Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (60 page)

I slipped out while Regal was saying a more
formal good night to his father. It was all I could do to walk past
Wallace's simpering smile without smashing it from his face. Once
in the hall outside, I swiftly sought my own room. I would take the
Fool's advice, I thought, and hide myself in Chade rather than
stand before the heat of the King's son.

I spent the rest of that evening in my room
alone. I knew that as night deepened, Molly would wonder when I did
not come tapping at her door. But I had no heart for it tonight. I
could not summon the energy to slip out of my room and go creeping
up the stairs and slinking down the corridors, always worrying that
someone might step out abruptly and find me where I had no right to
be. At one time I would have sought out Molly's warmth and
affection and found a measure of peace there. That was no longer
the case. Now I dreaded the stealth and anxiety of our meetings,
and a guardedness that did not even end when her door closed behind
me. For Verity rode within me, and ever I must guard that what I
felt and thought with Molly did not spill over into the link I
shared with Verity.

I gave up on the scroll I had been trying to
read. What use now to learn of Elderlings, anyway? Verity would
find whatever Verity found. I flung myself back on my bed and
stared up at the ceiling. Even still and silent, there was no peace
in me.

My link to Verity was like a hook in my flesh;
so must a snagged fish feel when it fights the line. My ties to
Nighteyes were on a deeper, more subtle level, but ever he was
there as well, green eyes lambent in a dark corner of myself. These
parts of me never slept, never rested, were never quiescent at all.
And that constant strain was beginning to tell on me.

Hours later the candles were guttering and the
fire burned low. A change in the air of my room let me know that
Chade had opened his soundless door to me. I arose and went to him.
But with every step I took up that drafty staircase, my anger grew.
It was not the kind of anger that led to ranting and blows between
men. This was an anger born as much from weariness and frustration
as from any hurt. This was the sort of anger that led a man to stop
everything, to say simply, I cannot bear this anymore.

Cannot bear what? Chade asked me. He looked up
from where he hunched over some concoction he was grinding on his
stained stone table. There was genuine concern in his voice. It
made me really stop and look at the man I addressed. A tall, skinny
old assassin. Pox-scarred. Hair gone almost entirely white now.
Wearing the familiar gray wool robe, always with stains or the tiny
burns he inflicted on his clothes while he worked. I wondered how
many men he had killed for his king, killed simply at a word or nod
from Shrewd. Killed without question, true to his oath. For all
those deaths, he was a gentle man. Suddenly I had a question, a
question more pressing than answering his question.

Chade, I asked, have you ever killed a man for
your own sake?

He looked startled. For my own sake?

Yes.

To protect my own life?

Yes. I don't mean when on the King's business. I
mean killed a man to ... make your life simpler.

He snorted. Of course not. He looked at me
strangely.

Why not? I pressed.

He looked incredulous. One simply does not go
about killing people for convenience. It's wrong. It's called
murder, boy.

Unless you do it for your king.

Unless you do it for your king, he agreed
easily.

Chade. What's the difference? If you do it for
yourself, or if you do it for Shrewd?

He sighed and gave up on the mixture he was
making. He moved around the end of the table, sat on a tall stool
there. I remember asking these questions. But of myself, as my
mentor was gone by the time I was your age. He met my eyes firmly.
It comes down to faith, boy. Do you believe in your king? And your
king has to be more to you than your half brother, or your
grandfather. He has to be more than good old Shrewd, or fine honest
Verity. He has to be the King. The heart of the kingdom, the center
of the wheel. If he is that, and if you have faith that the Six
Duchies are worth preserving, that the good of all our people are
furthered by dispensing the King's justice, then, well.

Then you can kill for him.

Exactly.

Have you ever killed against your own
judgment?

You have many questions this night, he warned me
quietly.

Perhaps you have left me alone too long to think
of them all. When we met near nightly, and talked often and I was
busy all the time, I did not think so much. But now I
do.

He nodded slowly. Thinking is not always ...
comforting. It is always good, but not always comforting. Yes. I've
killed against my own judgment. Again, it came down to faith. I had
to believe that the folk who gave the order knew more than I did,
and were wiser in the ways of the wider world.

I was silent for a long moment. Chade started to
relax. Come in. Don't stand there in the draft. Let's have a glass
of wine together, and then I need to talk to you about-

Have you ever killed solely on the basis of your
own judgment? For the good of the kingdom?

For a time Chade looked at me, troubled. I did
not look away. He did, finally, staring down at his old hands,
rubbing their papery-white skin against each other as he fingered
the brilliant red pocks. I do not make those judgments. He looked
up at me suddenly. I never accepted that burden, nor wished to. It
is not our place, boy. Those decisions are for the King.

I am not `boy,', I pointed out, surprising
myself. I am FitzChivalry.

With an emphasis on the Fitz, Chade pointed out
harshly. You are the illegitimate get of a man who did not step up
to become king. He abdicated. And in that abdication, he set aside
from himself the making of judgments. You are not king, Fitz, nor
even the son of a true King. We are assassins.

Why do we stand by while the true King is
poisoned? I asked bluntly then. I see it, you see it. He is lured
into using herbs that steal his mind and, while he cannot think
well, lured to use ones that make him even more foolish. We know
its immediate source, and I suspect its true source. And yet we
watch him dwindle and grow feeble. Why? Where is the faith in
that?

His words cut me like knives. I do not know
where your faith is. I had thought perhaps it would be in me. That
I knew more about it than you did, and that I was loyal to my
king.

It was my turn to drop my eyes. After a moment I
crossed the room slowly, to the cabinet where Chade kept the wine
and the glasses. I took down a tray and poured two careful glasses
from the glass-stoppered bottle. I took the tray to the small table
by the hearth. As I had for so many years, I seated myself on the
hearthstones. After a moment my master came and took his place in
his well-cushioned chair. He lifted his wineglass from the tray and
sipped.

This last year has not been an easy time for
either of us.

You have so seldom called me. And when you do,
you are full of secrets. I tried to keep the accusation from my
voice, but couldn't quite.

Chade gave a short bark of laughter. And you
being such an open spontaneous fellow, that annoys you? He laughed
again, ignoring my offended look. When he had done, he wet his
mouth with wine again, then looked at me. Amusement still danced in
his dark eyes.

Do not glower at me, boy, he told me. I have not
expected anything from you that you have not demanded from me
twofold. And more. For I have it in my mind that a master has some
right to expect faith and trust from his student.

You do, I said after some moments. And you are
right. I have my secrets as well, and I have expected you to trust
that they are honorable ones. But my secrets do not constrain you
as yours do mine. Every time I visit the King's chambers, I see
what Wallace's Smokes and potions are doing to him. I want to kill
Wallace, and restore my king to his wits. And after that, I want to
... finish the task. I want to eliminate the source of the
poisons.

You wish to kill me, then?

It was like being doused with cold water. You
are the source of the poisons Wallace gives to the King? I was sure
I had misunderstood.

He nodded slowly. Some of them. Probably the
ones you most object to.

My heart was cold and still inside me. But,
Chade, why?

He looked at me, his lips folded tight. After a
moment he opened his mouth and spoke softly. A King's secrets
belong to a King only. They are not mine to give away, no matter if
I think the receiver would keep them safe or not. But if you would
only use your mind as I have trained you, you would know my
secrets. For I have not hidden them from you. And from my secret,
you could deduce much on your own.

I turned to poke at the fire behind me. Chade. I
am so weary. Too weary to play at games. Cannot you simply tell
me?

Of course I could. But it would compromise my
promise to my king. What I do is bad enough.

You are splitting hairs over this! I exclaimed
angrily.

Perhaps, but they are mine to split, he replied
with equanimity.

His very calmness infuriated me. I shook my head
violently, put the whole puzzle away from myself for a bit. Why did
you summon me tonight? I asked flatly.

There was a shadow of hurt behind the calm in
his eyes now. Perhaps just to see you. Perhaps to forestall your
doing something foolish and permanent. I know that much of what is
going on right now distresses you greatly. I assure you, I share
your fears. But for now, we must continue on our allotted paths.
With faith. Surely you believe that Verity will return before
spring, and put all to rights.

I don't know, I admitted grudgingly. It shocked
me when he set off on this ridiculous quest. He should have stayed
here and continued with his original plan. By the time he returns,
half his kingdom will be beggared or given away, the way Regal is
going at things.

Chade looked at me levelly. `His' kingdom is
still King Shrewd's kingdom. Remember? Perhaps he has faith in his
father to keep it intact.

I do not think King Shrewd can even keep himself
intact, Chade. Have you seen him of late?

Chade's mouth went to a flat line. Yes. He bit
the word off: I see him when no one else does. I tell you that he
is not the feeble idiot you seem to believe he is.

I shook my head slowly. If you had seen him
tonight, Chade, you would share my anxiety.

What makes you so sure I did not? Chade was
nettled now. I had no wish to anger the old man. But it seemed to
be going all wrong, no matter how I spoke. I forced myself to keep
silent now. Instead of speaking, I took another sip of my wine. I
stared into the fire.

Are the rumors about the Near Islands true? I
asked at last. My voice was my own again.

Chade sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his
knuckly hands. As in all rumors, there is a germ of truth. It may
be true that the Raiders have established a base there. We are not
certain. We have certainly not ceded the Near Islands to them. As
you observed, once they had the Near Islands, they would raid our
coast winter and summer.

Prince Regal seemed to believe that they could
be bought off: That perhaps those islands and a bit of
Bea
rn
s's coast were what
they were truly after. It was an effort, but I kept my voice
respectful as I spoke of Regal.

Many men hope that by saying a thing they can
make it so, Chade said neutrally. Even when they must know better,
he added as a darker afterthought.

What do you think the Raiders want? I
asked.

He stared past me into the fire. Now, there is a
puzzle. What do the Raiders want? It is how our minds work, Fitz.
We think they attack us because they want something from us. But
surely, if they wanted something, by now they would have demanded
it. They know the damage they do to us. They must know that we
would at least consider their demands. But they ask for nothing.
They simply go on raiding.

They make no sense. I finished the thought for
him.'

Not the way we see sense, he corrected me. But
what if our basic assumption is wrong?

I just stared at him.

What if they don't want anything, except what
they already have? A nation of victims. Towns to raid, villages to
torch, people to torture. What if that is their entire
aim?

That's insane, I said slowly.

Perhaps. But what if it is so?

Then nothing will stop them. Except destroying
them.

He nodded slowly. Follow that
thought.

We don't have enough ships to even slow them
down. I considered a moment. We had best all hope the myths about
the Elderlings are true. Because it seems to me they, or something
like them, is our only hope.

Chade nodded slowly. Exactly. So you see why I
approve of Verity's course.

Because it's our only hope of
survival.