Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (78 page)

I believe that when Duke Ram finished, she was
on the verge of rising to speak herself. But Regal arose, almost
hastily, holding up his newly filled glass. He motioned all to
silence, then extended that glass toward the Queen.

Too much has been said of me this night, and too
little of our most fair Queen-in-Waiting, Kettricken. She has
returned home to find herself most sadly bereaved. Yet I do not
think my late brother Verity would wish sorrow for his death to
overshadow all that is due his lady by her own effort. Despite her
condition
–
and
the knowing
smile of Regal's face was perilously close to a sneer
-
she deemed it in the best interests of her
adopted kingdom to venture forth to confront the Red-Ships herself:
Doubtless many Raiders fell to her valiant sword. No one can doubt
that our soldiers were inspired by the sight of their queen,
determined to do battle on their behalf, regardless of what she
risked.

Two spots of high color began to glow on
Kettricken's cheeks. Regal continued, shading his account of
Kettricken's deeds with condescension and flattery. The insincerity
of his courtier's phrases somehow diminished her deed to something
done for show.

I looked in vain for someone at the High Table
to champion her. For me to rise from my common place and pit my
voice against Regal's would have seemed almost more mocking.
Kettricken, never sure of her place in her husband's court, and now
without him to sustain her, seemed to shrink in on herself. Regal's
retelling of her exploits made them seem questionable and reckless
rather than daring and decisive. I saw her dwindle before herself,
and knew she would not speak up for herself now. The meal resumed
with a very subdued Queen attending to the addled King Shrewd
beside her, grave and silent to the King's vague efforts at
conversation.

But worse was to come. At the end of the meal,
Regal once more called for silence. He promised the assembled folk
that there would be minstrels and puppeteers to follow the meal,
but asked them to endure while he announced but one more thing.
After much grave consideration and great consultation, and with
great reluctance, he had realized what the attack at Neatbay had
justly proven. Buckkeep itself was no longer the safe and secure
place it was once. It was certainly no place for anyone of delicate
health. And so, a decision had been reached that King Shrewd (and
the King lifted up his head and blinked about at the mention of his
name) would be journeying inland, to reside in safety at Tradeford
on the Vin River in Farrow until his health had improved. Here he
paused to lavishly thank Duke Holder of Farrow for making the
Tradeford Castle available to the royal family. He added, too, that
he was greatly pleased it was so accessible to both the main
castles of Farrow and Tilth, for he wished to remain in good
contact with these most loyal Dukes, who had so often of late
journeyed so far to assist him in these troubled, troubled times.
It would please Regal to bring the life of the royal court to the
ones who had previously had to travel far to enjoy it. Here he
paused to accept their nodded thanks and murmurs of continued
support. They subsided in immediate obedience when he next raised
his hand.

He invited, nay, he entreated, he begged the
Queen-in-Waiting to join King Shrewd there. She would be more safe,
she would find it more comfortable, for Tradeford Castle had been
built as a home, not a fortress. It would put the minds of her
subjects at rest to know that the coming heir and his mother were
well cared for and well away from the dangerous coast. He promised
that every effort would be made to make her feel at home. He
promised her a merry court would re-form there. Many many of the
furnishings and treasures of Buckkeep were to be moved there when
the King went, to make the move less upsetting for him. Regal
smiled all the while that he relegated his father to a position of
elderly idiot and Kettricken to broodmare. He dared to pause to
hear her acceptance of her fate.

I cannot, she said with great dignity. Buckkeep
is where my lord Verity left me, and before he did so, he commended
it to my care. Here I shall stay. This is where my child will be
born.

Regal turned his head, ostensibly to hide a
smile from her, but actually to display it better to the
assemblage. Buckkeep shall be well guarded, my lady queen. My own
cousin, Lord Bright, heir to Farrow, has expressed an interest in
assuming the defense of it. The full militia will be left in place
here, for we have no need of them at Tradeford. I doubt that they
shall need the assistance of one more woman hampered by her skirts
and a burgeoning belly.

The laughter that erupted shocked me. It was a
crude remark, a witticism more worthy of a tavern brawny than a
Prince in his own Keep. It reminded me of nothing so much as of
Queen Desire when she was at her worst, inflamed with wine and
herbs. Yet they laughed, at the High Table, and not a few at the
lower tables joined them. Regal's charms and entertainments had
served him well. No matter what insult or buffoonery he served up
tonight, these fawners would sit and accept it with the meat and
wine they gobbled at his table. Kettricken seemed incapable of
speech. She actually rose and would have left the table, had not
the King reached out a trembling hand. Please, my dear, he said,
and his faltering voice carried all too clearly. Do not leave me. I
wish you at my side.

You see, it is the wish of your king, Regal
hastily admonished her, and I doubt that even he could fully token
the good luck that had led the King to make such a request of her
at such a time. Kettricken sank back unwillingly in her seat. Her
lower lip trembled and her face flushed. For one terrifying instant
I thought she would burst into tears. It would have been the final
triumph for Regal, a betrayal of her emotional weakness as a
breeding female. Instead, she took a deep breath. She turned to the
King and spoke low but audibly as she took his hand. You are my
king, to whom I am sworn. My liege, it shall be as you wish. I
shall not leave your side.

She bowed her head, and Regal nodded affably,
and a general outbreak of conversation congratulated itself on her
agreement. Regal nattered on a bit longer when the din died down,
but he had already achieved his goal. He spoke mostly of the wisdom
of his decision, and how Buckkeep would be better able to defend
itself without fearing for its monarch. He even had the audacity to
suggest that by removing himself and the King and Queen-in-Waiting,
he would be making Buckkeep a lesser target for the Raiders, as
they would have less to gain by capturing it. It was all a nothing,
a winding down for show. Not long after, the King was taken away,
carted off back to his chamber, his display duty done. Queen
Kettricken excused herself to accompany him. The feast broke down
into a general cacophony of entertainments. Kegs of beer were
brought out, along with casks of the lesser wines. Various inland
minstrels held forth at opposite corners of the Great Hall, while
the Prince and his cohorts chose the amusement of a puppet show, a
bawdy piece entitled The Seduction of the Innkeeper's Son. I pushed
back my plate and looked to Burrich. Our eyes met, and we rose as
one.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX

Skilling

THE FORGED ONES appeared to be incapable of any
emotion. They were not evil, they did not take joy in their
wickedness or crimes. When they lost their capacity to feel
anything for fellow humans, or any other creatures of the world,
they lost their ability to be part of society. An unsympathetic
man, a harsh man, an insensitive man still retains enough
sensibilities to know that he cannot always express how little he
cares for others, and still be accepted into the kinship of a
family or a village. The Forged ones had lost even the ability to
dissemble that they felt for their fellows. Their emotions did not
simply stop; they were forgotten, lost to them so entirely that
they could not even predict the behavior of other humans based on
emotional reaction.

A Skilled one might be seen as the other end of
this spectrum. Such a man can reach forth and tell from afar what
others are thinking and feeling. He can, if strongly Skilled,
impose his thoughts and feelings on others. In this increased
sensitivity to the emotions and thoughts of others, he has a
surfeit of what Forged ones lack entirely.

King-in-Waiting Verity confided that the Forged
ones seemed immune to his Skilling abilities. That is, he could not
feel what they felt, nor discover their thoughts. This does not,
however, mean that they were insensible to the Skill. Could
Verity's Skilling have been what drew them to Buckkeep? Did his
reaching out awaken in them a hunger, a remembrance perhaps of what
they had lost? Drawn as they were, through ice and flood, to travel
always toward Buckkeep, the motivation must have been intense. And
when Verity departed Buckkeep on his quest, the movement of Forged
ones toward Buckkeep seemed to abate.

-
Chade
Fallstar

We arrived at King Shrewd's door and knocked.
The Fool opened it. I had marked well that Wallace was one of the
feasters below, and had remained when the King had
departed.

Let me in, I said quietly while the Fool glared
at me.

No, he said flatly. He started to close the
door.

I put my shoulder to it, and Burrich assisted.
It was the first and last time I would ever use force against the
Fool. I took no joy in proving that I was physically stronger than
he was. The look in his eyes as I forced him aside was something no
one should ever see in a friend's face.

The King was sitting before his hearth, vapidly
mumbling. The Queen-in-Waiting sat desolately beside him, while
Rosemary dozed at her feet. Kettricken rose from her seat to regard
us with surprise. FitzChivalry? she asked quietly.

I went swiftly to her side. I have much to
explain, and a very little time in which to do it. For what I need
to do must be done now, tonight. I paused, tried to decide how best
to explain it to her. Do you remember when you pledged yourself to
Verity?

Of course! She looked at me as if I were
crazy.

He used August, then, a coterie member, to come
and stand with you in your mind, to show you his heart. Do you
remember that?

She colored. Of course I do. But I did not think
anyone else knew exactly what had happened then.

Few did. I looked around, to find Burrich and
the Fool following the conversation wide-eyed.

Verity Skilled to you, through August. He is
strong in the Skill. You know that, you know how he guards our
coasts with it. It is an ancestral magic, a talent of the Farseer
line. Verity inherited it from his father. And I inherited a
measure of it from mine.

Why are you telling me this?

Because I do not believe Verity is dead. King
Shrewd used to be strong in the Skill, I am told. That is no longer
the case. His illness has stolen it away, as it has stolen so many
other things. But if we can persuade him to try, if we can rouse
him to the effort, I can offer him my strength to sustain him. He
may be able to reach Verity.

It will kill him. The Fool spoke his challenge
flatly. I have heard of what the Skill takes out of a man. My king
has not that left to give.

I don't think it will. If we reach Verity,
Verity will break it off before it hurts his father. More than once
he has drawn back from draining my strength, to be sure of not
injuring me.

Even a Fool can see the failure of your logic.
The Fool tugged at the cuffs of his fine new shirt. If you reach
Verity, how will we know it is true, and not a show?

I opened my mouth in an angry protest, but the
Fool held up a forbidding hand. Of course, my dear, dear Fitz, we
should all believe you, as you are our friend, who has only our
very best interests at heart. But there may be a few others prone
to doubt your word, or regard you as so selfless. His sarcasm bit
at me like acid, but I managed to stand silent. And if you don't
reach Verity, what do we have? An exhausted and drained King to be
further flaunted about as incapable. A grieving Queen, who must
wonder, in addition to all her other pains, if perhaps she grieves
for a man who is not dead yet. That is the worst type of grieving
there is. No. We gain nothing, even if you succeed, for our belief
in you would not be enough to stop the wheels that are already
turning. And we have much to lose if you fail. Too much.

Their eyes were on me. There was question even
in Burrich's dark eyes, as if he debated the wisdom of what he had
urged me to do. Kettricken stood very still, trying not to pounce
on the bare bone of hope that I had thrown at her feet. I wished
that I had waited, to talk first with Chade. I suspected I would
never have another chance after this night, to have these people in
this room, Wallace out of the way, and Regal busy below. It had to
be now or it would not be.

I looked at the only one who was not watching
me. King Shrewd idly watched the leap and play of the flames in his
hearth. He is still the King, I said quietly. Let us ask him, and
let him decide.

Not fair! He is not himself! The Fool flung
himself between us. He stood high on his feet to try to look me in
the eye. On the herbs fed him, he is as tractable as a plow horse.
Ask him to cut his own throat, and he'll wait for you to hand him
the knife.