Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (33 page)

I struggled briefly, got my voice under control.
My prince, why do we simply keep track of them? Why do not we ...
take care of this problem?

Verity made a small noise in his throat and
turned back to his window. Sometimes one has to wait, and let the
enemy complete a move, in order to discover what the full strategy
is. Do you understand me?

The Forged ones have a strategy? I think not, my
prince. They were-

Report to me in full, Verity directed me without
looking at me. I hesitated briefly, then launched into a complete
retelling. Toward the end of the struggle, my account became a bit
incoherent. I let the words die on my lips. But I did manage to
break his grip on me. And all three of them died there.

He did not take his eyes from the sea. You
should avoid physical struggles, FitzChivalry. You always seem to
get hurt in them.

I know, my prince, I admitted humbly. Hod did
her best with me-

But you were not really trained to be a fighter.
You have other talents. And those are the ones you should be
putting to use to preserve yourself. Oh, you're a competent
swordsman; but you've not the brawn and weight to be a brawler. At
least, not yet. And that is what you always seem to revert to in a
fight.

I was not offered the selection of weapons, I
said, a bit testily, and then added, my prince.

No. You won't be. He seemed to speak from afar.
A slight tension in the air told me that he Skilled out even as we
spoke. Yet I'm afraid I must send you out again. I think you are
perhaps right. I have watched what is happening long enough. The
Forged ones are converging on Buckkeep. I cannot fathom why, and
yet perhaps knowing that is not as important as preventing them
from attaining their goal. You will again undertake the removal of
this problem, Fitz. Perhaps this time I can keep my own lady from
becoming involved in it. I understand that if she wishes to go
riding, she now has a guard of her own?

As you have been told, sir, I told him, cursing
myself for not coming to speak to him sooner of the Queen's
guard.

He turned to regard me levelly. The rumor I
heard was that you had authorized the creation of such a guard. Not
to steal your glory, but when such rumor reached me, I let it be
supposed that I had requested it of you. As, I suppose, I did. Very
indirectly.

My prince, I said, and had the good sense to
keep quiet.

Well. If she must ride, at least she is guarded
now. Though I would greatly prefer she had no more encounters with
Forged ones. Would I could think of something to busy her, he added
wearily.

The Queen's Garden, I suggested, recalling
Patience's account of it.

Verity cocked his eye at me.

The old ones, atop the tower, I explained. They
have been unused for years. I saw what was left of them, before
Galen ordered us to dismantle them to clear space for our Skill
lessons. It must have been a charming place at one time. Tubs of
earth and greenery, statuary, climbing vines.

Verity smiled to himself. And basins of water,
too, with pond lilies in them, and fish, and even tiny frogs. The
birds came there often in summer, to drink and to splash. Chivalry
and I used to play up there. She had little charms hung on strings,
made of glass and bright metal. And when the wind stirred them,
they would chime together, or flash like jewels in the sun. I could
feel myself warming with his memory of that place and time. My
mother kept a little hunting cat, and it would lounge on the warm
stone when the sun struck it. Hisspit; that was her name. Spotted
coat and tufted ears. And we would tease her with string and tufts
of feathers, and she would stalk us among the pots of flowers.
While we were supposed to be studying tablets on herbs. I never
properly learned them. There was too much else to do there. Except
for thyme. I knew every kind of thyme she had. My mother grew a lot
of thyme. And catmint. He was smiling.

Kettricken would love such a place, I told him.
She gardened much in the Mountains.

Did she? He looked surprised. I would have
thought her occupied with more ... physical pastimes.

I felt an instant of annoyance with him. No, of
something more than annoyance. How could it be that I knew more of
his wife than he did? She kept gardens, I said quietly. Of many
herbs, and knew all the uses of those that grew therein. I have
told you of them myself.

Yes, I suppose you have. He sighed. You are
right, Fitz. Visit her for me, and tell her of the Queen's Garden.
It is winter now, and there is probably little she can do with it.
But come spring, it would be a wondrous thing to see it restored
....

Perhaps, you yourself, my prince, I ventured,
but he shook his head.

I haven't the time. But I trust it to you. And
now, downstairs. To the maps. I have things I wish to discuss with
you.

I turned immediately toward the door. Verity
followed more slowly. I held the door for him and on the threshold
he paused and looked back over his shoulder at the open window. It
calls me, he admitted to me, calmly, simply, as if observing that
he enjoyed plums. It calls to me, at any moment when I am not
busied. And so I must be busy, Fitz. And too busy.

I see, I said slowly, not at all sure that I
did.

No. You don't. Verity spoke with great
certainty. It is like a great loneliness, boy. I can reach out and
touch others. Some, quite easily. But no one ever reaches back.
When Chivalry was alive ... I still miss him, boy. Sometimes I am
so lonely for him; it is like being the only one of something in
the world. Like the very last wolf, hunting alone.

A shiver went down my spine. What of King
Shrewd? I ventured to ask.

He shook his head. He Skills seldom now. His
strength for it has dwindled, and it taxes his body as well as his
mind. We went down a few more steps. You and I are the only ones
now to know that, he added softly. I nodded.

We went down the stairs slowly. Has the healer
looked at your arm? he queried.

I shook my head.

Nor Burrich.

He was stating this as fact, already knowing it
was true.

I shook my head again. The marks of Nighteyes'
teeth were too plain upon my skin, although he had given those
bites in play. I could not show Burrich the marks of the Forged
ones without betraying my wolf to him.

Verity sighed. Well. Keep it clean. I suppose
you know as well as any how to keep an injury clean. Next time you
go out, remember this, and go prepared. Always. There may not
always be one to step in and aid you.

I came to a slow stop on the stairs. Verity
continued down. I took a deep breath. Verity, I asked quietly. How
much do you know? About ... this.

Less than you do, he said jovially. But more
than you think I do.

You sound like the Fool, I said
bitterly.

Yes. Sometimes. He is another one who has a
great understanding of aloneness, and what it can drive a man to
do. He took a breath, and almost I thought he might say that he
knew what I was, and did not condemn me for it. Instead, he
continued, I believe the Fool had words with you, a few days
ago.

I followed him silently now, wondering how he
knew so much about so many things. The Skilling, of course. We came
to his study and I followed him in. Charim, as ever, was already
waiting for us. Food was set out, and mulled wine. Verity set upon
it with a great appetite. I sat across from him, mostly watching
him eat. I was not very hungry, but it built my appetite to watch
how much he enjoyed this simple, robust meal. In this he was still
a soldier, I thought. He would take this small pleasure, this good,
well-served food when he was hungry, and relish it while he could.
It gave me much satisfaction to see him with this much life and
appetite to him. I wondered how he would be next summer, when he
would have to Skill for hours every day, keeping watch for Raiders
off our coast, and using the tricks of his mind to set them astray
while giving our own folk early warning. I thought of Verity as he
had been last summer by harvest time, worn to thinness, face lined,
without the energy to eat save that he drank the stimulants that
Chade put in his tea. His life had become the hours he spent
Skilling. Come summer, his hunger for the Skilling would replace
every other hunger in his life. How would Kettricken react to that?
I wondered.

After we had eaten, Verity went over his maps
with me. There was no longer any mistaking the pattern that
emerged.

Regardless of what obstacles, forest or river or
frozen plains, the Forged ones were moving toward Buckkeep. It made
no sense to me. The ones I had encountered seemed all but bereft of
their senses. I found it difficult to believe that any one of them
would conceive of traveling overland, despite hardships, simply to
come to Buckkeep. And these records you've kept indicate that all
of them have. All of the Forged ones that you've identified seem to
be moving toward Buckkeep.

Yet you have difficulty seeing it as a
coordinated plan? Verity asked quietly.

I fail to see how they could have any plan at
all. How have they contacted each other? And it doesn't seem a
concerted effort. They aren't meeting up and traveling here in
bands. It simply seems that each and every one sets out this way,
and some of them fall in together.

Like moths drawn to a candle flame, Verity
observed.

Or flies to carrion, I added sourly.

The ones to fascination, the others to feed,
Verity mused. I wish I knew which it is that draws the Forged ones
to me. Perhaps another thing entirely.

Why do you think you must know why they come?
Do, you think you are their target?

I do not know. But if I find out, I may
understand my enemy. I do not think it chance that all the Forged
ones make their way to Buckkeep. I think they move against me,
Fitz. Perhaps not of their own will, but it is still a move against
me. I need to understand why.

To understand them, you must become
them.

Oh. He looked less than amused. Now who sounds
like the Fool?

The question made me uneasy and I let it slip by
me. My prince, when the Fool mocked me the other day ... I
hesitated, still stung by the memory. I had always believed the
Fool to be my friend. I tried to push the emotion aside. He put
ideas in my mind. In his teasing way. He said, if I understand his
riddles aright, that I should be seeking for others who are
Skilled. Men and women from your father's generation, trained by
Solicity before Galen became Skill Master. And he seemed also to
say that I should be finding out more about the Elderlings. How are
they summoned, what can they do? What are they?

Verity leaned back in his chair and steepled his
fingers over his chest. Either of those quests might be enough for
a dozen men. And yet, neither is even sufficient for one, for the
answers to either question are so scarce. To the first, yes, there
should yet be Skilled ones amongst us, folk older than my father
even, trained for the old wars against the Outislanders. It would
not have been common folk knowledge as to who was trained. Training
was done privately, and even those in a coterie might know of few
outside their own circle. Still, there should have been records. I
am sure there were, at one time. But what has become of them, no
one can say. I imagine that they were passed from Solicity down to
Galen. But they were not found in his room or among his things
after he ... died.

It was Verity's turn to pause. We both knew how
Galen had died, in a sense had both been there, though we had never
spoken much of it. Galen had died a traitor, in the act of trying
to Skill-tap Verity's strength and drain it off and kill him.
Instead, Verity had borrowed my strength to aid him in draining
Galen. It was not a thing either of us enjoyed recalling. But I
spoke boldly, trying to keep all emotion from my voice.

Do you think Regal would know where such records
are?

If he does, he has said nothing of it. Verity's
voice was as flat as my own, putting an end to that topic. But I
have had some small success in uncovering a few Skilled ones. The
names, at least. In every case, those I have managed to discover
have either already died or cannot be located now.

Um. I recalled hearing something of this from
Chade some time ago. How did you discover their names?

Some my father could recall. The members of the
last coterie, who served King Bounty. Others I knew vaguely, when I
was very small. A few others I discovered by talking to some of the
very old folk in the Keep, asking them to recall what rumors they
could of who might have been trained in the Skill. Though of course
I did not ask in so many words. I did not, and still do not, wish
my quest to be known.

May I ask why?

He frowned and nodded toward his maps. I am not
as brilliant as your father was, my boy. Chivalry could make leaps
of intuition that seemed nothing short of magical. What I discover
are patterns. Does it seem likely to you that every Skilled one I
can discover should be either dead, or unfindable? It seems to me
that if I find one, and his name is known as a Skilled one, it
might not be healthy for him.