Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (79 page)

No. The voice quavered. It had lost its timbre
and resonance. No, my fool, I am not so far gone as
that.

We waited, breathless, but King Shrewd spoke no
more. At last I slowly crossed the room. I crouched down beside
him, tried to make his eyes meet mine. King Shrewd? I
begged.

His eyes came to mine, darted away, came back
unwillingly. At last he looked at me.

Have you heard all we have said? My king, do you
believe Verity is dead?

He parted his lips. His tongue was grayish
behind them. He took a long breath. Regal told me Verity is dead.
He had word....

From where? I asked gently.

He shook his head slowly. A messenger ... I
think.

I turned to the others. It would have to have
come by messenger. From the Mountains, for Verity must be there by
now. He was nearly to the Mountains when Burrich was sent back. I
do not believe a messenger would come all the way from the
Mountains, and not stay to convey such news to Kettricken
herself.

It might have come by relay, Burrich said
unwillingly. For one man and one horse, it is too exhausting a
trip. A rider would have to exchange horses. Or pass on the word to
another rider, who would go on, on a swift horse. The last is most
likely.

Perhaps. But how long would such word take to
come to us all the way from the Mountains? I know Verity was alive
on the day Bea
rn
s
departed here. Because that was when King Shrewd used me to speak
to him. That night when I all but fainted on this hearth. That was
what had happened, Fool. I paused. I believe I felt him with me
during the battle at Neatbay.

I saw Burrich count back the days in his mind.
He shrugged unwillingly. It is still possible. If Verity were
killed that day, and word were sent out immediately, and the riders
and horses were both good ... it could be so. Barely.

I don't believe it. I turned to the rest of
them, tried to force my hope into them. I don't believe Verity is
dead. I turned my eyes up to King Shrewd once more. Do you? Do you
believe your son could have died, and you not feel
anything?

Chivalry ... went like that. Like a fading
whisper. `Father,' he said, I think. Father.

A silence seeped into the room. I waited,
crouched on my heels, for my king's decision. Slowly his hand
lifted, as if it had a life of its own. It crossed the small space
to me, rested on my shoulder. For a moment; that was all. Just the
weight of my king's hand on my shoulder. King Shrewd shifted
slightly in his chair. He took a breath through his nostrils. I
closed my eyes and we plunged into the black river again. Once more
I faced the desperate young man trapped in King Shrewd's dying
body. We tumbled together in the sweeping current of the world.
There's no one here. No one here but us anymore. Shrewd sounded
lonely.

I couldn't find myself. I had no body, no tongue
here. He held me under with him in the rush and the roar. I could
hardly think at all, let alone remember what little of the Skill
lessons I had retained from Galen's harsh instruction. It was like
trying to recite a memorized speech while being throttled. I gave
up. I gave it all up. Then from somewhere, like a feather floating
in a breeze, or a mote dancing in a sunbeam, came Verity's voice
telling me, Being open is simply not being closed.

The whole world was a spaceless place, all
things inside of all other things. I did not say his name aloud or
think of his face. Verity was there, had always been right there,
and joining him was effortless. You live!

Of course. But you won't, spilling all over like
this. You're pouring out everything you have in one gush. Regulate
your strength. Be precise. He steadied me, shaped me back into
myself, then gasped in recognition.

Father!

Verity pushed at me roughly. Get back! Let go of
him, he hasn't the strength for this. You're draining him, you
idiot! Let go!

It was like being repelled, but rougher. When I
found myself and opened my eyes, I was sprawled on my side before
the fireplace. My face was uncomfortably close to it. I rolled
over, groaning, and saw the King. His lips were puffing in and out
with each breath, and there was a bluish cast to his skin. Burrich
and Kettricken and the Fool were a helpless circle standing about
him. Do ... something! I gasped up at them.

What? demanded the Fool, believing I
knew.

I floundered about in my mind, came up with the
only remedy I could recall. Elfbark, I croaked. The edges of the
room kept turning black. I shut my eyes and listened to them
panicking about. Slowly I understood what I had done. I had
Skilled.

I had tapped my king's strength to do
it.

You will be the death of kings, the Fool had
told me. A prophecy or a shrewd guess? A Shrewd guess. Tears came
to my eyes

I smelled elfbark tea. Plain strong elfbark, no
ginger or mint to disguise it. I pried my eyes open a
crack.

It's too hot! hissed the Fool.

It cools quickly in the spoon, Burrich insisted,
and ladled some into the King's mouth. He took it in, but I did not
see him swallow. With the casual expertise of years in the stables,
Burrich tugged gently at the King's lower jaw and then stroked his
throat. He ladled another spoonful into his slack mouth. Not much
was happening.

Kettricken came to crouch by me. She lifted my
head to her knee, put a hot cup to my mouth. I sucked at it, too
hot, I didn't care, I sucked in air with it, noisily. I swallowed
it, fought choking against its bitterness. The darkness receded.
The cup came back, I sipped again. It was strong enough to near
numb my tongue. I looked up at Kettricken, found her eyes. I
managed a tiny nod.

He lives? she asked softly.

Yes. It was all I could manage.

He lives! She cried it out aloud to the others,
joy in her voice.

My father! Regal shouted the words. He stood
swaying in the door, face red with drink and anger. Behind him I
glimpsed his guard, and little Rosemary peeping around the corner,
wide-eyed. Somehow she managed to slip past the men, to race to
Kettricken and clutch at her skirts. For an instant our tableau
held.

Then Regal swept into the room, ranting,
demanding, questioning, but giving no one a chance to speak.
Kettricken kept a protective crouch beside me, or I swear Regal's
guards would have had me again. Above me, in his chair, the King
had a bit of color again in his face. Burrich put another spoonful
of tea to his lips, and I was relieved to see him sip at
it.

Regal was not. What are you giving him? Stop
that! I won't have my father poisoned by a stable hand!

The King had another attack, my prince, the Fool
said suddenly. His voice cut through the chaos in the room, made a
hole that became a silence. Elfbark tea is a common restorative. I
am sure that even Wallace has heard of it.

The Prince was drunk. He was not sure if he was
being mocked or conciliated. He glared at the Fool, who smiled
benignly back.

Oh. He said it grudgingly, not really wishing to
be mollified. Well, what, then, of him? He gestured at me in
anger.

Drunk. Kettricken stood up, letting my head drop
to the floor with a convincing thump. Flashes of light marred my
vision. There was only disgust in her voice. Stablemaster. Get him
out of here. You should have stopped him before he got this far.
Next time, see that you use your judgment when he has none of his
own.

Our stablemaster is well-known for having his
own taste for the cup, lady queen. I suspect they have been at it
together. Regal sneered.

The news of Verity's death hit him hard, Burrich
said simply. He was true to himself, offering an explanation, but
no excuse. He took hold of my shirtfront, jerked me from the floor.
With no effort at playacting, I swayed on my feet until he gripped
me more firmly. I caught a passing glimpse of the Fool hastily
spooning another dose of elfbark into the King. I prayed no one
would interrupt him. As Burrich ushered me roughly out of the room,
I heard Queen Kettricken rebuking Regal, saying he should be below
with his guests, and promising that she and the Fool could get the
King to bed. As we were going up the stairs I heard Regal and his
guard going down. He was still muttering and then ranting,
complaining that he was not stupid, he could tell a plot when he
saw one. It worried me, but I was fairly certain he had no real
idea of what had been going on.

At my door, I was well enough to work my
latches. Burrich followed me in. If I had a dog that was sick as
often as you are, I'd put it down, he observed kindly. Do you need
more elfbark?

It wouldn't hurt me any. But in a gentler dose.
Do you have any ginger or mint or rose hips?

He gave me a look. I sat on my chair while he
poked at the pathetic embers in my fireplace until he got them to
glow. He built up a fire, put water in the kettle, and set it to
heat. He found a pot and put in the flaked elfbark, then found a
mug and wiped the dust out of it. He set the things out ready, then
looked about himself. Something like disgust was on his face. Why
do you live like this? he demanded.

Like what?

In so bare a room, with so little care for it?
I've seen winter-quarter tents that were homier than this room.
It's as if you've never expected to stay here more than a night or
two longer.

I shrugged. I've never given it much
thought.

There was a silence for a bit. You should, he
said unwillingly. And you should think about how often you're hurt,
or sick.

This, what happened tonight, this couldn't be
helped.

You knew what it would do to you, but you went
ahead with it anyway, he pointed out.

I had to. I watched him pour steaming water over
the elfbark in the pot.

Did you? It seemed to me the Fool had a pretty
convincing argument against it. Yet you went ahead. You and King
Shrewd, both of you.

So.

I know a bit about the Skill, Burrich said
quietly. I was king's man to Chivalry. Not often, and it did not
leave me as bad as you are now, save for once or twice. But I've
felt the excitement of it, the- He groped for words, sighed. The
completion of it. The oneness with the world. Chivalry once spoke
to me about it. A man can get addicted, he said. So that he looks
for excuses to Skill, and then finally he is absorbed into it. He
added after a moment, It is not unlike the rush of battle, in some
ways. The sense of moving unhampered by time, of being a force more
powerful than life itself.

As I cannot Skill alone, I daresay it is not a
danger to me.

You offer yourself very often to those who can.
Bluntly spoken. As often as you willingly plunge yourself into
dangerous situations that offer that same kind of excitement. In a
battle, you go into a frenzy. Is that what happens to you when you
Skill?

I had never considered the two together in such
a light. Something like fear nibbled at me. I pushed it
aside.

To be a King's Man is my duty. Besides, was not
this evening your suggestion?

It was. But I would have let the Fool's words
dissuade us from it. You were determined. You put no value at all
on what it would do to you. Perhaps you should have a care for
yourself.

I know what I'm doing. I spoke more sharply than
I intended, and Burrich did not reply. He poured the tea he had
made, and handed it to me with a see what I mean look on his face.
I took the mug and stared into the fire. He sat down on my clothing
chest.

Verity is alive, I said quietly.

So I heard the Queen say. I had never believed
he was dead. He accepted it very calmly. As calmly, as he added,
But we have no proof.

Proof? I spoke to him. The King spoke to him.
Isn't that enough?

For me, more than enough. For most other folks,
well ...

When the King recovers, he will hear me out.
Verity lives.

I doubt it will be enough to prevent Regal from
proclaiming himself King-in-Waiting. The ceremony is scheduled for
next week. I think he would have done it tonight, save that every
Duke must be present to witness it.

Elfbark battling with exhaustion, or simply the
unrelenting march of events, suddenly made the room tilt around me.
I felt I had thrown myself in front of a wagon to stop it, and
instead it had rolled over me. The Fool had been right. What I had
done tonight counted for little, save the peace of mind it brought
Kettricken. A sudden welling of despair filled me. I set down my
empty cup. The Six Duchies kingdom was falling apart. My
king-in-waiting, Verity, would return to a mockery of what he had
left: a sundered country, a ravaged coastline, a plundered and
empty Keep. Perhaps if I had believed in Elderlings, I could have
found some way to believe it would all come out right. All I could
see now was my failure.

Burrich was looking at me oddly. Go to bed, he
suggested. A bleak spirit is sometimes what follows an
overindulgence in elfbark. Or so I have heard.

I nodded. To myself, I wondered if that might
account for Verity's often dour moods.

Get some real rest. In the morning, things may
look better. He gave a bark of laughter and smiled wolfishly. Then
again, they may not. But the rest will at least leave you better
prepared to face them. He paused, sobering. Molly came to my room,
earlier.

Is she all right? I demanded to know.

Bringing candles she knew I did not need,
Burrich went on as if I had not spoken. Almost as if she wanted an
excuse to speak to me ...

What did she say? I rose from my
chair.

Not very much. She is always very correct with
me. I am very direct with her. I simply told her you missed
her.

And she said?

Nothing. He grinned. But she blushes very
prettily. He sighed, suddenly serious. And, as directly, I asked
her if anyone had given her any further cause to fear. She squared
her little shoulders and tucked in her chin like I was trying to
force a bit in her teeth. She said she thanked me kindly for my
concern, as she had before, but that she was capable of seeing to
herself. In a quieter voice, he asked, Will she ask for help if she
needs it?

I don't know, I confessed. She has her own store
of courage. Her own way of fighting. She turns and confronts
things. Me, I slink about and try to hamstring them when they
aren't looking. Sometimes, she makes me feel a coward.

Burrich stood up, stretching so that his
shoulders cracked. You're no coward, Fitz. I'll vouch for you
there. Perhaps you just understand odds better than she does. I
wish I could put your mind at rest about her. I can't. I'll watch
over her as well as I can. As much as she'll let me. He gave me a
sideways glance. Hands asked me today who the pretty lady is who
calls on me so often.

What did you tell him?

Nothing. I just looked at him.

I knew the look. There would be no more
questions from Hands.

Burrich left and I sprawled on my bed, trying to
rest. I could not. I made my body be still, reasoning that at least
my flesh would take some rest, even if my mind persisted in
rattling on. A better man's thoughts would have been solely of his
king's plight. I am afraid a good share of mine went to Molly,
alone in her room. When I could stand it no more, I rose from my
bed and ghosted out into the Keep.

Sounds of dying revelry still drifted up from
the Great Hall below. The corridor was empty. I ventured silently
toward the stairs. I told myself I would be very, very careful,
that all I would do was tap at her door, perhaps go in for a few
moments, just to see she was all right. No more than that. Just the
briefest of visits ...

You are followed. Nighteyes' new caution of
Burrich made his voice but the tiniest whisper in my
head.

I did not halt. That would have let my follower
know I was suspicious. Instead I scratched my shoulder, making it
an excuse to swivel my head about and glance behind me. I saw no
one.

Snuff.

I did, a short breath followed by a deeper
intake. A bare scent on the air. Sweat and garlic. I quested gently
and my blood went cold. There, at the far end of the hall,
concealed in a doorway. Will. Dark, slender Will, with his eyes
always halflidded. The coterie member who had been recalled from
Bea
rn
s. Very cautiously
I touched the Skill shield that hid him from me, a subtle bidding
that I not notice him, a quiet scent of self-confidence sent my way
to bolster me in doing whatever I wished to do. Very guileful. Very
artful, much more delicate a touch than either Serene or Justin had
ever shown me.

A much more dangerous man.

I went to the landing of the stairs and took
candles from the extra ones stored there, then returned to my room
as if that had been my sole errand.

When I closed my door behind me, my mouth was
dry. I sighed out a shuddering breath. I forced myself to examine
the guards that warded my mind. He had not been in me, that I could
tell. He was not sniffing out my thoughts, then, but only imposing
his on me to make it easier for him to shadow me. Had it not been
for Nighteyes, he would have followed me right to Molly's door
tonight. I forced myself to lie down on my bed again, to try to
recall all of my actions since Will had returned to Buckkeep. I had
been dismissing him as an enemy simply because he did not radiate
the hatred for me that Serene and Justin did. He had always been a
quiet and unimposing youth. He had grown to be an unremarkable man,
scarce worth anyone's attention.

I had been a fool.

I do not think he has followed you before. But I
cannot be sure either.

Nighteyes, my brother. How do I thank
you?

Stay alive. A pause. And bring me ginger
cake.

You shall have it, I promised
fervently.

Burrich's fire had burned low and I still had
not slept when I felt Chade's draft sweep through my room. It was
almost a relief to rise and go to him.

I found him awaiting me impatiently, pacing
about his small room. He pounced on me as I came out of the
stairwell.

An assassin is a tool, he informed me in a hiss.
Somehow, I never got that across to you. We are tools. We do not do
anything of our own volition.

I stopped still, shocked at the anger in his
voice. I haven't killed anyone! I said indignantly.

Shush! Speak softly. I would not be too sure of
that, were I you, he replied. How many times have I done my job,
not by putting the knife in myself, but simply by giving someone
else sufficient reason and opportunity to do it for me?

I said nothing.

He looked at me and sighed, the anger and
strength going out of him. Softly he said, Sometimes, the best you
can do is just salvage work. Sometimes we have to resign ourselves
to that. We are not the ones to set the wheels in motion, boy. What
you did tonight was ill-considered.