{"id":4971,"date":"2026-01-04T01:00:08","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:00:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-complete-tawny-man-trilogy-omnibus-hobb-robin\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T01:00:08","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:00:08","slug":"the-complete-tawny-man-trilogy-omnibus-hobb-robin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-complete-tawny-man-trilogy-omnibus-hobb-robin\/","title":{"rendered":"The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy [Omnibus] – Hobb, Robin"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Book Preview<\/h3>\n
\n

ONE<\/small>

Chade Fallstar<\/h1>\n

Is time the wheel that turns, or the track it leaves behind?
Kelstar\u2019s Riddle<\/p>\n

He came one late, wet spring, and brought the wide world back to my doorstep. I was thirty-five that year. When I was twenty, I would have considered a man of my current age to be teetering on the verge of dotage. These days, it seemed neither young nor old to me, but a suspension between the two. I no longer had the excuse of callow youth, and I could not yet claim the eccentricities of age. In many ways, I was no longer sure what I thought of myself. Sometimes it seemed that my life was slowly disappearing behind me, fading like footprints in the rain, until perhaps I had always been the quiet man living an unremarkable life in a cottage between the forest and the sea.<\/p>\n

I lay abed that morning, listening to the small sounds that sometimes brought me peace. The wolf breathed steadily before the softly crackling hearth-fire. I quested towards him with our shared Wit-magic, and gently brushed his sleeping thoughts. He dreamed of running over snow-smooth rolling hills with a pack. For Nighteyes, it was a dream of silence, cold and swiftness. Softly I withdrew my touch and left him to his private peace.<\/p>\n

Outside my small window, the returning birds sang their challenges to one another. There was a light wind, and whenever it stirred the trees, they released a fresh shower of last night\u2019s rain to patter on the wet sward. The trees were silver birches, four of them. They had been little more than sticks when I had planted them. Now their airy foliage cast a pleasant light shade outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes and could almost feel the flicker of the light on my eyelids. I would not get up, not just yet.<\/p>\n

I had had a bad evening the night before, and had had to face it alone. My boy, Hap, had gone off gallivanting with Starling almost three weeks ago, and still had not returned. I could not blame him. My quiet reclusive life was beginning to chafe his young shoulders. Starling\u2019s stories of life at Buckkeep, painted with all the skill of her minstrel ways, created pictures too vivid for him to ignore. So I had reluctantly let her take him to Buckkeep for a holiday, that he might see for himself a Springfest there, eat a carris seed-topped cake, watch a puppet show, mayhap kiss a girl. Hap had grown past the point where regular meals and a warm bed were enough to content him. I had told myself it was time I thought of letting him go, of finding him an apprenticeship with a good carpenter or joiner. He showed a knack for such things, and the sooner a lad took to a trade, the better he learned it. But I was not ready to let him go just yet. However, for now I would enjoy a month of peace and solitude, and recall how to do things for myself. Nighteyes and I had each other for company. What more could we need?<\/p>\n

Yet no sooner were they gone than the little house seemed too quiet. The boy\u2019s excitement at leaving had been too reminiscent of how I myself had once felt about Springfests and the like. Puppet shows and carris seed cakes and girls to kiss all brought back vivid memories I thought I had long ago drowned. Perhaps it was those memories that birthed dreams too vivid to ignore. Twice I had awakened sweating and shaking with my muscles clenched. I had enjoyed years of respite from such unquiet, but in the past four years, my old fixation had returned. Of late, it came and went, with no pattern I could discern. It was almost as if the old Skill-magic had suddenly recalled me and was reaching to drag me out of my peace and solitude. Days that had been as smooth and alike as beads on a string were now disrupted by its call. Sometimes the Skill-hunger ate at me as a canker eats sound flesh. Other times, it was no more than a few nights of yearning, vivid dreams. If the boy had been home, I probably could have shaken off the Skill\u2019s persistent plucking at me. But he was gone, and so yesterday evening, I had given in to the unvanquished addiction such dreams stirred. I had walked down to the sea cliffs, sat on the bench my boy had made for me, and stretched out my magic over the waves. The wolf had sat beside me for a time, his look one of ancient rebuke. I tried to ignore him. \u2018No worse than your penchant for bothering porcupines,\u2019 I pointed out to him.<\/p>\n

Save that their quills can be pulled out. What stabs you only goes deeper and festers<\/i>. His deep eyes glanced past mine as he shared his pointed thoughts.<\/p>\n

Why don\u2019t you go hunt a rabbit?<\/p>\n

You\u2019ve sent the boy and his bow away.<\/p>\n

\u2018You could run it down yourself, you know. Time was when you did that.\u2019<\/p>\n

Time was when you went with me to hunt. Why don\u2019t we go and do that, instead of this fruitless seeking? When will you accept that there is no one out there who can hear you?<\/p>\n

I just have to \u2026 try.<\/p>\n

Why? Is my companionship not enough for you?<\/p>\n

It is enough for me. You are always enough for me<\/i>. I opened myself wider to the Wit-bond we shared and tried to let him feel how the Skill tugged at me. It is the magic that wants this, not me<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Take it away. I do not want to see that<\/i>. And when I had closed that part of myself to him, he asked piteously, Will it never leave us alone?<\/i><\/p>\n

I had no answer to that. After a time, the wolf lay down, put his great head on his paws and closed his eyes. I knew he would stay by me because he feared for me. Twice the winter before last, I had over-indulged in Skilling, burning physical energy in that mental reaching until I had been unable even to totter back to the house on my own. Nighteyes had had to fetch Hap both times. This time we were alone.<\/p>\n

I knew it was foolish and useless. I also knew I could not stop myself. Like a starving man who eats grass to appease the terrible emptiness in his belly, so I reached out with the Skill, touching the lives that passed within my reach. I could brush their thoughts and temporarily appease the great craving that filled me with emptiness. I could know a little of the family out for a windy day\u2019s fishing. I could know the worries of a captain whose cargo was just a bit heavier than his ship would carry well. The mate on the same ship was worried about the man her daughter wished to marry; he was a lazy fellow for all of his pretty ways. The ship\u2019s boy was cursing his luck; they\u2019d get to Buckkeep Town too late for Springfest. There\u2019d be nothing left but withered garlands browning in the gutters by the time he got there. It was always his luck.<\/p>\n

There was a certain sparse distraction to these knowings. It restored to me the sense that the world was larger than the four walls of my house, larger even than the confines of my own garden. But it was not the same as true Skilling. It could not compare to that moment of completion when minds joined and one sensed the wholeness of the world as a great entity in which one\u2019s own body was no more than a mote of dust.<\/p>\n

The wolf\u2019s firm teeth on my wrist had stirred me from my reaching. Come on. That\u2019s enough. If you collapse down here, you\u2019ll spend a cold wet night. I am not the boy, to drag you to your feet. Come on, now<\/i>.<\/p>\n

I had risen, seeing blackness at the edges of my vision when I first stood. It had passed, but not the blackness of spirit that came in its wake. I had followed the wolf back through the gathering dark beneath the dripping trees, back to where my fire had burned low in the hearth and the candles guttered on the table. I made myself elfbark tea, black and bitter, knowing it would only make my spirit more desolate, but knowing also that it would appease my aching head. I had burned away the nervous energy of the elfbark by working on a scroll describing the stone game and how it was played. I had tried several times before to complete such a treatise and each time given it up as hopeless. One could only learn to play it by playing it, I told myself. This time I was adding to the text a set of illustrations, to show how a typical game might progress. When I set it aside just before dawn was breaking, it seemed only the stupidest of my latest attempts. I went to bed more early than late.<\/p>\n

I awoke to half the morning gone. In the far corner of the yard, the chickens were scratching and gossiping among themselves. The rooster crowed once. I groaned. I should get up. I should check for eggs and scatter a handful of grain to keep the poultry tamed. The garden was just sprouting. It needed weeding already, and I should re-seed the row of fesk that the slugs had eaten. I needed to gather some more of the purple flag while it was still in bloom; my last attempt at an ink from it had gone awry, but I wanted to try again. There was wood to split and stack. Porridge to cook, a hearth to sweep. And I should climb the ash tree over the chicken house and cut off that one cracked limb before a storm brought it down on the chicken house itself.<\/p>\n

And we should go down to the river and see if the early fish runs have begun yet. Fresh fish would be good<\/i>. Nighteyes added his own concerns to my mental list.<\/p>\n

Last year you nearly died from eating rotten fish<\/i>.<\/p>\n

All the more reason to go now, while they are fresh and jumping. You could use the boy\u2019s spear.<\/p>\n

And get soaked and chilled.<\/p>\n

Better soaked and chilled than hungry.<\/p>\n

I rolled over and went back to sleep. So I\u2019d be lazy one morning. Who\u2019d know or care? The chickens? It seemed but moments later that his thoughts nudged me.<\/p>\n

My brother, awake. A strange horse comes.<\/p>\n

I was instantly alert. The slant of light in my window told me that hours had passed. I rose, dragged a robe over my head, belted it, and thrust my feet into my summer shoes. They were little more than leather soles with a few straps to keep them on my feet. I pushed my hair back from my face. I rubbed my sandy eyes. \u2018Go see who it is,\u2019 I bid Nighteyes.<\/p>\n

See for yourself. He\u2019s nearly to the door.<\/p>\n

I was expecting no one. Starling came thrice or four times a year, to visit for a few days and bring me gossip and fine paper and good wine, but she and Hap would not be returning so soon. Other visitors to my door were rare. There was Baylor who had his cot and hogs in the next vale, but he did not own a horse. A tinker came by twice a year. He had found me first by accident in a thunderstorm when his horse had gone lame and my light through the trees had drawn him from the road. Since his visit, I\u2019d had other visits from similar travellers. The tinker had carved a curled cat, the sign of a hospitable house, on a tree beside the trail that led to my cabin. I had found it, but left it intact, to beckon an occasional visitor to my door.<\/p>\n

So this caller was probably a lost traveller, or a road-weary trader. I told myself a guest might be a pleasant distraction, but the thought was less than convincing.<\/p>\n

I heard the horse halt outside and the small sounds of a man dismounting.<\/p>\n

The grey one<\/i>, the wolf growled low.<\/p>\n

My heart near stopped in my chest. I opened the door slowly as the old man was reaching to knock at it. He peered at me, and then his smile broke forth. \u2018Fitz, my boy. Ah, Fitz!\u2019<\/p>\n

He reached to embrace me. For an instant, I stood frozen, unable to move. I did not know what I felt. That my old mentor had tracked me down after all these years was frightening. There would be a reason, something more than simply seeing me again. But I also felt that leap of kinship, that sudden stirring of interest that Chade had always roused in me. When I had been a boy at Buckkeep, his secret summons would come at night, bidding me climb the concealed stair to his lair in the tower above my room. There he mixed his poisons and taught me the assassin\u2019s trade and made me irrevocably his. Always my heart had beat faster at the opening of that secret door. Despite all the years and the pain, he still affected me that way. Secrets and the promise of adventure clung to him.<\/p>\n

So I found myself reaching out to grasp his stooping shoulders and pull him to me in a hug. Skinny, the old man was getting skinny again, as bony as he had been when I first met him. But now I was the recluse in the worn robe of grey wool. He was dressed in royal blue leggings and a doublet of the same with slashed insets of green that sparked off his eyes. His riding boots were black leather, as were the soft gloves he wore. His cloak of green matched the insets in his doublet and was lined with fur. White lace spilled from his collar and sleeves. The scattered scars that had once shamed him into hiding had faded to a pale speckling on his weathered face. His white hair hung loose to his shoulders and was curled above his brow. There were emeralds in his earrings, and another one set squarely in the centre of the gold band at his throat.<\/p>\n

The old assassin smiled mockingly as he saw me take in his splendour. \u2018Ah, but a Queen\u2019s Counsellor must look the part, if he is to get the respect both he and she deserve in his dealings.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I see,\u2019 I said faintly, and then, finding my tongue, \u2018Come in, do, come in. I fear you will find my home a bit ruder than what you have obviously become accustomed to, but you are welcome all the same.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I did not come to quibble about your house, boy. I came to see you.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Boy?\u2019 I asked him quietly as I smiled and showed him in.<\/p>\n

\u2018Ah, well. To me, always, perhaps. It is one of the advantages of age, I can call anyone almost anything I please, and no one dares challenge me. Ah, you have the wolf still, I see. Nighteyes, was it? Up in years a bit now; I don\u2019t recall that white on your muzzle. Come here now, there\u2019s a good fellow. Fitz, would you mind seeing to my horse? I\u2019ve been all morning in the saddle, and spent last night at a perfectly wretched inn. I\u2019m a bit stiff, you know. And just bring in my saddlebags, would you? There\u2019s a good lad.\u2019<\/p>\n

He stooped to scratch the wolf\u2019s ears, his back to me, confident I would obey him. And I grinned and did. The black mare he\u2019d ridden was a fine animal, amiable and willing. There is always a pleasure to caring for a creature of that quality. I watered her well, gave her some of the chickens\u2019 grain and turned her into the pony\u2019s empty paddock. The saddlebags that I carried back to the house were heavy and one sloshed promisingly.<\/p>\n

I entered to find Chade in my study, sitting at my writing desk, poring over my papers as if they were his own. \u2018Ah, there you are. Thank you, Fitz. This, now, this is the stone game, isn\u2019t it? The one Kettle taught you, to help you focus your mind away from the Skill-road? Fascinating. I\u2019d like to have this one when you are finished with it.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018If you wish,\u2019 I said quietly. I knew a moment\u2019s unease. He tossed out words and names I had buried and left undisturbed. Kettle. The Skill-road. I pushed them back into the past. \u2018It\u2019s not Fitz any more,\u2019 I said pleasantly. \u2018It\u2019s Tom Badgerlock.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh?\u2019<\/p>\n

I touched the streak of white in my hair from my scar. \u2018For this. People remember the name. I tell them I was born with the white streak, and so my parents named me.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I see,\u2019 he said noncommittally. \u2018Well, it makes sense, and it\u2019s sensible.\u2019 He leaned back in my wooden chair. It creaked. \u2018There\u2019s brandy in those bags, if you\u2019ve cups for us. And some of old Sara\u2019s ginger cakes \u2026 I doubt you\u2019d expect me to remember how fond you were of those. Probably a bit squashed, but it\u2019s the taste that matters with those.\u2019 The wolf had already sat up. He came to place his nose on the edge of the table. It pointed directly at the bags.<\/p>\n

\u2018So. Sara is still cook at Buckkeep?\u2019 I asked as I looked for two presentable cups. Chipped crockery didn\u2019t bother me, but I was suddenly reluctant to set it out for Chade.<\/p>\n

Chade left the study and came to my kitchen table. \u2018Oh, not really. Her old feet bother her if she stands too long. She has a big cushioned chair, set up on a platform in the corner of the kitchen. She supervises from there. She cooks the things she enjoys cooking, the fancy pastries, the spiced cakes, and the sweets. There\u2019s a young man named Duff does most of the daily cooking now.\u2019 He was unpacking the saddlebags as he spoke. He set out two bottles marked as Sandsedge brandy. I could not remember the last time I\u2019d tasted that. The ginger cakes, a bit squashed as foretold, emerged, spilling crumbs from the linen he\u2019d wrapped them in. The wolf sniffed deeply, then began salivating. \u2018His favourites, too, I see,\u2019 Chade observed dryly, and tossed him one. The wolf caught it neatly and carried it off to devour on the hearthrug.<\/p>\n

The saddlebags gave up their other treasures quickly. A sheaf of fine paper, pots of blue, red and green inks. A fat ginger root, just starting to sprout, ready to be potted for the summer. Some packets of spices. A rare luxury for me, a round ripe cheese. And in a little wooden chest, other items, hauntingly strange in their familiarity. Small things I had thought long lost to me. A ring that had belonged to Prince Rurisk of the Mountain Kingdom. The arrowhead that had pierced the Prince\u2019s chest and nearly been the death of him. A small carved box, made by my hands years ago, to contain my poisons. I opened it. It was empty. I put the lid back on the box and set it down on the table. I looked at him. He was not just one old man come to visit me. He brought all of my past trailing along behind him as an embroidered train follows a woman into a hall. When I let him in my door, I had let in my old world with him.<\/p>\n

\u2018Why?\u2019 I asked quietly. \u2018Why, after all these years, have you sought me out?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh, well.\u2019 Chade drew a chair up to the table and sat down with a sigh. He unstoppered the brandy and poured for both of us. \u2018A dozen reasons. I saw your boy with Starling. And I knew at once who he was. Not that he looks like you, any more than Nettle looks like Burrich. But he has your mannerisms, your way of holding back and looking at a thing, with his head cocked just so before he decides whether he\u2019ll be drawn in. He put me so much in mind of you at that age that \u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019ve seen Nettle,\u2019 I cut in quietly. It was not a question.<\/p>\n

\u2018Of course,\u2019 he replied as quietly. \u2018Would you like to know about her?\u2019<\/p>\n

I did not trust my tongue to answer. All my old cautions warned me against evincing too great an interest in her. Yet I felt a prickle of foreknowledge that Nettle, my daughter whom I had never seen except in visions, was the reason Chade had come here. I looked at my cup and weighed the merits of brandy for breakfast. Then I thought again of Nettle, the bastard I had unwillingly abandoned before her birth. I drank. I had forgotten how smooth Sandsedge brandy was. Its warmth spread through me as rapidly as youthful lust.<\/p>\n

Chade was merciful, in that he did not force me to voice my interest. \u2018She looks much like you, in a skinny, female way,\u2019 he said, then smiled to see me bristle. \u2018But, strange to tell, she resembles Burrich even more. She has more of his mannerisms and habits of speech than any of his five sons.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Five!\u2019 I exclaimed in astonishment.<\/p>\n

Chade grinned. \u2018Five boys, and all as respectful and deferential to their father as any man could wish. Not at all like Nettle. She has mastered that black look of Burrich\u2019s and gives it right back to him when he scowls at her. Which is seldom. I won\u2019t say she\u2019s his favourite, but I think she wins more of his favour by standing up to him than all the boys do with their earnest respect. She has Burrich\u2019s impatience, and his keen sense of right and wrong. And all your stubbornness, but perhaps she learned that from Burrich as well.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You saw Burrich then?\u2019 He had raised me, and now he raised my daughter as his own. He\u2019d taken to wife the woman I\u2019d seemingly abandoned. They both thought me dead. Their lives had gone on without me. To hear of them mingled pain with fondness. I chased the taste of it away with Sandsedge brandy.<\/p>\n

\u2018It would have been impossible to see Nettle, save that I saw Burrich also. He watches over her like, well, like her father. He\u2019s well. His limp has not improved with the years. But he is seldom afoot, so it seems to bother him little. It is horses with him, always horses, as it always was.\u2019 He cleared his throat. \u2018You do know that the Queen and I saw to it that both Ruddy and Sooty\u2019s colt were given over to him? Well, he\u2019s founded his livelihood on those two stud horses. The mare you unsaddled, Ember, I got her from him. He trains as well as breeds horses now. He will never be a wealthy man, for the moment he has a coin to spare, it goes for another horse or to buy more pasturage. But when I asked him how he did, he told me, \u201cwell enough.\u201d\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And what did Burrich say of your visit?\u2019 I asked. I was proud I could speak with an unchoked voice.<\/p>\n

Chade grinned again, but there was a rueful edge to it. \u2018After he got over the shock of seeing me, he was most courteous and welcoming. And as he walked me out to my horse the next morning, which one of the twins, Nim I think, had saddled for me, he quietly promised that he\u2019d kill me before he\u2019d brook any interference with Nettle. He spoke the words regretfully, but with great sincerity. I didn\u2019t doubt them from him, so I don\u2019t need them repeated from you.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Does she know Burrich is not her father? Does she know anything of me?\u2019 Question after question sprang to my mind. I thrust them away. I hated the avidity with which I had asked those two, but I could not resist. It was like the Skill-addiction, this hunger to know, finally know<\/i> these things after all the years.<\/p>\n

Chade looked aside from me and sipped his brandy. \u2018I don\u2019t know. She calls him Papa. She loves him fiercely, with absolutely no criticism. Oh, she disagrees with him, but it is about things rather than about Burrich himself. I\u2019m afraid that with her mother, things are stormier. Nettle has no interest in bees or candles, but Molly would like to see her daughter follow her in her trade. As stubborn as Nettle is, I think Molly will have to be content with a son or two instead.\u2019 He glanced out the window. He added quietly, \u2018We did not speak your name when she was present.\u2019<\/p>\n

I turned my cup in my hands. \u2018What things do interest her?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Horses. Hawks. Swords. At fifteen, I expected at least some talk of young men from her, but she seems to have no use for them. Perhaps the woman in her hasn\u2019t wakened yet, or perhaps she has too many brothers to have any romantic illusions about boys. She would like to run away to Buckkeep and join one of the guard companies. She knows Burrich was Stablemaster there once. One of the reasons I went to see him was to make Kettricken\u2019s offer of that position again. Burrich refused it. Nettle cannot understand why.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I do.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018As do I. But when I visited, I told him that I could make a place for Nettle there, even if he chose not to go. She could page for me, if nothing else, though I am sure Queen Kettricken would love to have her. Let her see the way of a keep and a city, let her have a taste of life at court, I told him. Burrich turned it down instantly, and seemed almost offended that I\u2019d offered it.\u2019<\/p>\n

Without intending, I breathed out softly in relief. Chade took another sip of his brandy and sat regarding me. Waiting. He knew my next question as well as I did. Why? Why did he seek out Burrich, why did he offer to take Nettle to Buckkeep? I took more of my own brandy and considered the old man. Old. Yes, but not as some men get old. His hair had gone completely white, but the green of his eyes seemed to burn all the fiercer beneath those snowy locks. I wondered how hard he fought his body to keep the stoop in his shoulders from becoming a curl, what drugs he took to prolong his vigour and what those drugs cost him in other ways. He was older than King Shrewd, and Shrewd was all these many years dead. Bastard royalty of the same lineage as myself, he seemed to thrive on intrigue and strife as I had not. I had fled the court and all it contained. Chade had chosen to stay, and make himself indispensable to yet another generation of Farseers.<\/p>\n

\u2018So. And how is Patience these days?\u2019 I chose my question with care. News of my father\u2019s wife was well wide of what I wished to know, but I could use his answer to venture closer.<\/p>\n

\u2018Lady Patience? Ah, well, it has been some months since I have seen her. Over a year, now that I think of it. She resides at Tradeford, you know. She rules there, and quite well. Odd, when you think of it. When she was indeed queen and wed to your father, she never asserted herself. Widowed, she was well content to be eccentric Lady Patience. But when all others fled, she became queen in fact if not by title at Buckkeep. Queen Kettricken was wise to give her a domain of her own, for she never again could have abided at Buckkeep as less than queen.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018And Prince Dutiful?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018As like his father as he can be,\u2019 Chade observed, shaking his head. I watched him closely, wondering how the old man intended the remark. How much did he know? He frowned as he continued, \u2018The Queen needs to let him out a bit. The folk speak of Dutiful as they did of your father, Chivalry. \u201cCorrect to a fault,\u201d they say and almost have the truth of it, I fear.\u2019<\/p>\n

There had been a very slight change in his voice. \u2018Almost?\u2019 I asked quietly.<\/p>\n

Chade gave me a smile that was almost apologetic. \u2018Of late the boy has not been himself. He has always been a solitary lad \u2013 but that goes with being the sole prince. He has always had to keep his position in mind, always had to take care that he was not seen to favour one companion over another. It has made him introspective. But recently he has shifted to a darker temperament. He is distracted and moody, so caught up in his inner thoughts that he seems completely unaware of what is going on in the lives of those around him. He is not discourteous or uncaring; at least, not deliberately. But \u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018He\u2019s what, fourteen?\u2019 I asked. \u2018He does not sound so different from Hap, of late. I\u2019ve been thinking much the same things about him; that I need to let him out a bit. It\u2019s time he got out and learned something new, from someone other than myself.\u2019<\/p>\n

Chade nodded. \u2018I think you are absolutely correct. Queen Kettricken and I have reached the same decision about Prince Dutiful.\u2019<\/p>\n

His tone made me suspect I had just run my head into the snare. \u2018Oh?\u2019 I said carefully.<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh?\u2019 Chade mimicked me, and then leaned forwards to tip more brandy into his glass. He grinned, letting me know the game was at an end. \u2018Oh, yes. You\u2019ve no doubt guessed it. We would like to have you come back to Buckkeep and instruct the Prince in the Skill. And Nettle, too, if Burrich can be persuaded to let her go and if she has any aptitude for it.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018No.\u2019 I said the word quickly before I could be seduced. I am not sure how definitive my answer sounded. No sooner had Chade broached the idea than desire for it surged in me. It was the answer, the so-simple answer after all these years. Train up a new coterie of Skill-users. I knew Chade had the scrolls and tablets relating to the Skill-magic. Galen the Skillmaster and then Prince Regal had wrongfully withheld them from us, so many years ago. But now I could study them, I could learn more and I could train up others, not as Galen had done, but correctly. Prince Dutiful would have a Skilled coterie to aid and protect him, and I would have an end to my loneliness. There would be someone to reach back when I reached out.<\/p>\n

And both my children would know me, as a person if not as their father.<\/p>\n

Chade was as sly as ever. He must have sensed my ambivalence. He left my denial hanging alone in the air between us. He held his cup in both hands. He glanced down at it briefly, putting me sharply in mind of Verity. Then he looked up again, his green eyes meeting mine without hesitation. He asked no questions, he made no demands. All he had to do was wait.<\/p>\n

Knowing his tactic did not shield me against it. \u2018You know I cannot. You know all the reasons I should not.\u2019<\/p>\n

He shook his head slightly. \u2018Not really. Why should Prince Dutiful be denied his birthright as a Farseer?\u2019 More softly he added, \u2018Or Nettle?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Birthright?\u2019 I tried for a bitter laugh. \u2018It\u2019s more like a family disease, Chade. It\u2019s a hunger, and when you are taught how to satisfy it, it becomes an addiction. An addiction that can become strong enough eventually to set your feet on the paths that lead past the Mountain Kingdom. You saw what became of Verity. The Skill devoured him. He turned it to his own ends; he made his dragon and poured himself into it. He saved the Six Duchies. But even if there had been no Red Ships to battle, Verity would eventually have gone to the Mountains. That place called him. It is the ordained end for any Skilled one.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I understand your fears,\u2019 he confessed quietly. \u2018But I think you are wrong. I believe Galen deliberately instilled that fear in you. He limited what you learned, and he battered fear into you. But I\u2019ve read the Skill-scrolls. I haven\u2019t deciphered all that they tell, but I know it is so much more than simply being able to communicate across a distance. With the Skill, a man can prolong his own life and health. It can enhance a speaker\u2019s powers of persuasion. Your training \u2026 I don\u2019t know how far it went, but I\u2019ll wager Galen taught you as little as he could.\u2019 I could hear the excitement building in the old man\u2019s voice, as if he spoke of a hidden treasure. \u2018There is so much to the Skill, so much. Some scrolls imply that the Skill can be used as a healing tool, not only to find out exactly what is wrong with an injured warrior, but actually to encourage the healing of those hurts. A strong Skilled one can see through another\u2019s eyes, hear what that other hears and feels. And \u2013\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Chade.\u2019 The softness of my voice cut him off. I had known a moment of outrage when he admitted he\u2019d read the scrolls. He\u2019d had no right, I\u2019d thought, and then known that if his Queen gave them to him to read, he had as much right as anyone. Who else should read them? There was no Skillmaster any more. That line of ability had died out. No. I had killed it. Killed off, one by one, the last trained Skill-users, the last coterie ever created at Buckkeep. They had been faithless to their King, so I had destroyed them and the magic with them. The part of me that was rational knew that it was magic better left dead. \u2018I am no Skillmaster, Chade. It\u2019s not only that my knowledge of the Skill is incomplete, but that my talent was erratic. If you\u2019ve read the scrolls, then I\u2019m sure you\u2019ve discovered for yourself, or heard from Kettricken, that using elfbark is the worst thing a Skilled one can do. It suppresses or kills the talent. I\u2019ve tried to stay away from it; I don\u2019t like what it does to me. But even the bleakness it brings on is better than the Skill-hunger. Sometimes I\u2019ve used elfbark steadily for days at a time, when the craving is bad.\u2019 I looked away from the concern on his face. \u2018Whatever talent I ever had is probably stunted beyond recall now.\u2019<\/p>\n

His voice was soft as he observed, \u2018It seems to me that your continued craving would indicate the opposite, Fitz. I\u2019m sorry to hear you\u2019ve been suffering; we truly had no idea. I had assumed the Skill-hunger would be like a man\u2019s craving for drink or Smoke, and that after a period of enforced abstinence, the longing would grow less.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018No. It does not. Sometimes it lies dormant. Months pass, even years. Then, for no reason I can tell, it stirs to life again.\u2019 I squeezed my eyes shut for an instant. Talking about it, thinking about it was like prodding at a boil. \u2018Chade. I know that this is why you came all this way to find me. And you\u2019ve heard me say \u201cno\u201d. Now can we speak of other things? This conversation \u2026 pains me.\u2019<\/p>\n

For a time he was silent. There was a false heartiness in his voice when he abruptly said, \u2018Of course we can. I told Kettricken that I doubted you\u2019d fall in with our plan.\u2019 He gave a brief sigh. \u2018I\u2019ll simply have to do the best I can with what I\u2019ve gleaned from the scrolls. Now. I\u2019ve had my say. What would you like to hear about?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You can\u2019t mean that you\u2019ll try to teach Dutiful the Skill from what you\u2019ve read in some old scrolls?\u2019 I was suddenly on the edge of anger.<\/p>\n

\u2018You leave me no choice,\u2019 he pointed out pleasantly.<\/p>\n

\u2018Do you grasp the danger you\u2019d be exposing him to? The Skill draws a man, Chade. It pulls at the mind and heart like a lodestone. He will want to be one with it. If the Prince yields to that attraction, for even an instant while he\u2019s learning, he\u2019ll be gone. And there will be no Skilled one to go after him, to pull him back together and drag him from the current.\u2019<\/p>\n

I could tell from the expression on Chade\u2019s face that he had no understanding of what I was telling him. He only replied stubbornly, \u2018What I read in the scrolls is that there is danger to leaving one with a strong Skill-talent completely untrained. In some cases, such youngsters have begun to Skill almost instinctively, but with no concept of the dangers or how to control it. I should think that even a little knowledge might be better than to leave the young prince in total ignorance.\u2019<\/p>\n

I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it again. I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. \u2018I won\u2019t be drawn into it, Chade. I refuse. Years ago I promised myself. I sat by Will and watched him die. I didn\u2019t kill him. Because I\u2019d promised myself I was no longer an assassin, and no longer a tool. I won\u2019t be manipulated and I won\u2019t be used. I\u2019ve made enough sacrifices. I think I\u2019ve earned this retirement. And if you and Kettricken disagree with that and no longer wish to provide me with coin, well, I can cope with that as well.\u2019<\/p>\n

As well to have that out in the open. The first time I\u2019d found a bag of coins by my bed after Starling had visited, I was insulted. I\u2019d hoarded the affront for months until she visited me again. She\u2019d only laughed at me, and told me they weren\u2019t largesse from her for my services, if that\u2019s what I\u2019d thought, but a pension from the Six Duchies. That was when I\u2019d forced myself to admit that whatever Starling knew of me, Chade knew as well. He was the source of the fine paper and good inks she sometimes brought as well. She probably reported to him each time she returned to Buckkeep. I\u2019d told myself it didn\u2019t bother me. But now I wondered if all those years of keeping track of me had been Chade waiting for me to be useful again. I think he read my face.<\/p>\n

\u2018Fitz, Fitz, calm down.\u2019 The old man reached across the table to pat my hand reassuringly. \u2018There\u2019s been no talk of anything like that. We are both well aware of not only what we owe you, but also what the whole Six Duchies owes you. As long as you live, the Six Duchies will provide for you. As for Prince Dutiful\u2019s training, put it out of your head. It\u2019s not truly your concern at all.\u2019<\/p>\n

Once again, I wondered uneasily how much he knew. Then I steeled myself. \u2018As you say, it\u2019s not truly my concern. All I can do is warn you to be cautious.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Ah, Fitz, have you ever known me to be otherwise?\u2019 His eyes smiled at me over the rim of his cup.<\/p>\n

I set it aside, but forbidding myself the idea was like tearing a tree up by the roots. Part of it was my fear that Chade\u2019s inexperienced tutelage of the young prince would lead him into danger. But by far the biggest part of my desire to teach a new coterie was simply so that I could furnish myself with a way to satisfy my own craving. Having recognized that, there was no way I could in good conscience inflict this addiction on another generation.<\/p>\n

Chade was as good as his word. He spoke no more about Skilling. Instead, we talked for hours of all the folk I had once known at Buckkeep and what had become of them. Blade was a grandfather, and Lacey was plagued with aching joints that had finally forced her to set her endless tatting aside. Hands was the Stablemaster at Buckkeep now. He had married an inland woman with fiery red hair and a temper to match. All of their children had red hair. She kept Hands on a short leash, and according to Chade, he seemed only happier for it. Of late, she was nagging him to return to Farrow, her homeland, and he seemed prone to obey her; thus Chade\u2019s trip to see Burrich and offer him his old position again. So on and on, he peeled calluses away from my memories and brought all the old faces fresh to my mind again. It made me ache for Buckkeep and I could not forbear to ask my questions. When we ran out of folk to gossip about, I walked him about my place as if we were two old aunties visiting one another. I showed him my chickens and my birch trees, my garden and my walks. I showed him my work shed, where I made the dyes and coloured inks that Hap took to market for me. Those, at least, surprised him. \u2018I brought you inks from Buckkeep, but now I wonder if your own are not the better.\u2019 He patted my shoulder, just as he once had when I mixed a poison correctly, and the old wash of pleasure at his pride in me rushed through me.<\/p>\n

I showed him probably far more than I intended. When he looked at my herb beds, he no doubt marked the preponderance of sedatives and painkillers among my drug plants. When I showed him my bench on the cliffs overlooking the sea, he even said quietly, \u2018Yes, Verity would have liked this.\u2019 But despite what he saw and guessed, he spoke no more of the Skill.<\/p>\n

We stayed up late that night, and I taught him the basics of Kettle\u2019s stone game. Nighteyes grew bored with our long talk and went hunting. I sensed a bit of jealousy from the wolf, but resolved to settle it with him later. When we set our game aside, I turned our talk to Chade himself and how he fared. He smilingly conceded that he enjoyed his return to court and society. He spoke to me, as he seldom had before, of his youth. He\u2019d led a gay life before his mishandling of a potion had scarred him and made him so ashamed of his appearance that he had retreated into a secretive shadow life as the king\u2019s assassin. In these late years, he seemed to have resumed the life of that young man who had so enjoyed dancing and private dinners with witty ladies. I was glad for him, and spoke mostly in jest when I asked, \u2018But how then do you fit in your quiet work for the crown, with all these other assignations and entertainments?\u2019<\/p>\n

His reply was frank. \u2018I manage. And my current apprentice is proving both quick and adept. The time will not be long before I can set those old tasks completely into younger hands.\u2019<\/p>\n

I knew an unsettling moment of jealousy that he had taken another in my place. An instant later, I recognized how foolish that was. The Farseers would ever have need of a man capable of quietly dispensing the King\u2019s Justice. I had declared I would no longer be a royal assassin; that did not mean the need for one had disappeared. I tried to recover my aplomb. \u2018Then the old experiments and lessons still continue in the tower.\u2019<\/p>\n

He nodded once, gravely. \u2018They do. As a matter of fact \u2026\u2019 He rose suddenly from his seat by the fire. Out of long habit reawakened, we had resumed our old postures, him sitting in a chair before the fire and me on the hearth by his feet. Only at that moment did I realize how odd that was, and wonder at how natural it had seemed. I shook my head at myself as Chade rummaged through the saddlebags on the table. He came out with a stained flask of hard leather. \u2018I brought this to show to you, and then in all our talk, I nearly forgot it. You recall my fascination with unnatural fires and smokes and the like?\u2019<\/p>\n

I rolled my eyes. His \u2018fascination\u2019 had scorched us both more than once. I refused the memory of the last time I had witnessed his fire magic: he had made the torches of Buckkeep burn blue and sputter on the night Prince Regal falsely declared himself the immediate heir to the Farseer crown. That night had also seen the murder of King Shrewd and my subsequent arrest for it.<\/p>\n

If Chade made that connection, he gave no sign of it. He returned eagerly to the fireside with his flask. \u2018Have you a twist of paper? I didn\u2019t bring any.\u2019<\/p>\n

I found him some, and watched dubiously as he took a long strip of my paper, folded it lengthwise, and then judiciously tapped a measure of powder down the groove of the fold. Carefully he folded the paper over it, folded it again, and then secured it with a spiralling twist. \u2018Now watch this!\u2019 he invited me eagerly.<\/p>\n

I watched with trepidation as he set the paper into the fire on the hearth. But whatever it was supposed to do, flash or sparkle or make a smoke, it didn\u2019t. The paper turned brown, caught fire, and burned. There was a slight stink of sulphur. That was all. I raised an eyebrow at Chade.<\/p>\n

\u2018That\u2019s not right!\u2019 he protested, flustered. Working swiftly, he prepared another twist of paper, but this time he was more generous with the powder from the small flask. He set the paper in the hottest part of the fire. I leaned back from the hearth, braced for the effect, but again we were disappointed. I rubbed my mouth to cover a grin at the chagrin on his face.<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019ll think I\u2019ve lost my touch!\u2019 he declared.<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh, never that,\u2019 I responded, but it was hard to keep the mirth from my voice. This time the paper he prepared was more like a fat tube, and powder leaked from it as he twisted it closed. I stood up and retreated from the fireplace as he set it onto the flames. But as before, it only burned.<\/p>\n

He gave a great snort of disgust. He peered down the dark neck of the small flask, then shook it. With an exclamation of disgust, he stoppered it. \u2018Damp got into it somehow. Well. That\u2019s spoiled my show.\u2019 He tossed the flask into the fire, a mark of high dudgeon for Chade. As I sat back down by the hearth, I sensed the keenness of his disappointment and felt a touch of pity for the old man. I tried to take the sting from it. \u2018It reminds me of the time I confused the smoke powder with the powdered lancet root. Do you remember that? My eyes watered for hours.\u2019<\/p>\n

He gave a short laugh. \u2018I do.\u2019 He was silent for a time, smiling to himself. I knew his mind wandered back to our old days together. Then he leaned forwards to set his hand to my shoulder. \u2018Fitz,\u2019 he demanded earnestly, his eyes locking with mine. \u2018I never deceived you, did I? I was fair. I told you what I was teaching you, from the very beginning.\u2019<\/p>\n

I saw then the lump of the scar between us. I put my hand up to cover his. His knuckles were bony, his skin gone papery thin. I looked back into the flames as I spoke to him. \u2018You were always honest with me, Chade. If anyone deceived me, it was myself. We each served our king, and did what we must in that cause. I won\u2019t come back to Buckkeep. But it\u2019s not because of anything you did, but only because of who I\u2019ve become. I bear you no ill will, for anything.\u2019<\/p>\n

I turned to look up at him. His face was very grave, and I saw in his eyes what he had not said to me. He missed me. His asking me to return to Buckkeep was as much for himself as for any other reason. I discovered then a small share of healing and peace. I was still loved, by Chade at least. It moved me and I felt my throat tighten with it. I tried to find lighter words. \u2018You never claimed that being your apprentice would give me a calm, safe life.\u2019<\/p>\n

As if to confirm those words, a sudden flash erupted from my fire. If my face had not been turned towards Chade, I suppose I might have been blinded. As it was, a blast like lightning and thunder together deafened me. Flying coals and sparks stung me, and the fire roared suddenly like an angry beast. We both sprang to our feet and scrambled back from the fireplace. An instant later, a fall of soot from my neglected chimney put out most of the hearth fire. Chade and I scurried about the room, stamping out the glowing sparks and kicking pieces of burning flask back onto the hearth before the floor could take fire. The door burst open under Nighteyes\u2019 assault on it. He flew into the room, claws scrabbling for purchase as he slid to a halt.<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019m fine, I\u2019m fine,\u2019 I assured him, and then realized I was yelling past the ringing in my ears. Nighteyes gave a disgusted snort at the smell in the room. Without even sharing a thought with me, he stalked back into the night.<\/p>\n

Chade suddenly slapped me several times on the shoulder. \u2018Putting out a coal,\u2019 he assured me loudly. It took us some time to restore order and renew the fire in its rightful place. Even so, he pulled his chair back from it, and I did not sit down on the hearth. \u2018Was that what the powder was supposed to do?\u2019 I asked belatedly when we were resettled with more Sandsedge brandy.<\/p>\n

\u2018No! El\u2019s balls, boy, do you think I\u2019d deliberately do that in your hearth? What I\u2019d been producing before was a sudden flash of white light, almost blinding. The powder shouldn\u2019t have done that. Still. I wonder why it did? What was different? Damn. I wish I could remember what I last stored in that flask \u2026\u2019 He knit his brows and stared fiercely into the flames, and I knew his new apprentice would be put to puzzling out just what had caused that blast. I did not envy him the series of experiments that would undoubtedly follow.<\/p>\n

He spent the night at my cottage, taking my bed while I made do with Hap\u2019s. But when we arose the next morning, we both knew the visit was at an end. There suddenly seemed to be nothing else to discuss, and little point to talking about anything. A sort of bleakness rose in me. Why should I ask after folk I\u2019d never see again, why should he tell me of the current crop of political intrigues when they had no touch on my life at all? For one long afternoon and evening, our lives had meshed again, but now as the grey day dawned, he watched me go about my homely tasks; drawing water and throwing feed to my poultry, cooking breakfast for us and washing up the crockery. We seemed to grow more distant with every awkward silence. Almost I began to wish he had not come.<\/p>\n

After breakfast, he said he must be on his way and I did not try to dissuade him. I promised him he should have the game scroll when it was finished. I gave him several vellums I had written on dosages for sedative teas, and some roots for starts of the few herbs in my garden that he did not already know. I gave him several vials of different coloured ink. The closest he came to trying to change my mind was when he observed that there was a better market for such things in Buckkeep. I only nodded, and said I might send Hap there sometimes. Then I saddled and bridled the fine mare and brought her around for him. He hugged me goodbye, mounted, and left. I watched as he rode down the path. Beside me, Nighteyes slipped his head under my hand.<\/p>\n

You regret this?<\/p>\n

I regret many things. But I know that if I went with him and did as he wishes, I would eventually regret that much more<\/i>. Yet I could not move from where I stood, staring after him. It wasn\u2019t too late, I tempted myself. One shout, and he\u2019d turn about and come back. I clenched my jaws.<\/p>\n

Nighteyes flipped my hand with his nose. Come on. Let\u2019s go hunting. No boy, no bows. Just you and I<\/i>.<\/p>\n

\u2018Sounds good,\u2019 I heard myself say. And we did, and we even caught a fine spring rabbit. It felt good to stretch my muscles and prove that I could still do it. I decided I was not an old man, not yet, and that I, as much as Hap, needed to get out and do some new things. Learn something new. That had always been Patience\u2019s cure for boredom. That evening as I looked about my cottage, it seemed suffocating rather than snug. What had been familiar and cosy a few nights ago now seemed threadbare and dull. I knew it was just the contrast between Chade\u2019s stories of Buckkeep and my own staid life. But restlessness, once awakened, is a powerful thing.<\/p>\n

I tried to think when I had last slept anywhere other than my own bed. Mine was a settled life. At harvest time each year, I took to the road for a month, hiring out to work the hay fields or the grain harvest or as an apple picker. The extra coins were welcome. I had used to go into Howsbay twice a year, to trade my inks and dyes for fabric for clothing and pots and things of that ilk. The last two years, I had sent the boy on his fat old pony. My life had settled into routine so deeply that I had not even noticed it.<\/p>\n

So. What do you want to do?<\/i> Nighteyes stretched and then yawned in resignation.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know<\/i>, I admitted to the old wolf. Something different. How would you feel about wandering the world for a bit?<\/i><\/p>\n

For a time, he retreated into that part of his mind that was his alone. Then he asked, somewhat testily, Would we both be afoot, or do you expect me to keep pace with a horse all day?<\/i><\/p>\n

That\u2019s a fair question. If we both went afoot?<\/p>\n

If you must<\/i>, he conceded grudgingly. You\u2019re thinking about that place, back in the Mountains, aren\u2019t you?<\/i><\/p>\n

The ancient city? Yes.<\/p>\n

He did not oppose me. Will we be taking the boy?<\/i><\/p>\n

I think we\u2019ll leave Hap here to do for himself for a bit. It might be good for him. And someone has to look after the chickens.<\/p>\n

So I suppose we won\u2019t be leaving until the boy comes back?<\/p>\n

I nodded to that. I wondered if I had taken complete leave of my senses.<\/p>\n

I wondered if we would ever come back at all.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

DOWNLOAD EPUB<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Book Preview ONEChade Fallstar Is time the wheel that turns, or the track it leaves behind?Kelstar\u2019s Riddle He came one late, wet spring, and brought the wide world back to my doorstep. I was thirty-five that year. When I was twenty, I would have considered a man of my current age to be teetering on … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4970,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[337],"class_list":["post-4971","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-robin-hobb"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4971","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4971"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4971\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4970"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4971"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4971"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4971"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}