Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (16 page)

If you wish them, Kettricken replied
disinterestedly. I do not hunger or thirst. Indeed, I fear I will
grow fat as a penned goose, sitting at needlework and nibbling and
sipping all day. I long to do something of significance. Tell me
true, Fitz. If you did not feel required to call upon me, would you
be sitting idly in your chambers? Or doing fancywork at a
loom?

No. But then, I am not the
Queen-in-Waiting.

Waiting. Ah, I understand well now that part of
my title. A bitterness I had never heard from her before crept into
her voice. But Queen? In my land, as well you know, we do not say
Queen. Were I there now, and ruling instead of my father, I would
be called Sacrifice. More, I would be Sacrifice. To whatever was to
the good of my land and my people.

Were you there now, in the deep of winter, what
would you be doing? I asked, thinking only to find a more
comfortable area of conversation. It was a mistake.

She grew silent and stared out the window. In
the Mountains, she said softly, there was never time to be idle. I
was the younger of course, and most of the duties of Sacrifice fell
upon my father and my older brother. But, as Jonqui says, there is
always enough work to go 'round and some to spare. Here, in
Buckkeep, all is done by servants, out of sight, and one sees only
the results, the tidied chamber, the meal on the table. Perhaps it
is because this is such a populous place.

She paused a moment and her eyes went afar. In
Jhaampe, in winter, the hall and the town itself grow quiet. Snows
fall thick and heavy, and great cold closes in on the land. The
lesser-used trails disappear for the winter. Wheels are replaced by
runners. Visitors to the city have long gone home by now. In the
palace at Jhaampe, there is only the family, and those who choose
to stay and help them. Not serve them, no, not exactly. You have
been to Jhaampe. You know there are no ones who only serve, save
for the royal family. In Jhaampe, I would rise early, to fetch the
water for the household porridge, and to take my turn at the
stirring of the kettle. Keera and Sennick and Jofron and I would
make the kitchen lively with talk. And all the young ones dashing
about, bringing in the firewood and setting out the plates and
talking of a thousand things. Her voice faltered, and I listened to
the silence of her loneliness.

After a bit she went on: If there was work to be
done, heavy or light, we all joined in it. I have helped to bend
and lash the branches for a barn. Even in the deep of winter, I
have helped to clear snow and raise new roof arches for a family
devastated by a fire. Do you think a Sacrifice cannot hunt down a
cranky old bear that has turned to killing goats, or strain against
a rope to help brace a bridge battered by floodwaters? She looked
at me with real pain in her eyes.

Here, in Buckkeep, we do not risk our queens, I
told her simply. Another shoulder can brace a rope, we have dozens
of hunters who would vie for the honor of dispatching a cattle
killer. We have but one Queen. There are things a Queen can do that
no other can.

Behind us in the room, her ladies had all but
forgotten her. One had summoned a page, and he had returned with
sweet cakes and steaming tea in a pot. They chatted together,
warming their hands about their teacups. Briefly I looked at them,
to remember well what ladies had chosen to attend their queen.
Kettricken, I was coming to see, might not be the easiest of Queens
to attend upon. Kettricken's little maid, Rosemary, sat on the
floor by the tea-table, dreamy-eyed, a sweet cake clasped in her
small hands. I suddenly wished I were eight years old again and
could join her there.

I know what you speak of, Kettricken said
bluntly. I am here to bear an heir to Verity. It is a duty I do not
avoid, for I do not consider it a duty, but a pleasure. I only wish
I were sure my lord shared my sentiments. Always he is away and
about the town on business. I know where he is today; down there,
watching his ships arise from planks and timbers. Could I not be
with him with no danger to myself? Surely, if only I can bear his
heir, only he can sire it. Why must I be confined here while he
immerses himself in the task of protecting our people? That is a
task I should be sharing as Sacrifice for the Six
Duchies.

Accustomed as I had become to Mountain
forthrightness in my time there, I was still shocked at how bluntly
she spoke. It made me overbold in my reply. I found myself rising
to lean past her and pull the shutters tight over the drafty
window. I took advantage of the closeness to whisper fiercely, If
you think that is the only duty that our queens bear, you are
gravely mistaken, my lady. To speak as plainly as you have, you
neglect your duties to your ladies, who are here this day only to
attend upon you and converse with you. Think. Could they not be
doing this same needlework in the coziness of their own chambers,
or in the company of Mistress Hasty? You sigh after what you
perceive as a more important task; but before you is a task the
King himself cannot do. You are here to do it. Rebuild the court at
Buckkeep. Make it a desirable and attractive place to be. Encourage
his lord and ladies to vie for his attention; make them eager to
support him in his endeavors. It has been long since there was a
congenial Queen in this castle. Instead of looking down at a ship
that other hands are more capable of building, take up the task you
are given, and suit yourself to it.

I finished redraping the tapestry that covered
the shutters and helped to seal out the cold of the sea storms. I
then stepped back and met my queen's eyes. To my chagrin, she was
as chastened as if she were a milkmaid. Tears stood in her pale
eyes, and her cheeks were as red as if I had slapped her. I glanced
at her ladies, who were still taking tea and chatting. Rosemary,
unwatched, was taking the opportunity to poke at the tarts
carefully to see what was inside them. No one appeared to have
noticed anything amiss. But I was learning rapidly how adept court
ladies were at such dissimulation, and feared speculation as to
what the Bastard might have said to the Queen-in-Waiting to bring
tears to her eyes.

I cursed my clumsiness, and reminded myself that
however tall Kettricken might be, she was not much older than
myself, and in a foreign place alone. I should not have spoken to
her, but should instead have presented the problem to Chade, and
let him manipulate someone into explaining it to her. Then it
dawned on me that he had already selected someone to explain such
things to her. I met her eyes again and ventured a nervous smile.
Quickly she followed my glance to the ladies, and as swiftly
returned decorum to her face. My heart surged with pride in
her.

What do you suggest? she asked
quietly.

I suggest, I said humbly, that I am ashamed at
how boldly I have spoken to my queen. I ask her forgiveness. But I
suggest, also, that she show these two loyal ladies some especial
mark of royal favor, to reward them for their
faithfulness.

She nodded her comprehension. And that favor
might be? she asked softly.

A private gathering with their queen in her
personal chambers, perhaps for a special minstrel or puppeteer. It
matters not what entertainment you provide; only that those who
have not chosen to attend you as faithfully be excluded.

That sounds like something Regal would
do.

Probably. He is very adept at creating lackeys
and hangers-on. But he would do it spitefully, to punish those who
had not danced attendance upon him.

And I?

And you, my Queen-in-Waiting, you do it as a
reward to those who have. With no thought of punishing those who
have not, but only of enjoying the company of those who obviously
reciprocate that feeling.

I see. And the minstrel?

Mellow. He has a most gallant way of singing to
every lady in the room.

Will you see if he is free this
evening?

My lady. I had to smile. You are the
Queen-in-Waiting. You honor him to request his presence. He will
never be too busy to attend upon you.

She sighed again, but it was a smaller sigh. She
nodded her dismissal of me and rose to advance smiling upon her
ladies, begging them to excuse her wandering thoughts this morning,
and then asking if they might also attend her this evening in her
own chambers. I watched them exchange glances and smile, and knew
we had done well. I noted their names to myself Lady Hopeful and
Lady Modesty. I bowed my way out of the room, my departure scarcely
noticed.

So I came to be adviser to Kettricken. It was
not a role I relished, to be companion and instructor, to be the
whisperer that told her what steps she next must dance. In truth,
it was an uncomfortable task. I felt I diminished her by my
chiding, and that I corrupted her, teaching her the spidery ways of
power in the web of the court. She was right. These were Regal's
tricks. If she worked them with higher ideals and kinder ways than
Regal did, my intentions were selfish enough for both of us. I
wanted her to gather power into her hands, and with it bind the
throne firmly to Verity in the minds of one and all.

Early each evening, I was expected to call on
Lady Patience. She and Lacey both took these visits quite
seriously. Patience considered me completely at her disposal, as if
I were her page still, and thought nothing of requiring me to copy
some ancient scroll for her onto her precious reed paper, or to
demand that I show her my improvement in playing the sea pipes. She
always took me to task for not showing enough effort in that area,
and would spend the better part of an hour confusing me whilst
attempting to instruct me in it. I tried to be tractable and
polite, but felt entrapped in their conspiracy to keep me from
seeing Molly. I knew the wisdom of Patience's course, but wisdom
does not allay loneliness. Despite their efforts to keep me from
her, I saw Molly everywhere. Oh, not her person, no, but in the
scent of the fat bayberry candle burning so sweetly, in the cloak
left draped over a chair, even the honey in the honey cakes tasted
of Molly to me. Will you think me a fool that I sat close by the
candle and smelled its scent, or took the chair that I might lean
against her snow damped cloak as I sat? Sometimes I felt as
Kettricken did, that I was drowning in what was required of me, and
that there was nothing left in my life that was for me
alone.

I reported weekly to Chade upon Kettricken's
progress in court intrigue. Chade it was who warned me that
suddenly the ladies most enamored of Regal were courting favor with
Kettricken as well. And so I must warn her, whom to treat
courteously, but no more than that, and whom to genuinely smile
upon. Sometimes I thought to myself that I would rather be quietly
killing for my king than to be so embroiled in all these secretive
schemes. But then King Shrewd summoned me.

The message came very early one morning, and I
made haste to dress myself to attend my king. This was the first
time he had summoned me to his presence since I had returned to
Buckkeep. It had made me uneasy to be ignored. Was he displeased
with me, over what had happened at Jhaampe? Surely he would have
told me so directly. Still. Uncertainty gnawed me. I tried to make
great haste to wait upon him, and yet to take special care with my
appearance. I ended up doing poorly at both. My hair, shorn for
fever when I was in the Mountains, had grown back as bushy and
unmanageable as Verity's. Worse, my beard was beginning to bristle
as well. Twice Burrich had told me that I had better decide to wear
a beard, or to attend more closely to my shaving. As my beard came
in as patchy as a pony's winter coat, I diligently cut my face
several times that morning, before deciding that a bit of bristle
would be less noticeable than all the blood. I curried my hair back
from my face and wished I could bind it back in a warrior's tail. I
set into my shirt the pin that Shrewd had so long ago given me to
mark me as his. Then I hurried to attend my king.

As I strode hastily down the hall to the King's
door, Regal stepped abruptly from his own doorway. I halted not to
run into him, and then felt trapped there, staring at him. I had
seen him, several times since I had returned. But it had always
been across a hall, or a passing glimpse of him while I was engaged
in some task. Now we stood, scarce an arm's length apart, and
stared at one another. Almost, we could have been mistaken for
brothers, I realized with shock. His hair was curlier, his features
finer, his bearing more aristocratic. His garments were peacock's
feathers compared with my wren colors, I lacked silver at my throat
and on my hands. Still the stamp of the Farseers was plain on us
both. We shared Shrewd's jaw and the fold of his eyelids and the
curve of his lower lip. Neither of us would ever compare with
Verity's widely muscled build, but I would come closer than he
would. Less than a decade of years separated our ages. Only his
skin separated me from his blood. I met his eyes and wished I could
spill his guts upon the clean swept floor.

He smiled, a brief showing of white teeth.
Bastard, he greeted me pleasantly. His smile grew sharper. Or, that
is, Master Fits. A fitting name you've taken to yourself. His
careful pronunciation left no room for doubting his
insult.

Prince Regal, I replied, and let my tone make
the words mean the same as his. I waited with an icy patience I had
not known I owned. He had to strike me first.