The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy Omnibus (267 page)

‘And we’ve left the basket back there with all the berries. Shall I try to go back for it?’

‘Not yet. Wait a time until they settle. Here, don’t rub that, the stinger is probably still in it. Let me see.’

I sat down in the shade of an alder and she bent my head forward to look at the sting behind my ear. ‘It’s really swelling. And you’ve pushed the stinger right in. Sit still, now.’ She picked at it with her fingers. I flinched and she laughed. ‘Sit still. I can’t get it with my nails.’ She leaned forward and put her mouth on it. I felt her tongue find the stinger, and then she gripped it between her teeth and pulled it out. She brushed it from her lips onto her fingers. ‘See. You’d pushed it all the way in. Is there another one?’

‘Down my back,’ I said, and in spite of myself, my voice shook. She stopped and looked at me. She turned her head and looked again at me, as if she had not seen me in a long time. Her voice was husky when she said, ‘Take your shirt off. I’ll see if can get it out.’

I felt dizzy as her mouth once again touched me. She presented me with the second stinger. Then she set her fingers to the arrow scar on my back and said, ‘What was this?’

‘An arrow. A long time ago.’

‘And this?’

‘That’s more recent. A sword.’

‘My poor Fitz.’ She touched the scar between my shoulder and neck. ‘I remember when you got this one. You came to my bed, still bandaged.’

‘I did.’

I turned to her, knowing that she was waiting for me. It still took all my courage. Very carefully, I kissed her. I kissed her cheeks, her throat and finally her mouth. She tasted of blackberries. Over and over, I kissed her, as slowly as I could, trying to kiss away all the years I had missed. I unlaced her blouse and lifted it over her head, baring her to the blue summer sky above us. Her breasts were soft and heavy in my hands. I treasured them. Her skirt slipped away, a blown blossom on the grass. I lay my love down in the deep wild grasses and sweetly took her to me.

It was homecoming, and completion, and a marvel worth repeating. We dozed for a time, and then woke as the shadows were lengthening. ‘We must go back!’ she exclaimed, but, ‘Not yet,’ I told her. I claimed her again, as slowly as I could bear to, and my name whispered by my ear as she shuddered beneath me was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

We were abruptly guilty adolescents as the raised cries of ‘Mother? Fitz?’ reached our ears. We scrambled hastily back into our clothing. Molly ventured alone to retrieve our basket of berries. We dusted leaves and bits of grass from our hair, laughing breathlessly as we did so. I kissed her again.

‘We have to stop!’ Molly warned me. She returned my kiss warmly, and then lifted her voice to call, ‘I’m here, I’m coming!’

I took her hand in mine as we went round the bramble and held it as we strode back down the hill to her children.

Withywoods is a warm valley, centred on a gently-flowing river that carves a wide plain that nestles between gently rising and rolling foothills. It is a wonderful place to grow grapes and grain and bees and young boys. The manor is of timber rather than stone, and there are times when this still seems very strange to me. I sleep now in a room and in a bed that once belonged to my father, and the woman that I have loved since I was a boy sleeps beside me at night.

For three years, we were lovers in secret. It was hard for us, and yet somehow all the more delicious. Our trysts were few and uncertain, and I valued them all the more for that. Molly came with her sons to the next Harvest Fest, and I stole her away from the music and dancing and carried her off to my own bed. I had never thought to have her there, and for many nights after, her perfume lingered on my pillows and sweetened my dreams. A visit to her cottage might yield me no more than a swiftly stolen kiss, but each was worth the long ride. I do not think we deceived Chivalry for long, and certainly Nettle’s comments let me know that I was not fooling her. But we went carefully, for the sake of her little boys, and I have never regretted taking the time to win their regard.

No one was more surprised than I when Steady answered the Calling. He did not seem to be strongly Skilled at first, but we soon uncovered reserves of strength and calm that made him precisely suited to be a King’s Man. Nettle was proud and protective, and I was grateful, for her young son’s residence in Buckkeep Castle gave Molly excuses to visit more often. Steady and Nettle became the core of the new King’s coterie, for the bond the brother and sister shared was strong. Twelve others answered the Calling, four with Skill enough to become members of Nettle’s coterie and nine of lesser ability. We turned no one away
from that first Calling, for as Chade himself pointed out, it sometimes takes time for the Skill to manifest itself completely. Thick and I continue to perform the duties of Solos. Chade, as always, keeps threads tied to us all and tests the boundaries of the magic, risking himself in ways he would deride as foolhardy if anyone else attempted them.

When Chivalry’s second son was born, Molly suddenly declared that it was time Thrift had her own hearth and home. She decided to take Hearth and Just to Withywoods. Nimble made the decision to stay with his older brother, for the holding was too much for one man to work alone and he had always enjoyed the horses. Molly privately told me that she thought it had more to do with a certain red-headed girl, the daughter of a wainwright in the closest town.

We wed quietly, making our promises before my king in the presence of Molly’s children, Kettricken, Elliania, Chade, Hap and Riddle. Chade wept, then hugged me fiercely and told me to be happy. Hap asked Nettle if he might kiss his new sister, and was soundly thumped by a protective Hearth for his impertinence. Thick and little Prince Prosper dozed through most of the ceremony.

We travelled to see Patience, who had not been able to make the journey, and to place a flower on Lacey’s grave. We stayed a month, and I thought Hearth and Just would wear Patience out with mischief and curiosity. But two days before we were scheduled to depart, Patience abruptly announced that she was tired of Tradeford and too old to run it any more and that she would come to live with us in Withywoods. To my relief, Molly was pleased at the prospect.

Hearth and Just seem to enjoy the pleasures and absurdities of having such a grandmother. Hearth has promised to seek Molly’s permission before there is any more tattooing, and Just has developed a deep interest in plants and herbs that challenges even Patience’s knowledge. Riddle turned up at Withywoods when we were scarcely settled, saying that Chade had sent him to be my man. I suspect he still spies on me for the old spider, but that is fine. I am willing to yield to Chade whatever he needs to feel he still has control of his world. Much of his power I wrested from him, bit by bit, and passed on to Dutiful as he proved ready for it. If I have never worn the crown of the Six Duchies, I am confident that I have done much to see it passed on intact.

Riddle has demonstrated that he knows much more of hiring servants
and running an estate than I ever suspected. It is well, for neither Molly nor I ever expected to have to manage such things, and Patience declares she is far too old to bother. He is a solid man. The last time Nettle visited, I took him to task for being overly familiar with her, until Molly called me aside and told me quietly to mind my own business.

I am summoned often to Buckkeep, and Dutiful and Elliania have come to visit twice to go hawking, for the birding is excellent in our grain fields. I have never cared for that sport, and spent both visits playing with their son while they rode. Prosper is a hearty, healthy boy.

Chade trained arduously as prescribed in the Skill-scrolls and then made one venture through the stones. He chose to go to Aslevjal and explore for himself the Elderling ruins there. He stayed ten days and came back with his eyes full of wonder and a sack full of memory cubes. He did not find his way to Prilkop’s cave, and if he had, I am sure he would have found it long deserted. I think that when the Fool last visited Chade, he was on his way south, back to their schooling place to bring home all they had learned. I doubt he will come back this way again.

Ours was a ragged and uneven parting. Each of us had intended to see the other again. Each of us had had final words to say. My days with the Fool ended like a half-played game of stones, the outcome poised and uncertain, possibilities hovering. Sometimes it seemed to me a cruelty that so much was unresolved between us; at other times a blessing that a hope at reunion lingered. It is like the anticipation that a clever minstrel evokes when he pauses, letting silence pool before sweeping into the final refrain of his song. Sometimes a gap can be seen like a promise yet to be fulfilled.

I miss him often, but in the same way that I miss Nighteyes. I know that such a one will not come again. I count myself fortunate for what I had of them. I do not think I will ever Wit-bond again, nor know such a deep friendship as I had with the Fool. As Burrich once observed to Patience, one horse cannot wear two saddles. I have Molly and she is enough for me, and more.

I am content.

HarperVoyager
An Imprint of HarperCollins
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6 8
JB

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First published in Great Britain by Voyager 2003

Copyright © Robin Hobb 2003

Robin Hobb asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Source ISBN: 9780006486039

Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN 9780007370467

Version 2

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Robin Hobb was born in California in 1952 and majored in Communications at Denver University, Colorado. She is the author of the hugely successful
FARSEER TRILOGY
–
Assassin’s Apprentice, Royal Assassin
and
Assassin’s Quest
– which is set in the same world as
THE LIVESHIP TRADERS
series –
Ship of Magic, The Mad Ship
and
Ship of Destiny
.

As Robin Hobb

THE FARSEER TRILOGY

Assassin’s Apprentice

Royal Assassin

Assassin’s Quest

THE LIVESHIP TRADERS

Ship of Magic

The Mad Ship

Ship of Destiny

THE TAWNY MAN

Fool’s Errand

The Golden Fool

Fool’s Fate

THE SOLDIER SON

Shaman’s Crossing

Forest Mage

Renegade’s Magic

THE RAIN WILD CHRONICLES

The Dragon Keeper

Dragon Haven

City of Dragons

Blood of Dragons

As Megan Lindholm

The Reindeer People

Wolf’s Brother

Harpy’s Flight

The Windsingers

The Limbreth Gate

Luck of the Wheels

Cloven Hooves

Alien Earth

The Gypsy
(with Steven Brust)

HarperVoyager
An Imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London
W
6 8
JB

www.harpervoyagerbooks.com

Fool’s Errand Copyright © Robin Hobb 2001

The Golden Fool Copyright © Robin Hobb 2002

Fool’s Fate Copyright © Robin Hobb 2003

Robin Hobb asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.