Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (68 page)

His voice quavered only slightly as he told how
they had been ambushed on the plains of Farrow, before they came in
sight of Blue Lake. He drew no conclusions himself, but only
observed that these highwaymen fought in a military style. While
they wore no Duke's colors, they seemed well dressed and well armed
for brigands. And Verity was obviously their intended target. When
two of the baggage animals broke loose and fled, none of their
attackers broke away to follow them. Bandits usually would have
preferred chasing laden pack beasts to fighting armed men. Verity's
men had finally found a place to take a stand and had successfully
stood them off. Their attackers had finally given up when they
realized that Verity's guard would die to the last man before
surrendering or giving way. They had ridden off, leaving their
fallen dead in the snow.

They had not defeated us, but we were not
unscathed. We lost a good portion of our supplies. Seven men and
nine horses were killed outright. Two of us were injured seriously.
Three others took minor injuries. It was Prince Verity's decision
to send the injured back to Buckkeep. With us he sent two sound
men. His plan was to continue his quest, to take his guard with him
as far as the Mountain Kingdom, and to have them stay there to
await his return. Keen was placed in charge of those of us
returning. To him, Verity entrusted written information. I do not
know what that information packet contained. Keen and the others
were killed five days ago. We were ambushed just outside the border
of Buck, as we were traveling by the Buck River. Archers. It was
very ... quick. Four of us went down right away. My horse was
struck in the flank. Ruddy's a young beast. He panicked. He plunged
over an embankment into the river, and I with him. The river is
deep there, and the current strong. I clung to Ruddy, but we were
both swept downriver. I heard Keen shouting to the others to ride,
that some must make it back to Buckkeep. But none of them did. When
Ruddy and I managed to clamber out of the Buck, we went back. I
found the bodies. The papers Keen had carried were gone.

He stood straight as he reported, and his voice
was clear. His words were simple. His report was a simple
description of what had happened. He mentioned nothing of what he
had felt at being sent back, or at being the sole survivor to
return. He would drink himself sodden tonight, I suspected. I
wondered if he would want company for that. But for now, he stood,
silent, awaiting his king's questions. The silence stretched
overlong. My king? he ventured.

King Shrewd shifted in the shadows of his bed.
It reminds me of my younger days, he said hoarsely. Once I could
sit a horse and hold a sword. When a man loses that well, once that
is gone, he has actually lost far more than that. But your horse
was all right?

Burrich furrowed his brow. I did what I could
for him, my king. He will take no permanent harm from
it.

Well. At least there is that, then. At least
there is that. King Shrewd paused. For a moment we listened to his
breathing. He seemed to be working at it. Go and get some rest,
man, he said at last, gruffly. You look terrible. I may ... He
paused and took two breaths. I will call you back later. When you
are rested. I am sure there are things to ask .... His voice
trailed off, and again he simply breathed. The deep breaths a man
takes when the pain is almost too much to bear. I remembered what I
had felt that night. I tried to imagine listening to Burrich report
while enduring such pain. And struggling not to show it. The Fool
leaned in over the King to look into his face. Then he looked at us
and gave a tiny shake to his head.

Come, I said softly to Burrich. Your king has
given you an order.

He seemed to lean on me more heavily as we left
the King's bedchamber.

He did not seem to care, Burrich said quietly,
carefully to me as we moved laboriously down the
corridor.

He does. Trust me. He cares deeply. We had come
to the staircase. I hesitated. A flight down, through the hall, the
kitchen, across the court, and into the stables. Then up the steep
stairs to Burrich's loft. Or up two flight of steps and down the
hall to my room. I'm taking you up to my room, I told
him.

No. I want to be in my own place. He sounded
fretful as a sick child.

In a while. After you've rested a bit, I told
him firmly. He did not resist as I eased him up the steps. I don't
think he had the strength. He leaned against the wall while I
unlatched my door. Once the door was open, I helped him in. I tried
to get him to lie down on my bed, but he insisted on the chair by
the hearth. Once ensconced there, he leaned his head back and
closed his eyes. When he relaxed, all the privations of his journey
showed in his face. Too much bone showed beneath his flesh, and his
color was terrible.

He lifted his head and looked around the room as
if he'd never seen it before. Fitz? Have you anything to drink up
here?

I knew he didn't mean tea. Brandy?

The cheap blackberry stuff you drink? I'd sooner
drink horse liniment.

I turned back to him, smiling. I might have some
of that up here.

He didn't react. It was as if he hadn't heard
me.

I built up my fire. I quickly sorted through the
small supply of herbs I kept in my room. There wasn't much there. I
had given most of them to the Fool. Burrich, I'm going to go get
you some food, and a few things. All right?

There was no reply. He was already deeply asleep
sitting there. I went to stand by him. I did not even need to touch
the skin of his face to feel the fever burning there. I wondered
what had happened to his leg this time. An injury atop an old
injury, and then traveled on. It would not be soon healed, that was
plain to me. I hurried out of my room.

In the kitchens, I interrupted Sara at pudding
making, to tell her that Burrich was injured and sick and in my
room. I lied and said he was ravenously hungry, and to please send
a boy up with food, and some buckets of clean hot water. She
immediately put someone else to stirring the pudding and began to
clatter trays and teapots and cutlery. I would have enough food to
supply a small banquet very quickly.

I ran out to the stables to let Hands know that
Burrich was up in my room and would be for a while. Then I climbed
the steps to Burrich's room. I had it in my mind to get the herbs
and roots I would need there. I opened the door. The chamber was
cold. The damp had got into it, and mustiness. I made a mental note
to have someone come up and make a fire, and bring in a supply of
wood, water, and candles. Burrich had expected to be gone all
winter. Characteristically, he had tidied his room to the point of
severity. I found a few pots of herbal salve, but no stores of
freshly dried herbs. Either he had taken them with him, or given
them away before he left.

I stood in the center of the room and looked
around me. It had been months since I'd been here. Childhood
memories came crowding back into my head. Hours spent before that
hearth, mending or oiling harness. I'd used to sleep on a mat
before the fire. Nosy, the first dog I'd ever bonded to. Burrich
had taken him away, to try to break me of using the Wit. I shook my
head at the flood of conflicting emotions, and quickly left the
room.

The next door I knocked on was Patience's. Lacey
opened it and, at the look on my face, demanded immediately, What's
wrong?

Burrich's come back. He's up in my room. He's
badly hurt. I don't have much in the way of healing
herbs-

Did you send for the healer?

I hesitated. Burrich has always liked to do
things his own way.

Indeed he has. It was Patience, entering the
sitting room. What's that madman done to himself now? Is Prince
Verity all right?

The Prince and his guard were attacked. The
Prince was not harmed and has continued to the Mountains. He sent
back those who were injured, with two sound men as an escort.
Burrich was the only one to survive and get home.

Was the journey back so difficult? Patience
asked. Lacey was already moving about the room, gathering herbs and
roots and materials for bandaging.

It was cold and treacherous. Little hospitality
was offered them along the way. But the men died when they were
ambushed by archers, just across the Buck border. Burrich's horse
carried him off into a river. They were swept downstream quite a
ways; it was probably the only thing that saved him.

How is he hurt? Now Patience was moving, too.
She opened a little cupboard and began to take out prepared salves
and tinctures.

His leg. The same one. I don't know exactly, I
haven't looked at it yet. But it won't take his weight; he can't
walk by himself. And he has a fever.

Patience took down a basket and began loading
the medicines into it. Well, what are you standing about for? she
snapped at me as I waited. Go back to your room and see what you
can do for him. We'll be up in a moment with these.

I spoke bluntly. I don't think he'll let you
help.

We'll see, Patience said calmly. Now go see that
there is hot water.

The buckets of water I had asked for were
outside my door. By the time the water in my kettle was boiling,
people had begun to converge on my room. Cook sent up two trays of
food, and warmed milk as well as hot tea. Patience arrived and
began to set out her herbs on my clothing chest. She quickly sent
Lacey to fetch a table for her, and two more chairs. Burrich slept
on in my chair, deeply asleep despite occasional bouts of
shivering.

With a familiarity that astounded me, Patience
felt his forehead, then searched under the angle of his jaw for
swelling. She crouched slightly to look into his sleeping face.
Burr? she queried quietly. He did not even twitch. Very gently, she
stroked his face. You are so thin, so worn, she grieved softly. She
damped a cloth in warm water and gently wiped his face and hands as
if he were a child. Then she swept a blanket off my bed and tucked
it carefully about his shoulders. She caught me staring at her, and
glared at me. I need a basin of warmed water, she snapped. As I
went to fill one she crouched before him and calmly took out her
silver shears and snipped up the side of the bandaging wrapping his
leg. The stained wrappings did not look as if they had been changed
since his dunk in the river. It went up past his knee. As Lacey
took the basin of warmed water and knelt next to her, Patience
opened the soiled bandaging as if it were a shell.

Burrich came awake with a groan, dropping his
head forward onto his chest as his eyes opened. For a moment he was
disoriented. He looked at me standing over him, and then at the two
women crouched by his leg. What? was all he managed.

This is a mess, Patience told him. She rocked
back on her heels and confronted him as if he'd tracked muck on a
clean floor. Why haven't you at least kept it clean?

Burrich glanced down at his leg. Old blood and
river silt were caked together over the swollen fissure down his
knee. He recoiled visibly from it. When he replied to Patience, his
voice was low and harsh. When Ruddy took me into the river, we lost
everything. I had no clean bandaging, no food, nothing. I could
have bared it and washed it, and then frozen it. Do you think that
would have improved it?

Here is food, I said abruptly. It seemed the
only way to prevent their quarreling was to prevent them from
talking to each other. I moved the small table laden with one of
Cook's trays over beside him. Patience stood to be out of his way.
I poured him a mug of the warmed milk and put it into his hands.
They began to shake slightly as he raised it to his mouth. I had
not realized how hungry he was.

Don't gulp that! Patience objected. Both Lacey
and I shot her warning looks. But the food seemed to take Burrich's
attention completely. He set down the mug and took a warm roll that
I had slathered butter onto. He ate most of it in the space of time
it took me to refill his mug. It was odd to see him begin to shake
once he had the food in his hands. I wondered how he had managed to
hold himself together before that.

What happened to your leg? Lacey asked him
gently. Then: Brace yourself, she warned him, and placed a warm,
dripping cloth onto his knee. He gave a shudder and went paler, but
refrained from making a sound. He drank some more milk.

An arrow, he said at last. It was just damnably
bad luck that it struck where it did. Right where that boar ripped
me, so many years ago. And it lodged against the bone. Verity cut
it out for me. He leaned back suddenly in the chair, as if the
memory sickened him. Right on top of the old scar, he said faintly.
And every time I bent my knee, it pulled open and bled some
more.

You should have kept the leg still, Patience
observed sagely. All three of us stared at her. Oh, I suppose you
couldn't, really, she amended.

Let's take a look at it now, Lacey suggested,
and reached for the wet cloth.

Burrich fended her off with a gesture. Leave it.
I'll see to it myself, after I've eaten.

After you've eaten, you'll rest, Patience
informed him. Lacey, please move aside.

To my amazement, Burrich said nothing more.
Lacey stepped back, out of the way, and Lady Patience knelt before
the stablemaster. He watched her, a strange expression on his face,
as she lifted the cloth away. She damped the corner of the cloth in
clean water, wrung it out, and deftly sponged the wound. The warm
wet cloth had loosened the crusted blood. Cleaned, it did not look
as evil as it had at first. It was still a nasty injury, and the
hardships that Burrich had endured would complicate its healing.
The parted flesh gaped and proud flesh had formed where it should
have closed. But everyone visibly relaxed as Patience cleaned it.
There was redness, and swelling, and infection at one end. But
there was no putrefaction, no darkening of the flesh around it.
Patience studied it a moment. What do you think? she asked aloud,
of no one in particular. Devil's-club root? Hot, mashed in a
poultice? Do we have any, Lacey?