"Oh. Well. It's not so very cold out there. It's all in what you're used to, you know."
A small silence fell.
"Burrich. I would feel safer, were you closer." Molly's voice was very small.
"Oh. Well. Then I suppose I shall be. But there's nothing you need fear tonight. Go to sleep, now. Both of you." He bent his head and I saw his lips brush the top of the baby's head. Very softly he began singing to her. I tried to make out the words, but his voice was too deep. Nor did I know the language. The baby's wailing became less determined. He began to pace slowly around the room with her. Back and forth before the fire. I was with Molly as she watched him until she, too, fell asleep to Burrich's soothing voice. The only dream I had after that was of alone wolf, running, endlessly running. He was as alone as I was.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kettle
Queen Kettricken was carrying Verity's child when she fled King-in-Waiting Regal to return to her Mountains. Some have criticized her, saying if she had remained at Buck and forced Regal's hand, the child would have been born safely there. Perhaps if she had, Buckkeep Castle would have rallied to her, perhaps all of Buck Duchy would have presented a more unified resistance to the Outislander Raiders. Perhaps the Coastal Duchies would have fought harder if they had had a queen at Buck. So some say.
The general belief of those who lived in Buckkeep Castle at the time and were well informed of the internal politics of the Farseer Regency is very different. Without exception, they believed that both Kettricken and her unborn child would have met with foul play. It can be substantiated that even after Queen Kettricken had removed herself from Buckkeep, those who supported Regal as king did all that they could to discredit her, even to saying that the child she carried was not Verity's at all, but had been fathered by his bastard nephew FitzChivalry.
Whatever suppositions might be made about what would have happened if Kettricken had remained at Buckkeep are but useless speculations now. The historical fact is that she believed her child would have the best chance of surviving if born in her beloved Mountain Kingdom. She also returned to the Mountains in the hope of being able to find Verity and restore her husband to power. Her search efforts, however, only yielded her grief. She found the battle site of his companions against unidentified attackers. The unburied remains were little more than scattered bones and draggled bits of clothing after the scavengers had finished with them. Among those remains, however, she found the blue cloak Verity had worn when she had last seen him, and his sheath knife. She returned to the royal residence at Jhaampe and mourned her husband as dead.
More distressing to her was that for months afterward she received reports of sightings of folk in the garb of Verity's Guard in the mountains beyond Jhaampe. These individual guards were seen wandering alone by Mountain villagers. They seemed reluctant to have conversation with the villagers and despite their ragged condition often refused offers of aid or food. Without exception, they were described by those who saw them as "pathetic" or "piteous". Some few of these men trickled in to Jhaampe from time to time. They seemed unable to answer her questions about Verity and what had become of him coherently. They could not even recall when they had parted company with him or under what circumstances. Without exception, they seemed almost obsessed with returning to Buckkeep.
In time she came to believe that Verity and his Guard had been attacked, not only physically but by magic. The ambushers who struck at him with arrow and sword, and the false coterie that disheartened and confused his Guard were, she surmised, in the employ of his younger brother, Prince Regal. This is what precipitated her unceasing ill will toward her brother-in-law.
I awoke to a hammering on the door. I shouted something back as I sat up disoriented and cold in the dark. "We leave in an hour!" was the reply.
I fought my way clear of weltering blankets and Starling's sleepy embrace. I found my boots and pulled them on, and then my cloak. I snugged it around me against the chilly room. Starling's only move had been to immediately burrow into the warm place where I had lain. I leaned over the bed. "Starling?" When there was no response, I reached down and shook her slightly. "Starling! We leave in less than an hour. Get up!"
She heaved a tremendous sigh. "Go ahead. I'll be ready." She shouldered deeper into the blankets. I shrugged my shoulders and left her there.
Downstairs in the kitchen Pelf had stacks of griddle cakes keeping warm by the cooking hearth. She offered me a plate with butter and honey and I was only too glad to accept. The house, so quiet a place the day before, was now thronged with folk. From the strong resemblances, this was a family business. The small boy with the spotted kid was sitting at a stool by the table, feeding the goat bits of griddle cake. From time to time, I caught him staring at me. When I smiled back, the boy's eyes got wide. With a serious expression he arose and carried his plate off, with the goat skittering after him.
Nik strode through the kitchen, black wool cloak swirling about his calves. It was dotted with fresh snowflakes. He caught my eye in passing. "Ready to go?"
I gave a nod.
"Good." He gave me a glance on his way out. "Dress warmly. Storm is just beginning." He grinned. "Perfect traveling weather for you and me."
I told myself I had not expected to enjoy the trip. I had finished my breakfast before Starling came down the stairs. When she reached the kitchen, she surprised me. I had expected her to be sleepy. Instead she was brightly alert, her cheeks flushed and mouth laughing. As she came into the kitchen she was trading quips with one of the men, and getting the best of it. She did not hesitate when she got to table, but helped herself to a hearty serving of everything. When she looked up from her empty plate, she must have seen the surprise on my face.
"Minstrels learn to eat well when food is offered," she said, and held her cup out to me. She was drinking beer with her breakfast. I filled her cup from the pitcher on the table. She had just set her mug down with a sigh when Nik came through the kitchen looking like a storm cloud. He caught sight of me and stopped in midstride. "Ah. Tom. Can you drive a horse?"
"Certainly."
"Well?"
"Well enough," I said quietly.
"Good, then, we're ready to go. My cousin Hank was to drive, but he's breathing like a bellows this morning, took a cough in the night. His wife won't let him go. But if you can drive a cart…"
"He'll expect you to adjust your fee," Starling broke in suddenly. "By driving a horse for you, he's saved you the cost of a horse for himself. And what your cousin would have eaten."
Nik was taken aback for a moment. He glanced from Starling to me. "Fair is fair," I observed. I tried not to smile.
"I'll make it right," he conceded, and hastened out of the kitchen again. In a short time he was back. "The old woman says she'll try you. It's her horse and wagon, you see."
It was still dark outside. Torches spluttered in the wind and snow. Folk hurried about, hoods up and cloaks well fastened. There were four wagons and teams. One was full of people, about fifteen of them. They huddled together, bags on their laps, heads bowed against the cold. A woman glanced toward me. Her face was full of apprehension. At her side, a child leaned against her. I wondered where they had all come from. Two men loaded a cask into the last wagon, then stretched a canvas over the whole load.
Behind the wagon loaded with passengers was a smaller two wheeled cart. A little old woman swathed all in black sat erect on the seat. She was well bundled in cloak, hood, and shawl, with a traveling blanket thrown across her knees as well. Her sharp black eyes watched me carefully as I walked around her rig. The horse was a speckled mare. She didn't like the weather and her harness was binding her. I adjusted it as best as I could, persuading her to trust me. When I was finished, I looked up to find the old woman watching me closely. Her hair was glistening black where it peeped from her hood, but not all of the white in it was snow. She pursed her lips at me but said nothing, even when I stowed my pack under the seat. I gave her "Good day" as I climbed up on the seat beside her and took up the reins. "I think I'm supposed to be driving for you," I said genially.