Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (71 page)

She paused, as if she could not decide, then
shook her head wildly. Not like you fear. He just ... held me down.
And laughed. The other one, he said ... he said, I was pretty
stupid, letting myself be used by a bastard. They said
...

Again she paused a moment. Whatever they had
said to her, called her was ugly enough that she could not repeat
it to me. It was like a sword through me, that they had been able
to hurt her so badly she would not even share the pain. They warned
me, she went on at last. They said stay away from the bastard.
Don't do his dirty work for him. They said ... things I didn't
understand, about messages and spies and treason. They said they
could make sure that everyone knew I was the Bastard's whore. She
tried just to say the word, but it came out with greater force. She
defied me to flinch from it. Then they said ... I would be hanged
... if I didn't pay attention. That to run errands for a traitor
was to be a traitor. Her voice grew strangely calmer. Then they
spit on me. And they left me. I heard them ride away, but for a
long time I was afraid to get up. I have never been so scared. She
looked at me and her eyes were like open wounds. Not even my father
ever scared me that bad.

I held her close to me. It's all my fault. I did
not even know I had spoken aloud until she drew back from me, to
look up in puzzlement.

Your fault? Did you do something
wrong?

No. I am no traitor. But I am a bastard. And
I've let that spill over onto you. Everything Patience warned me
of, everything Ch-- everyone warned me about, it's all coming true.
I've got you caught up in it.

What is happening? she asked softly, eyes wide.
Her breath suddenly caught. You said ... the guard wouldn't let you
out the gate. That you can't leave Buckkeep? Why?

I don't know, exactly. There's a lot I don't
understand. But one thing I do know. I have to keep you safe. That
means staying away from you, for a time. And you from me. Do you
understand?

A glint of anger came into her eyes. I
understand you're leaving me alone in this!

No. That's not it. We have to make them believe
that they've scared you, that you're obeying them. Then you'll be
safe. They'll have no reason to come after you again.

They have scared me, you idiot! she hissed at
me. One thing I know. Once someone knows you're afraid of him,
you're never safe from that person. If I obey them now, they will
come after me again. To tell me to do other things, to see how far
I'll obey them in my fear.

These were the scars her father had left on her
life. Scars that were a kind of strength, but also a vulnerability.
Now is not the time to stand up to them, I whispered. I kept
looking over her shoulder, expecting that at any moment the guard
would come to see where we had vanished. Come, I said, and led her
deeper into the maze of warehouses and outbuildings. She walked
silently beside me for a ways, then suddenly jerked her hand from
mine.

It is time to stand up to them, she declared.
Because once you start putting it off, you never do it. Why should
not this be the time?

Because I don't want you caught up in this. I
don't want you hurt. I don't want people saying you are the
Bastard's whore. I could barely force the words from my
mouth.

Molly's head came up. I have done nothing I'm
ashamed of, she said evenly. Have you?

No. But-

'But.' Your favorite word, she said bitterly.
She walked away from me.

Molly! I sprang after her, seized her by the
shoulders.

She spun and hit me. Not a slap. A solid punch
in the mouth that rocked me back and put blood in my mouth. She
stood glaring, daring me to touch her again. I didn't. I didn't say
I wouldn't fight back. Only that I didn't want you caught up in it.
Give me a chance to fight this my way, I said. I knew blood was
running over my chin. I let her look at it. Trust that given time,
I can find them and make them pay. My way. Now. Tell me about the
men. What they wore, how they rode. What did the horses look like?
Did they speak like Buck folk, or Inlanders? Did they have beards?
Could you tell the color of their hair, their eyes?

I saw her trying to think, saw her mind veer
away from thinking about it. Brown, she said at last. Brown horses,
with black manes and tails. And the men talked like anybody else.
One had a dark beard. I think.. It's hard to see face down in the
dirt.

Good. That's good, I told her, though she had
told me nothing at all. She looked down, away from the blood on my
face. Molly, I said more quietly. I won't be coming ... to your
room. Not for a while. Because ...

You're afraid.

Yes! I hissed. Yes, I'm afraid. Afraid they'll
hurt you, afraid they'll kill you. To hurt me. I won't endanger you
by coming to you.

She stood still. I could not tell if she was
listening to me or not. She folded her arms across her chest,
hugged herself..

I love you too much to see that happen. My words
sounded weak, even to myself.

She turned and walked away from me. She still
hugged herself, as if to keep herself from flying apart. She looked
very alone, in her draggled blue skirts with her proud head bowed.
Molly Redskirts, I whispered after her, but I could no longer see
that Molly. Only what I had made of her.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Neatbay

THE POCKED MAN Is the legendary harbinger of
disaster for the folk of the Six Duchies. To see him, striding down
the road, is to know that disease and pestilence will soon come to
call. To dream of him is said to be a warning of a death to come.
Often the tales of him show him appearing to those deserving of
punishment, but sometimes he is used, most often in puppet shows,
as a general omen of disaster to come. A marionette of the Pocked
Man, hung dangling across the scenery, is a warning to all in the
audience that soon they will witness a tragedy.

The days of winter dragged agonizingly slow.
With every passing hour, I was braced for something to happen. I
never walked into a room without surveying it first, ate no food I
had not seen prepared, drank only the water I drew from the well
myself. I slept poorly. The constant watchfulness told on me in a
hundred ways. I was snappish to those who spoke to me casually,
moody when I checked on Burrich, reticent with the Queen. Chade,
the only one to whom I could have unburdened myself, did not summon
me. I was miserably alone. I dared not go to Molly. I kept my
visits to Burrich as brief as possible for fear of bringing my
troubles down on him. I could not openly leave Buckkeep to spend
time with Nighteyes, and I feared to leave by our secret way lest I
be watched. I waited and I watched, but that nothing further
happened to me became a sophisticated torture of
suspense.

I did call on King Shrewd daily. I watched him
dwindle before my eyes, saw the Fool become daily more morose, his
humor more acid. I longed for savage winter weather to match my
mood, but the skies continued blue and the winds calm. Within
Buckkeep, the evenings were noisy with gaiety and revel. There were
masked balls, and summonings of minstrels to compete for fat
purses. The Inland Dukes and nobles ate well at Regal's table, and
drank well with him late into the night.

Like ticks on a dying dog, I said savagely to
Burrich one day as I was changing the dressing on his leg for him.
He had made comment that it was no trick to stay awake on his night
guard duty at Kettricken's door, for the noise of the revelry would
have made it difficult to sleep.

Who's dying? he asked.

All of us. One day at a time, we're all dying.
Did no one ever tell you that? But this is healing, and
surprisingly well for all you've done to it.

He looked down at his bared leg and cautiously
flexed it. The tissue pulled unevenly, but held. Maybe the gash is
closed up, but it doesn't feel healed inside, he observed. It was
not a complaint. He lifted his brandy cup and drained it off. I
eyed it narrowly. His days had a pattern now. Once he left
Kettricken's door in the morning, he went to the kitchen and ate.
Then he came back to his room and began drinking. After I appeared
and helped him change the bandaging on his leg, he would drink
until it was time for him to sleep. And wake up in the evening,
just in time to eat and then go guard Kettricken's door. He no
longer did anything in the stables. He had given them over to
Hands, who went about looking as if the job were a punishment he
hadn't deserved.

Every other day or so, Patience sent Molly up to
tidy Burrich's room for him. I knew little of these visits other
than that they happened, and that Burrich, surprisingly, tolerated
them. I had mixed feelings about them. No matter how much Burrich
drank, he always treated women graciously; yet the emptied brandy
bottles in a row could not but remind Molly of her father. Still, I
wished them to know one another. One day I told Burrich that Molly
had been threatened because of her association with me.
Association? he had asked sharply.

Some few know that I care for her, I admitted
gingerly.

A man does not bring his problems down on a
woman he cares for, he told me severely.

I had no reply to that. Instead I gave him the
few details Molly had recalled about her attackers, but they
suggested nothing to him. For a time he had stared off, right
through the walls of his room. After a time he picked up his cup
and drained it. He spoke carefully. I am going to tell her that you
are worried about her. I am going to tell her that if she fears
danger, she must come to me. I am more in a position to deal with
it. He looked up and met my eyes. I am going to tell her that you
are wise to stay away from her, for her sake. As he poured himself
another drink he had added quietly to the tabletop, Patience was
right. And she was wise to send her to me.

I blanched to consider the fill implications of
that statement. For once, I was smart enough to know when to be
quiet. He drank his brandy down, then looked at the bottle. Slowly,
he slid it across the table toward me. Put that back on the shelf
for me, will you? he requested.

Animals and winter stores continued to be
drained from Buckkeep. Some were sold off cheaply to Inland
Duchies. The very finest of the hunting and riding horses were
barged up the Buck, to an area near Turlake. Regal announced this
as a plan to preserve our best breeding stock far from the ravages
of the Red-Ships. The mutter of the folk in Buckkeep Town, so Hands
told me, was that if the King could not hold his own castle, what
hope was there for them? When a shipment of fine old tapestries and
furniture were sent upriver as well, the murmur became that soon
the Farseers would abandon Buckkeep entirely, without even a fight,
without even waiting for an assault. I had the uncomfortable
suspicion the rumor was correct.

Confined as I was to Buckkeep, I had little
direct access to the talk of the common folk. A silence greeted my
entry to the watchroom now. With, my restriction to the Keep had
come gossip and speculation. The talk that had flown about me on
the day I had failed to save the little girl from the Forged ones
found new life. Few of the guard spoke to me of anything other than
the weather or other pleasantries. While they did not make me a
total pariah, I was banished from the easy conversations and
rambling arguments that usually filled the watchroom. To talk to me
had become bad luck. I wouldn't inflict that on men and women I
cared about.

I was still welcome about the stables, but I
strove not to talk to any one person too much, or appear too close
to any of the beasts. The stable workers were a morose lot these
days. There was not enough work to busy them, so quarrels were more
frequent. The stable hands were my major source of news and rumors.
None of it was cheery. There were garbled stories of raids on
Bea
rn
s towns, gossip
about brawls in the taverns and on the docks of Buckkeep Town, and
accounts of folk moving south or inland as their means allowed.
What talk there was of Verity and his quest was demeaning or
ridiculing. Hope had perished. Like me, the folk of Buckkeep were
waiting in suspense for disaster to come to their
doorsteps.

We had a month of stormy weather, and the relief
and rejoicing in Buckkeep were more destructive than the preceding
period of tension had been. A waterfront tavern caught fire during
an especially wild evening of revelry. The fire spread, and only
the drenching rain that followed the gusting winds saved it from
spreading to the dock warehouses. That would have been a disaster
in more than one way, for as Regal drained the Keep warehouses of
grain and supplies, folk in the town saw little reason to conserve
what was left. Even if the Raiders never came to Buckkeep itself, I
was resigned to short rations before the winter was out.

I woke one night to stark stillness. The howl of
the storm winds and the rattling of rain had stilled. My heart
sank. A terrible premonition filled me, and when I rose to a clear
blue morning, my dread increased. Despite the sunny day, the
atmosphere in the Keep was oppressive. Several times I felt the
tickling of the Skill against my senses. It nearly drove me mad,
for I did not know if it was Verity attempting better contact, or
Justin and Serene prying. A late-afternoon visit to King Shrewd and
the Fool disheartened me further. The King, wasted to little more
than bones, was sitting up and smiling vaguely. He Skilled feebly
toward me as I came in the door, and then greeted me with, Ah,
Verity, my lad. How did your sword lesson go today? The rest of his
conversation made as much sense. Regal appeared almost immediately
after I arrived. He sat on a straight-backed chair, arms crossed on
his chest, and looked at me. No words were exchanged between us. I
could not decide if my silence were cowardice or self-restraint. I
escaped him as soon as I decently could, despite a rebuking look
from the Fool.