Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (35 page)

I sat quietly. There were others about me,
guards and soldiers, eating and drinking and talking. The pleasant
sounds of talk, of spoon against the pot's side, the thud as
someone cut a wedge of cheese from a wheel was like a music. The
room smelled of food and folk, of the wood fire and spilled ale and
the rich stew bubbling. I should have felt content, not restless.
Nor melancholy. Not alone.

Brother?

Coming. Meet me at the old pig shed.

Nighteyes had been hunting afar. I was there
first, and I stood in the darkness and waited for him. There was a
pot of unguent in my pouch, and I bore a sack of bones as well. The
snow whirled around me, an endless dance of winter sparks. My eyes
probed the darkness. I sensed him, felt him near, but he still
managed to spring out and startle me. He was merciful, giving me no
more than a nip and a shake on my uninjured wrist. We went inside
the hut. I kindled the stump of a candle and looked at his
shoulder. I had been weary last night, and in pain, so I was
pleased to see I had done a good job. I had sheared the dense hair
and undercoat close to his hide around the cut and wiped the injury
with clean snow. The scab on it was thick and dark. I could tell it
had bled a bit more today. But not much. I smeared my unguent over
it in a thick greasy layer. Nighteyes winced slightly, but suffered
my ministrations. Afterward, he turned his head and gave a
questioning sniff to the spot.

Goosegrease, he observed, and began to lick at
it. I let him. Nothing in the medicine would harm him, and his
tongue would push it into the wound better than my fingers
could.

Hungry? I asked.

Not really. There are mice in plenty along the
old wall. Then, as he got a whiff of the bag I'd brought: But a bit
of beef or venison would be just as welcome.

I tumbled the bones out in a heap for him and he
flung himself down beside them to possess them. He snuffed them
over, then picked out a meaty knuckle to work on. We hunt soon? He
imaged Forged ones for me.

In a day or so. I want to be able to wield a
sword the next time.

I don't blame you. Cow's teeth are not much of a
weapon. But don't wait too long.

Why is that?

Because I saw some today. Senseless ones. They
had found a winter-killed buck on a stream bank and were eating it.
Fouled, stinking meat, and they were eating it. But it won't hold
them for long. Tomorrow, they'll be coming closer.

Then we hunt tomorrow. Show me where you saw
them. I closed my eyes, and recognized the bit of creek bank that
he recalled for me. l did not know you ranged that far! Did you go
all that way today, with an injured shoulder?

It was not so far. I sensed a bit of bravado in
that answer. And I knew we would be seeking them. I can travel much
faster alone. Easier for me to find them out alone, and then take
you to them for the hunting.

It is scarcely hunting, Nighteyes.

No. But it is a thing we do for our
pack.

I sat with him for a while in companionable
silence, watching him gnaw on the bones I had brought him. He had
grown well this winter. Given a good diet and freed from the
confines of a cage, he had put on weight and muscle. Snow might
fall on his coat, but the thicker black guard hairs interspersed
throughout his gray coat shed the snowflakes and kept any moisture
from reaching his skin. He smelled healthy, too, not the rank
dogginess of an overfed canine kept inside and unexercised, but a
wild, clean scent. You saved my life, yesterday.

You saved me from a death in a cage.

I think that I had been alone so long, I had
forgotten what it meant to have a friend.

He stopped chewing his bone and looked up at me
in mild amusement. A friend? Too small a word for it, brother. And
in the wrong direction. So do not look at me like that. I will be
to you what you are to me. Bond brother, and pack. But I am not all
you will ever need. He went back to chewing his bone, and I sat
chewing over what he had just advised.

Sleep well, brother, I told him as I
left.

He snorted. Sleep? Hardly. The moon may yet
break through this overcast and give me some hunting light. But if
not, I may sleep.

I nodded and left him to his bones. As I walked
back to the castle I felt less dismal and alone than I had before.
But I also had a twinge of guilt that Nighteyes would so adapt his
life and will to mine. It did not seem a clean thing for him to do,
this snuffing out of Forged ones.

For the pack. This is for the good of the pack.
The senseless ones are trying to come into our territory. We cannot
allow it. He sounded comfortable with it, and surprised that it
should bother me. I nodded to ourselves in the dark and pushed my
way through the kitchen door, back into yellow light and
warmth.

I climbed the stairs to my room, thinking of
what I had wrought over the past few days. I had resolved to set
the cub free. Instead, we had become brothers. I was not sorry. I
had gone to warn Verity of new Forged ones near Buckkeep. Instead,
I had found he already knew about them, and had gained for myself
the task of studying the Elderlings and trying to discover other
Skilled ones. I had asked him to give the garden to Kettricken, to
busy her mind away from her hurts. Instead, I had deceived her, and
bound her more to her love for Verity. I paused to catch my breath
on a landing. Perhaps, I reflected, we all danced to the Fool's
tune. Had not he suggested some of these very things to
me?

I felt again the brass key in my pocket. Now was
as good a time as any. Verity was not in his bedchamber, but Charim
was. He had no qualms about allowing me to come in and use the key.
I took an armload of the scrolls I found there; there were more
than I had expected. I bore them back to my room and set them down
on my dressing chest. I built up the fire in the fireplace. I
peeked at the dressing on the bite on my neck. It was an ugly wad
of cloth, saturated with blood. I knew I should change it. I
dreaded pulling it loose. In a while. I put more wood on my fire. I
sorted through the scrolls. Spidery little writing, faded
illustrations. Then I lifted my eyes and looked around my
room.

A bed. A chest. A small stand by the bed. A ewer
and bowl for wash water. A truly ugly tapestry of King Wisdom
conferring with a yellowish Elderling. A branch of candles on the
mantel. It had scarcely changed in the years I had lived here from
the first night I had moved into it. It was a bare and dreary room,
devoid of imagination. Suddenly I was a bare and dreary person,
devoid of imagination. I fetched and I hunted and I killed. I
obeyed. More hound than man. And not even a favored hound, to be
petted and praised. One of the working pack. When was the last time
I had heard from Shrewd? Or Chade. Even the Fool mocked me. What
was I, anymore, to anyone, except a tool? Was there anyone left who
cared for me, myself? Suddenly I could no longer abide my own
company. I set down the scroll I had picked up and left my
room.

When I knocked at the door of Patience's room,
there was a pause. Who is it? came Lacey's voice.

Only FitzChivalry.

FitzChivalry! A bit of surprise in the tone. It
was late for a visit from me. Usually I came during the day. Then I
was comforted to hear the sound of a bar being removed, and a latch
worked. She had paid attention to what I had told her, I thought.
The door opened slowly and Lacey stepped back to admit me, smiling
dubiously.

I stepped in, greeting Lacey warmly, and then
glanced about for Patience. She was in the other chamber, I
surmised. But in a corner, eyes lowered over needlework, sat Molly.
She did not look up at me or acknowledge my presence at all. Her
hair was tidied back in a bun under a lacy little cap. On another
woman, her blue dress might have been simple and modest. On Molly
it was drab. Her eyes stayed down on her work. I glanced at Lacey
to find her regarding me levelly. I looked at Molly again and
something inside me gave way. It took me four steps to cross the
room to her. I knelt beside her chair and as she drew back from me,
I seized her hand and carried it to my lips.

FitzChivalry! Patience's voice behind me was
outraged. I glanced at her framed in the doorway. Her lips were set
flat in anger. I turned away from her.

Molly had turned her face aside from me. I held
her hand and spoke quietly. I cannot go on like this anymore. No
matter how, foolish, no matter how dangerous, no matter what any
other may think. I cannot be always apart from you.

She pulled her hand away from me, and I let it
go not to hurt her fingers. But I grasped at her skirt and clutched
a fold of it like a stubborn child. At least speak to me, I begged
her, but it was Patience who spoke.

FitzChivalry, this is not seemly. Stop it at
once.

It was not seemly, nor wise, nor appropriate for
my father to court you as he did, either. But he did not hesitate.
I suspect he felt much as I do right now. I did not look away from
Molly.

That won me a moment of startled silence from
Patience. But it was Molly who set aside her needlework and rose.
She stepped away, and when it became clear that I must let go or
tear the fabric of her skirt, I released it. She stepped clear of
me. If my lady Patience will excuse me for the evening?

Certainly, Patience replied, but her voice was
not at all certain.

If you go away, there is nothing for me. I knew
I sounded too dramatic. I was still on my knees by her
chair.

If I stay, there is still nothing for you. Molly
spoke levelly as she took off her apron and hung it on a hook. I am
a serving girl. You are a young noble, of the royal family. There
can never be anything between us. I've come to see that, over the
last few weeks.

No. I rose and stepped toward her, but forbore
to touch her. You are Molly and I am Newboy.

Maybe. Once, Molly conceded. Then she sighed.
But not now. Do not make this harder for me than it is, sir. You
must leave me in peace. I have nowhere else to go; I must stay here
and work, at least until I earn enough .... She shook her head
suddenly. Good evening, my lady. Lacey. Sir. She turned aside from
me. Lacey stood silently. I noticed she did not open the door for
Molly, but Molly did not pause there. The door shut very firmly
behind her. A terrible silence welled up in the room.

Well, Patience breathed at last. I am glad to
see that at least one of you has some sense. What on earth were you
thinking, FitzChivalry, to barge in here and all but attack my
maid?

I was thinking that I loved her, I said bluntly.
I dropped into a chair and put my head into my hands. I was
thinking that I am very weary of being so alone.

That is why you came here? Patience sounded
almost offended.

No. I came here to see you. I did not know she
would be here. But when I saw her, it just came over me. It's true,
Patience. I cannot go on like this.

Well, you'd better, because you're going to have
to. The words were hard, but she sighed as she said
them.

Does Molly speak of it ... of me? To you. I must
know. Please. I battered at their silence and exchanged looks. Does
she truly wish me to leave her alone? Have I become so despised of
her? Have I not done all you demanded of me? I have waited,
Patience. I have avoided her, I have taken care not to cause talk.
But when is an end to it? Or is this your plan? To keep us apart
until we forget each other? It cannot work. I am not a babe, and
this is not some bauble you hide from me, to distract me with other
toys. This is Molly. And she is my heart and I will not let her
go.

I am afraid you must. Patience said the words
heavily.

Why? Has she chosen another?

Patience batted my words away as if they were
flies. No. She is not fickle, not that one. She is smart and
diligent and full of wit and spirit. I can see how you lost your
heart to her. But she also has pride. She has come to see what you
refuse. That you come, each of you, from places so far apart that
there can be no meeting in the middle. Even were Shrewd to consent
to a marriage, which I very much doubt, how would you live? You
cannot leave the Keep, to go down to Buckkeep Town and work in a
candle shop. You know you cannot. And what status would she enjoy
if you kept her here? Despite her goodness, people who did not know
her well would see only the differences in your rank. She would be
seen as a low appetite you had indulged. `Oh, the Bastard, he had
an eye for his stepmother's maid. I fancy he caught her around the
corner one time too many, and now he has to pay the piper.' You
know the kind of talk I mean.

I did. I don't care what folk would
say.

Perhaps you could endure it. But what of Molly?
What of your children?

I was silent. Patience looked down at her hands
idle in her lap. You are young, FitzChivalry. She spoke very
quietly, very soothingly. I know you do not believe it now. But,
you may meet another. One closer to your station. And she may also.
Maybe she deserves that chance at happiness. Perhaps you should
draw back. Give yourself a year or so. And if your heart has not
changed by then, well ...