Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (63 page)

No! Because you put your king before your woman
... or your love, or your own life.

I don't know what you're talking
about!

There! You see! You really don't. And you go
about, acting like you know all these great things and secrets and
every important thing that ever happened. So answer me this. Why
does Patience hate Burrich?

I was completely at a loss now. I had no idea
how this figured into what was wrong with me. But I knew somehow
Molly would make a connection. Gingerly I tried: She blames him for
me. She thinks Burrich led Chivalry into bad ways ... and hence
into conceiving me.

There. You see. That's how stupid you are. It's
nothing of the kind. Lacey told me one night. A bit too much
elderberry wine, and I was talking of you and she of Burrich and
Patience. Patience loved Burrich first, you idiot. But he wouldn't
have her. He said he loved her, but he couldn't marry her, even if
her father would give consent for her to wed beneath her station.
Because he was already sworn, life and sword, to a lord of his own.
And he didn't think he could do justice to both of them. Oh, he
said he wished he were free to marry her, and that he wished he
hadn't sworn before he'd met her. But all the same, he said he
wasn't free to marry her just then. He said something stupid to
her, about no matter how willing the horse, it can only wear one
saddle. So she told him, well, go off, then, go follow this lord
who's more important to you than I am. And he did. Just as you
would, if I told you that you had to choose. There were two spots
of high color on her cheeks. She tossed her head as she turned her
back on me.

So there was the connection to my fault. But my
mind was reeling as bits and pieces of stories and comments
suddenly fell into place. Burrich's tale of first meeting Patience.
She'd been sitting in an apple tree, and she'd demanded that he
take a splinter out of her foot. Scarcely something a woman would
ask of her lord's man. But something a direct young maid might ask
of a young man who had caught her eye. And his reaction the night I
had spoken to him about Molly and Patience, and repeated Patience's
words about horses and saddles.

Did Chivalry know anything of all this? I
asked.

Molly spun about to consider me. It was
obviously not the question she had expected me to ask. But she
couldn't resist finishing the story either. No. Not at first. When
Patience first came to know him, she had no idea he was Burrich's
master. Burrich had never told her what lord he was sworn to. At
first Patience would have nothing to do with Chivalry. Burrich
still held her heart, you see. But Chivalry was stubborn. From what
Lacey says, he loved her to distraction. He won her heart. It
wasn't until after she had said yes, she'd marry him, that she
found out he was Burrich's master. And only because Chivalry sent
Burrich to deliver a special horse to her.

I suddenly remembered Burrich in the stable,
looking at Patience's mount and saying, I trained that horse. I
wondered if he'd trained Silk, knowing she was to go to a woman
he'd loved, as a gift from the man she'd marry. I'd bet it was so.
I had always thought that Patience's disdain for Burrich was a sort
of jealousy that Chivalry could care so much for him. Now the
triangle was an even stranger one. And infinitely more painful. I
closed my eyes and shook my head at the unfairness of the world.
Nothing is ever simple and good, I said to myself. There is always
a bitter peel, a sour pip somewhere.

Yes. Molly's anger seemed suddenly spent. She
sat down on the bedside, and when I went and sat beside her, she
didn't push me away. I took her hand and held it. A thousand
thoughts cluttered my mind. How Patience hated Burrich's drinking.
How Burrich had recalled her lapdog, and how she always carried it
about in a basket. The care he always took with his own appearance
and behavior. Just because you cannot see a woman does not mean she
does not see you. Oh, Burrich. The extra time he still took,
grooming a horse that she seldom rode anymore. At least Patience
had had a marriage to a man she loved, and some years of happiness,
complicated as they were by political intrigues. But some years of
happiness, anyway. What would Molly and I ever have? Only what
Burrich had now?

She leaned against me and I held her for a long
time. That was all. But somehow in that melancholy holding that
night, we were closer than we had been for a very long
time.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Dark Days

KING EYOD OF the Mountains held the Mountain
throne during the years of the Red-Ships. The death of his elder
son, Rurisk, had left his daughter, Kettricken, sole heir to the
Mountain throne. By their customs, she would become queen of the
Mountains, or Sacrifice, as that people call it, upon the demise of
her father. Thus her marriage to Verity ensured not only that we
had an ally at our back during those unstable years, but also
promised the eventual joining of a seventh duchy to the Kingdom of
the Six Duchies. That the Mountain Kingdom bordered only on the two
Inland Duchies of Tilth and Farrow made the prospect of any civil
sundering of the Six Duchies of especial concern to Kettricken. She
had been raised to be Sacrifice. Her duty to her folk was of
supreme importance in her life. When she became Verity's
queen-in-waiting, the Six Duchies folk became her own. But it could
never have been far from her heart that on her father's death, her
Mountain folk would once more claim her as Sacrifice as well. How
could she fulfill that obligation if Farrow and Tilth stood between
her and her folk, not as part of the Six Duchies, but as a hostile
nation?

A thick storm set in the next day. It was a
mixed blessing. No one need fear Raiders anywhere along the coast
on a day like that, but it also kept a restless and disparate group
of soldiers penned up together. Up in the Keep itself,
Bea
rn
s was as visible as
Regal was not. Whenever I ventured into the Great Hall, Duke
Brawndy was there, pacing restlessly or staring coldly into one of
the blazing hearths. His daughters flanked him like guardian
snowcats. Celerity and Faith were young yet, and their impatience
and anger showed more plainly on their faces. Brawndy had requested
an official audience with the King. The longer he was kept waiting,
the greater the implied insult. It denied the importance of what
had brought him here. And the Duke's continued presence in our
Great Hall was a plain announcement to his followers that, as yet,
the King had not consented to see him. I watched that kettle coming
to a slow boil and wondered who would be scalded worst when it
spilled over.

I was making my fourth cautious survey of the
room when Kettricken appeared. She was dressed simply, a long
straight robe of purple with an overwrap of soft white with
voluminous sleeves that overhung her hands. Her hair was long and
loose on her shoulders. She came in with her usual lack of
ceremony, preceded only by Rosemary, her little maid, and
accompanied only by Lady Modesty and Lady Hopeful. Even now that
she had become a bit more popular with the ladies, she did not
forget that these two had followed her first, when she was alone,
and she often honored them by making them her companions. I do not
believe Duke Brawndy recognized his queen-in-waiting as the simply
clad woman who approached him directly.

She smiled and took his hand in greeting. It was
a simple Mountain way of recognizing one's friends. I doubt she
realized how she honored him, or how much that simple gesture did
to assuage his hours of waiting. Only I saw the weariness in her
face, I am sure, or the new circles under her eyes. Faith and
Celerity were immediately charmed by this attention to their
father. Kettricken's clear voice carried throughout the Great Hall,
so those at any hearth who wished to hear undoubtedly did. As she
had intended.

I have called on our king twice this morning. I
regret that he has been ... ill both times. I hope you have not
found this waiting fretful. I know you will want to speak directly
to the King about your tragedy and all that must be done to help
our folk. But, for now, while he rests, I thought perhaps you might
wish to join me for some refreshment.

That would be welcome, lady queen,
Bea
rn
s replied
cautiously. Already she had done much to soothe his rumpled
feathers. But Brawndy was not one to be too easily
charmed.

I am pleased, Kettricken replied. She turned and
stooped slightly to whisper to Rosemary. The little maid gave a
quick nod and turned and fled like a rabbit. All marked her exit.
In but moments she was back, this time at the head of a procession
of serving folk. A table was claimed and moved down before the
Great Hearth. A snowy cloth was spread, and then one of
Kettricken's bowl gardens set to grace the center of it. A parade
of kitchen folk trooped past, each to deposit platters, or cups of
wine or sweetmeats or late-fall apples in a wooden bowl. So
wonderfully was it orchestrated that it seemed almost magical. In
moments the table was set, the guests were seated, and Mellow
appeared with his lute, already singing as he entered the Great
Hall. Kettricken beckoned her ladies to join them, and then espying
me as well, summoned me with a nod. She chose others from the other
hearths at random; not by their nobility or wealth, but folk I knew
she considered interesting. Fletch with his hunting stories, and
Shells, a friendly girl of an age with Brawndy's daughters were
among those summoned. Kettricken seated herself at Brawndy's right
hand, and again I do not think she realized all the honor she did
him to arrange it so.

When some bit of food and talk had been enjoyed,
she signaled Mellow to soften his strumming. She turned to Brawndy
and said simply, We have heard only the bare bones of your news.
Will you share with us what has befallen Ferry?

He hesitated briefly. He had brought his
complaint for the King to hear and act on. But how could he refuse
a Queen-in-Waiting who had treated him so graciously? He lowered
his eyes a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was husky with
unfeigned emotion. My lady queen, we have taken grievous hurt, he
began. Every voice at the table was quickly stilled. All eyes
turned to him. I perceived that all of those chosen by the Queen
were attentive listeners as well. From the time he launched into
his tale, there was not a sound at the table, save soft
exclamations of sympathy or mutters of anger at what the Raiders
had done. He paused once in his tale, then visibly made a decision,
and went on to tell how they had sent forth their summons for aid,
and waited in vain for any response. The Queen heard him out, with
no objections or denials. When his tale of woe was done, his burden
had visibly lifted simply in the telling of it. For a few long
moments all were silent.

Much of what you tell me is new to my ears,
Kettricken said quietly at last. And none of it is good. I do not
know what our king will say of all this. You will have to wait for
him to hear his words. But for myself, for now, I will say that my
heart is full of grief for my people. And anger. I promise you
that, for myself, these wrongs shall not go unredressed. Nor shall
my folk be left shelterless in winter's bite.

Duke Brawndy of Bea
rn
s looked down at his plate and toyed with
the edge of the tablecloth. He looked up, and there was fire in his
eyes, but also regret. When he spoke, his voice was firm. Words.
These are but words, my lady queen. The folk of Ferry cannot eat
words, nor shelter beneath them at nightfall.

Kettricken met his eyes squarely. Something
seemed to tighten inside her. Well do I know the truth of what you
say. But words are all I have to offer you just now. When the King
is well enough to see you, we shall see what can be done for
Ferry.

Brawndy leaned toward her. I have questions, my
queen. My need for answers is almost as great as my need for money
and men. Why did our summons for help go unheeded? Why did the ship
that should have come to our aid instead set sail for home
port?

Kettricken's voice trembled very slightly. To
these questions, I have no answers, sir. And that is a shameful
thing for me to admit. No word of your situation reached my ears
until your young messenger arrived on horseback.

Strong misgivings arose in me as she spoke.
Should the Queen have admitted these things to Brawndy? Perhaps
not, for the sake of political wisdom. But Kettricken, I knew,
served truth before politics. Brawndy looked long into her face,
and the lines around his mouth deepened. Boldly, he asked, but
softly, Are not you queen-in-waiting?

Kettricken's eyes went sword gray as she met his
gaze. I am. Do you ask me if I lie to you?

It was Brawndy's turn to look aside. No. No, my
queen, that thought was never in my mind.

The silence stretched overlong. I do not know if
there was some subtle signal from Kettricken, or if it was simply
Mellow's instincts that swept his fingers more vigorously across
the strings. In a moment his voice took up a winter song, full of
blowing notes and skirling choruses.

More than three days passed before Brawndy was
finally summoned to the King's chambers. Kettricken tried to
provide amusements, but it is hard to entertain a man whose mind is
on his dukedom's vulnerability. He was courteous, but distracted.
Faith, his second daughter, quickly formed a friendship with
Shells, and seemed to forget some of her sorrows in her company.
Celerity, however, clung to her father's side, and when her dark
blue eyes did meet mine, they were like wounds. I experienced a
strange variety of emotions from that gaze. I was relieved that she
did not seek me out as an individual to pay attention to. At the
same time I knew her coolness to me was a reflection of her
father's present feelings toward all of Buckkeep. I welcomed her
slighting of me; at the same time it rankled, as I did not feel I
deserved it. When the summons came at last, and Brawndy hastened to
the King, I hoped that the awkwardness would be over.