Royal Assassin (UK)

by Robin Hobb

  He laughed bit­terly. ‘More like I fear to leave this one, lest I never be al­lowed in again. The last time Wal­lace locked me out, it took me an hour of yam­mer­ing and ham­mer­ing be­fore the King real­ized I was miss­ing and de­man­ded to know where I was. The time be­fore that, I slipped in with the break­fast things. The time be­fore that …’

  ‘They seek to sep­ar­ate you from the King?’

  He nod­ded. ‘With honey or a whip. This night, Regal offered me a purse with five bits of gold in it, if I would make my­self present­able and come down to en­ter­tain them. Oh, how he did go on after you had left, over how badly I was missed at the court be­low, and what a shame it was for me to waste my youth shut away up here. And when I said I found King Shrewd’s com­pany more con­genial than that of other fools, he flung the teapot at me. Put Wal­lace in a fair bit of a huff, for he had just brewed up as nasty a mess of herb tea as would make one long for the per­fume of farts.’

  The Fool had been kind­ling candles and pok­ing up the fire on the King’s hearth as we spoke. Now he drew back one of the heavy bed cur­tains. ‘My liege?’ he said as gently as one might speak to a sleep­ing child. ‘FitzChiv­alry is here with im­port­ant tid­ings for you. Will you awaken and hear him?’

  At first the King made no re­sponse. ‘Your majesty?’ the Fool called to him again. He damped a cloth in a bit of cool wa­ter and pat­ted the King’s face with it. ‘King Shrewd?’

  ‘My king, your folk have need of you.’ The words tumbled from me in des­per­a­tion. ‘Neat­bay is be­sieged by Red Ships. Five of them. We must send aid now, or all is lost. Once they have a toe­hold there …’

  ‘They could close Buck Har­bour.’ The King’s eyes opened as he spoke. He did not move from his prone po­s­i­tion, but he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut as if clench­ing them against pain. ‘Fool. A bit of the red wine. Please.’ His voice was soft, scarce more than a breath, but it was the voice of my king. My heart surged as if I were an old dog hear­ing the voice of a re­turn­ing mas­ter.

  ‘What must we do?’ I begged of him.

  ‘Every ship we have, down the coast to them. Not just the war­ships. Roust out the fish­ing fleet. We fight for our lives now. How dare they come this close, how came they to such bold­ness! Send horse over­land. On their way to­night, within the hour, I say. They may not get there un­til day after to­mor­row, but send them all the same. Put Keen in charge of it.’

  My heart flip-flopped in my chest. ‘Your Majesty,’ I broke in gently. ‘Keen is dead. Com­ing back from the moun­tains, with Burrich. They were at­tacked by high­way­men.’

  The Fool glared at me, and I in­stantly re­gret­ted my in­ter­rup­tion. The com­mand faded from King Shrewd’s voice. Un­cer­tainly, he said, ‘Keen is dead?’

  I took a breath. ‘Yes, your majesty. But there is Red. Kerf is also a good man.’

  The King took the wine the Fool proffered. He sipped, and seemed to draw strength with it. ‘Kerf. Give it to Kerf, then.’ A shade of the con­fid­ence came back. I bit my tongue against say­ing that what horse we had left was not worth send­ing. Doubt­less the folk of Neat­bay would wel­come who­ever came to re­in­force them.

  King Shrewd con­sidered. ‘What is the word from South Cove? Have they sent out war­ri­ors and ships?’

  ‘Your majesty, there is no word from there as yet.’ This was not a lie.

  ‘What goes on here?’ The shout­ing began be­fore he even reached the bed­cham­ber. It was Regal, puffy with drink and fury. ‘Wal­lace!’ He poin­ted an ac­cus­ing fin­ger at me. ‘Get him out of here. Get help to do it if you need it. You needn’t be gentle!’

  Wal­lace had not far to look. Two of Regal’s brawny In­land guards­men had fol­lowed him up from the feast­ing. I was lif­ted off my feet; Regal had chosen burly men for this duty. I looked about for the Fool, for any ally, but the Fool had van­ished. I caught a glimpse of a pale hand van­ish­ing un­der the bed and res­ol­utely looked away. I did not blame him. There was noth­ing he could do for me by stay­ing ex­cept be thrown out with me.

  ‘My father, has he dis­turbed your rest with his wild tales? And you so ill?’ Regal bent so­li­cit­ously over the bed.

  They had me al­most to the door when the King spoke. His voice was not loud, but com­mand was in it. ‘Stand where you are,’ King Shrewd ordered the guards. He still was prone in his bed, but he turned his eyes to Regal. ‘Neat­bay is be­sieged,’ King Shrewd said firmly. ‘We must send aid.’

  Regal shook his head sadly. ‘It is just an­other of the Bas­tard’s ploys, to up­set you and steal rest from you. There has been no call for help, no mes­sage of any kind.’

  One of the guards was very pro­fes­sional in his grip. The other seemed in­tent on dis­lo­cat­ing my shoulder even if I re­fused to struggle against him. I care­fully mem­or­ized his face while try­ing not to show the pain.

  ‘You need not have troubled your­self, Regal. I will dis­cover the truth or the lie here.’ Queen Kettricken had paused to dress. Short white fur jacket, purple trousers and boots. Her long Moun­tain sword was at her side and Burrich stood in the door, hold­ing a heavy-hooded rid­ing-cloak and gloves. She spoke as one would to a spoiled child. ‘Go back to your guests. I will ride to Neat­bay.’

  ‘I for­bid it!’ Regal’s voice rang out strangely shrill. Still­ness sud­denly flooded the room.

  Queen Kettricken poin­ted out quietly what every­one in the room already knew. ‘A prince does not for­bid the Queen-in-Wait­ing. I ride to­night.’

  Regal’s face purpled. ‘This is a hoax, a plot of the Bas­tard’s to throw Buck­keep into an up­roar, and in­stil fear in the folk. There has been no word of an at­tack on Neat­bay.’

  ‘Si­lence!’ The King spat out the word. Every­one in the room froze. ‘FitzChiv­alry? Damn it, re­lease that man. FitzChiv­alry, stand be­fore me. Re­port. Whence came your news?’

  I tugged my jer­kin square again and smoothed my hair back. As I went to stand be­fore my king, I was pain­fully aware of my bare feet and tousled hair. I took a breath and threw it all away. ‘In my sleep I had a vis­ion, sire. Of the Pocked Man, scry­ing in a pool of wa­ter. He showed me the Red Ships at Neat­bay.’

  I dared em­phas­ize no word. I stood firm be­fore them. One of the guards­men snorted in dis­be­lief. Burrich’s jaw dropped open and his eyes widened. Kettricken merely looked con­fused. On the bed, King Shrewd closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

  ‘He’s drunk,’ Regal de­clared. ‘Get him out of here.’ I had never heard so much sat­is­fac­tion in Regal’s voice. His guards re­acted swiftly to seize me again.

  ‘As …’ the King drew a deep breath in, ob­vi­ously fight­ing pain, ‘I com­manded.’ He found a bit of strength. ‘As I com­manded. Go now. NOW!’

  I jerked my arms free from the as­ton­ished guards. ‘Yes, your majesty,’ I said into the si­lence. I spoke clearly for the be­ne­fit of all. ‘That is, all war­ships dis­patched to Neat­bay, and as many of the fish­ing fleet as can be ral­lied. And all avail­able horse to be sent over­land, un­der Kerf’s com­mand.’

  ‘Yes,’ the King sighed the word. He swal­lowed, took a breath, opened his eyes. ‘Yes, I or­der it so. Now go.’

  ‘Some wine, my liege?’ The Fool had ma­ter­i­al­ized on the other side of the bed. I was the only one who startled. The Fool smiled a secret smile over that. Then he bent over the King, help­ing him to raise his head and sip at the wine. I bowed deeply, deeply, to my king. I straightened, and turned to leave the room.

  ‘You may ride with my guard, if you wish,’ Queen Kettricken told me.

  Regal’s face was scar­let. ‘The King did not tell you to go!’ he sputtered at her.

  ‘Nor did he “for­bid” it.’ The Queen looked at him flatly.

  ‘My queen!’ One of her guard an­nounced her­self at the door. ‘We are ready to ride.’ I looked at her in as­ton­ish�
�ment. Kettricken merely nod­ded.

  She glanced at me. ‘You’d best make haste, Fitz. Un­less you plan to ride like that.’

  Burrich shook out the Queen’s cloak for her. ‘Is my horse ready?’ Ketr­ricken asked her guard.

  ‘Hands prom­ised it at the door by the time you des­cen­ded.’

  ‘I will need but a mo­ment or two to ready my­self,’ Burrich said quietly. I no­ticed he did not phrase it as a re­quest.

  ‘Go then. Both of you. Plan on catch­ing up with us as quickly as you can.’

  Burrich nod­ded. He fol­lowed me to my room, where he helped him­self to winter garb from my cloth­ing chest while I got dressed. ‘Brush your hair back and wash your face,’ he ordered me tersely. ‘War­ri­ors have more con­fid­ence in a man who looks like he ex­pec­ted to be awake at this hour.’

  I did as he ad­vised and then we hastened down the stairs. His game leg seemed for­got­ten to­night. Once we were in the court­yard, he star­ted bel­low­ing for stable boys to bring up Sooty and Ruddy. He sent an­other boy scram­bling to find Kerf and pass on the or­ders, and an­other to ready every avail­able horse in the stables. Four men he dis­patched to town, one to the war­ships, three oth­ers to make the rounds of the tav­erns and rally the fleet. I en­vied his ef­fi­ciency. He did not real­ize he had taken com­mand away from me un­til we were mount­ing. He looked sud­denly un­com­fort­able. I smiled at him. ‘Ex­per­i­ence counts,’ I told him.

  We rode for the gates. ‘We should be able to catch up with Queen Kettricken be­fore she reaches the coast road,’ Burrich was say­ing, just as a guards­man stepped out to bar our way.

  ‘Hold!’ he com­manded, his voice break­ing on the word.

  Our horses reared back in alarm. We reined in. ‘What’s this?’ Burrich de­man­ded.

  The man stood firm. ‘You may pass, sir,’ he told Burrich re­spect­fully. ‘But I have or­ders that the Bas­tard is not al­lowed out of Buck­keep.’

  ‘The Bas­tard?’ I had never heard such out­rage in Burrich’s voice. ‘Say “FitzChiv­alry, son of Prince Chiv­alry”.’

  The man gaped at him in as­ton­ish­ment.

  ‘Say it now!’ Burrich bel­lowed, and pulled steel. He sud­denly seemed twice as large as he had. An­ger ra­di­ated from him in waves I could feel.

  ‘FitzChiv­alry, son of Prince Chiv­alry,’ the man babbled. He took a breath and swal­lowed. ‘But how­ever I call him, I have my or­ders. He is not al­lowed out.’

  ‘Not an hour ago, I heard our queen com­mand us to ride with her, or to catch up as swiftly as we might. Do you say your or­der is su­per­ior to hers?’

  The man looked un­cer­tain. ‘One mo­ment, sir.’ He stepped back into the guard house.

  Burrich snorted. ‘Who­ever trained him ought to be ashamed. He re­lies en­tirely on our hon­our to keep us from rid­ing through.’

  ‘Maybe he just knows you,’ I sug­ges­ted.

  Burrich glared at me. After a mo­ment, the cap­tain of the watch came out. He grinned at us. ‘Ride well, and best of luck at Neat­bay.’

  Burrich flung him some­thing between a sa­lute and a farewell, and we urged our horses through. I let Burrich choose the pace. It was dark, but once we were down the hill, the road was straight and good and there was a bit of a moon. Burrich was as reck­less as I had ever seen him, for he put the horses to a canter, and kept up the pace un­til we saw the Queen’s Guard ahead of us. He slowed us just short of join­ing them. I saw them turn to re­cog­nize us, and one sol­dier raised a hand in greet­ing.

  ‘A preg­nant mare, in early preg­nancy, does well to be ex­er­cised.’ He looked over at me through the dark­ness. ‘I don’t know that much about wo­men,’ he said hes­it­antly.

  I grinned at him. ‘And you think I do?’ I shook my head and grew sober. ‘I don’t know. Some wo­men don’t ride at all when they are car­ry­ing. Some do. I think Kettricken would not put Ver­ity’s child at risk. Be­sides. She is safer with us here, than left be­hind with Regal.’

  Burrich said noth­ing, but I sensed his as­sent. It was not all I sensed.

  We hunt to­gether again at last!

  Quietly! I warned him with a side­ways glance at Burrich. I kept my thoughts tiny and private. We go far. Will you be able to keep pace with the horses?

  Over a short dis­tance, they can out speed me. But noth­ing out­dis­tances the trot­ting wolf.

  Burrich stiffened slightly in his saddle. I knew Nighteyes was off to the side of the road, trot­ting through the shad­ows. It did feel good to be out and along­side him again. It felt good to be out and do­ing things. It was not that I re­joiced at Neat­bay be­ing at­tacked; it was that, at last, I would have a chance to do some­thing about it, even if it was only to clean up whatever was left stand­ing. I glanced over at Burrich. An­ger ra­di­ated from him.

  ‘Burrich?’ I ven­tured.

  ‘It’s a wolf, isn’t it?’ Burrich spoke grudgingly into the dark­ness. He looked straight ahead as we rode. I knew the set of his mouth.

  You know I am. A grin­ning, tongue-lolling reply.

  Burrich flinched as if poked.

  ‘Nighteyes,’ I ad­mit­ted quietly, ren­der­ing the im­age of his name into hu­man words. Dread sat me. Burrich had sensed him. He knew. No point in deny­ing any­thing any more. But there was a tiny edge of re­lief in it as well. I was deathly tired of all the lies I lived. Burrich rode on si­lently, not look­ing at me. ‘I did not in­tend for it to hap­pen. It just did.’ An ex­plan­a­tion. Not an apo­logy.

  I gave him no choice. Nighteyes was be­ing very joc­u­lar about Burrich’s si­lence.

  I put my hand on Sooty’s neck, took com­fort in the warmth and life there. I waited. Burrich still said noth­ing. ‘I know you will never ap­prove,’ I said quietly. ‘But it is not some­thing I can choose. It is what I am.’

  It is what we all are, Nighteyes smirked. Come, Heart of the Pack, speak to me. Will not we hunt well to­gether?

  Heart of the Pack? I wondered.

  He knows it is his name. It is what they called him, all those dogs that wor­shipped him, when they all gave tongue in the chase. It was what they taunted one an­other with. ‘Heart of the Pack, here, here, the game is here, and I have found it for you, for you!’ So they all yelped and tried to be first to yelp it to him. But now they are all gone, taken far away. They did not like to leave him. They knew he heard, even if he would not reply. Had you never heard them?

  I sup­pose I tried not to.

  A waste. Why choose to be deaf? Or mute?

  ‘Must you do this in my pres­ence?’ Burrich’s voice was stiff.

  ‘Beg par­don,’ I said, gravely aware that he was truly of­fen­ded. Nighteyes snickered again. I ig­nored him. Burrich would not look at me. After a bit, he nudged Ruddy, and cantered for­ward to over­take Kettricken’s guard. I hes­it­ated, then kept pace with him. He form­ally re­por­ted to Kettricken of all he had done be­fore leav­ing Buck­keep, and she nod­ded gravely as if ac­cus­tomed to tak­ing such re­ports. At a sig­nal from her, we were hon­oured to fall back and ride to her left, while her cap­tain of the guard, one Fox­glove, rode to her right. Be­fore dawn found us, the rest of the moun­ted sol­diers from Buck­keep had caught up with us. When they joined us, Fox­glove slowed the pace for a time, to al­low their win­ded horses to breathe. But after we had come to a stream and let all the beasts wa­ter, we pushed on de­term­inedly. Burrich did not speak to me.

  Years earlier, I had made a trip to Neat­bay as part of Ver­ity’s en­tour­age. Then it had taken us five days, but we had trav­elled with wag­ons and lit­ters, jug­glers and mu­si­cians and valets. This time we trav­elled by horse, with seasoned war­ri­ors, and we need not keep to the wide coast road. The only thing that did not fa­vour us was the weather. By mid-morn­ing of our first day out, a winter storm swept in. It was miser­able rid­ing, not just for the phys­ical dis­com­fort but in the
un­set­tling know­ledge that the driv­ing winds would slow our com­pan­ion ships. Whenever our path took us over­look­ing the wa­ter, I watched for sails, but never saw any.

  The pace Fox­glove set was de­mand­ing but not de­struct­ive to horse or rider. While stops were not fre­quent, she var­ied the pace, and saw that no an­imal wanted for wa­ter. At such stops, there was grain for the horses, and hard bread and dried fish for their riders. If any­one ever no­ticed a wolf shad­ow­ing us, no one spoke of it. Two full days later, as dawn and a gap in the weather found us, we were look­ing out over the wide river val­ley that opened onto Neat­bay.

  Bay­guard was the keep of Neat­bay. And Bay­guard was the home keep of Duke Kelvar and Lady Grace, the heart of Rip­pon Duchy. The watchtower was on a sandy cliff above the town. The keep it­self had been built on fairly level land, but for­ti­fied with a series of earthen walls and ditches. Once I had been told that no en­emy had ever made it past the second wall. It was no longer true. We hal­ted and looked out over the de­struc­tion.

  The five Red Ships were still drawn up on the beach. The boats of Neat­bay, mostly small fish­ing ves­sels, were a burnt and scuttled wreck­age spread along the beach. The tides had played with them since the Raid­ers had des­troyed them. Blackened build­ings and smoul­der­ing wreck­age fanned out from where they had landed, mark­ing their path like a spread­ing con­ta­gion. Fox­glove stood in her stir­rups and poin­ted out over Neat­bay, com­bin­ing her ob­ser­va­tions with what she knew of the town and keep. ‘It’s a shal­low, sandy bay, all the way out. So when the tide goes out, it goes way out. They’ve drawn their boats up too high. If we can force them to re­treat, we want to do it at low tide, when their ships are sit­ting high and dry. They’ve cut through the town like a hot knife through but­ter: I doubt there was much of an ef­fort to de­fend it, it’s not really de­fens­ible. Prob­ably every­one headed for the keep at the first sight of a red keel. It looks to me as if the Outis­landers have battered their way in past the third circle. But Kelvar should be able to hold them off al­most in­def­in­itely now. The Fourth Wall is worked stone. It took years to build. Bay­guard has a good well, and her ware­houses should still be fat with grain this early in winter. She won’t fall un­less she falls to treach­ery.’ Fox­glove stopped ges­tur­ing and settled in her saddle again. ‘It makes no sense, this at­tack,’ she said more softly. ‘How can the Red Ships ex­pect to sus­tain a long siege? Es­pe­cially if they are, in turn, at­tacked by our forces?’