Royal Assassin (92 page)

“Thank you.”

There was no reply. I picked them up, examined both carefully. The water smelled as if it had been standing for some time, but neither smell nor a cautious sip revealed any trace of poison. I broke the loaf into smaller pieces, looking for flecks in the dough or any discoloration. It was not fresh, but it was not poisoned in any way I could detect. And someone had eaten the other half of it. In a very short time they were gone. I went and lay on my stone bench again, and tried to find the least uncomfortable position.

The cell was dry, but cold, in the way that any unused chamber in Buckkeep was cold during the winter. I knew exactly where I was. The cells were not far from the wine cellars. I knew I could scream my lungs bloody and no one but my guards would hear. I had explored down here as a boy. I had seldom found occupants in the cells, and even more rarely guards upon them. The swiftness of justice at Buckkeep meant there was seldom a reason to hold a prisoner for more than a few hours. Transgressions of the law usually demanded you pay with your life, or with the work of your hands. I suspected these cells would see a deal more use, now that Regal claimed to be king.

I tried to sleep, but insensibility had deserted me. Instead, I shifted about on the cold hard stone and thought. I tried for a
while to convince myself that if the Queen had gotten away, I had won. After all, winning was getting what you wanted, wasn’t it? Instead, I found myself thinking of how quickly King Shrewd had gone. Like a bubble popping. If they hanged me, would it be that swift for me? Or would I strangle and dangle a long time? To divert myself from those pleasant thoughts, I wondered how long a civil war Verity would have to fight with Regal before he could put the Six Duchies on a map once more as the Six Duchies. Assuming, of course, that Verity returned and was able to rid the coast of Red-Ships. When Regal abandoned Buckkeep, as I was sure he would, I wondered who would step forward to take it. Patience had said the Coastal Dukes wanted nothing of Lord Bright. Buck had a few lesser nobles, but none of them so bold as to claim Buckkeep, I thought. Perhaps one of the three Coastal Dukes would reach out a hand and claim it. No. None of them had the might right now to care for anything beyond their own borders. It would be each for his own now. Unless Regal stayed at Buckkeep. With the Queen missing and Shrewd dead, he was, after all, the rightful King. Unless one knew that Verity was alive. But few did. Would the Coastal Duchies accept Regal as king now? Would the Coastal Duchies accept Verity as their king when he returned? Or would they scorn the man who had left them for a foolish quest?

Time passed slowly in that unchanging place. I was not given food nor water unless I asked for them, and sometimes not then, so meals were no measure of the day. Awake, I was a prisoner of my thoughts and worries. Once I tried to Skill to Verity, but the effort brought on a darkening of my vision and a long period of pounding headache. I had not the strength for a second effort. Hunger became a constant, as unrelenting as the cold of the cell. I heard the guards twice turn Patience away, heard them refuse to give me the food and bandages she had brought. I did not call to her. I wanted her to give up, to disassociate herself from me. My only respite came when I slept and dream-hunted with Nighteyes. I tried to use his senses to explore what went on at Buckkeep, but he attached only a wolf’s importance to things, and when I was with him, I shared his values. Time was not divided by days and nights, but
from kill to kill. The meat I devoured with him could not sustain my human body, and yet there was satisfaction in the gorging. With his senses I found the weather changing, and awoke one morning knowing that a clear winter day had dawned. Raider weather. The Coastal Dukes could not linger much longer in Buckkeep, if they had lingered at all.

As if to bear me out, there were voices at the guard station and the rasp of boots against the stone floor. I heard Regal’s voice, strained with anger, and the guard’s conciliatory greeting, and then they came down the corridor. For the first time since I had awakened there, I heard a key in the lock of my cell, and the door was swung open. I sat up slowly. Three Dukes and a traitor Prince peered in at me. I managed to come to my feet. Behind my lords stood a row of soldiers armed with pikes, as if ready to hold a maddened beast at bay. A guard with a drawn sword stood beside the open door, between Regal and me. He did not underestimate my hatred.

“You see him,” Regal declared flatly. “He is alive and well. I have not done away with him. But know also that I have the right to. He killed a man, my servant, right in my hall. And a woman upstairs in her chamber. I have a right to his life, for those crimes alone.”

“King-in-Waiting Regal. You charge FitzChivalry killed King Shrewd using the Wit,” Brawndy stated. With ponderous logic he added, “I have never heard of such a thing being possible. But if this is so, then the council has first right to his life, for he would have killed the King first. It would take a convening of the council, to decide his guilt or innocence, and to set his sentence.”

Regal sighed in exasperation. “Then I will convene the council. Let us get it done and have it over with. It is ridiculous to delay my coronation for a murderer’s execution.”

“My lord, a King’s death is never ridiculous,” Duke Shemshy of Shoaks pointed out quietly. “And we will have done with one King before we have another, Regal, King-in-Waiting.”

“My father is dead and buried. How much more done with him can you be?” Regal was becoming reckless. There was nothing of grief or respect in his retort.

“We will know how he died, and at whose hand,” Brawndy of Bearns told him. “Your man Wallace said FitzChivalry killed the King. You, King-in-Waiting Regal, agreed, saying he used the Wit to do it. Many of us believe that FitzChivalry was singularly devoted to his king and would not do such a thing. And FitzChivalry said the Skill users did.” For the first time Duke Brawndy looked directly at me. I met his eyes and spoke to him as if we were alone.

“Justin and Serene killed him,” I said quietly. “By treachery, they killed my king.”

“Silence!” Regal bawled. He lifted his hand as if to strike me. I did not flinch.

“And so I killed them,” I continued, looking only at Brawndy. “With the King’s knife. Why else would I have chosen such a weapon?”

“Crazy men do strange things.” This from Duke Kelvar of Rippon, while Regal strangled, livid with fury. I met Kelvar’s eyes calmly. Last I had spoken with him had been at his own table, at Neatbay.

“I am not crazy,” I asserted quietly. “I was no more crazy that night than I was the night I wielded an ax outside the walls of Bayguard.”

“That may be so,” Kelvar affirmed thoughtfully. “It is common talk that he goes berserk when he fights.”

A glint came into Regal’s eyes. “It is common talk, too, that he has been seen with blood on his mouth after he has fought. That he becomes one of the animals that he was raised with. He is Witted.”

Silence greeted this remark. The Dukes exchanged glances, and when Shemshy glanced back at me, there was distaste in the look. Brawndy finally answered Regal. “This is a grave charge you level. Have you a witness?”

“To blood on his mouth? Several.”

Brawndy shook his head. “Any man may finish a battle with a bloody face. An ax is not a tidy weapon. I can attest to that. No. It would take more than that.”

“Then let us convene the council,” Regal repeated impatiently. “Hear what Wallace has to say about how my father died and at whose hand.”

The three Dukes exchanged glances. Their eyes came back to me, considering. Duke Brawndy led the coast now. I was certain of it when he was the one who spoke. “King-in-Waiting Regal. Let us speak plainly. You have accused FitzChivalry, son of Chivalry, of using the Wit, the Beast magic, to slay King Shrewd. This is indeed a grave charge. To satisfy us of it, we ask that you prove to us that not only is he Witted, but that he can use it to do injury to another. All of us were witness that there were no marks on King Shrewd’s body, no sign of a death struggle at all. Had not you raised this cry of treachery, we might have accepted that he had died of his years. Some, even, have whispered that you but seek an excuse to be rid of FitzChivalry. I know you have heard these rumors; I speak them aloud that we may confront them.” Brawndy paused, as if debating with himself. He glanced once more at his peers. When neither Kelvar nor Shemshy gave sign of dissension, he cleared his throat and continued.

“We have a proposal, King-in-Waiting Regal. Prove to us, sir, that FitzChivalry is Witted, and that he used that Wit to kill King Shrewd, and we will let you put him to death as you see fit. We will witness your coronation as king of the Six Duchies. Further, we will accept Lord Bright as your presence in Buckkeep and allow you to retire your court to Tradeford.”

Triumph gleamed briefly on Regal’s face. Then suspicion masked it. “And if, Duke Brawndy, I do not prove this to your satisfaction?”

“Then FitzChivalry lives,” Brawndy calmly decreed. “And you give him stewardship of Buckkeep and the forces of Buck in your absence.” All three Coastal Dukes lifted their eyes to meet Regal’s.

“This is treason and treachery!” Regal hissed.

Shemshy’s hand almost went to his sword. Kelvar reddened but said nothing. The tension in the line of men behind them tightened a notch. Only Brawndy remained unmoved. “My lord, do you bring more charges?” he asked calmly. “Again, we will demand them proved. It could further delay your coronation.”

After a moment of their stony eyes and silence, Regal said quietly, “I spoke in haste, my dukes. These are trying times for
me. Bereft of my father’s guidance so suddenly, bereaved of my brother, our lady queen and the child she carries gone missing … These surely are enough cause to drive any man to hasty statements. I … very well. I will acquiesce to this … bargain you set before me. I will prove FitzChivalry Witted, or I will set him free. Does that satisfy you?”

“No, my king-in-waiting,” Brawndy said quietly. “Such were not the terms we set. If innocent, FitzChivalry will be set in command of Buckkeep. If you prove him guilty, we shall accept Bright. Those were our terms.”

“And the deaths of Justin and Serene, valuable servants and coterie members? Those deaths at least we know we may put at his door. He has admitted as much.” The look Regal turned on me should have killed me right there. How deeply he must have regretted charging me with murdering Shrewd. But for Wallace’s wild accusations and Regal’s backing of them, he could have demanded me drowned for Justin’s death. That, as everyone had witnessed, was my doing. Ironically, his own desire to vilify me was what was staving off my execution.

“You will have every chance to prove him Witted and the killer of your father. For those crimes, only, will we let you hang him. As to the others … he claims they were the killers of the King. If he is not the guilty one, we are willing to accept that those he killed died justly.”

“This is intolerable!” Regal spat.

“My lord, those are our terms,” Brawndy returned calmly.

“And if I refuse them?” Regal flared angrily.

Brawndy shrugged. “The skies are clear, my lord. Raider weather, for those of us with coasts. We must disperse to our own Keeps, to guard our coasts as well we may. Without the convening of the full council, you cannot crown yourself king, nor lawfully appoint a man to hold Buck in your stead. You must winter at Buckkeep, my lord, and confront the sea pirates even as we do.”

“You ring me ’round with traditions and petty laws, all to force me to your will. Am I your king or am I not?” Regal demanded bluntly.

“You are not our king.” Brawndy pointed it out quietly
but firmly. “You are our king-in-waiting. And likely to continue waiting until these charges and this issue is resolved.”

The blackness of Regal’s glare plainly showed how little this was to his liking. “Very well,” he said flatly, all too quickly. “I suppose I must submit to this … bargaining. Remember that you have decreed it must be this way, not I.” He turned and looked at me. I knew then that he would not keep his word; I knew I would die in this cell. That sick and sudden knowledge of my own death blackened the edges of my vision, set me swaying on my feet. I felt I had taken two steps back from life. A coldness crept up inside me.

“Then we are agreed,” Brawndy said smoothly. He turned his eyes back to me, and frowned. Something of what I was feeling must have showed on my face, for he asked quickly, “FitzChivalry. Are you fairly treated here? Do they feed you?” As he asked this he unfastened the brooch at his shoulder. His cloak was much worn, but of wool, and when he threw it to me, the weight of it knocked me back against the wall.

I clutched the cloak, warm still with his body heat, gratefully. “Water. Bread,” I said briefly. I looked down at the heavy wool garment. “Thank you,” I said more quietly.

“It’s better than many have!” Regal retorted angrily. “Times are hard,” he added lamely. As if those he spoke to did not know that better than he did.

Brawndy regarded me for a few moments. I said nothing. Finally he swung a cold look to Regal. “Too hard to at least give him some straw to sleep on, instead of a slab of stone?”

Regal returned his glare. Brawndy did not quail. “We will need proof of his guilt, King-in-Waiting Regal, before we will countenance his execution. In the meantime we expect you to keep him alive.”

“At least give him marching rations,” Kelvar advised. “No one will say you have pampered him with those, and we shall have a live man, either for you to hang or to command at Buck for us.”

Regal crossed his arms on his chest and made no reply. I knew I would get but water and half a loaf. I think he would have tried to take Brawndy’s cloak away from me, save that he
knew I would have fought for it. With a jerk of his chin, Regal indicated to the guard that he could close my door. As it slammed shut I flung myself forward, to grip the bars and stare after them. I thought of calling out, of telling them all that Regal would not let me live, that he would find a way to kill me here. But I did not. They would not have believed me. They still did not fear Regal as they needed to. If they had known him as I did, they would have known that no promise could bind him to their bargain. He would kill me. I was too deeply within his power for him to resist ending me.