“Patience and Chivalry were very distant cousins, according to Elliania. Both descended by wandering lineage from Adamant. She of the ‘copper-gleaming hair and violet eyes,’ according to one very old ballad. Hence you are doubly descended from that motherhouse. That makes Nettle the rightful ‘Narcheska’ of the Farseer line. The motherhouse that Elliania joined. Her kin. And hence a possible source of an heir for Elliania.
“The thought that there have been generations with no female offspring to refresh the line troubles her. And at the same time, it has comforted her. She now feels the fault is with the Farseer males, who cannot seem to seed girls in their wives’ wombs. For years, she tormented herself that it was her own failing that she had borne only two males. She has known for years about Nettle’s true parentage and sees her opportunity to right a great wrong done to Nettle by raising Nettle’s child as a Narcheska. After a dearth of females, Nettle was born, finally, a true daughter of the Farseer motherhouse. But instead of being celebrated, she was hidden in the shadows. Concealed from the royal court. Her parentage denied. And only brought to Buckkeep when she became useful to the Farseers.”
I was silent. I could not deny the truth of his words. It stung badly to hear them uttered by her husband and my friend. I had believed I was protecting her. As I was protecting Bee by keeping her away from Buckkeep? There was an uncomfortable thought. I tried to justify myself.
“Nettle is the bastard daughter of a bastard son of an abdicated prince, Riddle.”
A flash of anger. “Here, perhaps. But in the Out Islands our child might well be seen as a princess of their line.”
“You and Nettle would do that? Leave Buckkeep and the court and go to the Out Islands?”
“To save my daughter being seen as a shame and a bastard? Yes. I would.”
I found I was nodding in agreement. “And if the child is a boy?”
He heaved a sigh. “That will be a different battle, on a different day. Fitz, we were friends before I fell in love with your daughter. I’ve felt guilty that I did not come to you before this. That I did not reveal our marriage to you.”
I didn’t hesitate. I’d had too much time in the last few days to remember all sorts of decisions that had been taken out of my hands. “I’m not angry, Riddle.” I stood and held out my hand. We clasped wrists and then he embraced me. I spoke by his ear. “I thought you had come here in fury over what I did to you as we passed through the Skill-pillars.”
He stepped back from me. “Oh, I’ll leave that to Nettle. If she hasn’t blasted the skin from your flesh with her words yet, you’ve that to look forward to. I don’t know what will come of this, Fitz, but I wanted you to know that I’ve done my best to be honorable.”
“I can see that. As you always have, Riddle. No matter what comes of this, I will take your side and Nettle’s.”
He gave a tight nod, then heaved a deep sigh and went over to sit on the chair I had offered him earlier. He clasped his hands and looked down on them.
“There’s more, and it’s bad news,” I guessed.
“Bee.” He said her name, took a deep breath, and then sat, wordless.
I sank back down onto the bed. “I remember what you said at the tavern, Riddle.”
He looked up at me suddenly. The muscles in his face were tight. “And the situation hasn’t changed, Fitz. Nor the outcome. Nettle said she would talk to you, that this wasn’t my burden. But it is. Even if I were not married to your daughter, as your friend it would still be my duty. Fitz, you have to give her up. You have to bring her here, to Buckkeep, where she can be properly supervised and educated. You know that. You do.”
Did I? I clenched my teeth to hold back my angry response. I thought back over the last month. How many times had I resolved to do better with Bee? And failed. How many times had I set her aside to deal with disasters and mayhem? I’d involved my nine-year-old daughter in disposing of a body and concealing a murder—even if she didn’t know I’d killed the messenger. For the first time I thought of the potential danger to my child, if, indeed, there were pursuers still searching for the messenger. Or assassins seeking Shun and FitzVigilant. Chade had put those two with me for safekeeping, secure in his belief that I would protect them. I’d given no thought to that at all when I’d left everyone to bring the Fool to Buckkeep. No consideration that Bee might be in danger from assassins seeking their targets in my home. That last attempt on Shun’s life had been a poisoning. The assassin had killed a kitchen boy instead of Shun. A sloppy job. And what if his next attempt was just as sloppy? Winterfest would open the doors of Withywoods to all sorts of folk. What if the assassin poisoned more than a single dish in his next try for Shun?
Why hadn’t I seen this before?