Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (28 page)

She had chosen bluntness as the weapon, so I
took it up as well. But I took a breath and tuned my voice to
courtesy before I began. My lady queen, I followed to be sure you
had not come to any harm. Here, with only a mule's ears to hear us,
I will speak plainly. Have you so swiftly forgotten who tried to
topple Verity from the throne in your own Mountain Kingdom? Would
he hesitate to plot here as well? I think not. Do you believe it an
accident you were lost and astray in the woods two nights ago? I do
not. And do you think that your actions yesterday were pleasing to
him? Quite the contrary. What you do for the sake of your people,
he sees as your ploy to take power to yourself. So he sulks and
mutters and decides you are a greater threat than before. You must
know all this. So why do you set yourself out as a target, here
where an arrow or a knife could find you with such ease and no
witnesses?

I am not so easy a target as that, she defied
me. It would take an excellent archer indeed to make an arrow fly
true in these shifting winds. As for a knife, well, I've a knife,
too. To strike me, one must come where I can strike back. She
turned and strode off again.

I followed relentlessly. And where would that
lead? To your killing a man. And all the Keep in an uproar, and
Verity chastising his guard, that you could be so endangered? And
what if the killer were better with a knife than you? What
consequence for the Six Duchies if I were now pulling your body out
of a drift? I swallowed and added, My queen.

Her pace slowed, but her chin was still up as
she asked softly, What consequence for me if I sit day after day in
the Keep, growing soft and blind as a grub? FitzChivalry, I am not
a game piece, to sit my space on the board until some player sets
me in motion. I am ... there's a wolf watching us!

Where?

She pointed, but he had vanished like a swirl of
snow, leaving only a ghostly laughter in my mind. A moment later a
trick of the wind brought his scent to Sidestep. The mule snorted
and tugged at his lead rope. I did not know we had wolves so near!
Kettricken marveled.

Just a town dog, my lady. Probably some mangy,
homeless beast out to sniff and paw through the village trash heap.
He is nothing to fear.

You think not? I'm hungry enough to eat that
mule.

Go back and wait. I shall come soon.

The trash heap is nowhere near here. Besides,
it's full of seagulls and stinks of their droppings. And other
things. The mule would be fresh and sweet.

Go back, I tell you. I'll bring you meat
later.

FitzChivalry? This from Kettricken,
warily.

I snapped my eyes back to her face. I beg
pardon, my lady. My mind wandered.

Then that anger in your face is not for
me?

No. Another has ... crossed my will this day.
For you, I have concern, not anger. Will not you mount Sidekick and
let me take you back to the Keep?

I wish to see Verity.

My queen, it will not please him, to see you
come so.

She sighed and grew a bit smaller inside her
cloak. She looked aside from me as she asked more quietly, Have you
never wished to pass your time in someone's presence, Fitz, whether
they welcomed you or not? Cannot you understand my loneliness ...
?

I do

To be his queen-in-waiting, to be sacrifice for
Buckkeep, this I know I must do well. But there is another part of
me ... I am woman to his man and wife to his husbanding. To that I
am sworn as well, and am more willing than dutiful to it. But he
comes seldom to me, and when he does, he speaks little and leaves
soon. She turned back to me. Tears sparkled suddenly on her
eyelashes. She dashed them away and a note of anger crept into her
voice. You spoke once of my duty, of doing what only a Queen can do
for Buckkeep. Well, I shall not get with child lying alone in my
bed night after night!

My queen, my lady, please, I begged her. Heat
rose in my face.

She was merciless. Last night, I did not wait. I
went to his door. But the guard claimed he was not there. That he
had gone to his tower. She looked aside from me. Even that work is
preferable to how he must labor in my bed. Not even that bitterness
could cover the hurt under her words.

I reeled with the things I did not want to know.
The cold of Kettricken alone in her bed. Verity, drawn to Skill at
night. I did not know what was worse. My voice shook as I said, You
must not tell me these things, my queen. To speak of this to me is
not right-

Then let me go and speak to him. He is the one
who needs to hear this, I know. And I am going to speak it! If he
will not come to me for his heart's sake, then he must come for his
duty.

This makes sense. She is the one who must bear
if the pack is to increase.

Stay out of this. Go home.

Home! A derisive bark of laughter in my mind.
Home is a pack, not a cold empty place. Listen to the female. She
speaks well. We should all go, to be with him who leads. You fear
foolishly for this bitch. She hunts well, with a keen tooth, and
her kills are clean. I watched her yesterday. She is worthy of he
who leads.

We are not pack. Be silent.

I am.

At the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of
movement. I turned quickly, but there was nothing there. I turned
back to find Kettricken standing silent before me still. But I
sensed the spark of anger that had spirited her was now damped in
pain. It bled her resolve from her.

I spoke quietly through the wind. Please, lady,
let me take you back to Buckkeep.

She did not reply, but pulled her hood up around
her face and tightened it to hide most of her face. Then she walked
to the mule and mounted and suffered me to lead the beast back to
Buckkeep. It seemed a longer, colder walk in her subdued silence. I
was not proud of the change I had wrought in her. To take my mind
from it, I quested out about me carefully. It did not take me long
to find Cub. He stalked and shadowed us, drifting like smoke
through the tree cover, using the windblown drifts and falling snow
to hide himself. I could never once actually swear that I saw him.
I caught motion from the corner of my eye, of a tiny bit of his
scent on the wind. His instincts served him well.

Think you I am ready to hunt?

Not until you are ready to obey. I made my reply
severe.

What then shall I do when I hunt alone, packless
one? He was stung, and angry.

We were drawing near to the outer wall of
Buckkeep. I wondered how he had gotten outside the Keep without
passing through a gate.

Shall I show you? A peace offering.

Perhaps later. When I come with meat. I felt his
assent. He was no longer pacing us, but had raced off ahead, and
would be at the cottage when I got there. The guards at the gate
abashedly challenged me. I identified myself formally, and the
sergeant had the wit not to insist that I identify the lady with
me. In the courtyard I halted Sidekick that she might dismount and
offered her my hand. As she climbed down I all but felt eyes on me.
I turned, and saw Molly. She carried two buckets of water fresh
drawn from the well. She stood still, looking at me, poised like a
deer before flight. Her eyes were deep, her face very still. When
she turned aside, there was a stiffness to her carriage. She did
not glance at us again as she crossed the courtyard and went toward
the kitchen entrance. I felt a cold foreboding inside me. Then
Kettricken let go of my hand and gathered her cloak more closely
about herself. She did not look at me either, but only said softly,
Thank you, FitzChivalry. She walked slowly toward the
door.

I returned Sidekick to the stable and saw to
him. Hands came by and raised an eyebrow at me. I nodded, and he
went on about his work. Sometimes, I think that was what I liked
best about Hands, his ability to leave alone that which was not his
concern.

I made bold my heart for that which I did next.
I went out behind the exercise pens. There was a thin trail of
smoke rising and a nasty scent of scorching meat and hair. I walked
toward it. Burrich stood next to the fire, watching it burn. The
wind and snow kept trying to put it out, but Burrich was determined
it would burn well. He glanced at me as I came up but would not
look at me or speak to me. His eyes were black hollows full of dumb
pain. It would turn to anger if I dared speak to him. But I had not
come for him. I took my knife from my belt and cut from my head a
finger's-length lock of hair. I added it to the pyre, and watched
as it burned. Vixen. A most excellent bitch. A memory came to me
and I spoke it aloud. She was there the first time Regal ever
looked at me. She lay beside me and snarled up at him.

After a moment Burrich nodded to my words. He,
too, had been there. I turned and slowly walked away.

My next stop was the kitchen, to filch a number
of meaty bones left over from yesterday's wake. They were not fresh
meat, but they'd have to do. Cub was right. He'd have to be put out
on his own soon, to hunt for himself. Seeing Burrich's pain had
renewed my resolve. Vixen had lived a long life, for a hound, but
still too short for Burrich's heart. To bond to any animal was to
promise oneself that future pain. My heart had been broken
sufficient times already.

I was still pondering the best way to do this as
I approached the cottage. I lifted my head suddenly, getting only
the briefest precognition, and then his full weight hit me. He had
come, swift as an arrow, speeding over the snow, to fling his
weight against the backs of my knees, shouldering me down as he
passed. The force of his momentum threw me onto my face in the
snow. I lifted my head and got my arms under me as he wheeled
tightly and raced up to me again. I flung up an arm but he plowed
over me again, sharp claws digging into my flesh for purchase as he
ran. Got you, got you, got you! Glorious exuberance.

Halfway to my feet, and he hit me again, full in
my chest. I flung up a forearm to shield my throat and face and he
seized it in his jaws. He growled deeply as he mock-worried it. I
lost my balance under his attack and went down in the snow. This
time I kept a grip on him, hugging him to me, and we rolled over
and over and over. He nipped me in a dozen places, some painful,
and all the time Fun, fun, fun, got you, got you, and got you
again! Here, you're dead, here, I broke your forepaw, here, your
blood runs out! Got you, got you, got you!

Enough! Enough! And finally: Enough! I roared,
and he let go of me and leaped away. He fled over the snow,
bounding ridiculously, to fling himself in a circle and come racing
back at me. I flung my arms up to shelter my face, but he only
seized my bag of bones and raced off with it, daring me to follow.
I could not let him win so easily. So I leaped after him, tackling
him, seizing the bag of bones, and it degenerated into a tugging
match, at which he cheated by letting go suddenly, nipping me on
the forearm hard enough to numb my hand, and then grabbing the bag
again. I gave chase again.

Got you. A tug on the tail. Got you! I kneed his
shoulder, pushing him off balance. Got the bones! and for an
instant I had them and was running. He hit me full square in the
back, all four paws, and drove me facedown in the snow, seized the
trove, and was off again.

I do not know how long we played. We had flung
ourselves finally down in the snow to rest and lay panting together
in thoughtless simplicity. The sacking of the bag was torn in
places, the bones peeking through, and Cub seized one, to shake and
drag it from the clinging folds. He set to upon it, scissoring the
meat and then pinning the bone down with his paws as his jaws
cracked the knuckly cartilage on the end. I reached for the sack
and tugged at a bone, a good meaty one, a thick marrow bone, and
drew it forth.

And abruptly was a man again. Like awaking from
a dream, like the popping of a soap bubble, and Cub's ears twitched
and he turned to me as if I had spoken. But I had not. I had only
separated my self from his. Abruptly I was cold, snow had gotten
inside the tops of my boots and at my waist and collar. There were
standing welts on my forearms and hands where his teeth had dragged
over my flesh. My cloak was torn in two places. And I felt as
groggy as if I were just coming out of a drugged sleep.

What's wrong? Real concern. Why did you go
away?

I can't do this. I can't be like this, with you.
This is wrong.

Puzzlement. Wrong? If you can do it, how can it
be wrong?

I am a man, not a wolf.

Sometimes, he agreed. But you don't have to be
all the time.

Yes, I must. I don't want to be bonded with you
like this.

We cannot have this closeness. I have to set you
free, to live the life you were meant to live. I must live the life
I was meant for.

A derisive snort, a sneer of fangs. This is it,
brother. We are as we are. How can you claim to know what life I
was meant to lead, let alone threaten to force me into it? You
cannot even accept what you are meant to be. You deny it even as
you are it. All your quibbling is nonsense. As well forbid your
nose to snuff, or your ears to hear. We are as we do.
Brother.