Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (37 page)

Have you ever spoken of Regal's visits to
Patience or Lacey? What did they say of him?

She shook her head, and the movement loosed the
fragrance of her hair. He cautioned me not to speak of it. `Women
talk' he said, and I know that is true. I should not even have
spoken of it to you. He said that Patience and Lacey would respect
me more if it seemed I had reached this decision on my own. He
said, also ... that you would not let me go ... if you thought the
decision came from him. That you must believe that I turned away
from you on my own.

He knows me that well, I conceded to
her.

I should not have told you, she murmured. She
pushed a little away from me, to look up into my eyes. I don't know
why I did.

Her eyes and her hair were the colors of a
forest. Perhaps you did not want me to let you go? I
ventured.

You must, she said. We both know there is no
future for us.

For an instant all was stillness. The fire
crackled softly to itself. Neither of us moved. But somehow I
stepped to another place, where I was achingly aware of every scent
and touch of her. Her eyes and the herb scents of her skin and hair
were one piece with the warmth and suppleness of her body under the
soft woolen night robe. I experienced her as if she were a new
color suddenly revealed to my eyes. All concerns, even all
thoughts, were suspended in that sudden awareness. I know I
trembled, for she put her hands on my shoulders and clasped them,
to steady me. Warmth flowed through me from her hands. I looked
down into her eyes and wondered at what I saw there.

She kissed me.

That simple act, of offering up her mouth to
mine, was like the opening of a floodgate. What followed was a
seamless continuation of her kiss. We did not pause to consider
wisdom or morality, we did not hesitate at all. The permission we
gave each other was absolute. We ventured together into that
newness, and I cannot imagine a deeper joining than our shared
amazement brought us. We both came whole to that night, unfettered
by expectations or memories of others. I had no more right to her
than she had to me. But I gave and I took and I swear I shall never
regret it. The memory of that night's sweet awkwardness is the
truest possession of my soul. My trembling fingers jumbled the
ribbon at the neck closure of her nightgown into a hopeless knot.
Molly seemed wise and sure as she touched me, only to betray her
surprise with her sharply indrawn breath when I responded. It did
not matter. Our ignorance yielded to a knowing older than us both.
I strove to be both gentle and strong, but found myself amazed at
her strength and gentleness both.

I have heard it called a dance, I have heard it
called a battle. Some men speak of it with a knowing laugh, some
with a sneer. I have heard the sturdy market women chuckling over
it like hens clucking over bread crumbs; I have been approached by
bawds who spoke their wares as boldly as peddlers hawking fresh
fish. For myself, I think some things are beyond words. The color
blue can only be experienced, as can the scent of jasmine or the
sound of a flute. The curve of a warm bared shoulder, the uniquely
feminine softness of a breast, the startled sound one makes when
all barriers suddenly yield, the perfume of her throat, the taste
of her skin are all but parts, and sweet as they may be, they do
not embody the whole. A thousand such details still would not
illustrate it.

The fireplace logs burned down to dark red
embers. The candles had long since guttered out. It seemed we were
in a place we had entered as strangers, and discovered to be home.
I think I would have given away all the rest of the world, just to
remain in the drowsy nest of tousled blankets and feather quilts,
breathing her warm stillness.

Brother, this is good.

I leaped like a hooked fish, jolting Molly out
of her drowsing reverie. What is it?

A cramp in my calf, I lied, and she laughed,
believing me. So simple a fib, but I was suddenly shamed by the
lie, by all the lies I had ever spoken and all the truths I had
made into lies by leaving them unspoken. I opened my lips to tell
her all. That I was the royal assassin, the King's killing tool.
That the knowledge of her that she had given me that night had been
shared by my brother the wolf. That she had given herself so freely
to a man who killed other men and shared his life with an
animal.

It was unthinkable. To tell her those things
would hurt and shame her. She would have felt permanently dirtied
by the touch we had shared. I told myself that I could stand to
have her despise me, but I could not stand to have her despise
herself. I told myself that I clenched my lips shut because it was
the nobler thing to do, to keep these secrets to myself was better
than to let the truth destroy her. Did I lie to myself,
then?

Don't we all?

I lay there, with her arms twined warm around
me, with the length of her body warming my side, and promised
myself that I would change. I would stop being all those things,
and then I would never need tell her. Tomorrow, I promised
myself,

I would tell Chade and Shrewd that I would no
longer kill for them. Tomorrow, I would make Nighteyes understand
why I must sever my bond with him. Tomorrow.

But today, in this day that was already
beginning to dawn, I had to go forth with the wolf at my side, to
hunt the Forged ones and slay them. Because I wanted to go to
Shrewd with a fresh triumph, to put him in the mood to grant the
boon I would ask. This very evening, when my killing was done, I
would ask him to allow Molly and me to marry. I promised myself
that his permission would mark the beginning of my new life as a
man who would no longer have to keep secrets from the woman he
loved. I kissed her forehead, then set her arms softly aside from
me.

I have to leave you, I whispered as she stirred.
But I pray it will not be for long. Today I go to Shrewd, to ask
permission to marry you.

She stirred and opened her eyes. She watched in
a sort of wonder as I went naked from her bed. I put more wood on
the fire, then avoided her gaze as I gathered my scattered clothes
and put them on. She was not so shy, for as I looked up from
fastening my belt, I found her eyes upon me, smiling. I
blushed.

I feel we are wed already, she whispered. I
cannot imagine how the speaking of any vows could make us more
truly joined.

Nor I. I came to sit on the edge of her bed, to
take her hands in mine once again. But there will be great
satisfaction to me in letting all know of it. And that, my lady,
requires a wedding. And a public speaking of all my heart has
already vowed to you. But for now, I must go.

Not yet. Stay awhile yet. I am sure we have some
small time left before anyone else begins to stir.

I leaned over her to kiss her. I have to go now,
to retrieve a certain rope that is hanging from the battlements to
my lady's window. Otherwise, it might excite comment.

At least stay long enough to let me change the
dressings on your arm and neck. However did you hurt yourself so? I
meant to ask you last night, but ...

I smiled down at her. I know. There were more
interesting things to pursue. No, my dear. But I promise you I
shall take care of it this morning, in my room. To call her my dear
made me feel a man as no words ever had before. I kissed her,
promising myself that I would go immediately afterward, but found
myself lingering to her touch on my neck. I sighed. I do have to
go.

I know. But you have not told me how you injured
yourself.

I could hear in her voice that she did not think
my hurts were serious, but only tried to use the subject to detain
me at her side. But still it shamed me, and I tried to make the lie
as harmless as possible. Dog bites. A bitch in the stable with
pups. I guess I did not know her as well as I had thought. I bent
to pick up one of her pups, and she went for me.

Poor boy. Well. Are you sure you cleaned it
well? Animal bites infect very easily.

I'll clean it again when I dress it. Now. I must
go. I covered her over with the feather quilt, but not without a
twinge of regret at leaving that warmth. Get what little sleep is
left for you before day breaks.

FitzChivalry!

I paused at the door, turned back.
Yes?

Come to me tonight. Regardless of what the King
may say.

I opened my mouth to protest.

Promise me! Otherwise, I shall not survive this
day. Promise me you will return to me. For no matter what the King
may say, know this. I am your wife now. And always will be.
Always.

My heart stood still in me at that gift, and I
could do no more than dumbly nod. My look must have been enough,
for the smile she bestowed on me was bright and golden as midsummer
sunshine. I lifted the bar and unhooked the latch of the door.
Easing it open, I peered out into the darkened hallway. Be sure you
lock up after me, I whispered, and then I slipped away from her
into the little that was left of the night.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Hunting

THE SKILL, LIKE any other discipline, can be
taught in number of ways. Galen, Skill Master under King Shrewd,
used techniques of deprivation and enforced hardship to break down
a student's inner walls. Once reduced to a level of cowering
survival, the student was susceptible to Galen's invasion of his
mind and his enforced acceptance of Galen's Skilling techniques.
While the students who survived his training and went on to become
his coterie could all Skill reliably, none were especially strong
of talent. Galen reportedly congratulated himself at taking
students of little talent, and teaching them to Skill reliably.
This may be the case. Or perhaps he took students with great
potential, and ground them down to adequate tools.

One may contrast Galen's techniques with that of
Solicity, Skill Mistress before him. She supplied the initial
instruction to the then young Princes Verity and Chivalry. Verity's
account of his instruction indicates much was accomplished by
gentleness and lulling her students into lowering their barriers.
Both Verity and Chivalry emerged from her training as adept and
strong Skill users. Her death unfortunately occurred before their
full adult instruction was complete, and before Galen had advanced
to a journey status as a Skill instructor. One can only wonder how
much knowledge of the Skill went to her grave with her, and what
potentials of this royal magic may never be
rediscovered.

I spent little time in my room that morning. The
fire had gone out, but the chill I felt there was more than that of
an unwarmed room. This room was an empty shell of a life soon to be
left behind. It seemed more barren than ever. I stood, bared to the
waist, and shivered as I washed myself with unwarmed water, and
belatedly changed the bandaging on my arm and neck. I did not
deserve for those wounds to look as clean as they did. Nonetheless,
they were healing well.

I dressed warmly, a padded mountain shirt going
on under a heavy leather jerkin. I pulled on heavy leather over
trousers and laced them close to my legs with strips of leather. I
took down my work blade and armed myself with a short dagger as
well. From my working kit, I took a small pot of powdered death's
cap. Despite all this, I felt unprotected, and equally foolish, as
I left my room.

I went straight to Verity's tower. I knew he
would be awaiting me, expecting to work with me on Skilling.
Somehow I would have to convince him that I needed to hunt Forged
ones this day. I climbed the stairs swiftly, wishing this day were
over. All of my life was presently focused on the moment when I
could knock on King Shrewd's door and ask his permission to marry
Molly. The mere thought of her flooded me with such a strange
combination of unfamiliar feelings that my strides on the stairs
slowed as I tried to consider them all. Then I gave it over as
useless. Molly, I said aloud, but softly, to myself. Like a magic
word, it strengthened my resolve and spurred me on. I stopped
outside the door and rapped loudly.

I felt rather than heard Verity's permission to
enter. I pushed open the door and went inside. I shut the door
behind me.

Physically, the room was still. A cool breeze
sprang in from the open window and Verity sat enthroned before it
on his old chair. His hands rested idly on the windowsill and his
eyes were fixed on the distant horizon. His cheeks were pink, his
dark hair mussed by the wind's fingers. Save for the soft current
from the window, the room was still and silent. Yet I felt as if I
had stepped into a whirlwind. Verity's consciousness washed against
me and I was drawn into his mind, swept along with his thoughts and
his Skilling far out to sea. He carried me with him on a dizzying
tour of every ship within the range of his mind. Here we brushed
the thoughts of a merchant captain, ... if the price is good
enough, load up with oil for the return trip .... and then skipped
from him to a net mender patching hastily, her fid flying,
grumbling to herself as the captain railed at her to be faster
about her task. We found a pilot worrying about his pregnant wife
at home, and three families out digging clams in the dim morning
light before the tide came in to cover the beds again. These and a
dozen others we visited before Verity suddenly recalled us to our
own bodies and place. I felt as giddy as a small boy who has been
boosted aloft by his father to perceive the whole chaos of the fair
before being returned to his own feet and his child's view of knees
and legs.