“Riddle, I—”
“Just be quiet! Just listen.” He took another breath. “Nettle is pregnant. I will not let her be shamed. I will not let our child be shamed. Say what you will, do what you will, she is my wife and I will not let our joy be dirtied with politics and secrets.”
I was the one who sat down. Luckily, the bed was behind me when I did so. If he had driven the air out of me with a blow to my belly, the impact could not have been stronger. Words rattled in my head. Pregnant. Shamed. Wife. Dirtied. Secrets.
A baby.
I found my voice. “I’m going to—”
Riddle crossed his arms on his chest. His nostrils flared and he exclaimed defiantly, “I don’t care what you do. Understand that. Do whatever you wish, but it won’t change anything.”
“—be a grandfather.” I choked on the word. Incredulity melted his face and he stared. It gave me the moment I needed to organize my thoughts. Words tumbled from my lips. “I have money saved. You can have it all. You must leave soon, before travel is too difficult for her. And I think you must flee the Six Duchies entirely. She is the Skillmistress; she is too well known for you to . . .”
“We are not leaving!” Anger tightened his slack face. “We refuse. We were lawfully wed—”
Impossible. “The king forbade it.”
“The king can forbid whatever he likes, but if a man and a woman make their vows before the Witness Stones, with at least two witnesses—”
“Only if one is a minstrel!” I interrupted him. “And the witness must know both parties.”
“I wager the Queen of the Six Duchies knows us both,” he said quietly.
“Kettricken? I thought Kettricken was a party to forbidding the marriage.”
“Kettricken is not the Queen of the Six Duchies. Elliania is. And she comes from a place where a woman can marry whomever she wishes.”
It all fit together as tightly as the blocks that make up an arch. Almost. “But your other witness had to be a minstrel . . .” My words trickled away. I knew who their minstrel had been.
“Hap Gladheart.” Riddle confirmed it quietly. A smile almost twisted his face. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
My fostered son. He’d been delighted to call Nettle sister. I found I had clamped both hands over my mouth. I tried to think. So. Married. In public and yet in secret. Yes, Elliania would do it, and possibly not realize that in flaunting her husband’s authority she was doing far more than simply asserting her belief that a woman should have complete control over who she wed. Or didn’t wed, and merely slept with.
I let my hands fall away from my mouth. Riddle still stood as if he expected me to leap to my feet and pummel him. I tried to recall if I’d even felt that impulse. I hadn’t. No anger: That was drowned in dread.
“The king will never accept this. Nor Kettricken, nor Chade. Oh, Riddle. What were the two of you thinking?” Joy warred with tragedy in my voice. A child, a child that I knew Nettle wanted. A child that would change their lives completely. My grandchild. And Molly’s.
“Babies happen. For years, we have been cautious. And lucky, I suppose. And then we were neither. And when Nettle realized she was pregnant, she told me she intended to be happy about it. No matter what she must do.” His voice changed and suddenly my friend spoke to me. “Fitz. We are neither of us youngsters. This may be our only chance for a child.”
No matter what she must do. I could almost hear Nettle’s voice saying those words. I took a deep breath and tried to reorder my thoughts. So. This was something done. They were wed, they were going to have a baby. Useless to advise them against having the baby, useless to remonstrate with them over defying the king. Begin now, where they are.
In danger. Foolishly defiant.
“What does she plan to do? Go to the king, tell him she is both married and pregnant?”
Riddle’s dark eyes met mine and I saw something like pity there. “She shared her news with Queen Elliania only. Only we four know that Nettle is with child. And only five people know that we are truly wed. Not even to her brothers has she confided the news. But she told Elliania. The queen is ecstatic. And full of plans for the child. She did some sort of needle-dangling magic over Nettle’s palm, and she is certain our child will be a girl. Finally, a daughter born to the Farseer motherhouse. And hence a future Narcheska.”
“I’m confused,” I said after a silence.
“As well you should be. As I was when they first told me. First, you must understand how close Nettle and Queen Elliania have become over the years. They are nearly of an age. Both felt like outsiders when first they came to Buckkeep Castle court: Elliania an Outislander, and Nettle a simple country girl made a lady. When Elliania realized that Nettle was her husband’s cousin, she claimed her as kin.”
“Her husband’s second cousin?”
Riddle shook his head. “A member of her new motherhouse.” At my puzzled expression, he added, “You have to think of it from Elliania’s perspective. In the Outislander culture, the mother’s lineage is what matters. It was terribly hard for Elliania to come here to be the Farseer queen. If she had stayed in her own land, she would have become the Narcheska of her motherhouse. Equivalent to a queen. She bartered that away to save her mother and her little sister Kossi, and to finally ensure peace between the Six Duchies and the Out Islands. That she and Dutiful came to love each other was simply the kindness of fate.
“You know how Elliania has grieved that she has borne only two sons. Her grief at her failure to provide a daughter to send back to the Out Islands and reign after her mother as Narcheska consumes her.”
“What of Kossi? Surely her younger sister would be next in line for that title?”
Riddle shook his head. “No. We saved Kossi’s life, but her health never recovered. She was nearly two years in the Pale Woman’s captivity. Two years of starvation, cold, and mistreatment. She is a brittle woman, frail as dried twigs. And she has shown a marked dislike for the company of men. She will bear no children.”
“I recall she had a girl cousin . . .”
“Disliked by both Elliania and her mother. One of the reasons for her desperate desire to present a girl to her motherhouse.”
“But Nettle’s child is no kin to Elliania at all!”
“She is if Elliania says she is. There is a saying there. ‘Every mother knows her own child.’ Thus, when Elliania draws up genealogies, you are Patience’s son.”
I was hopelessly befuddled. “What does that have to do with it?”
He smiled. “You Farseers are an inbred lot. And yet pitiable by Outislander standards. Generations without a female child. It left Elliania wondering if there were any true descendants of the original Farseer motherhouse. In her desperate quest for a female of true lineage, she had the most doddering of the minstrels singing themselves hoarse with genealogies. Do you know who Queen Adamant is?”
“No.”
“The first Farseer to stake a claim on the cliffs of Buck was Taker. He himself was an Outislander, and is seen as something of a rogue there, for he forsook his own motherhouse to establish a new one here. He took a wife from among the people he conquered. Her name was Adamant. We now call her Queen Adamant. The first of the Farseer motherhouse.”
“Very well.” I didn’t see where any of this was going.
“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.