Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (20 page)

Cub had missed my company. Before I departed for
Bea
rn
s, I had left him
the carcass of a deer, well frozen and concealed behind the hut. It
should have been ample to feed him for the time I was gone. But in
true wolf fashion, he had gorged, and slept, and gorged and slept
again, until the meat was gone. Two days ago, he informed me,
leaping and dancing about me. The interior of the
h
ut was a litter of well-gnawed
bones. He greeted me with frantic enthusiasm, doubly informed by
the Wit and his nose of the fresh meat I brought. He fell upon it
ravenously and paid me no mind at all as I gathered his chewed
bones into a sack. Too much of this type of litter would draw rats,
and the Keep rat hounds would follow. I couldn't chance that. I
watched him surreptitiously as I tidied, saw the rippling of
muscles in his shoulders as he braced his forefeet against the
chunk of meat and tore a piece of flesh free. I noted, too, that
all but the thickest deer bones had been cracked and licked clean
of marrow. This was cub's play no longer, but the work of a
powerful young animal. The bones he had cracked were thicker than
the bones in my arm.

But why would I turn on you? You bring the meat.
And ginger cakes.

His thought was laden with meaning. This was the
way of a pack. I, an elder, brought meat to feed Cub, a young one.
I was the hunter, bringing him back a portion of my kill. I quested
toward him and found that, for him, our separateness was fading. We
were pack. It was a concept I had never encountered before, going
deeper than companion or partner. I feared that to him it meant
what bonding did to me. I could not permit it.

I am a human. You are a wolf. I spoke the words
aloud, knowing he would, get their meaning from my thoughts, but
trying to force him to know in all his senses our
differences.

Outwardly. Inside, we are pack. He paused and
licked his nose complacently. Blood dotted his forepaws.

No. I feed you and protect you here. But only
for a time. When you are able to hunt for yourself, I will take you
to a far place and leave you there.

I have never hunted.

I will teach you.

That, too, is of the pack. You will teach me,
and I will hunt with you. We will share many kills and much rich
meat.

I will teach you to hunt, and then I will set
you free.

I am already free. You do not hold me here, save
that I will it. He lolled his tongue out over white teeth, laughing
at my assumption.

You are arrogant, Cub. And ignorant.

So teach me. He turned his head sideways to let
his back teeth scissor meat and tendon from the bone he was working
on. It is your pack duty.

We are not pack. I have no pack. My allegiance
is to my king.

If he is your leader, then he is mine also. We
are pack. As his belly filled he was becoming more and more
complacent about it.

I changed tactics. Coldly I told him, I am of a
pack that you cannot be part of. In my pack, all are humans. You
are not a human. You are a wolf. We are not pack.

A stillness welled in him. He did not try to
reply. But he felt, and what he felt chilled me. Isolation, and
betrayal. Loneliness.

I turned and left him there. But I could not
hide from him how hard it was for me to leave him like that, nor
conceal the deep shame at refusing him. I hoped he sensed also that
I believed it was what was best for him. Much, I reflected, as
Burrich had felt it was best for me when he took Nosy away from me
because I had bonded to the puppy. The thought burned me and I did
not just hasten away, I fled.

Evening was falling as I returned to the Keep
and made my way up the stairs. I visited my room for certain
bundles I had left there, and then made my way downstairs again. My
traitorous feet slowed as I passed the second landing. I knew that
very shortly Molly would be coming this way, bearing away the tray
and dishes from Patience's meal. Patience seldom chose to dine in
the hall with the other lords and ladies of the Keep, preferring
the privacy of her own rooms and Lacey's easy companionship. Her
shyness had begun to take on overtones of reclusiveness lately. But
it was not concern over that which kept me loitering on the stairs.
I heard the tap of Molly's feet coming down the hall; I knew I
should move on, but it had been days since I had even glimpsed her.
Celerity's shy flirtations had only made me more acutely aware of
how I missed Molly. Surely it could not be too much for me simply
to wish her good evening as I might any other servant girl. I knew
I should not, I knew that if Patience heard of it, I would be
rebuked. And yet...

I pretended to be studying a tapestry on the
landing, a tapestry that had hung there since before I had ever
come to Buckkeep. I heard her footsteps approaching, I heard them
slow. My heart was thundering high in my chest, the palms of my
hands were moist with sweat as I turned to see her. Good evening, I
managed, between a squeak and a whisper.

Good evening to you, she said with great
dignity. Her head went up a notch higher, her chin firmed. Her hair
had been tamed into two thick braids and pinned about her head like
a crown. Her dress of simple blue had a collar of delicate white
lace, and there were lace cuffs to it as well. I knew whose fingers
had worked that scalloped pattern. Lacey treated her well and
gifted her with the work of her hands. That was good to
know.

Molly did not falter as she passed me. Her eyes
skittered sideways to me once, and I could not forbear to smile,
and at my smile a blush so warm suffused her face and throat that
almost I felt the heat of it. Her mouth went into a firmer line. As
she turned and descended the stairs her scent wafted back to me,
lemon balm and ginger riding on the sweeter scent that was simply
Molly's own.

Female. Nice. Vast approval.

I leaped as if stung and spun about, expecting
foolishly to discover Cub behind me. He was not, of course. I
quested out, but he was not with me in my mind. I quested farther,
found him dozing on his straw in the hut. Don't do that, I warned
him. Stay out of my mind, unless I bid you be with me.

Consternation. What is it you bid me
do?

Do not be with me, except when I wish you
to.

Then how would I know when you wished me to be
with you?

I will seek your mind when I want
you.

A long quiet. And I shall seek yours when I want
you, he offered. Yes, this is pack. To call when one needs help,
and to be always ready to hear such a call. We are pack.

No! That is not what I am telling you. I am
saying you must keep out of my mind when I do not wish you to be
there. I do not wish to be always sharing thoughts with
you.

You make no sense at all. Shall I only breathe
when you are not snuffing the air? Your mind, my mind, it is all
the pack mind. Where else shall I think, but here? If you do not
wish to hear me, do not listen.

I stood dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the
thought. I realized I was staring off into space. A serving boy had
just wished me good evening, and I had offered no response. Good
evening, I replied, but he had already passed me. He glanced back
in puzzlement, to see if he was summoned, but I waved him on. I
shook my head to clear it of cobwebs and started down the hall to
Patience's room. I would discuss it with Cub later, and make him
understand. And soon he would be off on his own, out of touch, out
of mind. I pushed the experience aside.

I tapped at Patience's door and was admitted. I
saw that Lacey had gone on one of her periodic rampages and
restored a sort of order to the room. There was even a cleared
chair to sit upon. They were both glad to see me. I told them of my
trip to Bea
rn
s, avoiding
any mention of Virago. I knew that eventually Patience would hear
of it, and confront me about it, and I would then assure her that
gossip had greatly exaggerated our encounter. I hoped that would
work. In the meantime I had brought gifts back with me. Tiny ivory
fish, drilled to be strung as beads or attached to a garment for
Lacey, and for Patience amber-and-silver earrings. An earthenware
pot of wintergreen berries preserved and sealed with a lid of
wax.

Wintergreen? I've no taste for wintergreen,
Patience puzzled when I offered it to her.

Haven't you? I feigned puzzlement as well. I
thought you told me it was a flavor and scent you missed from your
childhood. Did not you have an uncle who brought you
wintergreen?

No. I recall no such conversation.

Perhaps it was Lacey, then? I asked
sincerely.

Not I, master. Stings my nose to taste it,
though it has a nice scent in the air.

Ah, well, then. My mistake. I set it aside on
the table.

What, Snowflake? Not pregnant again? This I
addressed to Patience's white terrier who had finally decided to
come forth and sniff at me. I could sense her doggy little mind
puzzling over Cub's scent on me.

No, she's just getting fat, Lacey interjected
for her, stooping to scratch her behind the ears. My lady leaves
sweetmeats and cookies about on plates, and Snowflake is always
getting at them.

You know you shouldn't let her. It's very bad
for her teeth and coat, I rebuked Patience, and she replied that
she knew it, but Snowflake was too old to be taught better. The
conversation rambled from there, and it was another hour before I
stretched and told them I must be going, to try once more to report
to the King.

I was earlier turned aside from his door, I
mentioned. Though not by any guard. His man Wallace came to the
door when I knocked, to refuse me entry. When I asked why there was
no guard on the King's door, he said they had been relieved of that
duty. He had assumed it himself, the better to keep things quiet
for the King.

The King's not well, you know, Lacey offered.
I've heard that he's seldom seen out of his chambers before noon.
Then, when he comes forth, he is like a man possessed, full of
energy and appetite, but by early evening, he fades again, and
begins to shuffle and mumble his words. He takes his dinner in his
rooms, and cook says the tray comes back as full as it went up.
It's quite a worry.

It is, I agreed, and made my departure, almost
dreading to hear more. So the King's health was now talk for the
Keep. That was not good. I must ask Chade about it. And I must see
for myself. In my earlier attempt to report to the King, I had
encountered only the officious Wallace. Wallace had been most
brusque with me, as if I were come simply to pass the time of day,
rather than to report after a mission. He behaved as if the King
were the most delicate of invalids and took it upon himself to keep
anyone from bothering him. Wallace, I decided, had not been very
well taught as to what the duties of his position were. He was a
most annoying man. As I talked I was wondering how long it would
take Molly to find the wintergreen. She must know I had meant it
for her; it was a taste she had always been greedy for when we were
children.

Wallace came to the door and opened it a crack
to peer out. He frowned at discovering me. He swung the door wider,
but filled the opening with his body, as if my glimpsing the King
might do him harm. He gave me no greeting, only demanded, Did not
you come before, earlier today?

Yes. I did. At that time you told me King Shrewd
slept. And so I have come again, to make my report. I tried to keep
my tone civil.

Ah. It is important, this report?

I think the King can judge if it is, and send me
away if he thinks I waste his time. I suggest you tell him I am
here. I smiled belatedly, trying to soften the sharpness of my
tone.

The King has little energy. I try to see that he
expends it only where it is needed. He wasn't moving from the door.
I found myself sizing him up, wondering if I could just shoulder
past him. That would create a commotion, and if the King were ill,
I did not wish that. Someone tapped on my shoulder, but when I
turned to look, no one was there. Turning back, I found the Fool in
front of me, between Wallace and me.

Are you his physician, then, to make such
judgments? The Fool took up my conversation for me. For surely, you
would be an excellent one. You physick me merely with your looks,
and your words dispel your wind as well as mine. How physicked then
must our dear king be, who languishes all day in your
presence?

The Fool bore a tray covered with a napkin. I
smelled good beef broth and egg bread warm from the oven. His
winter motley of black and white he had made merry with enameled
bells and a garland of holly banded his cap. His fool's scepter was
tucked up under his arm. A rat again. This one had been set atop
the wand as if prancing. I had observed him holding long
conversations with it in front of the Great Hearth, or on the steps
before the King's throne.

Begone, Fool! You've been in here twice today
already. The King has already gone to his bed. He has no need of
you. The man spoke sternly. But Wallace was the one who retreated,
without intending to. I saw he was one of those people who could
not meet the Fool's pale eyes, and quailed from the touch of his
white hand.