubting us. But Tintaglia is real, as real as I am. But for her need to tend her offspring, she would have made a swift end to Chalced’s harassment of us years ago. Have not you heard rumors of the battle of Trader Bay, and how a Bingtown dragon, silver and blue, swept forth to drive the Chalcedeans from our shore? I was there that day, fighting to free our harbor of Chalcedeans. Those rumors are neither fanciful exaggerations nor wild tales, but simplest truth. Bingtown possesses a rare and marvelous ally, the last true dragon in the world. Aid us in subduing Chalced, and she could be your ally as well.”

I do not think he expected his words to be spark to Kettricken’s tinder. I doubt he could understand how deeply her feelings for our Six Duchies dragons went.

“The last true dragon!” she exclaimed. I heard the rustle of her gown as she shot to her feet. She strode down the steps, to confront the Bingtown upstarts, stopping but one riser above them. My rational, gracious queen’s voice grated with fury. It rose to fill the hall. “How dare you speak so! How dare you dismiss the Elderling dragons as legends! I have seen the skies jeweled with not one, but a horde of dragons that rose to the defense of the Six Duchies. I myself bestrode a dragon, the truest of them all, when he bore me back to Buckkeep Castle. There is not a grown person in this chamber who did not witness their wide wings over our waters, scattering the Red Ships that had harried us so long. Do you insinuate our dragons were false somehow, in heart or deed? The boy may plead the excuse of his youth and inexperience, not just in that he probably was not even born when we fought our war, but that he has had little training in the respect due to such creatures. You can plead only your ignorance of our history. The last true dragon, indeed!”

I doubt that any insult to our queen’s person would have provoked such an outraged reaction. No one there could know it was her king, Verity, her love, whose honor she upheld. Even some of our own nobles looked startled to see their usually placid queen rebuke an envoy so sharply, but their surprise did not mean they disagreed with her. Heads nodded to her words. Several of her dukes and duchesses came to their feet, and she who represented Bearns set a hand to her sword. The scaled boy glanced around, mouth ajar with dismay as Serilla rolled her eyes at his gaffe. The Bingtown contingent instinctively drew closer to one another.

The scaled lad advanced a step closer to the Queen. Chade made a motion to forbid it, but the boy only dropped to one knee. He looked up at her as he spoke. “I beg forgiveness if I have given offense. I speak only of what I know. As you have said, I am young. But it is Tintaglia who has told us, with great sadness, that she is the last true dragon in the world. If it were otherwise, I would rejoice to bring her these tidings. Please. Let me see your dragons, let me speak to them. I will explain to them her need.”

Kettricken’s shoulders were still rising and falling with the strength of her passion. She drew a quieter breath at last, and when she spoke, she was herself again. “I bear no resentment against you for speaking of what you knew not. As for speaking to our dragons, it is out of the question. They are Six Duchies dragons, for the Six Duchies alone. Young sir, you presume too much. But you are young, and on that basis I forgive you.”

The boy remained as he was, on one knee but not at all subservient as he gazed up doubtfully at our queen.

It was up to Chade to calm the room. He stepped forward to confront the Bingtown delegation. “It is, perhaps, natural that you appear to doubt our queen’s word, even as we doubt yours. The last true dragon, you say, but then you speak of her offspring. It sets my mind a puzzle; why do you not consider them ‘true dragons’? If your dragon exists, why has not she come with you, to show herself and give impetus to our decision to side with you?” He swept them with his hard green gaze. “My friends, there is something very peculiar about your offer. There is much you are not saying. Doubtless, you believe your reasons for doing so are sound. But keeping your secrets may lose you not only an alliance, but also our respect. Weigh that bargain well.”

Even looking at his back, I knew that Chade pulled now at his chin, considering. He glanced over at the Queen. Whatever he saw on her face made up his mind. “Lords and ladies, I suggest we end this audience for the time being. Let our fair and gracious queen discuss your offer with her nobles. Chambers have been prepared for you. Enjoy our hospitality.” I could hear the faint smile that came into his voice as he added, “Any of the minstrels we have provided will be happy to enlighten you, in song or story, about the dragons of the Six Duchies. Perhaps when next we meet, all our tempers will be evened with song and rest.”

Dismissed so firmly, the Bingtown envoys could do little but withdraw. The Queen and Prince Dutiful departed next. Chade lingered amongst the nobles; he seemed to be arranging a time for all to sit down and discuss the Bingtown proposal. The Duke of Shoaks was striding about, visibly excited, while the Duchess of Bearns stood, tall and silent, her arms crossed before her breast as if denying any interest at all. I leaned back from the peephole, letting the flap of leather fall. “Let us go,” I whispered to the Fool, and he nodded in silent agreement.

I took up our candle again, and we negotiated the narrow warren of rat runs that threaded Buckkeep’s walls. I did not take him directly back to my chamber, but instead stopped at Chade’s old tower room. Immediately inside the room, the Fool halted. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then took a deep breath. “It has not changed much since the last time I was here,” he said in a choked voice.

I used my candle to kindle the waiting ones on the table. I added another piece of wood to the coals on the hearth. “I imagine Chade brought you here the night King Shrewd was murdered.”

He nodded slowly. “I had encountered Chade before, and conversed with him, over the years. The first time I met him was shortly after I came to King Shrewd. Chade would come by night, to speak with the King. Sometimes they played dice together; did you know that? Mostly they sat by the fire and drank fine brandy and talked of whatever danger was currently confronting the kingdom. That was how I first heard of your existence. In a fireside conversation between those two. My heart pounded until I thought I would faint as I understood what their words meant to me. They scarcely noticed me listening. They thought me but a child, perhaps lacking in true wit, and I had taken care initially to appear to have little mastery of your language.” He shook his head to himself. “Such a strange time in my life. So significant and portentous, and yet, sheltered as I was by King Shrewd, it was the closest I ever came to having a true childhood.”

I found two cups and Chade’s current bottle of brandy. I set them out at the table and poured for us. The Fool lifted an eye to that. “This early in the day?”

I shrugged. “It seems later to me than it is, perhaps. My day started early. With Hap.” I sat down heavily as that particular worry weighed my heart again. “Fool. Do you ever long to go back in your life and do something differently?”

He took his seat but did not touch the glass. “All men do. It’s a foolish game we play. What troubles you, Fitz?”

And I told him, pouring out my heart as if I were a child, giving him all my fears and disappointments to sort, as if somehow he could make sense of them for me. “I look back, Fool, and sometimes it seems that the times when I was most certain I was doing the right thing was when I made my gravest errors. Hunting down Justin and Serene and killing them before the assembled dukes after they had assassinated my king. Look what that did to us, the cascade of events that followed.”

He nodded to that, but “And?” he prompted me as I poured more brandy for myself.

I drank it off and then decided I would speak of it. “And bedding with Molly,” I said. I sighed, but felt no easing with it. “It seemed so right. So sweet and true and precious. The only thing in my world that belonged completely to me. But if I had not . . .”

He waited for me.

“If I had not, if I had not got her with child, she would not have left Buckkeep to hide her pregnancy. Even when I made my other stupid mistake, she would have been able to take care of herself. Burrich would not have felt that he had to go to her, to watch over her until her child was born. They would not have fallen in love; they would not have married. When . . . After the dragons, I could have come back to her. I could have something, now.”

I wasn’t weeping. This was pain past weeping. The only thing new about this was admitting it aloud, to myself. “I brought it all down on myself. It was all my own doing.”

He leaned across the table to set his long cool hand atop mine. “It’s a foolish game, Fitz,” he said softly. “And you attribute too much power to yourself, and too little to the sweep of events. And to Molly. If you could go back and erase those decisions, who knows what others would take their places? Give it over, Fitz. Let it go. What Hap does now is not a punishment for what you did in the past. You didn’t cause him to make this choice. But that doesn’t free you from your duties as a father, to try to turn him aside from that path. Do you think because you made that same decision it disqualifies you from telling him it was a mistake?” He took a breath, then asked, “Have you ever considered telling him about Molly and Nettle?”

“I . . . no. I can’t.”

“Oh, Fitz. Secrets and things held back . . .” His voice trailed away sorrowfully.

“Such as Bingtown’s dragons,” I said levelly.

He lifted his hand from mine. “What?”

“We were drinking that night, and you told me a story. About serpents that went into butterfly cocoons and came out as dragons. But for some reason they came out small and sickly. You thought somehow it was your fault.”

He leaned back in his chair. He looked more sallow than golden. “We had been drinking. A lot.”

“Yes. We had. You were drunk enough to talk. But I was still sober enough to listen.” I waited, but he just sat quietly looking at me. “Well?” I demanded at last.

“What do you want to know?” he asked in a low voice.

“Tell me about Bingtown’s dragons. Are they real?”

I sat and watched him reach some decision. Then he sat up and poured more brandy for us both. He drank. “Yes. As real as the Six Duchies dragons were, but in a different way.”

“How?”

He took a breath. “Long, long ago, we argued this. Remember? I said that at one time there had to have been dragons of flesh and bone, to inspire Skill coteries to create dragons of stone and memory.”

“That was years ago. I barely recall the conversation.”

“You don’t need to. All you need to know is that I was right.” A smile flickered across his face. “Once, Fitz, there were real dragons. The dragons that inspired the Elderlings.”

“The dragons were the Elderlings,” I contradicted him.

He smiled. “You are right, Fitz, but not in the way you think you mean those words. I think. It is a shattered mirror I am still reassembling. The dragons you and I awoke, the Six Duchies dragons . . . they were created things. Carved by coteries or Elderlings, the memory-stone took on the shapes they gave it, and came to life. As dragons. Or as winged boars. Or flying stags. Or as a Girl-on-a-Dragon.”

He was putting it together almost too swiftly for me to follow. I nodded nonetheless. “Go on.”

“Why did Elderlings make those stone dragons and store their lives in them? Because they were inspired by real dragons. Dragons that, like butterflies, have two stages to their lives. They hatch from eggs, into sea serpents. They roam the seas, growing to a vast size. And when the time is right, when enough years have passed that they have attained dragon size, they migrate back to the home of their ancestors. The adult dragons would welcome them and escort them up the rivers. There, they spin their cocoons of sand—sand that is ground memory-stone—and their own saliva. In times past, adult dragons helped them spin those cases. And with the saliva of the adult dragons went their memories, to aid in the formation of the young dragons. For a full winter, they slumber and change, as the grown dragons watch over them to protect them from predators. In the hot sunlight of summer, they hatch, absorbing much of their cocoon casing as they do so. Absorbing too the memories stored in it. Young dragons emerge, full-formed and strong, ready to fend for themselves, to eat and hunt and fight for mates. And eventually to lay eggs on a distant island. The island of the Others. Eggs that hatch into serpents.”