The Complete Farseer Trilogy: Assassin’s Apprentice, Royal Assassin, Assassin’s Quest. Robin Hobb

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СКАЧАТЬ was no bond. He did not always heed me, nor even believe me all the time. Had he been but a pup, I am sure we could have bonded to one another. But he was old, and his heart given forever to Verity. The Wit was not dominion over beasts, but only a glimpse into their lives.

      And thrice a day I climbed the steeply winding steps, to coax Verity to eat, and to a few words of conversation. Some days it was like speaking to a child or a doddering oldster. On others, he asked after Leon, and quizzed me about matters down in Buckkeep Town. Sometimes I was absent for days on my other assignments. Usually, he seemed not to have noticed, but once, after the foray in which I took my knife wound, he watched me awkwardly load his empty dishes onto the tray. ‘How they must laugh in their beards, if they knew we slay our own.’

      I froze, wondering what answer to make to that, for as far as I knew, my tasks were known only to Shrewd and Chade. But Verity’s eyes had gone afar again, and I left silently.

      Without intending to, I began to make changes around him. One day, while he was eating, I swept the room, and later that evening brought up a sackful of strewing-reeds and herbs. I had worried that I might be a distraction to him, but Chade had taught me to move quietly. I worked without speaking, and Verity acknowledged neither my coming nor going. But the room was freshened, and the ververia blossoms mixed in with the strewing herbs were an enlivening herb. Coming in once, I discovered him dozing in his hard-backed chair. I brought up cushions, which he ignored for several days, and then one day had arranged to his liking. The room remained bare, but I sensed he needed it so, to preserve his single-mindedness. So what I brought him were the barest items of comfort, no tapestries or wall hangings, no vases of flowers or tinkling wind chimes, but flowering thymes in pots to ease the headaches that plagued him, and on one stormy day, a blanket against the rain and chill from the open window.

      On that day I found him sleeping in his chair, limp as a dead thing. I tucked the blanket around him as if he were an invalid, and set the tray before him, but left it covered, to keep the good heat in the food. I sat down on the floor next to his chair, propped against one of his discarded cushions, and listened to the silence of the room. It seemed almost peaceful today, despite the driving summer rain outside the open window, and the gale wind that gusted in from time to time. I must have dozed, for I woke to his hand on my hair.

      ‘Do they tell you to watch over me so, boy, even when I sleep? What do they fear, then?’

      ‘Naught that I know, Verity. They tell me only to bring you food, and see as best I can that you eat it. No more than that.’

      ‘And blankets and cushions, and pots of sweet flowers?’

      ‘My own doing, my prince. No man should live in such a desert as this.’ And in that moment, I realized we were not speaking aloud, and sat bolt upright and looked at him.

      Verity, too, seemed to come to himself. He shifted in his comfortless chair. ‘I bless this storm, that lets me rest. I hid it from three of their ships, persuading those who looked to the sky that it was no more than a summer squall. Now they ply their oars and peer through the rain, trying to keep their courses. And I can snatch a few moments of honest sleep.’ He paused. ‘I ask your pardon, boy. Sometimes, now, the Skilling seems more natural than speaking. I did not mean to intrude on you.’

      ‘No matter, my prince. I was but startled. I cannot Skill myself, except weakly and erratically. I do not know how I opened to you.’

      ‘Verity, boy, not your prince. No one’s prince sits still in a sweaty shirt, with two days of beard. But what is this nonsense? Surely it was arranged for you to learn the Skill? I remember well how Patience’s tongue battered away my father’s resolve.’ He permitted himself a weary smile.

      ‘Galen tried to teach me, but I had not the aptitude. With bastards, I am told it is often …’

      ‘Wait,’ he growled, and in an instant was within my mind. ‘This is faster,’ he offered, by way of apology, and then, muttering to himself, ‘What is this, that clouds you so? Ah!’ and was gone again from my mind, and all as deft and easy as Burrich taking a tick off a hound’s ear. He sat long, quiet, and so did I, wondering.

      ‘I am strong in it, as was your father. Galen is not.’

      ‘Then how did he become Skillmaster?’ I asked quietly. I wondered if Verity were saying this only to somehow make me feel my failure less.

      Verity paused as if skirting a delicate subject. ‘Galen was Queen Desire’s … pet. A favourite. The Queen emphatically suggested Galen as apprentice to Solicity. Often I think our old Skillmaster was desperate when she took him as apprentice. Solicity knew she was dying, you see. I believe she acted in haste, and towards the end, regretted her decision. And I do not think he had half the training he should have had before becoming “master”. But there he is; he is what we have.’

      Verity cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. ‘I will speak as plainly as I can, boy, for I see that you know how to hold your tongue when it is wise. Galen was given that place as a plum, not because he merited it. I do not think he has ever fully grasped what it means to be the Skillmaster. Oh, he knows the position carries power, and he has not scrupled to wield it. But Solicity was more than someone who swaggered about secure in a high position. Solicity was advisor to Bounty, and a link between the King and all who Skilled for him. She made it her business to seek out and teach as many as manifested real talent and the judgement to use it well. This coterie is the first group Galen has trained since Chivalry and I were boys. And I do not find them well-taught. No, they are trained, as monkeys and parrots are taught to mimic men, with no understanding of what they do. But they are what I have.’ Verity looked out of the window and spoke softly. ‘Galen has no finesse. He is as coarse as his mother was, and just as presumptuous.’ Verity paused suddenly, and his cheeks flushed as if he had said something ill-considered. He resumed more quietly. ‘The Skill is like language, boy. I need not shout at you to let you know what I want. I can ask politely, or hint, or let you know my wish with a nod and a smile. I can Skill a man, and leave him thinking it was all his own idea to please me. But all that eludes Galen, both in the use of the Skill and the teaching of it. Privation and pain are one way to lower a man’s defences; it is the only way Galen believes in. But Solicity used guile. She would have me watch a kite, or a bit of dust floating in a sunbeam, focusing on it as if there were nothing else in the world. And suddenly, there she would be, inside my mind with me, smiling and praising me. She taught me that being open was simply not being closed. And going into another’s mind is mostly done by being willing to go outside of your own. Do you see, boy?’

      ‘Somewhat,’ I hedged.

      ‘Somewhat,’ he sighed. ‘I could teach you to Skill, had I but the time. I do not. But tell me this: were your lessons going well, before he tested you?’

      ‘No. I never had any aptitude … wait! That’s not true! What am I saying, what have I been thinking?’ Though I was sitting, I swayed suddenly, my head bounding off the arm of Verity’s chair. He reached out a hand and steadied me.

      ‘I was too swift, I suppose. Steady now, boy. Someone had misted you. Befuddled you, much as I do Red Ship navigators and steersmen. Convince them they’ve taken a sighting already and their course is true when really they are steering into a cross-current. Convince them they’ve passed a point they haven’t sighted yet. Someone convinced you that you could not Skill.’

      ‘Galen.’ I spoke with certainty. I almost knew the moment. He had slammed into me that afternoon, and from that time, nothing had been the same. I had been living in a fog, all those months …

      ‘Probably. Though if you Skilled into him at all, I’m sure you’ve seen what Chivalry did to him. He hated your father СКАЧАТЬ