Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (75 page)

That the Outislanders had tried to break through
our siege was understandable. They had, perhaps, had a chance of
making it as far as their ships and reclaiming one or two of them.
That the attack seemed to focus on the Queen's tent was least
comprehensible. Once clear of the earthworks, why had not they
seized their chance for survival and headed for the
beach?

Perhaps, observed Burrich, gritting his teeth as
I probed the angry swelling on his leg, they did not hope to escape
at all. It is their Outislander way, to decide to die, and then to
attempt to do as much damage before doing so. So they attacked
here, hoping to kill our queen.

I had discovered Burrich, limping about the
battleground. He did not say he had been looking for my body. His
relief at seeing me was evidence enough of that.

How did they know it was the Queen in that tent?
I pondered. We flew no banners, we issued no challenges. How did
they know she was here? There. Is that any better? I checked the
bandage for snugness.

It's dry and it's clean and the wrapping seems
to help the pain. I don't suppose we can do much more than that. I
suspect that whenever I work that leg hard, I'm going to have the
swelling and heat in it. He spoke as dispassionately as if he
discussed a horse's bad leg. At least it stayed closed. They did
seem to make straight for the Queen's tent, didn't they?

Like bees to honey, I observed tiredly. The
Queen is in Bayguard?

Of course. Everyone is. You should have heard
the cheer when they opened the gates to us. Queen Kettricken walked
in, her skirts still bundled to one side, her drawn blade still
dripping. Duke Kelvar went down on his knees to kiss her hand. But
Lady Grace looked at her, and said, `Oh, my dear, I shall have a
bath drawn for you at once.

Now there is the stuff they make songs of, I
said, and we laughed. But not all are up at the Keep. I saw a girl
just now, coming for water, down in the ruins.

Well, up at the Keep they are rejoicing. There
will be some who will have small heart for that. Foxglove was
wrong. The folk of Neatbay did not yield easily before the
Red-Ships. Many, many died before the Neatbay folk retreated to the
Keep.

Does anything strike you as odd about
that?

That folk should defend themselves? No. It
is-

Does not it seem to you that there were too many
Outislanders here? More than five ships' worth?

Burrich halted. He looked back to the scattered
bodies. Perhaps those other ships had left them here, and then gone
out on patrol ....

That is not their way. I suspect a larger ship,
transporting a sizable force of men.

Where?

Gone now. I think I glimpsed it, going into that
fog bank.

We fell silent. Burrich showed me to where he
had tethered Ruddy and Sooty and we rode together up to Bayguard.
The great doors of the Keep stood wide open, and a combination of
Buckkeep soldiers and Bayguard folk mingled there. We were greeted
with a shout of welcome, and offered brimming cups of mead before
we were even dismounted. Boys begged to take our horses for us, and
to my surprise, Burrich let them. Within the hall was genuine
rejoicing that would have put any of Regal's revels to shame. All
of Bayguard had been thrown open for us. Ewers and basins of warm
scented water had been set out in the Great Hall for us to refresh
ourselves, and tables were heavy with food, none of it hard bread
or salt fish.

We remained three days at Neatbay. During this
time our dead were buried, and the bodies of the Outislanders
burned. Buckkeep soldiers and Queen's guard fell in alongside the
people of Neatbay to assist in the repairs to Bayguard's
fortifications and in salvaging what was left of Neatbay Town. I
made a few quiet inquiries. I found that the watchtower signal had
been lit as soon as the ships were sighted, but that the Red-Ships
had made extinguishing it one of their first goals. What of their
coterie member? I asked. Kelvar looked at me in surprise. Burl had
been recalled weeks ago, for some essential duty inland. He had
gone to Tradeford, Kelvar believed.

The day after the battle, reinforcements arrived
from South Cove. They had not seen the signal fire, but the
messengers sent out on horse had gotten through to them. I was
present when Kettricken commended Duke Kelvar for his foresight in
setting up a relay of horse for such messages, and sent her thanks
also to Duke Shemshy of Shoaks for his response. She suggested they
divide the captured Red-Ships, that they need no longer wait for
warships to arrive, but could dispatch their own, for mutual
defense. This was a sumptuous gift, and it was received in an awed
silence. When Duke Kelvar recovered himself, he rose to offer a
toast to his queen and to the unborn Farseer heir. So swiftly had
the rumor become general knowledge. Queen Kettricken colored
prettily, but managed her thanks well.

Those brief days of victory were a healing balm
to us all. We had fought, and fought well. Neatbay would rebuild,
and the Outislanders had no hold in Bayguard. For a brief time it
seemed possible that we could win free of them entirely.

Before we had left Neatbay, the songs were
already being sung, about a Queen with her skirts bundled up
standing bold against the Red-Ships, and of the child in her womb
who was a warrior before birth. That the Queen would risk not only
herself but the heir to the throne for Rippon Duchy was not lost
upon any of them. First Duke Brawndy of Bea
rn
s, and now Kelvar of Rippon, I thought to
myself. Kettricken was doing well at winning the Duchies'
loyalty.

I had my moments at Neatbay, both warming and
chilling. For Lady Grace, on seeing me in the Great Hall,
recognized me and came to speak to me. So, she had said after
greeting me quietly, my kitchen dog boy has the blood of kings in
him. No wonder you advised me so well, those years ago. She had
grown well into being a lady and a Duchess. Her feist dog still
went everywhere with her, but now he ran about at her heels, and
this change pleased me almost as much as her easy carriage of her
title and her obvious affection for her duke.

We have both changed much, Lady Grace, I
replied, and she accepted the compliment I intended. The last time
I had seen her had been when I had traveled here with Verity. She
had not then been so comfortable being a Duchess. I had met her in
the kitchens, when her dog had been choking on a bone. I had
persuaded her then that her duke's coin was better spent on
watchtowers than jewelry for her. Back then, she had been very new
to being a Duchess. Now she seemed never to have been anything
else.

Not a dog boy anymore? she asked with a wry
smile.

Dog boy? Man wolf! observed someone. I turned to
see who had spoken, but the hall was crowded and no face seemed
turned to watch us. I shrugged as if the remark were of no
consequence, and Lady Grace appeared not to have even heard it. She
presented me with a token of her favor before I left. It still
makes me smile to think on it: a tiny pin in the shape of a fish's
bones. I had this made, to remind me ... I should like you to have
it now. She herself seldom wore jewelry anymore, she told me. She
handed it to me on a balcony, on a dark evening when the lights of
Duke Kelvar's watchtowers glittered like diamonds against the black
sky.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

Buckkeep

TRADEFORD CASTLE ON the Vin River was one of the
traditional residences of the ruling family of Farrow. This was the
place where Queen Desire had spent her childhood, and here she
returned with her son Regal during the summers of his childhood.
The town of Tradeford is a lively place, a center for commerce in
the heart of orchard-and-grain country. The Vin River is a sleepily
navigable water, making travel easy and pleasant. Queen Desire had
always insisted it was superior to Buckkeep in every regard and
would have served much better as a seat for the royal
family.

The trip back to Buckkeep was eventful only in
small ways. Kettricken was worn and tired by the time we were to
return. Although she tried not to show it, it was evident in the
circles under her eyes and the set of her mouth. Duke Kelvar
furnished her with a litter for the trip home, but a brief ride in
it showed her that its swaying only made her more nauseated. She
returned it with thanks and rode home astride her mare.

Our second night on the road home, Foxglove came
to our fire and told Burrich she thought she had seen a wolf,
several times that day. Burrich shrugged indifferently and assured
her it was probably just curious, and was no threat to us. After
she left, Burrich turned to me and said, That's going to happen
once too often.

What?

A wolf, seen in your vicinity. Fitz, have a
care. There were rumors, back when you killed those Forged ones.
There were tracks all about, and the marks on those men were never
made by any blade. Someone told me they saw a wolf prowling Neatbay
the night of the battle. I even heard a wild tale about a wolf who
changed into a man when the battle was over. There were tracks in
the mud outside the Queen's very tent from that night; as well for
you that everyone was so tired and in so much of a hurry to dispose
of the dead. There were a few there that did not die at a man's
hand.

A few? Fa!

Burrich's face contorted in anger. That will
cease. Now.

You are strong, Heart of the Pack,
but

The thought was broken and I heard a sudden yelp
of surprise from off in the brush. Several of the horses startled
and looked in that direction. I myself was staring at Burrich. He
had repelled at Nighteyes, fiercely and from a distance.

Luckily for you, from a distance; for the
strength of that ... I began to warn Nighteyes.

Burrich's gaze swung to me. I said, that will
cease! Now! He looked aside from me in disgust. I'd rather you rode
with your hand in your pants than that you did that constantly in
my presence. It offends me.

I could think of nothing to say. Years of living
together had taught me that he would not be argued out of his
feelings about the Wit. He knew I was bonded to Nighteyes. That he
would still tolerate my presence was as far as he could unbend. I
need not constantly remind him that the wolf and I shared minds. I
bowed my head in assent. That night, for the first time in a long
time, my dreams were my own.

I dreamed of Molly. She wore red skirts again,
and crouched on the beach, cutting sheel from the stones with her
belt knife and eating them rave. She looked up at me and smiled. I
came closer. She leaped up and ran barefoot down the beach in front
of me. I chased her, but she was as fleet as she had ever been. Her
hair blew back off her shoulders, and she only laughed when I
called out to her to wait, wait. I awoke feeling strangely glad
that she had outrun me, and with the dream scent of lavender still
in my mind.

We expected to be well greeted at Buckkeep. The
ships, given the kinder weather, should have made land before us,
to give tidings of our success. So we were not surprised to see a
contingent of Regal's guard coming forth to meet us. What did seem
strange was that after they sighted us, they continued to walk
their horses. Not a man yelled, or waved a greeting. Instead they
came toward us silent and sober as ghosts. I think Burrich and I
saw at the same time the baton the lead man carried, the small
polished stick that betokened serious tidings.

He turned to me as we watched them approach.
Dread was written large on his face. King Shrewd has died? he
suggested softly.

I felt no surprise, only a gaping loss in me. A
frightened boy inside me gasped that now no one and nothing could
stand between me and Regal. In another part, I wondered what it
would have been like to call him Grandfather instead of my king.
But those selfish parts were small compared with what it meant to
this King's Man. Shrewd had shaped me, made me what I was, for good
or ill. He had picked up my life one day, a boy playing under a
table in the Great Hall, and set his stamp upon it. His decision
that I must read and write, must be able to wield a sword or
disperse a poison. It seemed to me that with his passing, I must
take responsibility for my own acts now. It was a strangely
frightening thought.

All had become aware of the lead man's burden.
We halted on the road. Like a curtain parting, Kettricken's guard
opened to allow him to approach her. A terrible silence held as he
handed her the baton, and then the small scroll. The red sealing
wax flaked away from her nail. I watched it fall to the muddy road.
Slowly she opened the scroll and read it. Something went out of her
in that reading. Her hand fell to her side. She let the scroll
follow the wax to the mud, a thing done with, a thing she never
wished to peruse again. She did not faint, nor cry out. Her eyes
looked afar, and she set her hand gently atop her belly. And in
that motion, I knew it was not Shrewd who was dead, but
Verity.

I reached for him. Somewhere, surely somewhere,
coiled small inside me, a spark of a link, the tiniest thread of a
connection ... no. I did not even know when it had vanished. I
recalled that whenever I fought, I was likely to break my link with
him. It did not help. I recalled now what had seemed just an oddity
on the night of the battle. I had thought I had heard Verity's
voice, crying out, issuing orders that made no sense. I could not
recall one individual word of what he might have shouted. But now
it seemed to me that they had been battle orders, orders to
scatter, to seek cover perhaps, or ... but I could not recall
anything with certainty. I looked over at Burrich, to find the
question in his eyes. I had to shrug. I don't know, I said quietly.
His brow furrowed as he considered this.