Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (92 page)

What does Regal say of it? My head was clearing
of cobwebs. Oh, how I hurt.

Little, save that she and her child are surely
dead, and you have brought it about somehow. He speaks wild charges
of Beast magic, saying you have slain the King with your Wit. All
demand proof for his claims, and he keeps saying, soon,
soon.

No mention of searching the roads and byways for
Kettricken, then. I had gambled that his Skill spies had not found
out the whole of our plot. But, I cautioned myself, if he had sent
out searchers, I doubted they were ordered to bring her back alive
and safe.

What does Will do? I asked.

Will?

Will, Hostler's son. A member of the
coterie.

Oh. Him. I have not seen him about, that I
recall.

Ah. Another wave of dizziness threatened me.
Suddenly logic eluded me. I knew I should ask more questions, but I
could not think of what they should be. Burrich was still here, but
the Queen and the Fool were gone. What had gone wrong? There was no
safe way to ask Patience. Does anyone else know you are here? I
managed to ask. Surely, if Burrich had known she were coming, he
would have sent a message.

Of course not! This was not an easy thing to
plan, Fitz. Lacey had to get an emetic into the one guard's food so
he would leave only one on watch. Then we had to watch for him to
leave-oh. Lacey said to bring you these. She is wise, that one. Her
hand went away, and then came back, to fumble one, and then two
small apples through the bars. They hit the floor before I could
catch them. I resisted the urge to pounce on them
immediately:

What do they say of me? I asked
quietly.

She was silent a moment. Mostly, folk say that
you are crazy. Some, that you were witched by the Pocked Man to
bring death amongst us that night. There is some gossip that you
had planned to lead a rebellion, and killed Serene and Justin
because they found out about it. Others, not many, agree with
Regal, saying you have the Beast magic. Wallace, mostly, says such
things. He declares the candles did not burn blue in the King's
chamber until you entered it. And he says the Fool was shouting
that you had killed the King. But the Fool is gone, too. There have
been so many omens of evil, and so many fear now .... Her voice
dwindled away.

I did not kill the King, I said quietly. Justin
and Serene did. That was why I killed them, with the King's own
knife.

The guards are coming back! A hiss from Lacey.
Patience ignored it.

But Justin and Serene weren't even-

I don't have time to explain. It was done with
Skill. But they did, Patience. I swear it. I paused. What do they
plan to do with me?

It isn't decided, really.

We've no time for polite lies.

I actually heard her swallow. Regal wants to
hang you. He'd have had you killed right there that night, in the
Great Hall, save that Blade held off his guards until the riot was
quelled. Then the Coastal Dukes stood up for you. Lady Grace of
Rippon reminded Regal that no carrier of the Farseer blood can be
put to death by sword or hanging. He did not wish to concede you
were of royal blood, but too many raised a shout when he denied it.
Now he swears he can show you have the Wit, and hanging is what
must be done for one that uses Beast magic.

Lady Patience! You must leave now, you must, or
I'm not the one that will be hanging! The guard was back, with
Chester evidently, for there was more than one set of footsteps.
They were hurrying down to the cell. Patience let go of my
fingers.

I will do what I can for you, she whispered. She
had tried so hard not to let any fear come into her voice, but now
it broke on those words.

And then she was gone, scolding at the guard
like a jaybird all the way as Chester or whoever escorted her from
the cells. The moment she was gone, I laboriously stooped down to
gather up my apples. They were not large, and they were withered
from being winter-stored, but I found them delicious. I ate even
the stems. The little moisture they contained did nothing to quench
my thirst. I sat on my bench for a bit, holding my head in my
hands, forcing myself to stay alert. I knew I had to think, but it
was terribly hard. My mind would not focus. I was tempted to pick
my shirt free of the cuts on my arm, but forced myself to leave it
alone. As long as they were not festering, I would not bother them.
I could not afford to bleed. It took all my strength to hobble back
to my door. Guards! I croaked.

They ignored me.

I want water. And food.

Where are you? Another answered my
request.

Beyond your reach, my friend. How are
you?

Fine. But I have missed you. You slept so deep,
almost I thought you dead.

Almost I thought myself dead. That night. Did
you guide them to the horses?

I did. And they left. Heart of the Pack told
them I was a half-breed you had tamed. Like I was a cur, doing
tricks.

He sought to protect me, not to insult you. Why
did not Heart of the Pack go with them?

I do not know. What shall we do now?

Wait.

Guards! I called again, as loudly as I was able.
It wasn't very loud.

Get back from the door. The man's voice was
right outside my cell. I had been so occupied with Nighteyes I had
not heard him approach. I was not myself at all.

A small panel at the bottom of the door slid
open. A pot of water and a half a loaf were set inside. The panel
closed again.

Thank you.

There was no reply. I picked them up, examined
both carefully. The water smelled as if it had been standing for
some time, but neither smell nor a cautious sip revealed any trace
of poison. I broke the loaf into smaller pieces, looking for flecks
in the dough or any discoloration. It was not fresh, but it was not
poisoned in any way I could detect. And someone had eaten the other
half of it. In a very short time they were gone. I went and lay on
my stone bench again, and tried to find the least uncomfortable
position.

The cell was dry, but cold, in the way that any
unused chamber in Buckkeep was cold during the winter. I knew
exactly where I was. The cells were not far from the wine cellars.
I knew I could scream my lungs bloody and no one but my guards
would hear. I had explored down here as a boy. I had seldom found
occupants in the cells, and even more rarely guards upon them. The
swiftness of justice at Buckkeep meant there was seldom a reason to
hold a prisoner for more than a few hours. Transgressions of the
law usually demanded you pay with your life, or with the work of
your hands. I suspected these cells would see a deal more use, now
that Regal claimed to be king.

I tried to sleep, but insensibility had deserted
me. Instead, I shifted about on the cold hard stone and thought. I
tried for a while to convince myself that if the Queen had gotten
away, I had won. After all, winning was getting what you wanted,
wasn't it? Instead, I found myself thinking of how quickly King
Shrewd had gone. Like a bubble popping. If they hanged me, would it
be that swift for me? Or would I strangle and dangle a long time?
To divert myself from those pleasant thoughts, I wondered how long
a civil war Verity would have to fight with Regal before he could
put the Six Duchies on a map once more as the Six Duchies.
Assuming, of course, that Verity returned and was able to rid the
coast of Red-Ships. When Regal abandoned Buckkeep, as I was sure he
would, I wondered who would step forward to take it. Patience had
said the Coastal Dukes wanted nothing of Lord Bright. Buck had a
few lesser nobles, but none of them so bold as to claim Buckkeep, I
thought. Perhaps one of the three Coastal Dukes would reach out a
hand and claim it. No. None of them had the might right now to care
for anything beyond their own borders. It would be each for his own
now. Unless Regal stayed at Buckkeep. With the Queen missing and
Shrewd dead, he was, after all, the rightful King. Unless one knew
that Verity was alive. But few did. Would the Coastal Duchies
accept Regal as king now? Would the Coastal Duchies accept Verity
as their king when he returned? Or would they scorn the man who had
left them for a foolish quest?

Time passed slowly in that unchanging place. I
was not given food nor water unless I asked for them, and sometimes
not then, so meals were no measure of the day. Awake, I was a
prisoner of my thoughts and worries. Once I tried to Skill to
Verity, but the effort brought on a darkening of my vision and a
long period of pounding headache. I had not the strength for a
second effort. Hunger became a constant, as unrelenting as the cold
of the cell. I heard the guards twice turn Patience away, heard
them refuse to give me the food and bandages she had brought. I did
not call to her. I wanted her to give up, to disassociate herself
from me. My only respite came when I slept and dream-hunted with
Nighteyes. I tried to use his senses to explore what went on at
Buckkeep, but he attached only a wolf's importance to things, and
when I was with him, I shared his values. Time was not divided by
days and nights, but from kill to kill. The meat I devoured with
him could not sustain my human body, and yet there was satisfaction
in the gorging. With his senses I found the weather changing, and
awoke one morning knowing that a clear winter day had dawned.
Raider weather. The Coastal Dukes could not linger much longer in
Buckkeep, if they had lingered at all.

As if to bear me out, there were voices at the
guard station and the rasp of boots against the stone floor. I
heard Regal's voice, strained with anger, and the guard's
conciliatory greeting, and then they came down the corridor. For
the first time since I had awakened there, I heard a key in the
lock of my cell, and the door was swung open. I sat up slowly.
Three Dukes and a traitor Prince peered in at me. I managed to come
to my feet. Behind my lords stood a row of soldiers armed with
pikes, as if ready to hold a maddened beast at bay. A guard with a
drawn sword stood beside the open door, between Regal and me. He
did not underestimate my hatred.

You see him, Regal declared flatly. He is alive
and well. I have not done away with him. But know also that I have
the right to. He killed a man, my servant, right in my hall. And a
woman upstairs in her chamber. I have a right to his life, for
those crimes alone.

King-in-Waiting Regal. You charge FitzChivalry
killed King Shrewd using the Wit, Brawndy stated. With ponderous
logic he added, I have never heard of such a thing being possible.
But if this is so, then the council has first right to his life,
for he would have killed the King first. It would take a convening
of the council, to decide his guilt or innocence, and to set his
sentence.

Regal sighed in exasperation. Then I will
convene the council. Let us get it done and have it over with. It
is ridiculous to delay my coronation for a murderer's
execution.

My lord, a King's death is never ridiculous,
Duke Shemshy of Shoaks pointed out quietly. And we will have done
with one King before we have another, Regal,
King-in-Waiting.

My father is dead and buried. How much more done
with him can you be? Regal was becoming reckless. There was nothing
of grief or respect in his retort.

We will know how he died, and at whose hand,
Brawndy of Beams told him. Your man Wallace said FitzChivalry
killed the King. You, King-in-Waiting Regal, agreed, saying he used
the Wit to do it. Many of us believe that FitzChivalry was
singularly devoted to his king and would not do such a thing. And
FitzChivalry said the Skill users did. For the first time Duke
Brawndy looked directly at me. I met his eyes and spoke to him as
if we were alone.

Justin and Serene killed him, I said quietly. By
treachery, they killed my king.

Silence! Regal bawled. He lifted his hand as if
to strike me. I did not flinch.

And so I killed them, I continued, looking only
at Brawndy. With the King's knife. Why else would I have chosen
such a weapon?

Crazy men do strange things. This from Duke
Kelvar of Rippon, while Regal strangled, livid with fury. I met
Kelvar's eyes calmly. Last I had spoken with him had been at his
own table, at Neatbay.

I am not crazy, I asserted quietly. I was no
more crazy that night than I was the night I wielded an ax outside
the walls of Bayguard.

That may be so, Kelvar affirmed thoughtfully. It
is common talk that he goes berserk when he fights.

A glint came into Regal's eyes. It is common
talk, too, that he has been seen with blood on his mouth after he
has fought. That he becomes one of the animals that he was raised
with. He is Witted.

Silence greeted this remark. The Dukes exchanged
glances, and when Shemshy glanced back at me, there was distaste in
the look. Brawndy finally answered Regal. This is a grave charge
you level. Have you a witness?

To blood on his mouth? Several.

Brawndy shook his head. Any man may finish a
battle with a bloody face. An ax is not a tidy weapon. I can attest
to that. No. It would take more than that.

Then let us convene the council, Regal repeated
impatiently. Hear what Wallace has to say about how my father died
and at whose hand.