Royal Assassin (UK)

Royal Assassin (UK) Page 56

by Robin Hobb

  There was noth­ing to say about that. I feared it was all true. ‘Eat some­thing,’ I sug­ges­ted. ‘How’s your leg now?’

  He lif­ted the blanket to cas­u­ally in­spect it. ‘Still there, any­way. I sup­pose I should be grate­ful for that. And bet­ter than it was this morn­ing. The devil’s club did draw out the in­fec­tion. Chicken-brained as she is, the wo­man still knows her herbs.’

  I did not need to ask to whom he re­ferred. ‘Are you go­ing to eat?’ I prod­ded.

  He set down his cup and took up a spoon. He tasted the soup Molly had set out, grudgingly nod­ding his ap­proval. ‘So,’ he ob­served between bites. ‘That was the girl. Molly.’

  I nod­ded.

  ‘Seemed a bit cool with you today.’

  ‘A bit,’ I said dryly.

  Burrich grinned. ‘You’re as testy as she was. I ima­gine Pa­tience did not speak well of me to her.’

  ‘She doesn’t like drunks,’ I told him bluntly. ‘Her father drank him­self to death. But be­fore he fin­ished the job, he man­aged to make her life un­pleas­ant for years. Beat­ing her when she was smal­ler. Rail­ing and be­rat­ing her when she got too big to beat.’

  ‘Oh.’ Burrich care­fully re­filled his cup. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘She was sorry to live it.’

  He looked at me lev­elly. ‘I did not do it, Fitz. Nor was I rude to her when she was here. I’m not even drunk. Not yet. So stuff your dis­ap­proval, and tell me what’s been go­ing on at Buck­keep while I was away.’

  So I stood and re­por­ted to Burrich, just as if he had a right to de­mand it. In a way, I sup­pose he did. He ate as I spoke. When I fin­ished, he poured him­self more brandy and leaned back in his chair, hold­ing it. He swirled the brandy in the cup, looked down at it, then up at me. ‘And Kettricken is with child, but neither the King nor Regal know of it yet.’

  ‘I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘I was. I half-thought I’d dreamed that con­ver­sa­tion. Well.’ He downed the brandy. He sat up, swept the blanket off his leg. As I watched, he de­lib­er­ately bent his knee un­til the pulling flesh began to gape the wound open. I winced at the sight of it, but Burrich only looked thought­ful. He poured more brandy, drank it off. The bottle was half gone. ‘So. I’m go­ing to have to splint the leg straight, if I’m go­ing to keep that closed.’ He glanced up at me. ‘You know what I’ll need. Will you fetch it for me?’

  ‘I think you should stay off it for a day or so. Give it a chance to rest. You don’t need a splint if you’re in bed.’

  He gave me a long look. ‘Who guards Kettricken’s door?’

  ‘I don’t think … I as­sume she has wo­men who sleep in the outer cham­ber of her apart­ments.’

  ‘You know he’ll try to kill her and the un­born child, as soon as he finds out.’

  ‘It’s a secret still. If you start guard­ing her door, all will know.’

  ‘By my count, five of us know. That’s no secret, Fitz.’

  ‘Six,’ I ad­mit­ted rue­fully. ‘The Fool sur­mised it some days ago.’

  ‘Oh!’ I had the sat­is­fac­tion of see­ing Burrich looked shocked. ‘Well, at least that’s one tongue that won’t go wag­ging. Still, as you see, it won’t be secret long. Ru­mours will fly be­fore the day’s out, mark my words. I guard her door this night.’

  ‘Must it be you? Can’t you rest, and I will …’

  ‘A man can die of fail­ure, Fitz. Do you know that? Once, I told you, the fight isn’t over un­til you’ve won. This,’ and he ges­tured at his leg in dis­gust, ‘this will not be my ex­cuse for giv­ing up. Shame enough for me that my prince went on without me. I shall not fail him here. Be­sides,’ he gave a bark of sour laughter, ‘there’s not enough in the stables now to keep both Hands and me busy. And the heart for it has gone out of me. Now. Will you go get the splint works?’

  So I did, and took them back to him, and helped him smear the wound with his salve be­fore we wrapped it well and splin­ted it. He cut a pair of old trousers to go over the splint, and I helped him down the stairs. Then, des­pite his words, he went to Ruddy’s stall, to see if his horse’s ar­row wound had been cleaned and doctored. I left him there and went back up to the keep. I wanted to speak to Kettricken, to let her know there would be a man on guard on her door that night, and why.

  I knocked at her cham­ber door and was ad­mit­ted by Rose­mary. The Queen was in­deed there, and a se­lec­tion of her ladies. Most were work­ing em­broid­ery or small lap-looms as they talked. The Queen her­self had her win­dow opened to the mild winter day, and was look­ing out over the calm sea with a frown. She re­minded me of Ver­ity when he Skilled, and I sus­pec­ted that much the same wor­ries plagued her. I fol­lowed her gaze, and wondered, like her, where the Red Ships would strike today, and what was go­ing on up in Bearns. Use­less to won­der. Of­fi­cially, there was no word at all from Bearns. The ru­mours were that the coasts ran red with blood.

  ‘Rose­mary. I wish a quiet word with her majesty.’

  Rose­mary nod­ded gravely, and went over to curt­sey to her queen. In a mo­ment Kettricken looked up, and with a nod and a ges­ture in­vited me to join her in her win­dow seat. I greeted her quietly, and ges­tured smil­ingly out over the wa­ter as if we chat­ted of the fine weather. But softly I said, ‘Burrich wishes to guard your door, be­gin­ning this night. He fears that when oth­ers dis­cover you are with child, your life will be in danger.’

  An­other wo­man might have blanched or at least seemed sur­prised. In­stead, Kettricken lightly touched the very ser­vice­able knife she al­ways wore be­side her keys. ‘Al­most, I would wel­come so dir­ect an at­tack.’ She con­sidered. ‘I sup­pose it is wise. What harm can come of let­ting them know we sus­pect. Nay, that we know. Why should I be cir­cum­spect and tact­ful? Burrich has already re­ceived their greet­ings, in the form of an ar­row through the leg.’ The bit­ter­ness in her voice and the fe­ro­city be­neath it shocked me. ‘He may take the guard-post, and with it my thanks. I could choose a sounder man, but I would not have the trust in him that I have in Burrich. Will his leg in­jury per­mit him to do this duty?’

  ‘I do not think his pride would per­mit any other to do it.’

  ‘Fine, then.’ She paused. ‘I will have a chair placed for him.’

  ‘I doubt he will use it.’

  She sighed. ‘We all have our own ways of of­fer­ing sac­ri­fice. It shall be there, nev­er­the­less.’

  I bowed my head in ac­cept­ance and she dis­missed me. I went back up to my room in­tend­ing to tidy away all that had been dragged out for Burrich’s use. But as I walked softly down the hall, I was startled to see the door of my room open slowly. I eased to an­other door­way and flattened my­self in­side it. After a mo­ment, Justin and Se­rene emerged from my room. I stepped out to con­front them.

  ‘Still look­ing for a spot for your tryst?’ I asked acidly.

  They both froze. Justin stepped back, stood al­most be­hind Se­rene. Se­rene glared at him, then stood firm be­fore me. ‘We don’t have to an­swer to you for any­thing.’

  ‘Not even for be­ing in my room? Did you find any­thing in­ter­est­ing there?’

  Justin was breath­ing as if he’d just run a race. I met his eyes de­lib­er­ately. He was speech­less. I smiled at him.

  ‘We need not speak to you at all,’ Se­rene an­nounced. ‘We know what you are. Come, Justin.’

  ‘You know what I am? In­ter­est­ing. Rest as­sured that I know what you are. And that I am not the only one who knows.’

  ‘Beast-man!’ Justin hissed. ‘You wal­low in the filthi­est of ma­gics. Did you think you could go un­detec­ted amongst us? No won­der Ga­len found you un­fit to Skill!’

  His ar­row had struck home and quivered in my most secret fear. I tried not to let it show. ‘I am loyal to King Shrewd.’ Face com­posed, I gazed at them stead­ily. I said no more than that. Not in
words. But I looked them up and down, meas­ur­ing them against what they should be, and found them lack­ing. In the minute shift­ing of their feet, in their quick glances at one an­other, I de­cided that they knew they were trait­ors. They re­por­ted to Regal; they knew they should re­port to the King. They were not de­ceived as to what they were; they un­der­stood. Per­haps Ga­len had burned a loy­alty to Regal into their minds; per­haps they could not con­ceive of turn­ing against him. But parts of them still knew that Shrewd was king, and that they were dis­loyal to a king they had sworn to. I tucked away that bit of know­ledge; it was a crack that might someday hold a wedge.

  I stepped for­ward, and en­joyed watch­ing Se­rene shrink away from me while Justin cowered between her and the wall. But I made no at­tack. I turned my back to them and opened my door. As I entered my room, I felt a sneaky little wisp of Skill grope at the edges of my mind. Without think­ing, I blocked as Ver­ity had taught me to. ‘Keep your thoughts to your­self,’ I warned them, and did not dig­nify them by look­ing back at them. I shut the door.

  For a mo­ment, I stood breath­ing. Calm. Calm. I did not re­lax my mind-guards. Then quietly, care­fully, I worked my latches. Once the door was se­cured, I moved cau­tiously through my room. Chade had once told me that as­sas­sins must al­ways be­lieve the other per­son has more skill than they do. It is the only way to re­main alive and keep sharp. So I touched noth­ing lest it had been coated with poison. In­stead, I stood in the centre of my room, closed my eyes, and tried to re­call ex­actly how it had looked when I last left it. Then I opened my eyes and looked for changes in the room.

  The small tray of herbs was squarely on top of my cloth­ing chest. I had left it to one end, within easy reach of Burrich. So they had been through my cloth­ing chest. The tapestry of King Wis­dom, that had been slightly askew for months, now hung straight. That was all I could see. It puzzled me. I had no idea what they had been look­ing for. That they had dug through my cloth­ing chest seemed to sug­gest it was a small enough item to fit in there. But why lift a tapestry and look be­hind it? I stood still, think­ing a mo­ment. This had not been a ran­dom search. I was not sure what they had been hop­ing to find. But I sus­pec­ted they had been told to look for a secret pas­sage­way in my room. That meant that Regal had con­cluded that killing Lady Thyme had not been enough. His sus­pi­cions were stronger than Chade had led me to be­lieve. I was al­most grate­ful I had never been able to dis­cover how to work the entry to Chade’s apart­ments. It gave me more con­fid­ence in its secrecy.

  I in­spec­ted every item in my room be­fore I handled it. I saw that every scrap of food that had re­mained on Cook’s trays was dis­posed of where no one and noth­ing would taste it. I dis­carded the wa­ter in the buck­ets as well as that in my ewer. I in­spec­ted my sup­ply of fire­wood and candles for powders or res­ins, checked my bed­ding for powder and re­luct­antly dis­carded my com­plete sup­ply of herbs. I would take no chances. I could dis­cover no pos­ses­sions miss­ing, nor that any­thing had been ad­ded to my room. Some time later, I sat down on my bed, feel­ing ex­hausted and un­nerved. I would have to be more on my guard, I con­cluded. I re­called the Fool’s ex­per­i­ence and pondered it. I did not want to en­counter a bag and a beat­ing the next time I entered my room.

  My room sud­denly seemed con­fin­ing, a trap that I must re­turn to each day. I left it, not both­er­ing to lock it as I went. Locks were use­less. Let them see I did not fear their in­tru­sion. Even though I did.

  Out­side it was a mild, clear, late af­ter­noon. The un­season­ably kind weather ate at me, even as I en­joyed my walk through the in­ner circle of the keep. I de­cided I would walk down to the town, to pay a visit to the Rurisk and my ship­mates there, and then per­haps go into a tav­ern for a beer. It had been too long since I’d walked to town, and far too long since I’d listened to the gos­sip of town folk. It would be a re­lief to get away from Buck­keep in­trigues for a while.

  I was go­ing out of the gate when a young guards­man stepped into my path. ‘Stand!’ he com­manded me, then, ‘Please, sir,’ he ad­ded as he re­cog­nized me.

  I hal­ted obed­i­ently. ‘Yes?’

  He cleared his throat, then sud­denly went scar­let all the way to his hair­line. He took a breath, then stood si­lent.

  ‘Did you need some­thing from me?’ I asked.

  ‘Please to wait a mo­ment, sir,’ the boy blur­ted.

  The lad dis­ap­peared back into the guard­house, and a mo­ment later an older watch-of­ficer emerged. She re­garded me gravely, took a breath as if to steel her­self, then said quietly, ‘You are denied pas­sage out of the keep.’

  ‘What?’ I could not be­lieve my ears.

  She drew her­self up. When she spoke, her voice was firmer. ‘You are denied pas­sage out of the keep.’

  A surge of an­ger heated me. I forced it down. ‘By whose com­mand?’

  She stood firm be­fore me. ‘My com­mands come from the cap­tain of the watch, sir. That is all I know of it.’

  ‘I would speak to that cap­tain.’ I kept my voice cour­teous.

  ‘He is not in the guard-room. Sir.’

  ‘I see.’ But I did not, quite. I could per­ceive all the nooses tight­en­ing about me, but could not un­der­stand why just now. The other ob­vi­ous ques­tion to ask, how­ever, was ‘why not’? With Shrewd’s en­feeble­ment, Ver­ity had be­come my pro­tector. But he was away. I could turn to Kettricken, but only if I were will­ing to bring her into open con­flict with Regal. I was not. Chade was, as al­ways, a shadow power. All of this passed through my mind quickly. I was turn­ing away from the gate when I heard my name called. I turned back.

  Com­ing up the hill from town was Molly. Her ser­vant’s blue dress flapped around her calves as she ran. And she ran heav­ily, un­evenly, un­like her usual grace­ful stride. She was ex­hausted, or nearly so. ‘Fitz!’ she cried out again, and there was fear in her voice.

  I star­ted to go to her, but the guard stepped sud­denly into my path. Fear was on her face, too, but also de­term­in­a­tion. ‘I can­not let you go out of the gate. I have my or­ders.’

  I wanted to smash her from my path. I forced my rage down. A struggle with her would not help Molly. ‘Then you go to her, damn you! Can’t you see the wo­man is in trouble of some kind?’

  She stood eye to eye with me, un­mov­ing. ‘Miles!’ she called, and the boy leaped out. ‘Go see what is wrong with that wo­man. Quickly now!’

  The boy took off like a shot. I stood, with the guard stand­ing squarely be­fore me, and watched help­lessly over her shoulder as Miles raced to Molly. When he reached her, he put an arm around her, and took her bas­ket on his other arm. Lean­ing heav­ily on him, gasp­ing and near weep­ing, Molly came to­ward the gate. It seemed to take forever be­fore she was through the gate and in my arms. ‘Fitz, oh Fitz,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Come,’ I told her. I turned her away from the guard, walked her away from the gate. I knew I had done the sens­ible thing, the calm thing, but I felt shamed and small from it.

  ‘Why didn’t you … come to me?’ Molly panted.

  ‘The guard would not let me. They have or­ders that I am not to leave Buck­keep,’ I said quietly. I could feel her trem­bling as she leaned against me. I took her around the corner of a ware­house, out of sight of the guards stand­ing gap­ing in the gate. I held her in my arms un­til she quieted. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ I tried to make my voice sooth­ing. I brushed back the hair that hung about her face. After a few mo­ments, she quieted in my arms. Her breath­ing stead­ied, but she still trembled.

  ‘I had gone into town. Lady Pa­tience had given me the af­ter­noon. And I needed to get a few things … for my candles.’ As she spoke, her trem­bling lessened. I tilted her chin up so that she looked into my eyes.

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I was … com­ing back. I was on the steep bit, just out­side of
town. Where the alders grow?’

  I nod­ded. I knew the spot.

  ‘I heard horses com­ing. In a hurry. So I stepped off the road, to make way for them.’ She star­ted to tremble again. ‘I kept walk­ing, think­ing they would pass me. But sud­denly they were right be­hind me, and when I looked back, they were com­ing right at me. Not on the road, but right at me. I jumped back into the brush, and still they rode right at me. I turned and ran, but they kept com­ing …’ Her voice was get­ting higher and higher.

  ‘Hush! Wait a bit. Calm down. Think. How many of them? Did you know them?’

  She shook her head wildly. ‘Two. I couldn’t see their faces. I was run­ning away, and they were wear­ing the kind of helm that comes down over your eyes and nose. They chased me. It’s steep there, you know, and brushy. I tried to get away, but they just rode their horses right through the brush after me. Herd­ing me, like dogs herd sheep. I ran, and ran, but I couldn’t get away from them. Then, I fell, I caught my foot on a log and I fell. And they jumped from their horses. One pinned me down while the other snatched up my bas­ket. He dumped it all out, like he was look­ing for some­thing, but they were laugh­ing and laugh­ing. I thought …’

  My heart was ham­mer­ing as hard as Molly’s now. ‘Did they hurt you?’ I asked fiercely.

 

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