Assassin's Apprentice (43 page)

And then, to my personal chagrin, the King summoned forward his male attendant and introduced him to our assemblage as Prince Rurisk. The woman was, of course, Princess Kettricken, and Verity’s betrothed.

And finally I realized that those who had been our litter bearers and greeted us with cakes and wine were not the servants, but the women of the royal household, the grandmothers, aunts, and cousins of Verity’s betrothed, all following the Jhaampe tradition of serving their people. I quailed to think I had spoken to them so familiarly and casually, and again mentally cursed Regal that he had not foreseen to send us more word of their customs rather than the long list of clothing and jewelry he wished brought for himself. The elderly woman beside me, then, was the King’s own sister. I think she must have sensed my confusion, for she patted my shoulder benignly and smiled at my blushes as I attempted to stutter an apology.

“For you have done nothing to shame yourself,” she informed me, and then bade me call her not “my lady” but Jonqui.

I watched as August presented to the Princess the jewelry Verity had selected to send her. There was a net of finely woven silver chain set with red gems to drape her hair, and a silver collar set with larger red stones. There was a silver hoop, wrought like a vine, full of jingling keys, that August explained were her household keys for when she joined him at Buckkeep, and eight plain silver rings for her hands. She stood still as Regal
himself decked her. I thought to myself the silver with red stones would have looked better on a darker woman, but Kettricken’s girlish delight was dazzlingly obvious in her smile, and around me people turned and murmured approvingly to one another to see their princess so adorned. Perhaps, I thought, she might enjoy our outlandish colors and accoutrements.

I was grateful for the briefness of King Eyod’s speech that followed. For all he added was that he bid us welcome and invited us to rest, relax, and enjoy the city. If we had any needs, we had but to ask of anyone we encountered, and they would attempt to meet them. Tomorrow at noon would begin the three-day ceremony of the Joining, and he desired that we all be well rested to enjoy it. Then he and his offspring descended, to mingle as freely with one and all as if we were all soldiers on the same watch.

Jonqui had obviously attached herself to me, and there was no gracious way to escape her company, so I resolved to learn as much as I could as quickly as I could about their customs. But one of her first acts was to present me to the Prince and Princess. They were standing with August, who appeared to be explaining how, through him, Verity would witness his ceremony. He was speaking loudly, as if this would somehow make it easier for them to understand. Jonqui listened a moment, then apparently decided that August had finished speaking. She spoke as if we were all children brought together for sweet cakes while our parents conversed. “Rurisk, Kettricken, this young man is most interested in our gardens. Perhaps later we can arrange
that he speak with those who tend them.” She seemed to speak especially to Kettricken as she added, “His name is FitzChivalry.”

August frowned suddenly and amended her introduction. “Fitz. The Bastard.”

Kettricken looked shocked at this sobriquet, but Rurisk’s fair face darkened somewhat. Ever so slightly, he turned toward me, putting his shoulder to August. Even so, it was a gesture that needed no explaining in any language. “Yes,” he said, switching to Chyurda and looking me full in the eye. “Your father spoke of you to me, the last time I saw him. I was grieved to hear of his death. He did much to prepare the way for the forging of this bond between our folk.”

“You knew my father?” I asked stupidly.

He smiled down at me. “Of course. He and I were treating together, regarding the use of a Bluerock Pass, at Moonseye, northeast of here, when he first learned of you. When our time of talking of passes and trade as envoys was done, we sat down to meat together, and spoke together, as men, of what he must next do. I confess, I still do not understand why he felt he must not rule as King. The customs of one folk are not those of another. Still, with this wedding, we shall be closer to making one folk of our peoples. Do you think that would please him?”

Rurisk was giving me his sole attention, and his use of Chyurda effectively excluded August from the conversation. Kettricken appeared fascinated. August’s face past Rurisk’s shoulder grew very still. Then, with a grim smile of purest hatred for me, he turned aside and rejoined the group around
Regal, who was speaking with King Eyod. For whatever reason, I had the complete attention of Rurisk and Kettricken.

“I did not know my father well, but I think he would be pleased to see . . .” I began, but at that moment, Princess Kettricken smiled brilliantly at me.

“Of course, how could I have been so stupid? You are the one they call Fitz. Do not you usually travel with Lady Thyme, King Shrewd’s poisoner? And are you not training as her apprentice? Regal has spoken of you.”

“How kind of him,” I said inanely, and I have no idea what next was said to me, nor what I replied. I could only be thankful I did not reel where I stood. And inside me, for the first time, I acknowledged that what I felt for Regal went beyond distaste. Rurisk frowned a brother’s rebuke at Kettricken and then turned to deal with a servant urgently asking his instructions about something. Around me people conversed genially amid summer colors and scents, but I felt as if my guts had turned to ice.

I came back to myself when Kettricken plucked at my sleeve. “They are this way,” she informed me. “Or are you too weary to enjoy them now? If you wish to retire, it will offend no one. I understand that many of you were too weary to even walk into the city.”

“But many of us were not, and would truly have enjoyed the chance to walk leisurely through Jhaampe. I have been told of the Blue Fountains, and look forward to seeing them.” I only faltered slightly as I said this, and hoped it had some bearing
on what she had been saying to me. At least it had nothing to do with poison.

“I will be sure you are guided to them, perhaps this evening. But for now, come this way.” And with no more ado or formality than that, she led me away from the gathering. August watched after us as we walked away, and I saw Regal turn and say something in an aside to Rowd. King Eyod had withdrawn from the crowd and was looking benignly down on all from an elevated platform. I wondered why Rowd had not remained with the horses and other servants, but then Kettricken was drawing a painted screen aside from a door opening and we were leaving the main room of the palace.

We were outside, in fact, walking on a stone pathway under an archway of trees. They were willows, and their living branches had been interlaced and woven overhead, to form a green screen from the noon sun. “And they shed rain from the path, too. At least, most of it,” Kettricken added as she noted my interest. “This path leads to the shade gardens. They are my favorites. But perhaps you would wish to see the herbary first?”

“I shall enjoy seeing any and all of the gardens, my lady,” I replied, and this at least was true. Out here, away from the crowd, I would have more chance to sort my thoughts and ponder what to do in my untenable position. It was occurring to me, belatedly, that Prince Rurisk had shown none of the signs of injury or illness that Regal had reported. I needed to withdraw from the situation and reevaluate it. There was more, much more, going on than I had been prepared for.

But with an effort I pulled my thoughts away from my own
dilemma and focused on what the Princess was telling me. She spoke her words clearly, and I found her conversation much easier to follow away from the background chatter of the Great Hall. She seemed to know much about the gardens and gave me to understand that it was not a hobby but knowledge that was expected of her as a princess.

As we walked and talked I constantly had to remind myself that she was a princess, and betrothed to Verity. I had never encountered a woman like her before. She wore a quiet dignity, quite unlike the awareness of station that I usually encountered in those better born than I. But she did not hesitate to smile, or become enthused, or stoop to dig in the soil around a plant to show me a particular type of root she was describing. She rubbed the root free of dirt, then sliced a bit with her belt knife from the heart of the tuber to allow me to taste its tang. She showed me certain pungent herbs for seasoning meat and insisted I taste a leaf of each of three varieties, for though the plants were very similar, the flavors were very different. In a way, she was like Patience, without her eccentricity. In another way, she was like Molly, but without the callousness that Molly had been forced to develop to survive. Like Molly, she spoke directly and frankly to me, as if we were equals. I found myself thinking that Verity might find this woman more to his liking than he expected.

And yet, another part of me worried what Verity would think of his bride. He was not a womanizer, but his taste in women was obvious to anyone who had been much around him. And those that he
smiled upon were usually small and round and dark, often with curly hair and girlish laughter and tiny soft hands. What would he think of this tall pale woman, who dressed as simply as a servant and declared she took much pleasure in tending her own gardens? As our talk turned, I found she could speak as familiarly about falconry and horse breeding as any stableman. And when I asked her what she did for pleasure, she told me of her small forge and tools for working metal, and lifted her hair to show me the earrings she had made for herself. The finely hammered silver petals of a flower clasped a tiny gem like a drop of dew. I had once told Molly that Verity deserved a competent and active wife, but now I wondered if she would much beguile him. He would respect her, I knew. But was respect enough between a king and his queen?

I resolved not to borrow trouble, but to keep my word to Verity instead. I asked her if Regal had told her much of her husband, and she became suddenly quiet. I sensed her drawing on her strength as she replied that she knew he was a king-in-waiting with many problems facing his realm. Regal had warned her that Verity was much older than she was, a plain and simple man, who might not take much interest in her. Regal had promised to be ever by her, helping her to adapt, and doing his best to see that the court was not a lonely place for her. So she was prepared. . . .

“How old are you?” I asked impulsively.

“Eighteen,” she replied, and then smiled to see the surprise on my face. “Because I am tall, your people seem to think I am much older than that,” she confided in me.

“Well, you are younger than Verity, then. But not so
much more than between many wives and husbands. He will be thirty-three this spring.”

“I had thought him much older than that,” she said wonderingly. “Regal explained they share but a father.”

“It is true that Chivalry and Verity were both sons of King Shrewd’s first queen, but there is not that great a span between them. And Verity, when he is not burdened with the problems of state, is not so dour and severe as you might imagine him. He is a man who knows how to laugh.”

She cast me a sideways glance, as if to see if I was trying to put a better face on Verity than he deserved.

“It is true, Princess. I have seen him laugh like a child at the puppet shows at Springfest. And when all join in for luck at the fruit press to make fall wine, he does not hold back. But his greatest pleasure has always been the hunt. He has a wolfhound, Leon, whom he holds dearer than some men hold their sons.”

“But,” Kettricken ventured to interrupt, “surely this is as he was, once. For Regal speaks of him as a man older than his years, bent down by the cares of his people.”

“Bent down as a tree burdened by snow, that springs erect again with the coming of spring. His last words to me before I left, Princess, were to desire me to speak well of him to you.”

She cast her eyes down quickly, as if to hide from me the sudden lift of her heart. “I see a different man, when you speak of him.” She paused, and then closed her mouth firmly, forbidding herself the request I heard anyway.

“I have always seen him as a kind man. As kind as one lifted to such a responsibility can be. He takes his duties very seriously, and will not spare himself from what his folk need of him. This it is that has made him unable to come here, to you. He engages in a battle with the Red-Ship Raiders, one he couldn’t fight from here. He gives up the interests of a man to fulfill his duty as a prince. Not through a coldness of spirit, or a lack of life in himself.”

She gave me a sideways glance, fighting the smile from her face as if what I told her were sweetest flattery such as a princess must not believe.

“He is taller than I am, but only by a bit. His hair is very dark, as is his beard, when he lets it grow. His eyes are blacker still, yet when he is enthused, they shine. It is true there is a scattering of gray in his hair now that you would not have found a year ago. True, also, that his work has kept him from the sun and the wind, so his shoulders no longer tear the seams of his shirts. But my uncle is still very much a man, and I believe that when the danger of the Red-Ships has been driven from our shores, he will ride and shout and hunt with his hound once more.”

“You give me heart,” she muttered, and then straightened herself as if she had admitted some weakness. Looking at me gravely, she asked, “Why does Regal not speak of his brother so? I thought I went to an old man, shaking of hand, too burdened by his duties to see a wife as anything other than another duty.”

“Perhaps he . . .” I began, and could think of no courtier’s way to say that Regal was frequently deceptive if it
gained him his goal. For the life of me, I had no idea what goal might be served by making Kettricken so dread Verity.

“Perhaps he has . . . been . . . unflattering about other things as well,” Kettricken suddenly supposed aloud. Something seemed to alarm her. She took a breath and became suddenly franker. “There was an evening, in my chamber, when we had dined, and Regal had, perhaps, drunk a bit too well. He told tales of you then, saying you had once been a sullen, spoiled child, too ambitious for your birth, but that since the King had made you his poisoner, you seemed content with your lot. He said it seemed to suit you, for even as a boy, you had enjoyed eavesdropping and skulking about and other secretive pursuits. Now, I do not tell you this to make a mischief, but only to let you know what I first believed of you. The next day Regal begged me to believe it had been the fancies of the wine rather than the facts he had shared with me. But one thing he had said that night was too icy a fear for me to entirely lay aside. He said that if the King did send you or Lady Thyme, it would be to poison my brother so that I might be the sole heir to the Mountain Kingdom.”