Royal Assassin tft-2

by Robin Hobb

  The fourth time I awoke, I was on the floor of my cell. A terrible snuffling, wheezing sound was what had wakened me. It was the sound of my breathing. I remained where they had dumped me. After a time I lifted a hand and pawed Brawndy's cloak down from the bench. It fell partially atop me. I lay a time longer. Regal's guards had listened to him. Nothing was broken. Everything hurt, but no bones were broken. All they had given me was pain. Nothing I could die from.

  I crawled over to my water. I will not enumerate the pains it cost for me to lift it and drink. My initial attempts to defend myself had left my hands swollen and sore. I tried vainly to keep the edge of the water pot from bumping against my mouth. Finally, I managed to drink. The water strengthened me, to make me all the more aware of everywhere I hurt. My half loaf of bread was there as well. I stuck the end of it in what was left of my water, and then sucked the soaked bread from the loaf as it softened. It tasted like blood. Bolt's initial battering of my head had loosened teeth and cut my mouth. I was aware of my nose as an immense area of throbbing pain. I could not bring myself to touch it with my fingers. There was no pleasure in eating, only a partial relief from the hunger that clawed at me alongside my pain.

  After a time I sat up. I dragged the cloak around me and considered what I knew. Regal would batter at me physically until I either manifested the Wit in an attack his guards could witness, or until I dropped my walls enough that Will could get in my mind and inspire me to confess. I wondered which way he would rather win. I did not doubt he would win. My sole way out of this cell was by dying. Options. To try to make them beat me to death before I either used the Wit or dropped my Skill barrier to Will. Or, to take the poison I had made for Wallace. I would die from it. That was definite. In my weakened state, it would probably be faster than I had planned it for him. Still painful, though. Wretchedly painful.

  One kind of pain seemed as good as another. Laboriously I folded back my bloodied right cuff. The hidden pocket was secured by a thread that should have come loose at a slight tug. But blood had matted it closed. I picked at it carefully. Mustn't spill it. I'd need to wait until they gave me more water to get it down. Otherwise I'd just gag and retch on the bitter powder. I was still working at it when I heard voices down the hallway.

  It did not seem fair they would come back at me so soon. I listened. It wasn't Regal. But anyone coming down here meant something to do with me. A deep voice, rumbling along in a rambling way. The guards replying briefly, in hostile tones. Another voice, interceding, reasoning. The rumbling again, getting louder, and the belligerence plain. Suddenly a shout.

  "You're going to die, Fitz! Hanged over water, and your body burned! "

  Burrich's voice. A strange mix of anger and threat and pain.

  "Get him out of here." One of the guards, speaking loud and plain now. She was obviously an Inlander.

  "I will, I will." I knew that voice. Blade. "He's just had a bit too much to drink, that's all. It's always been a problem with him. And he had the boy as his apprentice down there in the stables for years. Everyone's saying he should have known about it, did know about it and didn't do anything, maybe."

  "Yessss." Burrich drew out the angry affirmation. "And I'm out of a job now, bastard! No more buck's crest for me! Well, by El's ass, it hardly matters. Horses are gone. Best damn horses I ever trained, gone inland now, given over to fools! Dogs are gone, hawks are gone! All that're left are the scrubs and a couple mules. Don't have one horse I'd admit to owning!" His voice was growing closer. There was madness in it.

  I scrabbled up the door, clung to the bars to see. I couldn't see the guard post, but their shadows were on the wall. Burrich's shadow was attempting to come down the hall while the guards and Blade tried to drag him back.

  "Wait. Now, just wait a minute," Burrich remonstrated drunkenly. "Wait. Look. I only want to talk to him. That's all." The cluster of people surged down the hall, halted again. The guards were between Burrich and my door. Blade was clinging to Burrich's arm. He still showed the marks from the brawl, and one of his arms was in a sling. He could do little to stop Burrich.

  "Just get mine in before Regal gets his. That's all. That's all." Burrich's voice was deep and slurry with drink. "Come on. Just for a minute. What's it going to matter anyway? He's good as dead." Another pause. "Look. I'll make it worth your while. Look here."

  The guards were exchanging glances.

  "Uh, Blade, you got any coin left?" Burrich was digging through his pouch, then snorted with disgust and upended it over his hand. Coins fell in a shower, spilling past his fingers. "Here, here." There was the chink and rattle of coins dropped and rolling on the stone floor of the passageway and he flung his arms wide in a gesture of largesse.

  "Hey, he doesn't mean it, Burrich, you don't bribe guards like that, you're going to get yourself tossed in a cell, too." Blade stooped hastily, making apologies as he hurried to gather up the spilled coins. The guards stooped alongside him and I saw a hand make a furtive trip from floor to pocket.

  Suddenly Burrich's face peered in my window. For a moment we stood eye to eye at the barred window. Grief and outrage battled in his face. His eyes were webbed red from his drinking, and his breath was strong with it. The fabric of his shirt showed ragged where the buck crest had been torn from it. He glared at me, then, as he looked at me, his eyes widened in shock. For a moment our gaze held, and I thought something of understanding and farewell passed between us. Then he leaned back and spat full in my face.

  "That, for you," he snarled. "That for my life, which you took from me. All the hours, all the days I spent upon you.

  Better that you had lain down and died amongst the beasts before you let this come to pass. They're going to hang you; boy. Regal's having the gallows built, over water, like the old wisdom says. They'll hang you, then cut you up and burn you down to bones. Nothing left to bury. He's probably afraid the dogs would dig you up again. You'd like that, hey, boy? Buried like a bone, for some dog to dig up later? Better to just lie down and die right where you are."

  I had recoiled from him when he spat at me. Now I stood back from my door, swaying on my feet while he gripped the bars and stared in at me, his eyes wide and bright with madness and drink.

  "You're so good with the Wit, they say. Why don't you change into a rat and scuttle out of there? Huh?" He leaned his forehead against the bars and peered in at me. Almost pensively, he said, "Better that than to hang, whelp. Change into a beast and run off with your tail between your legs. If you can… I heard you can… they say you can turn into a wolf. Well, unless you can, you're going to hang. Hang by your neck, choking and kicking…" His voice trailed off. His dark eyes locked with mine. They were teary with drink. "Better to lie down and die right there than hang." Suddenly he seemed full of fury. "Maybe I'll help you lie down and die!" he threatened through gritted teeth. "Better you die my way than Regal's!" He began to wrest at the bars, shaking the door back and forth against its locks.

  The guards were instantly on him, one to an arm, tugging and cursing while he ignored them. Old Blade jigged up and down behind them, saying, "Give it up, come on, Burrich, you had your say, come on, man, before there's real trouble."

  They did not pry him loose, but he gave it up suddenly, just dropping his arms to his sides. It caught the guards by surprise and they both stumbled back. I clutched at the barred window.

  "Burrich." It was hard to make my mouth form words. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry." I took a breath, tried to find some words to end some of the torment in his eyes. "No one should blame you. You did the best with me you could."

  He shook his head at me, his face contorting with grief and anger. "Lie down and die, boy. Just lie down and die." He turned and walked away from me. Blade was walking backward, apologizing a hundred times over to the two flustered guards who followed him up the corridor. I watched them go, and then watched Burrich's shadow go lurching off, while Blade's stayed a bit to mollify the guards.

  I swiped at the spittle on
my swollen face and went slowly back to my stone bench. I sat a long time, remembering. From the beginning he had warned me off the Wit. The first dog that I had ever bonded to, he had mercilessly taken from me. I had fought him for that dog, repelled at him with every bit of strength I had, and he had just deflected it back at me. So hard I had not even attempted to repel anyone for years after that. And when he had relented, ignoring if not accepting my bond with the wolf, it had rebounded onto him. The Wit. All those times he had warned me, and all those times I had been so sure I knew what I was doing.

  You did.

  Nighteyes. I acknowledged him. I had no spirit to do more than that.

  Come with me. Come with me and we will hunt. I can take you far from all of this.

  In a while, perhaps, I put him off. I did not have the strength to deal with him.

  I sat a long time, actually. My encounter with Burrich hurt as badly as the beating had. I tried to think of one person in my life that I had not failed, had not disappointed. I could think of no one.

  I glanced down at Brawndy's cloak. I was cold enough to want it, but too sore to pick it up. A pebble on the floor beside it caught my eye. It puzzled me. I had looked at this floor long enough to know there were no loose dark pebbles in my cell.

  Curiosity is a disturbingly strong force. Finally, I leaned way over and picked up the cloak, and the pebble next to it. It took some time to get the cloak around me. Then I examined my pebble. It wasn't a pebble. It was dark and wet. A wad of something? Leaves. A pellet of wadded leaves. A pellet that had stung my chin when Burrich spat at me? Cautiously I held it up to the fickle light that wandered in the barred window.

  Something white secured the outer leaf. I picked it loose. What had caught my eye was the white end of a porcupine quill, while the black barbed tip had secured the leaf wrapping. Unfolded, the leaf revealed a sticky brown wad. I lifted it to my nose and sniffed it cautiously. A mixture of herbs, but one dominated. I recognized the scent queasily. Carryme. A Mountain herb. A powerful painkiller and sedative, sometimes used to mercifully extinguish life. Kettricken had used it when she had tried to kill me in the Mountains.

  Come with me.

  Not just now.

  This was Burrich's parting gift to me? A merciful end? I thought over what he had said. Better to just lie down and die. This, from the man who had taught me the fight wasn't over until you had won it? The contradiction was too sharp.

  Heart of the Pack says you should come with me. Now. Tonight. Lie down, he says. Be a bone for the dogs to dig up later, he says. I could feel the effort Nighteyes was putting into relaying this message.

  I was silent, thinking.

  He took the quill from my lip, Brother. I think we can trust him. Come with me, now, tonight.

  I considered the three things that lay in my hand. The leaf, the quill, the pellet. I rewrapped the pellet in the leaf, secured it with the quill again.

  I don't understand what he wants me to do, I complained.

  Lie down and be still. Still yourself, and go with me, as myself. A long pause as Nighteyes worked something through in his head. Eat what he gave you only if you must. Only if you cannot come to me on your own.

  I have no idea what he is up to. But, like you, I think we can trust him. In the dimness, past all weariness, I sat picking at the stitching in my sleeve. When it finally came loose, I coaxed the tiny paper packet of powder out and then pushed the leaf-wrapped pellet in. I managed to force the quill to hold it there. I looked at the paper packet in my hand. A tiny idea came to me, but I refused to dwell on it. I gripped it in my hand. Then I wrapped myself in Brawndy's cloak and slowly lay myself down on the bench. I knew I should keep vigil, lest Will come back. I was too hopeless and too weary. I am with you, Nighteyes.

  We sped away together, over crusted white snow, into a wolf world.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO. Execution

  STABLEMASTER BURRICH WAS renowned during his years at Buckkeep as an extraordinary horse handler as well as a houndsman and falconer. His skill with beasts was near legendary even in his own lifetime.

  He began his years of service as a common soldier. It is said he came from folk who had settled in Shoaks. Some say his grandmother was of slave stock, who bought herself free from a Bingtown master by an extraordinary service.

  As a soldier, his fierceness in battle brought him to the attention of a young Prince Chivalry. It is rumored that he first appeared before his prince on a disciplinary matter regarding a tavern brawl. He served Chivalry for a time as a weapons partner, but Chivalry discovered his gift for animals and put him in charge of his guards' horses. He was soon caring for Chivalry's hounds and hawks as well, and eventually came to oversee the entire stables of Buckkeep. His sage doctoring of beasts and knowledge of their internal workings extended to cattle, sheep, and swine and the occasional treatment of fowl. No one exceeded him in his understanding of beasts.

  Severely injured in a boar-hunting accident, Burrich acquired a limp he was to suffer the rest of his life. It seems to have mitigated the quick and savage temper that was his reputation as a young man. However, it is also true he remained a man that few willingly crossed to the end of his days.

  His herbal remedy was responsible for halting the outbreak of scallers that afflicted the lambs in Bearns Duchy following the Blood Plague years. He saved the flocks from total decimation, as well as kept the disease from spreading into Buck Duchy.

  A clear night under shining stars. A sound healthy body, surging down a snowy hillside in a series of exuberant leaps. Our passage left snow cascading from bushes in our wake. We had killed, we had eaten. All hungers were satisfied. The night was fresh and open, cracking cold. No cage held us, no men beat us. Together, we knew the fullness of our freedom. We went to where the spring welled up so strongly it almost never froze, and lapped the icy water. Nighteyes shook ourselves all over, then took a deep snuff of the air.

  Morning comes.

  I know. I do not wish to think of it. Morning, when dreams must end and reality be endured.

  You must come with me.

  Nighteyes, I am already with you.

  No. You must come with me, all the way. You must let go.

  So he had told me, at least twenty times already. I could not mistake the urgency of his thoughts. His insistence was plain, and his single-mindedness amazed me. It was not like Nighteyes to cling so firmly to an idea that had nothing to do with food. This was a thing he and Burrich had decided. I must go with him.

  I could not fathom what he wanted me to do.

  Over and over, I had explained to him that I was trapped, my body in a cage, just as he had once been trapped in a cage. My mind could go with him, for a time at least, but I could not go with him as he urged me to. Each time he told me that he understood that, but I was not understanding him. And now we were back to it again.

  I sensed him attempting patience. You must come with me, now. All the way. Before they come to wake you.

  I cannot. My body is locked in a cage.

  Leave it! he said savagely. Let go!

  What?

  Leave it, let go of it, come with me.

  You mean, die? Eat the poison?

  Only if you have to. But do it now, quickly, before they can hurt you more. Leave it and come with me. Let go of it. You did it once before. Remember?

  The effort of making sense of his words was making me aware of our bond. The pain of my own racked body broke through to haunt me. Somewhere I was stiff with the cold, and aching with pain. Somewhere, every breath brought an answering twinge from my ribs. I scrabbled away from that, back to the wolf's strong sound body.

  That's right, that's right. Just leave it. Now. Let go of it. Just let go.

  I knew abruptly what he wanted me to do. I did not know quite how to do it, and I was not sure that I could. Once, yes, I remembered that I had let go of my body and left it in his care. Only to awaken hours later beside Molly. But I was not sure how I had done it. And it had been differ
ent. I had left the wolf to guard me, when I had gone wherever I had gone. This time he wanted me to just break my consciousness free from my body. To willingly let go the tie that bound mind to flesh. Even if I could discover how to do it, I did not know if I had the will to do it.

  Just lie down and die, Burrich had told me.

  Yes. That's right. Die if you must, but come with me.

  I made an abrupt decision. Trust. Trust Burrich, trust the wolf. What did I have to lose?

  I drew a deep breath, poised inside myself as for a dive into cold water.

  No. No, just let go.

  I am. I am. I groped about inside myself, looking for whatever bound me to my body. I slowed my breathing, I willed my heart to beat more slowly. I refused the sensations of pain, of cold, of stiffness. I sank away from all of it, deep into myself.

  No! No! Nighteyes howled in desperation. To me! Come to me, let go of that, come to me!

  But there was the scuff of footsteps, and the mutter of voices. A shudder of fear went through me, and despite myself, I cowered deeper into Brawndy's cloak. One eye would open a bit. It showed me the same dimly lit cell, the same tiny barred window. There was a deep cold pain inside me, something more insidious than hunger. They had broken no bones, but inside me, something was torn. I knew it.

  You are back in the cage! Nighteyes cried. Leave it! Leave your body and come to me!

  It's too late, I whispered. Run away, run away. Don't share this.

  Are we not pack? Desperation as throbbing as a wolf's drawn-out howl.