Royal Assassin tft-2

by Robin Hobb

  "Lady Patience, you'll have to leave now," the guard attempted to break in. She ignored him.

  "— you went crazy in grief over Verity's death, and killed the King and Serene and Justin, and they don't know what you've done with the Queen, and no one can—"

  "You cannot speak to the prisoner, madam!" He spoke with conviction, but she paid no mind.

  "— find the Fool. Wallace, he's the one, he said he saw you and the Fool quarreling over the King's body, and then he saw the Pocked Man, come to carry his spirit away. The man is crazy! And Regal accuses you, too, of the low magic, of having the soul of a beast! That's how he said you killed the King. And—"

  "Madam! You have to leave now, or I will have to have you taken away."

  "Then do that," Patience spat at him. "I just dare you to try. Lacey, this man is bothering me. Ah! You dare to think of touching me! I, who was Chivalry's queen-in-waiting! Now, Lacey, do not hurt him, he's only a boy. A mannerless boy, but a boy nonetheless."

  "Lady Patience, I beg you…" A change in tone from the guard.

  "You can't very well drag me away from here without leaving your post. Do you think I'm so stupid I can't see that? What will you do? Attack two old women with your sword?"

  "Chester! Chester, where are you?" the guard on duty bellowed. "Damn you, Chester!" I could hear the frustration in his voice as he yelled for his partner, who had taken a break. He was probably up in the watch room off the kitchen. Drinking cold beer. Eating hot stew. A wave of dizziness passed over me.

  "Chester?" The guard's voice was fading. He had actually been fool enough to leave Lady Patience by his post and go looking for his comrade. In a moment I heard the light patter of her slippers outside my door. I felt the touch of her fingers on my hand that gripped the bar. She was not tall enough to look in, and the corridor was so narrow she could not step back where I could see her. But the touch of her hand was as welcome as sunlight.

  "Keep watch for him coming back, Lacey," she directed, then spoke to me. "How are you, really?" She spoke low, pitching her voice for my ears alone.

  "Thirsty. Hungry. Cold. In pain." I saw no point in lying to her. "What is happening in the Keep?"

  "Complete disorder. The Buckkeep guards broke up the riot in the Great Hall, but then, outside, there was a brawl between some of the Inlanders that Regal brought in and the Buckkeep guard. Queen Kettricken's guard drove a wedge between them, and their officers beat their troops back into line. Still, it's tense. The fighters weren't all soldiers. Many a guest has a black eye or walks with a limp still. Luckily, no one amongst the guests took serious harm. Blade took about the worst injuries, they say. He went down keeping the Farrow men off you. Cracked his ribs and blacked his eyes, did something to one of his arms. But Burrich says he will be all right. The lines have been drawn, however, and the Dukes walk about bristling at one another like dogs."

  "Burrich?" I asked hoarsely.

  "Did not get involved at all," she said reassuringly. "He's fine. If being ill-tempered and surly to all is fine. Which, for him, I suppose is normal."

  My heart thundered inside me. Burrich. Why wasn't he gone? I dared ask no more about him. One question too many, and Patience would get curious. So. "And Regal?" I asked.

  She snorted. "One gets the feeling that what really irritates Regal is that he no longer has an excuse to abandon Buckkeep. Before, you know, he was taking King Shrewd and Kettricken inland so they would be safe, and gutting the castle so they might have familiar things about them. He has no such excuse now, and the Coastal Dukes have demanded he stay and defend the Keep, or at least put in that place a man of their choosing. He has offered his cousin Lord Bright of Farrow, but the Coastal Dukes do not like him. Now that Regal finds himself suddenly a King, I do not think he is enjoying it as much as he expected to."

  "Has he crowned himself, then?" A roaring threatened my ears. I stood by gripping the bars. Must not faint, I told myself. The guard would be back soon. I had only this time to hear what was going on.

  "We have all been much too busy burying the King, and then searching for the Queen. When the King was found dead, we were sent to wake her, but found her doors locked and no answer to our knocking. Finally Regal resorted to his men and axes again. The inner-chamber door was closed and locked as well. But the Queen was gone. It is a great mystery to all of us."

  "What does Regal say of it?" My head was clearing of cobwebs. Oh, how I hurt.

  "Little, save that she and her child are surely dead, and you have brought it about somehow. He speaks wild charges of Beast magic, saying you have slain the King with your Wit. All demand proof for his claims, and he keeps saying, soon, soon."

  No mention of searching the roads and byways for Kettricken, then. I had gambled that his Skill spies had not found out the whole of our plot. But, I cautioned myself, if he had sent out searchers, I doubted they were ordered to bring her back alive and safe.

  "What does Will do?" I asked.

  "Will?"

  "Will, Hostler's son. A member of the coterie."

  "Oh. Him. I have not seen him about, that I recall."

  "Ah." Another wave of dizziness threatened me. Suddenly logic eluded me. I knew I should ask more questions, but I could not think of what they should be. Burrich was still here, but the Queen and the Fool were gone. What had gone wrong? There was no safe way to ask Patience. "Does anyone else know you are here?" I managed to ask. Surely, if Burrich had known she were coming, he would have sent a message.

  "Of course not! This was not an easy thing to plan, Fitz. Lacey had to get an emetic into the one guard's food so he would leave only one on watch. Then we had to watch for him to leave — oh. Lacey said to bring you these. She is wise, that one." Her hand went away, and then came back, to fumble one, and then two small apples through the bars. They hit the floor before I could catch them. I resisted the urge to pounce on them immediately.

  "What do they say of me?" I asked quietly.

  She was silent a moment. "Mostly, folk say that you are crazy. Some, that you were witched by the Pocked Man to bring death amongst us that night. There is some gossip that you had planned to lead a rebellion, and killed Serene and Justin because they found out about it. Others, not many, agree with Regal, saying you have the Beast magic. Wallace, mostly, says such things. He declares the candles did not burn blue in the King's chamber until you entered it. And he says the Fool was shouting that you had killed the King. But the Fool is gone, too. There have been so many omens of evil, and so many fear now…" Her voice dwindled away.

  "I did not kill the King," I said quietly. "Justin and Serene did. That was why I killed them, with the King's own knife."

  "The guards are coming back!" A hiss from Lacey. Patience ignored it.

  "But Justin and Serene weren't even—"

  "I don't have time to explain. It was done with Skill. But they did, Patience. I swear it." I paused. "What do they plan to do with me?"

  "It isn't decided, really."

  "We've no time for polite lies."

  I actually heard her swallow. "Regal wants to hang you. He'd have had you killed right there that night, in the Great Hall, save that Blade held off his guards until the riot was quelled. Then the Coastal Dukes stood up for you. Lady Grace of Rippon reminded Regal that no carrier of the Farseer blood can be put to death by sword or hanging. He did not wish to concede you were of royal blood, but too many raised a shout when he denied it. Now he swears he can show you have the Wit, and hanging is what must be done for one that uses Beast magic."

  "Lady Patience! You must leave now, you must, or I'm not the one that will be hanging!" The guard was back, with Chester evidently, for there was more than one set of footsteps. They were hurrying down to the cell. Patience let go of my fingers.

  "I will do what I can for you," she whispered. She had tried so hard not to let any fear come into her voice, but now it broke on those words.

  And then she was gone, scolding at the guard like a jaybird all the way a
s Chester or whoever escorted her from the cells. The moment she was gone, I laboriously stooped down to gather up my apples. They were not large, and they were withered from being winter-stored, but I found them delicious. I ate even the stems. The little moisture they contained did nothing to quench my thirst. I sat on my bench for a bit, holding my head in my hands, forcing myself to stay alert. I knew I had to think, but it was terribly hard. My mind would not focus. I was tempted to pick my shirt free of the cuts on my arm, but forced myself to leave it alone. As long as they were not festering, I would not bother them. I could not afford to bleed. It took all my strength to hobble back to my door. "Guards!" I croaked.

  They ignored me.

  "I want water. And food."

  Where are you? Another answered my request.

  Beyond your reach, my friend. How are you?

  Fine. But I have missed you. You slept so deep, almost I thought you dead.

  Almost I thought myself dead. That night. Did you guide them to the horses?

  I did. And they left. Heart of the Pack told them I was a half-breed you had tamed. Like I was a cur, doing tricks.

  He sought to protect me, not to insult you. Why did not Heart of the Pack go with them?

  I do not know. What shall we do now?

  Wait.

  "Guards!" I called again, as loudly as I was able. It wasn't very loud.

  "Get back from the door." The man's voice was right outside my cell. I had been so occupied with Nighteyes I had not heard him approach. I was not myself at all.

  A small panel at the bottom of the door slid open. A pot of water and a half a loaf were set inside. The panel closed again.

  "Thank you."

  There was no reply. I picked them up, examined both carefully. The water smelled as if it had been standing for some time, but neither smell nor a cautious sip revealed any trace of poison. I broke the loaf into smaller pieces, looking for flecks in the dough or any discoloration. It was not fresh, but it was not poisoned in any way I could detect. And someone had eaten the other half of it. In a very short time they were gone. I went and lay on my stone bench again, and tried to find the least uncomfortable position.

  The cell was dry, but cold, in the way that any unused chamber in Buckkeep was cold during the winter. I knew exactly where I was. The cells were not far from the wine cellars. I knew I could scream my lungs bloody and no one but my guards would hear. I had explored down here as a boy. I had seldom found occupants in the cells, and even more rarely guards upon them. The swiftness of justice at Buckkeep meant there was seldom a reason to hold a prisoner for more than a few hours. Transgressions of the law usually demanded you pay with your life, or with the work of your hands. I suspected these cells would see a deal more use, now that Regal claimed to be king.

  I tried to sleep, but insensibility had deserted me. Instead, I shifted about on the cold hard stone and thought. I tried for a while to convince myself that if the Queen had gotten away, I had won. After all, winning was getting what you wanted, wasn't it? Instead, I found myself thinking of how quickly King Shrewd had gone. Like a bubble popping. If they hanged me, would it be that swift for me? Or would I strangle and dangle a long time? To divert myself from those pleasant thoughts, I wondered how long a civil war Verity would have to fight with Regal before he could put the Six Duchies on a map once more as the Six Duchies. Assuming, of course, that Verity returned and was able to rid the coast of Red-Ships. When Regal abandoned Buckkeep, as I was sure he would, I wondered who would step forward to take it. Patience had said the Coastal Dukes wanted nothing of Lord Bright. Buck had a few lesser nobles, but none of them so bold as to claim Buckkeep, I thought. Perhaps one of the three Coastal Dukes would reach out a hand and claim it. No. None of them had the might right now to care for anything beyond their own borders. It would be each for his own now. Unless Regal stayed at Buckkeep. With the Queen missing and Shrewd dead, he was, after all, the rightful King. Unless one knew that Verity was alive. But few did. Would the Coastal Duchies accept Regal as king now? Would the Coastal Duchies accept Verity as their king when he returned? Or would they scorn the man who had left them for a foolish quest?

  Time passed slowly in that unchanging place. I was not given food nor water unless I asked for them, and sometimes not then, so meals were no measure of the day. Awake, I was a prisoner of my thoughts and worries. Once I tried to Skill to Verity, but the effort brought on a darkening of my vision and a long period of pounding headache. I had not the strength for a second effort. Hunger became a constant, as unrelenting as the cold of the cell. I heard the guards twice turn Patience away, heard them refuse to give me the food and bandages she had brought. I did not call to her. I wanted her to give up, to disassociate herself from me. My only respite came when I slept and dream-hunted with Nighteyes. I tried to use his senses to explore what went on at Buckkeep, but he attached only a wolf's importance to things, and when I was with him, I shared his values. Time was not divided by days and nights, but from kill to kill. The meat I devoured with him could not sustain my human body, and yet there was satisfaction in the gorging. With his senses I found the weather changing, and awoke one morning knowing that a clear winter day had dawned. Raider weather. The Coastal Dukes could not linger much longer in Buckkeep, if they had lingered at all.

  As if to bear me out, there were voices at the guard station and the rasp of boots against the stone floor. I heard Regal's voice, strained with anger, and the guard's conciliatory greeting, and then they came down the corridor. For the first time since I had awakened there, I heard a key in the lock of my cell, and the door was swung open. I sat up slowly. Three Dukes and a traitor Prince peered in at me. I managed to come to my feet. Behind my lords stood a row of soldiers armed with pikes, as if ready to hold a maddened beast at bay. A guard with a drawn sword stood beside the open door, between Regal and me. He did not underestimate my hatred.

  "You see him," Regal declared flatly. "He is alive and well. I have not done away with him. But know also that I have the right to. He killed a man, my servant, right in my hall. And a woman upstairs in her chamber. I have a right to his life, for those crimes alone."

  "King-in-Waiting Regal. You charge FitzChivalry killed King Shrewd using the Wit," Brawndy stated. With ponderous logic he added, "I have never heard of such a thing being possible. But if this is so, then the council has first right to his life, for he would have killed the King first. It would take a convening of the council, to decide his guilt or innocence, and to set his sentence."

  Regal sighed in exasperation. "Then I will convene the council. Let us get it done and have it over with. It is ridiculous to delay my coronation for a murderer's execution."

  "My lord, a King's death is never ridiculous," Duke Shemshy of Shoaks pointed out quietly. "And we will have done with one King before we have another, Regal, King-in-Waiting. "

  "My father is dead and buried. How much more done with him can you be?" Regal was becoming reckless. There was nothing of grief or respect in his retort.

  "We will know how he died, and at whose hand," Brawndy of Beams told him. "Your man Wallace said FitzChivalry killed the King. You, King-in-Waiting Regal, agreed, saying he used the Wit to do it. Many of us believe that FitzChivalry was singularly devoted to his king and would not do such a thing. And FitzChivalry said the Skill users did." For the first time Duke Brawndy looked directly at me. I met his eyes and spoke to him as if we were alone.

  "Justin and Serene killed him," I said quietly. "By treachery, they killed my king."

  "Silence!" Regal bawled. He lifted his hand as if to strike me. I did not flinch.

  "And so I killed them," I continued, looking only at Brawndy. "With the King's knife. Why else would I have chosen such a weapon?"

  "Crazy men do strange things." This from Duke Kelvar of Rippon, while Regal strangled, livid with fury. I met Kelvar's eyes calmly. Last I had spoken with him had been at his own table, at Neatbay.

  "I am not crazy," I asserted quietly. "I wa
s no more crazy that night than I was the night I wielded an ax outside the walls of Bayguard."

  "That may be so," Kelvar affirmed thoughtfully. "It is common talk that he goes berserk when he fights."

  A glint came into Regal's eyes. "It is common talk, too, that he has been seen with blood on his mouth after he has fought. That he becomes one of the animals that he was raised with. He is Witted."

  Silence greeted this remark. The Dukes exchanged glances, and when Shemshy glanced back at me, there was distaste in the look. Brawndy finally answered Regal. "This is a grave charge you level. Have you a witness?"

  "To blood on his mouth? Several."

  Brawndy shook his head. "Any man may finish a battle with a bloody face. An ax is not a tidy weapon. I can attest to that. No. It would take more than that."

  "Then let us convene the council," Regal repeated impatiently. "Hear what Wallace has to say about how my father died and at whose hand."

  The three Dukes exchanged glances. Their eyes came back to me, considering. Duke Brawndy led the coast now. I was certain of it when he was the one who spoke. "King-in-Waiting Regal. Let us speak plainly. You have accused FitzChivalry, son of Chivalry, of using the Wit, the Beast magic, to slay King Shrewd. This is indeed a grave charge. To satisfy us of it, we ask that you prove to us that not only is he Witted, but that he can use it to do injury to another. All of us were witness that there were no marks on King Shrewd's body, no sign of a death struggle at all. Had not you raised this cry of treachery, we might have accepted that he had died of his years. Some, even, have whispered that you but seek an excuse to be rid of FitzChivalry. I know you have heard these rumors; I speak them aloud that we may confront them." Brawndy paused, as if debating with himself. He glanced once more at his peers. When neither Kelvar nor Shemshy gave sign of dissension, he cleared his throat and continued.