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Authors: Hobb Robin
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the stables. As we walked up the frozen path to the kitchens, the snow began falling again. My mind went swirling and drifting with the flakes. I wasn’t sure where my feet were. “It’s all changed, forever, now,” I observed to the night. My words whirled away with the snowflakes.
“What has?” Burrich asked cautiously. His tone bespoke his worry that I might be getting feverish again.
“Everything. How you treat me. When you aren’t thinking about it. How Hands treats me. Two years ago he and I were friends. Just two boys working in the stables. He’d never have offered to brush down my horse for me. But tonight, he treated me like some sickly weakling … not even someone he can insult about it. Like I should just expect him to do things like that for me. The men at the gate didn’t even know me. Even you, Burrich. Six months or a year ago, if I took sick, you’d have dragged me up to your loft and dosed me like a hound. And if I’d complained, you’d have had no tolerance for it. Now you walk me up to the kitchen doors and—”
“Stop whining,” Burrich said gruffly. “Stop complainingand stop pitying yourself. If Hands looked like you do, you’d do the same for him.” Almost unwillingly he added, “Things change, because time passes. Hands hasn’t stopped being your friend. But you are not the same boy who left Buckkeep at harvest time. That Fitz was an errand boy for Verity, and had been my stable boy, but wasn’t much more than that. A royal bastard, yes, but that seemed of small importance to any save me. But up at Jhaampe in the Mountain Kingdom, you showed yourself more than that. It doesn’t matter if your face is pale, or if you can barely walk after a day in the saddle. You move as Chivalry’s son should. That is what shows in your bearing, and what those guards responded to. And Hands.” He took a breath and paused to shoulder the heavy kitchen door open. “And I, Eda help us all,” he added in a mutter.
But then, as if to belie his own words, he steered me into the watch room off the kitchen and unceremoniously dumped me at one of the long benches beside the scarred wooden table. The watch room smelled incredibly good. Here was where any soldier, no matter how muddy or snowy or drunk, could come and find comfort. Cook always kept a kettle of stew simmering over the fire here, and bread and cheese waited on the table, as well as a slab of yellow summer butter from the deep larder. Burrich served us up bowls of hot stew thick with barley and mugs of cold ale to go with the bread and butter and cheese.
For a moment I just looked at it, too weary to lift a spoon. But the smell tempted me to one mouthful and that was all it took. Midway through, I paused to shoulder out of my quilted smock and break off another slab of bread. I looked up from my second bowl of stew to find Burrich watching me with amusement. “Better?” he asked.
I stopped to think about it. “Yes.” I was warm, fed, and though I was tired, it was a good weariness, one that might be cured by simple sleep. I lifted my hand and looked at it. I could still feel the tremors, but they were no longer obvious to the eye. “Much better.” I stood, and found my legs steady under me.
“Now you’re fit to report to the King.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Now? Tonight? King Shrewd’s long abed. I won’t get past his door guard.”
“Perhaps not, and you should be grateful for that. But you must at least announce yourself there tonight. It’s the King’s decision as to when he will see you. If you’re turned away, then you can go to bed. But I’ll wager that if King Shrewd turns you aside, King-in-Waiting Verity will still want a report. And probably right away.”
“Are you going back to the stables?”
“Of course.” He smiled in wolfish self-satisfaction. “Me, I’m just the stablemaster, Fitz. I have nothing to report. And I promised Hands I’d bring him something to eat.”
I watched silently
“What has?” Burrich asked cautiously. His tone bespoke his worry that I might be getting feverish again.
“Everything. How you treat me. When you aren’t thinking about it. How Hands treats me. Two years ago he and I were friends. Just two boys working in the stables. He’d never have offered to brush down my horse for me. But tonight, he treated me like some sickly weakling … not even someone he can insult about it. Like I should just expect him to do things like that for me. The men at the gate didn’t even know me. Even you, Burrich. Six months or a year ago, if I took sick, you’d have dragged me up to your loft and dosed me like a hound. And if I’d complained, you’d have had no tolerance for it. Now you walk me up to the kitchen doors and—”
“Stop whining,” Burrich said gruffly. “Stop complainingand stop pitying yourself. If Hands looked like you do, you’d do the same for him.” Almost unwillingly he added, “Things change, because time passes. Hands hasn’t stopped being your friend. But you are not the same boy who left Buckkeep at harvest time. That Fitz was an errand boy for Verity, and had been my stable boy, but wasn’t much more than that. A royal bastard, yes, but that seemed of small importance to any save me. But up at Jhaampe in the Mountain Kingdom, you showed yourself more than that. It doesn’t matter if your face is pale, or if you can barely walk after a day in the saddle. You move as Chivalry’s son should. That is what shows in your bearing, and what those guards responded to. And Hands.” He took a breath and paused to shoulder the heavy kitchen door open. “And I, Eda help us all,” he added in a mutter.
But then, as if to belie his own words, he steered me into the watch room off the kitchen and unceremoniously dumped me at one of the long benches beside the scarred wooden table. The watch room smelled incredibly good. Here was where any soldier, no matter how muddy or snowy or drunk, could come and find comfort. Cook always kept a kettle of stew simmering over the fire here, and bread and cheese waited on the table, as well as a slab of yellow summer butter from the deep larder. Burrich served us up bowls of hot stew thick with barley and mugs of cold ale to go with the bread and butter and cheese.
For a moment I just looked at it, too weary to lift a spoon. But the smell tempted me to one mouthful and that was all it took. Midway through, I paused to shoulder out of my quilted smock and break off another slab of bread. I looked up from my second bowl of stew to find Burrich watching me with amusement. “Better?” he asked.
I stopped to think about it. “Yes.” I was warm, fed, and though I was tired, it was a good weariness, one that might be cured by simple sleep. I lifted my hand and looked at it. I could still feel the tremors, but they were no longer obvious to the eye. “Much better.” I stood, and found my legs steady under me.
“Now you’re fit to report to the King.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Now? Tonight? King Shrewd’s long abed. I won’t get past his door guard.”
“Perhaps not, and you should be grateful for that. But you must at least announce yourself there tonight. It’s the King’s decision as to when he will see you. If you’re turned away, then you can go to bed. But I’ll wager that if King Shrewd turns you aside, King-in-Waiting Verity will still want a report. And probably right away.”
“Are you going back to the stables?”
“Of course.” He smiled in wolfish self-satisfaction. “Me, I’m just the stablemaster, Fitz. I have nothing to report. And I promised Hands I’d bring him something to eat.”
I watched silently
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