The Willful Princess and the Piebald Prince by Hobb Robin Page B

sometimes would add, twisting his own words jestingly, that soon enough it would be his own time to take. Yet Canny Farseer smiled all the while he said such things, and no one ever took it as the man reaching for a throne not rightfully his. For it was perceived that no one else had a better claim.
    At the same time those who favored the Piebald Prince began to grow in both power and prestige. For often enough the prince applied to his grandfather, King Virile, asking for this friend a grant of land, and for that friend a better share of the taxes. The members of the Motley Court began to visit Buckkeep Castle more frequently, and to stay and hunt and ride with the king alongside their prince, and have his ear at meat and to grow in influence with him. Nor did Charger limit his friends to those of the lesser nobility. He knew all the folk of the keep by name, and their children’s names. A few of the better born began to perceive the goodness in him, and more than once I heard it said that despite the marring of his face the features of a Farseer spoke loud in his looks.
    My own Redbird became the prince’s minstrel, and not only sang to remind him and his friends of brave deeds from the past, but also began to create his own journeyman songs about the prince and his doings—mostly his hunts, but sometimes of a kind deed done for the sake of kindness.
    I was often Redbird’s first audience for those songs. And as I have a fair hand with the pen, I was happy to put on paper what he sang, for I wished it to ever be remembered that such clever words were the work of Redbird the Motley Minstrel and no other. For so he came to be called, and dressed accordingly in red and black and white. Over and over my son stressed to me that Charger wished him to be absolutely truthful in what he sang, with no bragging. And so he was. And I have taken that lesson from my own son, and so what I record here is truth and only truth, even when it does not paint me fair. For so I promised Redbird this account would be.
    In those days, none remarked unduly that all of those of the Motley Court shared one thing with their Piebald Prince, and that was that the beast-magic was in their families and blood. Sometimes they gathered with the Farseer court at Buckkeep for the amusements the castle offered: festivals and hunts and evenings of dance and music. But just as often they hunted separately from the true court and held their own gatherings and made their own merriment. And if dogs and hunting cats, hawks and ferrets and even goats attended their gatherings, no one made much of it.
    Some will say that at these private parties they held dark ceremonies and made magic with the blood and hides of beasts, and took on the shapes of animals. Some will say that in such forms, they coupled with animals and worked other foul magic. Some will say that even in those early days the Motley Court pledged to carry the Piebald Prince to power, and them with him.
    Some will sing now of how Lord Canny Farseer’s horse was gored by a mad bull that nearly killed the young man as well. Some will speak of ravens that perched in trees near his chambers and followed him, whether he hunted over the fields or walked in the gardens with a woman. Some will say that even in those years the Piebald Prince sent his companions in beast form against Lord Canny, to harvest his secrets and harm his person if they could. But of these charges no true minstrel sings, for they are as false as a cruel lie can be. So my own Redbird has attested to me, and so I know.
    Thus matters stood in the year the Piebald Prince turned seventeen.
    In that year, on a high summer day, King Virile Farseer summoned his dukes and duchesses to attend him at a great feast. He fed them well and the wine flowed more freely than the rains of winter. Then, when all were sated and mellow of mind, King Virile made a sign. A page entered, bearing with him the crown of the King-in-Waiting, the crown worn by one