Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (23 page)

He sighed suddenly. I suppose so. Consider
yourself rebuked, and tell Burrich to find my lady a less spirited
horse to ride until she is a better horsewoman. He sighed again,
deeply. I suppose she will consider that a punishment from me. She
will look at me sadly with those great blue eyes, but speak not a
word against it. Ah, well. It cannot be helped. But did she have to
kill, and then to speak of it so blithely? What will my people
think of her?

She scarcely had a choice, sir. Would it have
been better for her to die? As to what folk will think ... well.
The soldiers who first found us thought her plucky. And capable.
Not bad qualities for a Queen, sir. The women, especially, in your
guard spoke warmly of her as we returned. They see her as their
queen now, much more than if she were a weeping, quailing thing.
They will follow her without question. In times like these, perhaps
a Queen with a knife will give us more heart than a woman who
drapes herself in jewels and hides behind walls.

Perhaps, Verity said quietly. I sensed he did
not agree, But now all shall know, most vividly, of the Forged ones
who are gathering about Buckkeep.

They shall know, too, that a determined person
can defend herself from them. And from the talk of your guard as we
came back, I think there shall be far fewer Forged ones a week
hence.

I know that. Some will be slaying their own kin.
Forged or not, it is Six Duchies blood we are shedding. I had
sought to avoid having my guard kill my own people.

A small silence fell between us as we both
reflected he had not scrupled to set me to that same task.
Assassin. That was the word for what I was. I had no honor to
preserve, I realized.

Not true, Fitz. He answered my thought. You
preserve my honor. And I honor you for that, for doing what must be
done. The ugly work, the hidden work. Do not be shamed that you
work to preserve the Six Duchies. Do not think I do not appreciate
such work simply because it must remain secret. Tonight, you saved
my queen. I do not forget that either.

She needed little saving, sir. I believe that
even alone, she would have survived.

Well. We won't wonder about that. He paused,
then said awkwardly, I must reward you, you know.

When I opened my mouth to protest, he held up a
forbidding hand. I know you require nothing. I know, too, that
there is already so much between us that nothing I could give you
would be sufficient for my gratitude. But most folk know nothing of
that. Will you have it said in Buckkeep Town that you saved the
Queen's life, and the King-in-Waiting acknowledged you not at all?
But I am at a loss to know what to gift you with ... it should be
something visible, and you must carry it about with you for a
while. That much I know of statecraft, at least. A sword? Something
better than that piece of iron you were carrying
tonight?

It's an old blade Hod told me to take to
practice with, I defended myself. It works.

Obviously. I shall have her select a better one
for you, and do a bit of fancywork on the hilt and scabbard. Would
that do it?

I think so, I said awkwardly.

Well. Let's back to bed, shall we? And I shall
be able to sleep now, won't I? There was no mistaking the amusement
in his voice now. My cheeks burned anew.

Sir. I have to ask.... I fumbled the hard words
out. Do you know who I was dreaming about?

He shook his head slowly. Do not fear you have
compromised her honor. I know only that she wears blue skirts, but
you see them as red. And that you love her with an ardency that is
appropriate to youth. Do not struggle to stop loving her. Only to
stop Skilling it about at night. I am not the only one open to such
Skilling, though I believe I am the only one who would recognize
your signature on the dream so plain. Still, be cautious. Galen's
coterie is not without Skill, even if they use it clumsily and with
little strength. A man can be undone when his enemies learn what is
dearest to him from his Skill dreams. Keep your guard up. He gave
an inadvertent chuckle. And hope your Lady Red-Skirts has no Skill
in her blood, for if she does at all, she must have heard you all
these many nights.

And having put that unsettling thought into my
head, he dismissed me back to my chambers and bed. I did not sleep
again that night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Queen
Awakes

Oh, some folk ride to the wild-boar
hunt
Or for elk they nock their arrows
But my love rode with the Vixen Queen
To lay to rest our sorrows.

She did not dream of fame that
day
Nor fear what pain might find her.
She rode to heal her people's hearts
And my love rode behind her.

- The Vixen Queen's Hunt

The whole Keep was astir early the next day.
There was a fevered, almost festival air in the courtyard as
Verity's personal guard and every warrior who had no scheduled
duties that day massed for a hunt. Tracking hounds bayed restively,
while the pull-down dogs with their massive jaws and barrel chests
huffed excitedly and tested their restraints. Bets were already
being set on who would hunt the most successfully. Horses pawed the
earth, bowstrings were checked, while pages ran helter-skelter
everywhere. Inside the kitchen, half the cooking staff was busy
putting up packages of food for the hunters to take with them.
Soldiers young and old, male and female, strutted and laughed
aloud, bragging of past confrontations, comparing weapons, building
spirit for the hunt. I had seen this a hundred times, before a
winter hunt for elk, or bear. But now there was an edge to it, a
rank smell of bloodlust on the air. I heard snatches of
conversations, words that made me queasy:

... no mercy for that dung ... , ... cowards and
traitors, to dare to attack the Queen ... , ... shall pay dearly.
They don't deserve a swift death .... I ducked hastily back into
the kitchen, threaded my way through an area busy as a stirred
anthill. Here, too, I heard the same sorts of sentiments voiced,
the same craving for revenge.

I found Verity in his map room. I could tell he
had washed and dressed himself afresh this day, but he wore last
night as plainly as a dirty robe. He was attired for a day inside,
among his papers. I tapped lightly at the door, although it stood
ajar. He sat in a chair before the fire, his back to me. He nodded,
but did not look up at me as I entered. For all his stillness,
there was a charged air to the room, the gathering of a storm. A
tray of breakfast rested on a table beside his chair, untouched. I
came and stood quietly beside him, almost certain I had been
Skilled here. As the silence grew longer I wondered if Verity
himself knew why. At length I decided to speak.

My prince. You do not ride with your guard
today? I ventured.

It was as if I had opened a floodgate. He turned
to look at me; the lines in his face had been graven deeper
overnight. He looked haggard, sickened. I do not. I dare not. How
could I countenance such a thing, this hunting down of our own folk
and kin! And yet what is my alternative? To hide and mope within
the Keep walls while others go out to avenge this insult to my
queen-in-waiting! I dare not forbid my men to uphold their honor.
So I must behave as if I am unaware of what goes on in the
courtyard. As if I am a simpleton, or a laggard, or a coward. There
will be a ballad written about this day, I doubt it not. What shall
it be called? `Verity's Massacre of the Witless'? Or `Queen
Kettricken's Sacrifice of the Forged'? His voice rose on every
word, and before he was half-done, I had stepped to the door and
shut it firmly. I looked about the room as he ranted, wondering who
else besides myself was hearing these words.

Did you sleep at all, my prince? I asked when he
had run down.

He smiled with bleak amusement. Well you know
what put an end to my first attempt at rest. My second was less ...
engaging. My lady came to my chamber.

I felt my ears begin to warm. Whatever he was
about to tell me, I did not want to hear it. I had no wish to know
what had passed between them last night. Quarrel or amendment, I
wanted to know nothing of it. Verity was merciless.

Not weeping, as you might think she would. Not
for comfort. Not to be held against night fears, or reassured of my
regard. But sword stiff as a rebuked sergeant, to stand at the foot
of the bed and beg my pardon for her transgressions. Whiter than
chalk and hard as oak ... His voice trailed off, as if he realized
he betrayed too much of himself. She foresaw this hunting mob, not
I. She came to me in the middle of the night, asking what must we
do. I had no answer for her, any more than I do now-

At least she foresaw this, I ventured, hoping to
bring some respite from his anger for Kettricken.

And I did not, he said heavily. She did.
Chivalry would have. Oh, Chivalry would have known it would happen
from the moment she went missing, and would have had all sorts of
contingency plans. But I did not. I thought only to bring her
swiftly home, and hope not too many heard of it. As if such a thing
could be! And so today I think to myself that if ever the crown
does come to rest on my brow, it will be in a most unworthy
place.

This was a Prince Verity I had never seen
before, a man with his confidence in tatters. I finally saw how
poor a match Kettricken was for him. It was not her fault. She was
strong, and raised to rule. Verity often said himself he had been
raised as a second son. The right sort of woman would have steadied
him like a sea anchor, helped him rise to assume his kingship. A
woman who had come weeping to his bed, to be cuddled and reassured,
would have let him arise certain he was a man and fit to be a King.
Kettricken's discipline and restraint made him doubt his own
strength. My prince was human, I suddenly perceived. It was not
reassuring.

You should at least come out and speak to them,
I ventured.

And say what? `Good hunting'? No. But you go,
boy. Go and watch and bring me word of what is happening. Go now.
And shut my door. I have no desire to see anyone else until you
return with word of what goes on.

I turned and did as he bid me. As I left the
Great Hall and went down the passage to the courtyard, I
encountered Regal. He was seldom up and about this early, and he
looked as if his arising this morning had been no choice of his.
His clothing and hair were well arranged, but all the tiny primping
touches were missing: no earring, no carefully folded and pinned
silk at his throat, and the only jewelry was his signet ring. His
hair was combed, but not scented and curled. And his eyes were
networked in red. Fury rode him. As I sought to pass him he seized
me and jerked me to face him. That, at least, was his intention. I
did not resist, but merely laxed my muscles. And found, to my
delight and amazement, that he could not move me. He turned to face
me, eyes blazing, and found out that he must look up, ever so
slightly, to glare at me eye to eye. I had grown and put on weight.
I had known that, but had never considered this delightful side
effect. I stopped the grin before it reached my mouth, but it must
have showed in my eyes. He gave me a violent shove, and I allowed
it to rock me. A bit.

Where's Verity? he snarled.

My prince? I queried, as if not grasping what he
desired.

Where is my brother? That wretched wife of his-
He broke off, strangling on his anger. Where is my brother usually
at this time of day? he finally managed.

I did not lie. Some days he goes early to his
tower. Or he may be breakfasting, I suppose. Or in the baths ... I
offered.

Useless bastard, Regal dismissed me, and
whirled, to hurry off in the direction of the tower. I hoped the
climb would amuse him. As soon as he was out of sight, I broke into
a run, not to waste the precious time I had gained.

The moment I entered the courtyard, the reason
for Regal's fury was made clear. Kettricken stood atop a wagon
seat, and every head was turned up toward her. She wore the same
clothes she had the night before. By daylight, I could see how a
spray of blood had marked the sleeve of the white fur jacket, and
how a heavier plume of it had soaked and stained her purple
trousers. She was booted and hatted, ready to ride. A sword was
buckled at her hip. Dismay rose in me. How could she? I glanced
about, wondering what she had been saying. Every face was turned to
her, eyes wide. I had emerged into a moment of utter silence. Every
man and woman seemed to be holding breath, awaiting her next words.
When they came, they were uttered in a speaking voice, calmly, but
so silent was the crowd that her clear voice carried in the cold
air.

This is not a hunt, I say, Kettricken repeated
gravely. Put aside your merriment and boasts. Remove from your
bodies every bit of jewelry, every sign of rank. Let your hearts be
solemn and consider what we do.

Her words were accented still with the flavor of
the Mountains, but a cool part of my mind observed how carefully
chosen was each word, how balanced each phrase.

We do not go to hunt, she repeated. But to claim
our casualties. We go to lay to rest those the Red-Ships have
stolen from us. The Red-Ships have taken the hearts of the Forged
ones, and left their bodies to stalk us. Nonetheless, those we put
down today are of the Six Duchies. Our own.