Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (74 page)

There was some milling about, some conferring
between Kerf and Foxglove, but in a surprisingly short time I found
myself riding behind Foxglove with a contingent of warriors. I had
my sword, but what I really missed was the ax I had become so
comfortable with over the summer.

Nothing was as tidy as was planned. We
encountered Outislanders in the wreckage of the town, long before
we reached the beach. They were moving back toward their ships and
were hampered with a coffle of prisoners. We attacked the Raiders.
Some stood and fought, and some abandoned their prisoners and ran
before our horses. Our troops were soon scattered throughout the
still-smoldering buildings and debris scattered streets of Neatbay.
Some of our force stayed to cut the ropes on the prisoners and help
them as best they could. Foxglove swore at the delay, for the
Raiders that had fled would warn the ship guards. Swiftly she split
our force, leaving a handful of soldiers to help the battered
townsfolk. The smells of dead bodies and rain on charred timbers
brought back my memories of Forge with a vividness that almost
unmanned me. There were bodies everywhere, far more than we had
expected to find. Somewhere I sensed a wolf prowling through the
ruins, and took comfort from him.

Foxglove cursed us all with surprising skill,
and then organized those she kept with her into a wedge. We swept
down on the Red-Ships in time to see one being launched into the
retreating tide. There was little we could do about that, but we
were in time to prevent a second ship from getting off. We killed
those ones with surprising alacrity. There were not many, only a
skeleton rowing crew. We even managed to kill them before they
could slay most of their captives who lay bound on the thwarts of
the ships. We suspected that the ship that got off had been
similarly laden. And hence, I surmised to myself, not initially
planning to engage the Rurisk or any of the ships that now
converged on the one that had eluded us.

But the Red-Ships had been outward bound with
hostages. To where? To a ghost ship that only I had glimpsed? Even
to think of the white ship brought a shudder over me and a pressure
in my head like the beginning of pain. Perhaps they had intended to
drown their hostages, or to Forge them, however that was done. I
was not in a position to give it great thought then, but I saved
the knowledge for Chade. Each of the three remaining beached ships
had a contingent of warriors, and they fought as desperately as
Burrich had predicted they would. One ship was set afire by an,
overzealous archer, but the others were taken intact.

We had secured all the ships by the time the
Rurisk was beached. There was time now to lift my head and to look
out over Neatbay. No sign of the white ship. Perhaps it had been
only a cloud bank. Behind the Rurisk came the Constance, and behind
them a flotilla of fishing vessels and even a couple of merchant
ships. Most of them had to anchor out in the shallow harbor, but
the men aboard them were ferried swiftly ashore. The warship crews
waited for their captains to hear word of what went on, but those
from the fishing vessels and merchant ships swept past us and
headed directly for the besieged Keep.

The trained crews from the warships soon over
took them, and by the time we reached the outer walls of the Keep,
there was an attitude of cooperation, if not any real organization.
The prisoners we had freed were weak from lack of food and water,
but recovered quickly and were indispensable in giving us intimate
knowledge of the outer earthworks. By afternoon, our siege of the
besiegers was in place. With difficulty, Burrich persuaded all
involved that at least one of our warships should remain fully
manned and on alert, in the water. His premonition was proven
correct the next morning, when two more Red-Ships sailed around the
northern point of the bay. The Rurisk ran them off, but they fled
too easily for us to take any satisfaction in it. All knew they
would simply find an undefended village to raid farther up the
coast. Several of the fishing vessels belatedly gave chase, though
there was little chance of them catching the oared vessels of the
Raiders.

By the second day of waiting, we were beginning
to be bored and uncomfortable. The weather had turned foul again.
The hard bread was starting to taste of mold, the dried fish was no
longer completely dry. To cheer us, Duke Kelvar had added the Buck
flag of the Six Duchies to his own pennon flying over Bayguard to
acknowledge us. But like us, he had chosen a waiting strategy. The
Outislanders were penned. They had not attempted to break out past
us, nor to advance closer to the Keep. All was still and
waiting.

You don't listen to warnings. You never have.
Burrich spoke quietly to me.

Night had fallen. It was the first time since
our arrival that we had had more than a few moments together. He
sat on a log, his injured leg stretched straight in front of him. I
crouched by the fire, trying to warm my hands. We were outside a
temporary shelter set up for the Queen, tending a very smoky fire.
Burrich had wanted her to settle in one of the few intact buildings
left in Neatbay, but she had refused, insisting on staying close to
her warriors. Her guard came and went freely, in her shelter and at
her fire. Burrich frowned over their familiarity, but also approved
her loyalty. Your father, too, was like that, he observed suddenly
as two of Kettricken's guard emerged from her shelter and went to
relieve others still on watch.

Didn't take warnings? I asked in
surprise.

Burrich shook his head. No. Always his soldiers,
coming and going, at all hours. I've always wondered when he found
the privacy to create you.

I must have looked shocked, for Burrich suddenly
flushed as well. Sorry. I'm tired and my leg is ... uncomfortable.
I wasn't thinking what I was saying.

I found a smile unexpectedly. It's all right, I
said, and it was. When he had found out about Nighteyes, I was
afraid he was going to banish me again. A jest, even a rough jest,
was welcome. You were saying about warnings? I asked
humbly.

He sighed. You said it. We are as we are. And he
said it. Sometimes they don't give you a choice. They just bond to
you.

Somewhere off in the darkness, a dog howled. It
was not really a dog. Burrich glared at me. I can't control him at
all, I admitted.

Nor I, you. Why should there be control, one of
the other?

Nor does he stay out of personal conversations,
I observed.

Nor personal anything, Burrich said flatly. He
spoke in the voice of a man who knew.

I thought you said you never used ... it. Even
out here, I would not say the Wit aloud.

I don't. No good comes of it. I will tell you
plainly now what I've told you before. It ... changes you. If you
give in to it. If you live it. If you can't shut it out, at least
don't seek after it. Don't become-

Burrich?

We both jumped. It was Foxglove, come quietly
out of the darkness to stand on the other side of the fire. How
much had she heard?

Yes? Is there a problem?

She hunkered down in the darkness, lifted her
red hands to the fire. She sighed. I don't know. How do I ask this?
Are you aware she's pregnant?

Burrich and I exchanged glances. Who? he asked
levelly.

I've got two children of my own, you know. And
most of her guard is women. She pukes every morning, and lives off
raspberry-leaf tea. She can't even look at the salt fish without
retching. She shouldn't be here, living like this. Foxglove nodded
toward the tent.

Oh. The Vixen.

Shut up.

She did not ask our advice, Burrich said
carefully.

The situation here is under control. There is no
reason she should not be sent back to Buckkeep, Foxglove said
calmly.

I can't imagine `sending her back' to anywhere,
Burrich observed. I think it would have to be a decision she
reached on her own.

You might suggest it to her, Foxglove
ventured.

So might you, Burrich countered. You are captain
of her guard. The concern is rightly yours.

I haven't been keeping watch outside her door
each night, Foxglove objected.

Perhaps you should have, Burrich said, then
tempered it with a Now that you know.

Foxglove looked into the fire. Perhaps I should.
So. The question is, who escorts her back to Buckkeep?

All of her personal guard, of course. A Queen
should travel with no less.

Somewhere off in the darkness there was a sudden
outcry. I sprang to my feet.

Stand fast! Burrich snapped at me. Wait for
word. Don't rush off until you know what is happening!

In a moment Whistle of the Queen's guard reached
our fire. She stood before Foxglove to report. Two-pronged attack.
At the breach just below the south tower, they tried to break out.
And some got through at

An arrow swept through her and carried off
forever whatever she had begun to tell us. Outislanders were
suddenly upon us, more of them than my mind could grasp, and all
converging on the Queen's tent. To the Queen! I shouted, and had
the slim comfort of hearing my cry taken up farther down the line.
Three guards rushed out of the tent to put their backs to its
flimsy walls while Burrich and I stood our ground in front of it. I
found my sword in my hand, and from the corner of my eye saw
firelight run red up the edge of Burrich's. The Queen appeared
suddenly in the door of the tent.

Don't guard me! she rebuked us. Get to where the
fighting is.

It's here, my lady, Burrich grunted and stepped
forward suddenly to take off the arm of a man who had ventured too
close.

I remember those words clearly and I remember
seeing Burrich take that stride. It is the last coherent memory I
have of that night. After that, all was shouting and blood, metal
and fire. Waves of emotions pounded against me as all around me
soldiers and Raiders fought to the death. Early on, someone set
fire to the tent. Its towering blaze lit the battle scene like a
stage. I remember seeing Kettricken, robe looped up and knotted,
fighting bare-legged and barefoot on the frozen ground. She held
her ridiculously long Mountain sword in a two handed grip. Her
grace made a deadly dance of the battle that would have distracted
me at any other time.

Outislanders continued to appear. At one point I
was sure I heard Verity shouting commands, but could not make sense
of any of them. Nighteyes appeared from time to time, fighting
always at the edge of the light, a low sudden weight of fur and
teeth, hamstringing with a slash, adding his weight to change a
Raider's charge to a stumble. Burrich and Foxglove fought
back-to-back at one point when things were going poorly for us. I
was part of the circle that protected the Queen. At least, I
thought I was, until I realized she was actually fighting beside
me.

At some time I dropped my sword to snatch up a
fallen Raider's ax. I picked my blade up the next day from the
frozen ground, crusted with mud and blood. But at the moment I did
not even hesitate to discard Verity's gift for a more savagely
effective weapon. While we were fighting there was only the now to
consider. When at last the tide of the battle turned, I did not
consider the wisdom of it, but pursued and hunted scattered enemy
through the night-black fire-stinking wreckage of Neatbay
village.

Here, indeed, Nighteyes and I hunted very well
together. I stood toe to toe with my final kill, ax against ax,
while Nighteyes snarled and savaged his way past a smaller man's
sword. He finished his but seconds before I dropped my
man.

That final slaughtering held for me a wild and
savage joy. I did not know where Nighteyes left off and I began;
only that we had won and we both still lived. Afterward we went to
find water together. We drank deep from a communal well's bucket,
and I laved the blood from my hands and face. Then we sank down and
put our backs to the brick well to watch the sun rise beyond the
thick ground mist. Nighteyes leaned warm against me, and we did not
even think.

I suppose I dozed a bit, for I was jostled alert
as he quickly left me. I looked up to see what had startled him,
only to discover a frightened Neatbay girl staring at me. The early
sun struck glints off her red hair. A bucket was in her hand. I
stood and grinned, lifting my ax in greeting, but she sheered off
like a frightened rabbit among the ruined buildings. I stretched,
then made my way back through the trailing fog to where the Queen's
tent had been. As I walked, images of last night's wolf hunting
came back to me. The memories were too sharp, too red and black,
and I pushed them down deep in my mind. Was this what Burrich had
meant by his warning?

Even by the light of day, it was still difficult
to understand all that had happened. The earth around the blackened
remains of the Queen's shelter was trampled into mud. Here the
fighting had been heaviest. Here was where most of the enemy had
fallen. Some bodies had been dragged aside and tumbled into a heap.
Others still lay where they had fallen. I avoided looking at them.
It is one thing to kill in fear and anger. It is another thing to
consider one's handiwork by the chill gray light of
morning.