Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (83 page)

If I had thought it would impress you, I
probably would have told you a long time ago, I confessed. And it
was true. My ability to keep my secrets had been soundly based on
my fear that telling Molly would mean losing her. I was
right.

Lies, she said, more to herself than me. Lies,
all lies. From the very beginning. I was so stupid. If a man hits
you once, he'll hit you again, they say. And the same is true for
lying. But I stayed, and I listened and I believed. What a fool
I've been! This last, so savagely that I recoiled from it as from a
blow. She stood clear of me. Thank you, FitzChivalry, she said
coldly, formally. You've made this so much easier for me. She
turned away from me.

Molly, I begged. I reached to take her arm, but
she spun about, her hand raised to slap me.

Don't touch me, she warned in a low voice. Don't
you ever dare to touch me again!

She left.

After a time I remembered I was standing under
Burrich's stairs in the dark. I shivered with cold and something
more. No. Something less. My lips drew back from my teeth in
something neither a smile nor a snarl. I had always feared that my
lies would make me lose Molly. But the truth had severed in an
instant what my lies had held together for a year. What must I
learn from that? I wondered. Very slowly I climbed up the steps. I
knocked on the door.

Who is it? Burrich's voice.

Me. He unlatched the door and I came into the
room. What was Molly doing here? I asked him, not caring how it
might sound, not caring that the bandaged Fool sat still at
Burrich's table. Did she need help?

Burrich cleared his throat. She came for herbs,
he said uneasily. I could not help her, I did not have what she
wanted. Then the Fool came, and she stayed to help me with
him.

Patience and Lacey have herbs. Lots of them, I
pointed out.

That is what I told her. He turned away from me,
and began clearing away the things he had used to work on the Fool.
She did not wish to go to them. There was something in his voice,
almost prodding, pushing me to the next question.

She's going away, I said in a small voice. She's
going away. I sat down on a chair before Burrich's fire and
clenched my hands between my knees. I became aware I was rocking
back and forth, tried to stop.

Did you succeed? the Fool asked
quietly.

I stopped rocking. I swear that for an instant I
had no idea what he was talking about. Yes, I said quietly. Yes, I
think I did. I had succeeded at losing Molly, too. Succeeded at
wearing away her loyalty and her love, taking her for granted,
succeeded at being so logical and practical and loyal to my king
that I had just lost any chance of ever having a life of my own. I
looked at Burrich. Did you love Patience? I asked suddenly. When
you decided to leave?

The Fool started, then visibly goggled. So there
were some secrets even he did not know. Burrich's face went as dark
as I had ever seen it. He crossed his arms on his chest, as if to
restrain himself. He might kill me, I thought. Or maybe he sought
only to hold some pain inside himself. Please, I added, I have to
know.

He glared at me, then spoke carefully. I am not
a changeable man, he told me. If I had loved her, I would love her
still.

So. It would never go away. But, still, you
decided-

Someone had to decide. Patience would not see it
could not be. Someone had to end the torment for us
both.

As Molly had decided for us. I tried to think
just what I should do next. Nothing came to me. I looked at the
Fool. Are you all right? I asked him.

I'm better off than you are, he replied
sincerely.

I meant, your shoulder. I had thought
...

Wrenched, but not broken. Much better than your
heart.

A quick bantering of witty words. I had not
known he could weight a jest with so much sympathy. The kindness
pushed me to the edge of breaking. I don't know what to do, I said
brokenly. How can I live with this?

The brandy bottle made a very small thud as
Burrich set it in the center of the table. He put out three cups
around it. We will have a drink, he said. To Molly finding
happiness somewhere. We will wish it for her with all our
hearts.

We drank a round and Burrich refilled the
cups.

The Fool swirled the brandy in his cup. Is this
wise, just now? he asked.

Just now, I am done with being wise, I told him.
I would rather be a fool.

You do not know of what you speak, he told me.
All the same, he raised his glass alongside mine. To fools of all
kinds. And a third time, to our king.

We made a sincere effort, but fate did not allow
us sufficient time. A determined rapping at Burrich's door proved
to be Lacey with a basket on her arm. She came in quickly, shutting
the door fast behind her. Get rid of this for me, will you? she
asked, and tumbled the slain chicken out on the table before
us.

Dinner! announced the Fool
enthusiastically.

It took Lacey a moment to realize the state we
were in. It took her less than that to be furious. While we gamble
our lives and reputations, you get drunk! She rounded on Burrich.
In twenty years, you have not learned that it solves
nothing!

Burrich flinched not at all. Some things cannot
be solved, he pointed out philosophically. Drink makes those things
much more tolerable. He came to his feet easily, stood rock steady
before her. Years of drinking seemed to have taught him the knack
of handling it well. What did you need?

Lacey bit her lip a moment. She decided to
follow where he had pointed the conversation. I need that disposed
of. And I need an ointment for bruises.

Does no one around here ever use the healer? the
Fool asked of no one in particular. Lacey ignored him.

That is what I supposedly came here for, so I
had best return with it, in case someone asks to see it. My real
mission is to find the Fitz, and ask him if he knows there are
guards chopping down King Shrewd's door with axes.

I nodded gravely. I wasn't going to attempt
Burrich's graceful stance. The Fool leaped to his feet instead,
crying, What? He rounded on me. I thought you said you had
succeeded! What success is this?

The best I could manage on very short notice, I
retorted. It will either be all right, or it won't. We've done all
we can just now. Besides, think on it. That's a good stout oaken
door. It will take them a while to get through it. And when they
do, I fancy they will find the inner door to the King's bedchamber
is likewise bolted and barred.

How did you manage that? Burrich asked
quietly.

I didn't, I said brusquely. I looked at the
Fool. I have said enough, for now. It is time to have a bit of
trust. I turned to Lacey. How are the Queen and Patience? How went
our masquerade?

Well enough. The Queen is sore bruised from her
fall, and for myself, I am not all that sure that the babe is out
of danger of being lost. A miscarriage from a fall does not always
happen immediately. But let us not borrow trouble. Wallace was
concerned but ineffectual. For a man who claims to be a healer, he
knows remarkably little of the true lore of herbs. As for the
Prince ... Lacey snorted, but said no more.

Does no one beside myself think there is a
danger to letting a rumor of a miscarriage circulate? the Fool
asked airily.

I had no time to devise anything else, I
retorted. In a day or so, the Queen will deny the rumor, saying
that all seems to be well with the child.

So. For the moment we are as secured as we may
be, Burrich observed. But what comes next? Are we to see the King
and Queen Kettricken carried off to Tradeford?

Trust. I ask for one day of trust, I said
carefully. I hoped it would be enough. And now we must disperse and
go about our lives as normally as we can.

A stablemaster with no horses and a Fool with no
king, the Fool observed. Burrich and I can continue to drink. I
believe that is a normal life under these circumstances. As for
you, Fitz, I have no idea what title you give yourself these days,
let alone what you normally do all day. Hence-

No one is going to sit about and drink, Lacey
intoned ominously. Put the bottle aside and keep your wits sharp.
And disperse, as Fitz here said. Enough has been said and done in
this room to put us all swinging from a tree for treason. Save you,
of course, FitzChivalry. It would have to be poison for you. Those
of the royal blood are not allowed to swing.

Her words had a chilling effect. Burrich picked
up the cork and restoppered the bottle. Lacey left first, a pot of
Burrich's ointment in her basket. The Fool followed her a short
time later. When I left Burrich, he had finished cleaning the fowl
and was plucking the last stubborn feathers from it. The man wasted
nothing.

I went out and wandered about a bit. I watched
behind me for shadows. Kettricken would be resting, and I did not
think I could withstand Patience's nattering, or her insights just
then. If the Fool was in his chamber, it was because he did not
want company. And if he was elsewhere, I had no idea where that
might be. The whole of Buckkeep was as plagued with Inlanders as a
sick dog with fleas. I strolled through the kitchen, purloining
gingerbread. Then I wandered about disconsolately, trying not to
think, trying to appear without purpose as I headed back to the hut
where once I had hidden Nighteyes. The hut was empty now, as cold
within as without. It had been some time since Nighteyes had laired
here. He preferred the forested hills behind Buckkeep. But I did
not wait long before his shadow crossed the threshold of the open
door.

Perhaps the greatest comfort of the Wit bond is
never having to explain. I did not need to recount the last day's
events to him, did not have to find words to describe how it felt
to watch Molly walk away from me. Nor did he ask questions or make
sympathetic talk. The human events would have made small sense to
him. He acted on the strength of what I felt, not why. He simply
came to me and sat beside me on the dirty floor. I could put an arm
around him and lean my face against his ruff and sit.

Such packs men make, he observed to me after a
while. How can you hunt together when you cannot all run in the
same direction?

I made no reply to this. I knew no answer and he
did not expect one.

He leaned down to nibble an itch on his foreleg.
Then he sat up, shook himself all over, and asked, What will you do
for a mate now?

Not all wolves take mates.

The leader always does. How else would the pack
multiply?

My leader has a mate, and she is with child.
Perhaps wolves have it aright, and men should pay attention.
Perhaps only the leader should mate. That was the decision that
Heart of the Pack made long ago. That he could not have both a
mate, and a leader he followed with all of his heart.

That one is more wolf than he cares to admit. To
anyone. A pause. Gingerbread?

I gave it to him. He gobbled it greedily while I
watched.

I've missed your dreams at night.

They are not my dreams. They are my life. You
are welcome to them, so long as Heart of the Pack does not get
angry with us. Life shared is better. A pause. You would rather
have shared the female's life.

It is my weakness to want too much.

He blinked his deep eyes. You love too many. My
life is much simpler.

He loved only me.

That is true. The only real difficulty I have is
knowing that you will never trust that is so.

I sighed heavily. Nighteyes sneezed suddenly,
then shook himself all over. I mislike this mouse dust. But before
I go, use your so clever hands to scratch inside my ears. It is
hard for me to do well without leaving welts.

And so I scratched his ears, and under his
throat and the back of his neck, until he fell over on his side
like a puppy.

Hound, I told him affectionately.

For that insult, you pay! He flipped himself up
onto his feet, bit me hard through my sleeve, and then darted out
the door and was gone. I pulled back my sleeve to survey the deep
white dents in my flesh that were not quite bleeding. Wolf
humor.

The brief winter day had ended. I went back to
the Keep and forced myself to go through the kitchens, to allow
Cook to tell me all the gossip. She stuffed me full of plum cake
and mutton as she told me of the Queen's possible miscarriage, and
then how the men had chopped through the outer door of the King's
room after his guard had suddenly perished of apoplexy. And the
second door, too, all the time Prince Regal worrying and urging
them on, for fear something had befallen the King himself. But when
they got through, despite all that chopping, the King was sleeping
like a babe, sir. And so deep a sleep they could not rouse him at
all, to tell him why they'd chopped his doors away.

Amazing, I agreed, and she went on to the lesser
gossip of the Keep. I found that centered these days mostly on who
was and was not included in the flight to Tradeford. Cook was to
go, for the sake of her gooseberry tarts and bundle cakes. She did
not know who was to take over the cooking here, but no doubt it
would be one of the guards. Regal had told her she might take all
her best pots, for which she was grateful, but what she would
really miss was the west hearth, for she had never cooked on a
better, for the draft being just right and the meat hooks at all
the right heights. I listened to her, and tried to think only of
her words, to be fully intrigued by the small details of what she
considered important in her life. The Queen's guard, I found, was
to stay at Buckkeep, as would those few who still wore the colors
of King Shrewd's personal guard. Since they had lost the privilege
of his rooms, they had become a dispirited lot. But Regal insisted
it was necessary those groups stay, to maintain a royal presence in
Buckkeep. Rosemary would go, and her mother, but that was hardly
surprising, seeing as who they served. Fedwren would not, nor
Mellow. Now, there was a voice she would miss, but she'd probably
get used to that inland warbling after a while.