Dance of the Courts
Chapter Two
Three times hence, three times then
Round and round they chased the hen
Feathers dropping, squeals and squawks
The neighbors had began to talk
Witted one, running round
Grinding faces to the ground
Burning, writhing, yellow flash
And Witted one is burned to ash
- Witted Woman and her Hen, by Minstrel Lungfish
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"Can you smell it when he Skills?" Prince Heedful was suddenly far away from me, standing at the window. He stared out, his dark eyes fixed on the distant sea that glittered in the early morning sun. We had been at the tower for longer than I had realized, and once our Skill lesson was done, Prince Gracious had hurried off to a riding session with several lesser nobles wishing to court his favor. The other two in our class had also left, leaving me alone with my hateful half-brother.
I did not know how to reply. "Smell what, my prince?"
"Don't call me that," He retorted sharply, his eyes narrowing. Never once did he turn to face me.
"Then what would you have me call you?" I asked boldly, my eyes flashing. I was never able to keep my tongue in check around Heedful.
Silence greeted my question. I sensed more than saw him inhale sharply. "The scent of his Skill, boy. It is rotten, it...stinks. Yet I'm not sure of what. It reeks, of something dirty and decomposing...but what is it? What does it mean?"
Having a youth only six years my senior address me as 'boy' cut deeply. I had to leave - it was nearly time for my weapons training, and Tope refused to excuse lateness for anyone but the Queen. I drifted towards the door. To exit from the Tower, one had to descend an impossible number of stairs. My legs ached as I thought of running to training immediately after that painful descent.
"My prince, I must leave," I said urgently, needing to be dismissed. Once Heedful engaged me in conversation, I was bound by manners to remain until he released me.
"For now, go. But you know as well as I do that you can never leave," Prince Heedful said softly, his shoulders slumping downwards. I took that as an odd dismissal and hurried down the stairs, trying not to think about his words. The phrase bit and stung at my mind like small bugs at the ankles. I couldn't let it go, no matter how much my body wanted me to. Every step jarred my feet, leaving me at the bottom of the staircase, feeling disoriented and angry. I hurried to the training grounds, praying to Eda that I wouldn't be late.
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The Wit is a magic feared by many folk. It allows a human to bond to an animal partner; mind and soul. Those who grow up Witted refer to themselves as Old Blood, insisting that to be Witted was once the natural state of the human species. Now, however, the Witted are mistrusted and persecuted. It is said the only way to kill a Witted one completely without enabling them to change into an animal is to hang them, draw and quarter their body into four pieces, and then suspend each piece separately over a tub of water until it decays.
Prince Heedful had always been superstitious. He feared what he did not understand - which was not always a quality desirable in a prince, but at least he was cautious, unlike his father. Our father, really, though I had been taught to never verbally declare it so.
I raced through the hallways, nearly upending a chamber maid who screamed and waved a fist after me. I hastily tugged at my sleeves to make them seem longer and darted onto the training grounds, where a group of three youth were waiting. Blink, my fourteen year old sparring partner, winked at me. He had lost his other eye from a disease that had killed half of Tilth. He quickly tossed me my heavy, blunted practice sword. I caught it with both hands, trying to quietly slip behind Mush, a tall, dark curly-haired boy.
"You're late," Tope scowled, his deep-set eyes disapproving.
"I'm sorry, sir. Prince Heedful wanted a word with me," I bowed my head, hoping to sound particularly contrite. Tope rapped me once, hard, on the top of my head with his knuckles.
"Our prince wouldn't speak to you," My Weapons Master sneered. My half-brother's dislike of me was public knowledge. Tope knew perfectly well that Heedful wasn't below belittling me in the hallway. I blushed, looking down uncomfortably.
In a surprisingly kind gesture, Tope dismissed us to work on our form. Mush always paired off with Racetrack, a stable boy whom Lord Jade had taken a liking to, and so had promoted to the status of page. Racetrack was the oldest page in Buckkeep Castle, but he worked harder than all the others combined.
Blink and I began with a series of lunges and blocks. I was already tired and it was telling - my reaction time began to slow almost immediately. Finally I begged for a moment and we withdrew, panting heavily.
"Try coming here on time," Blink teased, grinning as he watched me pant. I tried to glare but the effect was more a pathetic side-glance than an expression of malice. He laughed, the loud sound attracting Tope's attention.
"Enough, enough. You two, come back tomorrow an hour early." I opened my mouth to protest that it would interfere with my Skill lessons, but Tope raised a finger. "I will speak to your Skillmaster, boy, to see that he agrees. Dismissed." He shouted the last word to attract the attention of the other two sparring boys.
Blink gave a loud whoop as soon as we were a safe distance from Tope. I snickered and he thumped me on the back. I still didn't have enough breath to form words, so I just made a face at him and continued to walk to the kitchens.
As I listened to Blink chatter, I smelled something. It wasn't rank, like Prince Heedful had suggested. Instead, it smelled...soft, like the coat of newborn puppy.
Cook shooed us out of the kitchens after allowing us each a sweetcake, and I realized that I hadn't smelled the puppy-softness with my nose. Instead, the scent had been in my mind.
Heedful is too rash, Someone in my mind laughed. I recognized the voice - it was Prince Gracious.
If you say so, my prince, I replied formally. He loved to catch me unawares with the Skill. I realized that Blink had asked me something and was looking at me expectantly.
Always so formal, Gracious said, almost sadly. These are the only moments when I don't have to worry about looking and sounding correct.
I softened mentally, and made a noncommital sound to both of them.
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I was always straddling the edge of court life as a bastard. What others could experience freely was not something allowed to me, and in turn I enjoyed luxuries that most people did not.
And yet, always in the back of my mind, I was bitter.
My Queen saw me as a tool, something to be used. The only person I felt I could truly trust was Blink, but even he did not know that I was an assassin.
I caught my bastard brother staring at me that night. I was seated at my usual table, one rather beneath my station, with the stable boys and apprentices. My bastard brother, Dutchy, had bright blonde hair and the dark eyes of a Farseer. He wore spectacles, an odd sight at Court. He was my Queen's creature, a plaything of hers. Always he strove to be worthy of her, and fell short.
Dutchy was my Queen's fool. I believe only the two of us know how deeply that insult burned. Yes, he was a little odd looking, if only because his hair was so white and his skin lacked the dark coloring of the Farseer line. He dressed in motley, standing behind the Queen as she ate.
At night, I felt the pluckings of the Skill at my mind. Always, I set my mental walls tight, sealing them as best I could. My Skillmaster said I had remarkably strong mental barriers.
Yet the plucking continued.
Come, it called. Come to me.
I did not know who spoke to me, calling so sweetly. The voice was gentle and soothing, but I did my best to ignore it. It sounded as though the one speaking meant me no harm, but I knew better.
At night, I was always afraid.
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Author's Note: I changed the tense, if anyone noticed. I think it works better this way. And now, for the *gasp* shout outs! To the truly awesome people who read my stories and review for me:
Keza: Look, I updated! And thanks for the sweet comments! You should definitely read Robin Hobbs' books, they're so good. The only things I'm borrowing from the books are the magics and the lands. I hope to update soon! *glomps*
Gothic Author: Aww, thank you! I really hope you keep reading. And I hope you liked this tense - it makes the story somewhat less lyrical, but ah well, such is the way things are. *hugs*
Rumor: You caught the dark and mysterious vibe! Yes! *high five* I hope certain parts of this chapter were mysterious enough. *grins*
Pesky: So God? Why, thank you. Yes, I am God. *giggles* Seriously, I love you. You're the coolest.
...end shout outs! Please read and review!
