that cloaks the rune, and this must be drawn in the blood of a creature of that ice, but not one that flies. The blood of a seal is good for this, but the blood of a white bear best of all.
If one wishes to draw the sky’s face, then is the time to use the blood of a bird for ink, and draw but lightly on the skin of a gull.
These are very old laws. Every woman with a good mother knows them already. I write them down only because our sons’ sons and their offspring are grown foolish and unwary of the god’s will. They will bring disaster on us all if we do not remind them that we have been taught better, and that these laws are from the god’s own lips.
The Making of Guides – Chade Fallstar’s translation of an Outisland scroll
I was relieved to be on better terms with Jinna again. We spent no time in her bed that night, nor did I kiss her goodbye. But both those things were a relief to my mind if not to my clamouring body. When I left her that night, I resolved to treat our patched friendship gently and to keep it within bounds I felt I could deal with. I think she still felt this was untrusting on my part, but, so I have ever been. At least, so Chade has often told me.
There followed a trying three days for me. The rest of my life remained unsettled. I didn’t hear from Hap. I dreaded that my lad was sleeping out in the snow somewhere, even as I disgustedly told myself he was a sharper boy than that. The Queen and Chade were meeting daily with the leaders of the Six Duchies, in deep discussion about Bingtown’s offer of an alliance. They did not summon me to share their thoughts. The Bingtown delegation was very visible within Buckkeep Castle, assiduously courting the individual dukes and duchesses with gifts and attentions of every kind. On our part, the banquets and entertainment proceeded with an eye to soothing the ruffled feelings of the Outislanders and to being gracious to our Bingtown guests. The success of those evenings was mixed. Strangely enough, Arkon Bloodblade and his Outisland traders seemed fascinated with the Bingtown folk, and openly talked with them about expanding trade alliances based on the betrothal between Prince Dutiful and their Narcheska. Yet both Elliania and Peottre Blackwater were largely absent from the festivities. On the few occasions when Elliania did make an appearance, she was grave and quiet.
Both the Narcheska and Peottre carefully avoided the Bingtown Traders in every way that they could. She exhibited a marked aversion to the scaled boy, Selden Vestrit of the Rain Wild Traders. Once I saw her physically recoil as he walked past her. But I was not certain that it was her choice, for afterwards she sat very stiff in her chair while the beads of sweat broke out on her brow. It was not long after that both she and Peottre excused themselves from attending a puppet play on the grounds that the Narcheska was weary and Peottre must attend to their packing. This was a scarcely-veiled reminder of the imminent departure of the Outisland contingent. The Bingtown Traders and their offer could hardly have arrived at a worse time for us.
‘A week later, and they would have been gone when the Bingtown folk arrived. Yes, and I don’t doubt that we could have mended the Prince’s little stumble with the Narcheska, and sent them off happy. Now it appears that we stack our refusal to break off talk with Bingtown on top of the Prince’s slighting of the Narcheska. It throws everything into doubt.’
This was Chade’s curmudgeonly observation as we sat over wine one evening. He was out of sorts for a number of reasons. Starling had tried to give him a note to pass to me. She had done it privately, but even so, it was indiscreet in the extreme for her to acknowledge that she knew he and I were connected. Somehow, that was my fault. When he had refused, she had said, ‘Then just tell him that I’m sorry. I’d quarrelled with my husband, and I wanted the comfort of his friendship. I’d been drinking at the keep before I started down to town to finish my drink. I know I shouldn’t have said those things.’
While I was still gaping, he’d asked delicately if Starling and I had any sort of ‘an arrangement’ and when I angrily replied that it was no one else’s business if we did, but we didn’t, he had surprised me by saying that only a foolish man would deliberately provoke a minstrel to anger.
‘I didn’t provoke her to anger. All of this is because I’ve refused to have her in my bed since I discovered she was married. I think I have a right to decide with whom I’ll sleep. Don’t you?’
I’d expected him to be shocked at this revelation. Almost, I hoped that it would be enough to embarrass him and make him resolve not to pry into my personal affairs any more. He only slapped his forehead. ‘Of course. Well, she should have expected you to shake her out of your sheets once you discovered she was married, but … Fitz, do you understand what it means to her? Think.’
Had he not been so intent on teaching me something, I think I would have been offended. Yet his air was so familiar I could not accept his question as anything other than the opening to a lesson. Thus he had often spoken to me when trying to teach me to see all the possible motivations for a man to do something, rather than just the first ones that sprang to mind. ‘She is ashamed because my finding out she was married and yet still sleeping with me has lowered my opinion of her?’
‘No. Think, boy. Did it really lower your opinion of her?’
Reluctantly, I shook my head. ‘I only felt stupid. Chade, in some way I was not even surprised. Starling has always allowed herself to do such things. I’ve known that since I first met her. I didn’t expect her to change her minstrel ways. I simply didn’t want to be a party to it.’
He sighed. ‘Fitz, Fitz. Your biggest blind spot is that you cannot imagine anyone seeing you in a different way from how you see yourself. What are you, who are you to Starling?’
I shrugged a shoulder. ‘Fitz. The bastard. Someone she has known for fifteen years.’
A very small smile played across his face. He spoke softly. ‘No. You are FitzChivalry Farseer. The unacknowledged prince. She’d made a song about you before she’d even met you. Why? Because you’d captured her imagination. The bastard Farseer. Had Chivalry acknowledged you, you’d have had a chance at the throne. Denied and ignored by your father, you were still loyal, still the hero of the battle at Antler Island Tower. You died in ignominy in Regal’s dungeons, and rose as a vengeful ghost to plague Regal through his days as a pretender. She accompanied you on a quest to save your King, and though it did not come out as any of us intended, still there was triumph at the end. And she not only witnessed it, she was a part of it.’
‘It seems a fine tale, to hear you tell it that way, with none of the dirt and pain and misfortune.’
‘It is a fine tale, even with the dirt and pain and misfortune. A fine and glorious tale, one that would make any minstrel’s reputation for life, did she ever sing it. Yet it is one Starling can never sing. Because it has been forbidden to her. Her great adventure, her wonderful song, locked up as a secret. Still, at least she knew she was a part of it, and she was a part of the royal bastard’s life. She became his lover, a party to his secrets. I think she expected that when you returned to Buckkeep some day you would again be at the centre of intrigue and wondrous events. And she expected to be part of that also, to turn heads and bask in that shared glory. The Witted Bastard’s minstrel mistress. If she could not sing the song herself, at least she was guaranteed a place in that tale, if it should ever be told. And don’t doubt that she has composed it somewhere, as a song or a poem. She saw herself as a part of your tale, touched by your wild glory. Then, you took that from her. You not only walked away from her, you returned to Buckkeep as an ignominious servant. You are not only ending your tale on a disappointing note; you are making her of no consequence by doing it. She is a minstrel, Fitz. How did you think she’d react to that? Gracefully?’
I saw her suddenly in a different light. Her cruelty to Hap, her offence at me. ‘I don’t think of myself like that, Chade.’
‘I
