Assassin's Quest (95 page)

These thoughts passed through my mind the way lightning illuminates the blackest night. In one flash, I suddenly saw all details. In the next moment, I knew I must get to the pillar and back to the quarry to warn Verity. If it were not already too late.

I felt myself calm as soon as I had a goal in mind. I considered Skilling to Verity, and quickly rejected the idea. Until I knew my enemy better, I would not risk exposing myself to him. I found myself seeing it as if it were Kettle’s game. Stones to capture or destroy. The man was between me and the pillar. That was to be expected. What I now had to discover was if there were others as well. I drew my own belt knife; a sword was no weapon to use in dense brush. I took a deep steadying breath, and slipped away from the boar.

I had a rough familiarity with the area. It served me in good stead as I moved from dragon to tree trunk to old stump. Before darkness was complete, I knew there were three men and that they seemed to be guarding the pillar. I did not think they had come here to hunt me, but rather to keep anyone save Regal’s coterie from using the pillar. I had found the tracks of their passage from the Skill road; they were fresh, the men newly arrived. I could then rely that I knew the lay of the land better than they did. I decided I would believe them un-Skilled, as they had come by the trail rather than by the pillar. But they were probably very able soldiers. I also decided I should believe Will and Burl might be very close by. Able to come through the pillar at a moment’s notice. For that reason I kept my Skill walls high and tight. And I waited. When I did not return, Verity would know something was wrong. I did not think he would be so unwary as to come through the pillar in search of me. In truth, I did not think he would leave his dragon for that long. This was my own fix to get myself out of.

As darkness fell, insects came out. Stinging, biting, swarming insects by the hundreds, and always the one who insisted on humming right by my ear. Ground mists began to rise, damping my clothes to my body. The guards had made a small fire. I smelled hearth cakes cooking and found myself wondering if I could kill them before they had eaten them all. I grinned hard to myself and ghosted closer. Night and a fire and food usually meant talk. These men spoke little and most of it was in low tones. They did not care for this duty. The long black road had driven some men mad. But tonight it was not the long way they had come, but the stone dragons themselves that bothered them. I also heard enough to confirm what I had guessed. There were three men guarding this pillar. There were a full dozen guarding the one at the plaza where the Fool had had his vision. The main body of soldiers had pushed on toward the quarry. The coterie was seeking to close off escape routes for Verity.

I felt a bit of relief that it would take them fully as long to get there as it had taken our party. For tonight, at least, Verity and the others were in no danger of attack. But it was only a matter of time. My resolution to get back through the pillar as swiftly as possible hardened. I had no intention of fighting them. That left killing them by ambush, one by one, a feat I doubted even Chade could have accomplished. Or creating enough of a diversion to draw them off long enough for me to make a dash for the pillar.

I slipped well away from the men, to where I judged I was out of earshot, and proceeded to gather dry firewood. It was not an easy task in such a lush and verdant place, but I finally had a respectable armful. My plan was simple. I told myself it would either work or it wouldn’t. I doubted I would get a second chance; they would be too cautious for that.

I considered where the symbol for the quarry was on the pillar and worked my way around to the dragons that were on the opposite side of it. Of the dragons, I chose the fierce-looking fellow with ear tufts that I had remarked on my first visit here. He would cast a fine shadow. I cleared a space behind him of wet grass and leaves and set my fire there. I had only enough fuel for a small fire, but I hoped I would not need more than that. I wanted enough light and smoke to be mysterious without enlightening. I got the fire going well, then slipped away from it in the darkness. Belly in the grass, I worked my way as close to the pillar as I dared. Now I only need wait until the guards noticed my fire. I hoped at least one man would go to investigate it, and that the other two would watch where he had gone. Then a noiseless dash, a slap to the pillar, and I’d be gone.

Save that the guards did not notice my fire. From my vantage, it seemed glaringly obvious. There was rising smoke and a rosy glow through the trees, partially outlining the dragon’s silhouette. I had hoped that would pique their interest. Instead it was blocking my fire too well. I decided a few well-placed rocks would draw their attention to my fire. My groping hands found only lush plant life growing in thick loam. After an interminable wait, I realized my fire was going out, and the guards had noticed it not at all. Once more I slipped out of earshot. Once more I gathered dry sticks in the dark. Then my nose as much as my eyes guided me back to my smoldering fire.

My brother, you are long gone. Is all well?
There was anxiety in Nighteye’s faint thought.

I am hunted. Be still. I shall come as soon as I can.
I pushed the wolf gently from my thoughts and stole through the dark toward my dwindling fire.

I refueled it and waited for it to catch. I was just slipping away from it when I heard their voices raised in speculation. I do not think I was careless. It was but an ill twist of luck that as I moved from the cover of a dragon to that of a tree, one guard lifted his torch high, throwing my shadow into stark relief. “There! A man!” one shouted, and two of them charged out at me. I eeled away through the wet underbrush.

I heard one trip and fall, cursing, in a patch of vines, but the second was a swift and agile fellow. He was on my heels in an instant, and I swear I felt the wind from the first sweep of his sword. I lunged away from it, and found myself half leaping, half falling over the stone boar. I clipped a knee painfully on his rocky back and fell to the earth on the other side of him. Instantly I scrabbled to my feet. My pursuer leaped forward, swinging a mighty blow that surely would have cloven me in two if he had not caught his leg on one curving, razor tusk. He tripped and fell squarely, impaling himself on the second tusk where it thrust up like a scimitar from the boar’s red maw. The sound the man made was not a large one. I saw him begin to struggle to rise, but the curve of the tusk was hooked inside him. I leaped to my feet, mindful of the second man who had been pursuing me, and fled into the dark. Behind me rose a long cry of pain.

I kept my wits enough to circle. I had nearly reached the pillar when I felt a questing twist of Skill. I recalled the last time I had felt such a thing. Was Verity himself under attack, back at the quarry? One man still guarded the pillar, but I decided to risk his sword to get back to my king. I emerged from the trees, racing toward the pillar while the guard stared off toward my fire and the cries of the fallen man. Another tendril of Skill brushed me.

“No,” I cried out, “don’t risk yourself!” as my king came through the pillar, notched gray sword clutched in his gleaming silver grip. He emerged behind the guard who had remained on post. My foolish cry had turned him toward the pillar, and he came at my king, sword lifted, even as his face betrayed his terror.

Verity in their firelight looked like a demon out of a tale. His face was splashed with silver from the careless touching of his hands, while his hands and arms gleamed as if made of polished silver. His gaunt face and ragged clothes, the utter blackness of his eyes would have terrified any man. I will have to give Regal’s guard this: He stood his post, and caught the King’s first blow and turned it. Or so he thought. It was an old trick of Verity’s. Instead his blade wrapped the other. His cut should have severed the hand from the arm, but the dulled blade stopped at the bone. Nonetheless the man dropped his sword. As the man fell to his knees clutching at the gouting wound, Verity’s sword swept in again, across his throat. I felt a second tremoring of Skill. The lone remaining guard came racing toward us from the trees. His eyes fixed on Verity and he cried out in terror. He halted where he stood. Verity took a step toward him.

“My king, enough! Let us leave!” I cried out. I did not want him to risk himself for me again.

Instead Verity glanced down at his sword. He frowned. Suddenly he grasped the blade in his left hand just below the hilt and drew it through his shining grip. I gasped at what I saw. The sword he brandished now gleamed and came to a perfect point. Even by torchlight, I could see the wavering ripples of the many-folded metal of the blade. The King glanced at me. “I should have known I could do that.” He almost smiled. Then Verity lifted it to the other man’s eyes. “When you are ready,” he said quietly.

What happened next stunned me.

The soldier fell to his knees, casting his sword into the grass before him. “My king. I know you, even if you do not know me.” Buck accent spoke plainly in his tumbling words. “My lord, we were told that you were dead. Dead because your queen and the Bastard had conspired against you. Those were who we were told might be found here. It was half for that revenge that I came. I served you well at Buck, my lord, and if you live, I serve my king still.”

Verity peered at him in the flickering torchlight. “You’re Tig, aren’t you? Reaver’s boy?”

The soldier’s eyes widened that Verity recalled him. “Tag, my lord. Serving my king as my father did before me.” His voice shook a bit. His dark eyes never left the point of the sword Verity had leveled at him.

Verity lowered his blade. “Do you speak truth, lad? Or simply seek to save your skin?”

The young soldier looked up at Verity and dared to smile. “I have no need to fear. The prince I served would not strike down a kneeling, unarmed man. I dare say the King will not either.”

Perhaps no other words would have convinced Verity. Despite his weariness, he smiled. “Go then, Tag. Go as swift as you may and as silent as you may, for those who have used you will kill you if they know you are true to me. Return to Buck. And on the way there, and when you get there, tell everyone that I shall be returning. That I shall bring my good and true Queen with me, to sit the throne, and that my heir will claim it after me. And when you get to Buckkeep Castle, present yourself to my brother’s wife. Tell the Lady Patience that I commend you to her service.”

“Yes, my king. King Verity?”

“What is it?”

“More troops are coming. We are but the vanguard. . . .” He paused. He swallowed. “I accuse no one of treachery, least of all your own brother. But . . .”

“Let it not concern you, Tag. What I have asked you to do is important to me. Go quickly and challenge no one on your way. But carry back those tidings as I have asked you.”

“Yes, my king.”

“Now,” Verity suggested.

And Tag rose, took up his sword and sheathed it, and strode off into the darkness.

Verity turned and his eyes shone with triumph. “We can do it!” he told me quietly. He gestured me fiercely toward the pillar. I reached to palm the symbol and tumbled through as the Skill clutched at me. Verity came on my heels.

37

Feeding the Dragon

B
Y MIDSUMMER OF
that final year, the Six Duchies situation had become desperate. Buckkeep Castle, so long avoided by the Raiders, came under sudden siege from them. They had possessed Antler Island and its watchtowers since midwinter. Forge, the first village to fall victim to the scourge that took its name, had long since become a watering stop for Red Ships. There had been for some time rumors of OutIsland sailing ships anchoring off Scrim Island, including several sightings of the elusive “White Ship.” For most of the spring, no ships had made passage either into or out of Buck Harbor. This strangle of trade was felt not just in Buck, but in every trade village on the Buck, Bear, and Vin Rivers. The Red Ships had become a sudden reality to the merchants and lords of Tilth and Farrow.

But at the high point of summer, the Red Ships came to Buckkeep Town. The Red Ships came in the dead of night after several weeks of deceptive quiet. The fighting was the savage defense of a cornered folk, but they were also a starved and beggared folk. Almost every wooden structure of the town was burned to the ground. It is estimated that only one-quarter of the town’s residents were able to flee up the steep hills to Buckkeep Castle. Although Lord Bright had endeavored to refortify and supply the castle, the weeks of strangulation had taken their toll. The deep wells of Buckkeep Castle assured them a good supply of fresh water, but all other things were in scarce supply.

Catapults and other engines of war had been in place for decades to defend the mouth of the Buck River, but Lord Bright diverted them to the defense of Buckkeep Castle itself. Unchallenged, the Red Ships beat their way up the Buck River, carrying their war and Forging deep into the Six Duchies like a spreading poison following a vein to the heart.

At a time when Red Ships threatened Tradeford itself, the lords of Farrow and Tilth were to discover that a great part of the Six Duchies armies had been sent far inland, to Blue Lake, and beyond, to the very borders of the Mountain Kingdom. The nobles of these duchies suddenly discovered that their own guardsmen were all that stood between them and death and ruin.

I emerged from the pillar into a circle of frantic people. The first thing to happen was that a wolf hit me full force in the chest, driving me backward, so that as Verity emerged he all but fell over me.

I made her understand me, I made her know you were in danger and she made him go after you. I made her understand me, I made her understand me!
Nighteyes was in a puppyish frenzy. He thrust his nose into my face, nipped at my nose, then flung himself to the ground beside me and half in my lap.

“He stirred a dragon! Not quite to wakening, but I felt one stir! We may yet wake them all!” This was Verity, laughing and shouting to the others these good tidings as he calmly stepped over us. He flourished his shining sword aloft as if to challenge the moon. I had no idea what he was talking about. I sat flat on the earth, staring around at them. The Fool looked wan and weary; Kettricken, ever a mirror to her king, smiled at his exultation. Starling looked at all of us with greedy minstrel eyes, memorizing every detail. And Kettle, her hands and arms silver to the elbow, knelt carefully beside me to ask, “Are you all right, FitzChivalry?”

I looked at her magic-coated arms and hands. “What have you done?” I asked her.

“Only what was necessary. Verity took me to the river in the city. Now our work will proceed more swiftly. What happened to you?”

I did not answer her. Instead I pinned Verity with a glare. “You sent me off so I would not follow you! You knew I could not wake the dragons, but you wanted me out of the way!” I could not conceal the outrage and betrayal I felt.

Verity gave me one of his old grins, denying all regrets. “We know one another very well, don’t we?” was all he offered by way of apology. Then his grin grew wider. “Yes, it was a fool’s errand I sent you on. But I was the fool, for you did it. You woke one, or stirred him at least.”

I shook my head at him.

“Yes, you did. You must have felt it, that rippling of Skill, just before I reached you. What did you do, how did you stir him?”

“A man died on the stone boar’s tusks,” I said flatly. “Perhaps that is how you rouse these dragons. With death.” I cannot explain the hurt I felt. He had taken what should have been mine and given it to Kettle. He owed that Skill-closeness to me, no other. Who else had come so far, given up so much for him? How could he deny me the carving of his dragon?

It was Skill-hunger, pure and simple, but I did not know it then. At that time, all I could feel was how perfectly linked he was with Kettle, and how firmly he repulsed me from joining that link. He walled me out as firmly as if I were Regal. I had forsaken my wife and child and crossed all of the Six Duchies to be of service to him, and now he turned me away. He should have taken me to the river, been beside me as I had that experience. I had never known myself capable of such jealousy. Nighteyes came back from frisking about Kettricken to push his head under my arm. I rubbed his throat and hugged him. He, at least, was mine.

She understood me,
he repeated anxiously.
I made her understand, and she told him he must go.

Kettricken, coming to stand beside me, said, “I had the strongest feeling you needed help. It took much urging, but finally Verity left the dragon and went for you. Are you much hurt?”

I got to my feet slowly, dusting myself off. “Only my pride, that my king would treat me as a child. He might have let me know he preferred Kettle’s company.”

A flash of something in Kettricken’s eyes made me recall to whom I spoke. But she hid her twin hurt well, saying only, “A man was killed, you say?”

“Not by me. He fell on the stone boar’s tusks in the dark and gutted himself. But I saw no stirring of dragons.”

“Not the death, but the spilled life,” Kettle said to Verity. “That might be it. Like the scent of fresh meat rousing a dog starved near to death. They are hungry, my king, but not past rousing. Not if you find a way to feed them.”

“I like not the sound of that!” I exclaimed.

“It is not for us to like or dislike,” Verity said heavily. “It is the nature of dragons. They must be filled, and life is what fills them. It must be given willingly to create one. But dragons will take what they need to sustain them, once they rise in flight. What had you supposed that King Wisdom offered them in return for defeating the Red Ships?”

Kettle pointed a scolding finger at the Fool. “Pay heed to that, Fool, and understand now why you are so weary. When you touched her with Skill, you linked with her. She draws you to her now, and you think you go out of pity. But she will take from you whatever she needs to rise. Even if it is your whole life.”

“No one is making any sense,” I declared. Then, as my own scattered wits returned to me, I exclaimed, “Regal has sent soldiers. They are on the march here. They are no more than a few days away at most. I suspect they push themselves and travel swiftly. The men guarding the pillars are placed there to prevent Verity’s escape.”

It was much later that night before I had it all sorted out. Kettle and Verity had indeed gone to the river, almost as soon as I left. They had used the pillar to get down to the city, and there they had laved Kettle’s arms in the stuff and renewed the power in Verity’s. Every glimpse of that silvering of her arms woke in me a Skill-hunger that was almost a lust. It was something I masked from myself and attempted to hide from Verity. I do not believe he was deceived, but he did not force me to confront it. I masked my jealousy with other excuses. I told them both hotly it was only the purest luck they had not encountered the coterie there. Verity had calmly replied that he had known the risk and taken it. Somehow it hurt me all the more that even my anger left him so unmoved.

It had been on their return that they had discovered the Fool chipping at the stone that mired Girl-on-a-Dragon. He had cleared an area around one foot, and began on the other. The foot itself remained a shapeless chunk of stone but the Fool insisted that he could feel the foot, intact inside the stone. He felt certain that all she wished from him was that he chop the dragon free of that which mired it. He had been shaking with exhaustion when they found him. Kettle had insisted he go right to bed. She had taken the last piece of often boiled elfbark and ground it down fine, to make one last dose of tea for him. Despite the drug, he remained detached and weary, scarcely even asking a question as to what had happened to me. I felt deep uneasiness for him.

The news I had brought of Regal’s men stirred everyone to action. After food, Verity sent Starling, the Fool, and the wolf to the mouth of the quarry, to keep watch there. I sat by the fire for a time, with a cold wet rag wrapped around my swollen and discolored knee. Up on the dragon dais, Kettricken kept her fires burning, and Verity and Kettle worked the stone. Starling, in helping Kettle search for more elfbark, had discovered the carris seeds that Chade had given me. Kettle had appropriated them and brewed them up into a stimulant drink she and Verity were sharing. The noise of their work had taken on a frightening tempo.

They had also found the sunskirt seeds I had bought so long ago as a possible substitute for elfbark. With a sly grin, Starling asked me why I was carrying those. When I explained, she had snorted with laughter, and finally managed to explain they were regarded as an aphrodisiac. I recalled the herb-seller’s words to me and shook my head to myself. A part of me saw the humor, but I could not find a smile.

After a time of sitting alone by the cook fire, I quested toward Nighteyes.
How goes it?

A sigh.
The minstrel would rather be playing with her harp. The Scentless One would rather be chipping at that statue. And I would rather be hunting. If there is danger coming, it is a long way away.

Let us hope it stays there. Keep watch, my friend.

I left the camp and gimped up the scree of stone to the dragon dais. Three of its feet were free now, and Verity worked on the final front foot. I stood for a time beside him, but he did not deign to notice me. Instead he went on chipping and scraping, and all the while muttered old nursery rhymes or drinking songs to himself. I limped past Kettricken listlessly tending her fires back to where Kettle was smoothing her hands over the dragon’s tail. Her eyes were distant as she called for the scales, and then deepened their detail and added texture to them. Part of the tail also remained hidden in the stone. I started to lean on the thick portion of the tail to take weight off my bruised knee, but she immediately sat up and hissed at me. “Don’t do that! Don’t touch him!”

I straightened away from him. “I touched him before,” I said indignantly. “And it did no harm.”

“That was before. He is much closer to completion now.” She lifted her eyes to mine. Even in the firelight, I could mark how thickly rock dust coated her features and clung to her eyelashes. She looked dreadfully tired and yet animated by some fierce energy. “As close as you are to Verity, the dragon would reach for you. And you are not strong enough to say no. He would pull you in completely. That’s how strong he is, how magnificently strong.” She all but crooned the last words as she stroked her hands again down the tail. For an instant, I saw a sheen of color right behind their passage.

“Is anyone ever going to explain any of this to me?” I asked petulantly.

She gave me a bemused look. “I try. Verity tries. But you of all people should know how wearisome words are. We try and try and try to tell you, and still your mind does not grasp it. It is not your fault. Words are not big enough. And it is too dangerous to include you in our Skilling now.”

“Will you be able to make me understand after the dragon is finished?”

She looked at me and something like pity crossed her face. “FitzChivalry. My dear friend. When the dragon is finished? Rather say that when Verity and I are finished, the dragon will be begun.”

“I don’t understand!” I snarled in frustration.

“But he told you. I said it again when I warned the Fool. Dragons feed on life. A whole life, willingly given. That is what it takes to make a dragon rise. And usually not just one. In olden times, when wise men sought out Jhaampe town, they came as a coterie, as a whole that was more than the sum of its parts, and gave that all over into a dragon. The dragon must be filled. Verity and I must put all of ourselves, every part of our lives, into it. It is easier for me. Eda knows I have lived more than my share of years, and I have no desire to go on in this body. It is harder, much harder, for Verity. He leaves behind his throne, his pretty loving wife, his love of doing things with his hands. He leaves behind riding a fine horse, hunting stags, walking amongst his own people. Oh, I feel them all within the dragon already. The careful inking of color onto a map, the feel of a clean piece of vellum under his hands. I even know the smells of his inks, now. He has put them all into the dragon. It is hard for him. But he does it, and the pain it costs him is one more thing he puts into the dragon. It will fuel his fury toward the Red Ships when he rises. In fact, there is only one thing he has held back from his dragon. Only one thing that may make him fall short of his goal.”

“What is that?” I asked her unwillingly.

Her old eyes met mine. “You. He has refused to allow you to be put into the dragon. He could do it, you know, whether you willed it or not. He could simply reach out and pull you into him. But he refuses. He says you love your life too much, he will not take it from you. That you have already laid down too much of it for a king who has returned you only pain and hardship.”

Did she know that with her words she gave Verity back to me? I suspect she did. I had seen much of her past during our Skill-sharing. I knew the experience had to have flowed both ways. She knew how I had loved him, and how hurt I had been to find him so distant when I got here. I stood up immediately to go speak with him.