Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (93 page)

The three Dukes exchanged glances. Their eyes
came back to me, considering. Duke Brawndy led the coast now. I was
certain of it when he was the one who spoke. King-in-Waiting Regal.
Let us speak plainly. You have accused FitzChivalry, son of
Chivalry, of using the Wit, the Beast magic, to slay King Shrewd.
This is indeed a grave charge. To satisfy us of it, we ask that you
prove to us that not only is he Witted, but that he can use it to
do injury to another. All of us were witness that there were no
marks on King Shrewd's body, no sign of a death struggle at all.
Had not you raised this cry of treachery, we might have accepted
that he had died of his years. Some, even, have whispered that you
but seek an excuse to be rid of FitzChivalry. I know you have heard
these rumors; I speak them aloud that we may confront them. Brawndy
paused, as if debating with himself. He glanced once more at his
peers. When neither Kelvar nor Shemshy gave sign of dissension, he
cleared his throat and continued.

We have a proposal, King-in-Waiting Regal. Prove
to us, sir, that FitzChivalry is Witted, and that he used that Wit
to kill King Shrewd, and we will let you put him to death as you
see fit. We will witness your coronation as king of the Six
Duchies. Further, we will accept Lord Bright as your presence in
Buckkeep and allow you to retire your court to
Tradeford.

Triumph gleamed briefly on Regal's face. Then
suspicion masked it. And if, Duke Brawndy, I do not prove this to
your satisfaction?

Then FitzChivalry lives, Brawndy calmly decreed.
And you give him stewardship of Buckkeep and the forces of Buck in
your absence. All three Coastal Dukes lifted their eyes to meet
Regal's.

This is treason and treachery! Regal
hissed.

Shemshy's hand almost went to his sword. Kelvar
reddened but said nothing. The tension in the line of men behind
them tightened a notch. Only Brawndy remained unmoved. My lord, do
you bring more charges? he asked calmly. Again, we will demand them
proved. It could further delay your coronation.

After a moment of their stony eyes and silence,
Regal said quietly, I spoke in haste, my dukes. These are trying
times for me. Bereft of my father's guidance so suddenly, bereaved
of my brother, our lady queen and the child she carries gone
missing ... These surely are enough cause to drive any man to hasty
statements. I ... very well. I will acquiesce to this ... bargain
you set before me. I will prove FitzChivalry Witted, or I will set
him free. Does that satisfy you?

No, my king-in-waiting, Brawndy said quietly.
Such were not the terms we set. If innocent, FitzChivalry will be
set in command of Buckkeep. If you prove him guilty, we shall
accept Bright. Those were our terms.

And the deaths of Justin and Serene, valuable
servants and coterie members? Those deaths at least we know we may
put at his door. He has admitted as much. The look Regal turned on
me should have killed me right there. How deeply he must have
regretted charging me with murdering Shrewd. But for Wallace's wild
accusations and Regal's backing of them, he could have demanded me
drowned for Justin's death. That, as everyone had witnessed, was my
doing. Ironically, his own desire to vilify me was what was staving
off my execution.

You will have every chance to prove him Witted
and the killer of your father. For those crimes, only, will we let
you hang him. As to the others ... he claims they were the killers
of the King. If he is not the guilty one, we are willing to accept
that those he killed died justly.

This is intolerable! Regal spat.

My lord, those are our terms, Brawndy returned
calmly.

And if I refuse them? Regal flared
angrily.

Brawndy shrugged. The skies are clear, my lord.
Raider weather, for those of us with coasts. We must disperse to
our own Keeps, to guard our coasts as well we may. Without the
convening of the full council, you cannot crown yourself king, nor
lawfully appoint a man to hold Buck in your stead. You must winter
at Buckkeep, my lord, and confront the sea pirates even as we do.
.

You ring me 'round with traditions and petty
laws, all to force me to your will. Am I your king or am I not?
Regal demanded bluntly.

You are not our king. Brawndy pointed it out
quietly but firmly. You are our king-in-waiting. And likely to
continue waiting until these charges and this issue is
resolved.

The blackness of Regal's glare plainly showed
how little this was to his liking. Very well, he said flatly, all
too quickly. I suppose I must submit to this ... bargaining.
Remember that you have decreed it must be this way, not I. He
turned and looked at me. I knew then that he would not keep his
word; I knew I would die in this cell. That sick and sudden
knowledge of my own death blackened the edges of my vision, set me
swaying on my feet. I felt I had taken two steps back from life. A
coldness crept up inside me.

Then we are agreed, Brawndy said smoothly. He
turned his eyes back to me, and frowned. Something of what I was
feeling must have showed on my face, for he asked quickly,
FitzChivalry. Are you fairly treated here? Do they feed you? As he
asked this he unfastened the brooch at his shoulder. His cloak was
much worn, but of wool, and when he threw it to me, the weight of
it knocked me back against the wall.

I clutched the cloak, warm still with his body
heat, gratefully. Water. Bread, I said briefly. I looked down at
the heavy wool garment. Thank you, I said more quietly.

It's better than many have! Regal retorted
angrily. Times are hard, he added lamely. As if those he spoke to
did not know that better than he did.

Brawndy regarded me for a few moments. I said
nothing. Finally he swung a cold look to Regal. Too hard to at
least give him some straw to sleep on, instead of a slab of
stone?

Regal returned his glare. Brawndy did not quail.
We will need proof of his guilt, King-in-Waiting Regal, before we
will countenance his execution. In the meantime we expect you to
keep him alive.

At least give him marching rations, Kelvar
advised. No one will say you have pampered him with those, and we
shall have a live man, either for you to hang or to command at Buck
for us.

Regal crossed his arms on his chest and made no
reply. I knew I would get but water and half a loaf. I think he
would have tried to take Brawndy's cloak away from me, save that he
knew I would have fought for it. With a jerk of his chin, Regal
indicated to the guard that he could close my door. As it slammed
shut I flung myself forward, to grip the bars and stare after them.
I thought of calling out, of telling them all that Regal would not
let me live, that he would find a way to kill me here. But I did
not. They would not have believed me. They still did not fear Regal
as they needed to. If they had known him as I did, they would have
known that no promise could bind him to their bargain. He would
kill me. I was too deeply within his power for him to resist ending
me.

I let go of the door and walked woodenly back to
my bench. I sat down. Reflex more than thought made me drape
Brawndy's cloak about my shoulders. The cold I felt now would not
be warmed away by wool. As the wave of a rising tide rushes into a
sea cavern, so the knowledge of my death once more filled me. Once
again, I thought I might faint. I pushed at it, vaguely repelling
at my own thoughts of how Regal might choose to kill me. There were
so many ways. I suspected he would try to wring a confession from
me. Given enough time, he might be successful. The thought made me
sick. I tried to pull myself back from the brink, not to realize so
thoroughly that I was going to die painfully.

With a peculiar lightening of heart, I reflected
that I could cheat him. Within my blood-matted sleeve cuff was the
tiny pocket that still held the poison I had so long ago prepared
for Wallace. Had it offered a less horrendous death, I would have
taken it right then. But I had not formulated that poison for a
quick and painless sleep, but for cramps and flux and fever. Later,
I thought, it might become preferable to whatever Regal offered.
There was no comfort in that thought. I lay back on my slab and
rolled myself up well in Brawndy's ample cloak. I hoped he would
not miss it too much. It was probably the last kind thing anyone
would ever do for me. I did not fall asleep. I fled, willfully
submerging myself into my wolf's world.

I awoke later from a human dream in which Chade
had been lecturing me for not paying attention. I drew myself
smaller in Brawndy's cloak. Torchlight trickling into my cell. Day
or night, I could not tell, but I thought it was deep night. I
tried to find sleep again. Chade's urgent voice had been pleading
with me ....

I sat up slowly. The cadence and tone of the
mufed voice was definitely Chade's. It seemed fainter when I sat
up. I lay down again. Now it was louder, but I still couldn't pick
out the words. I pressed my ear to the stone bench. No. I got up
slowly and moved about my small cell, from wall to corner and back
again. There was one corner in which the voice was loudest, but I
still could not make out the words. I can't understand you, I said
to my empty cell.

The mufed voice paused. Then it spoke again, a
questioning inflection.

I can't understand you! I said more loudly.
.

Chade's voice resumed, more excitedly, but no
louder.

I can't understand you! I shouted in
frustration.

Footsteps outside my cell.
FitzChivalry!

The guard was short. She couldn't see in. What?
I asked sleepily.

What were you shouting?

What? Oh. Bad dream.

The footsteps went away. I heard her laugh to
the other guard and say, Hard to imagine what dream could be worse
than waking up for him. She had an inland accent.

I went back to my bench and lay down. Chade's
voice had stopped. I tended to agree with the guard. I would not
sleep again for a while, but would wonder what Chade had been so
desperately trying to tell me. I doubted it would be good news, and
I did not want to imagine bad. I was going to have to die here. At
least let it be because I had aided the Queen's escape. I wondered
how far she was on her journey. I thought of the Fool, and wondered
how well he would withstand the rigors of a winter journey. I
forbade myself to wonder why Burrich was not with them. Instead, I
thought of Molly.

I must have drowsed, for I saw her. She was
toiling up a path, a yoke of water buckets on her shoulders. She
looked pale and sick and worn. On top of the hill was a tumbledown
cottage, snow banked against its walls. She stopped and set her
water buckets down at the door and stood looking out, over the sea.
She frowned at the fair weather and the light wind that only tipped
the waves with white. The wind lifted her thick hair just as I used
to and slid its hand along the curve of her warm neck and jaw. Her
eyes went suddenly wide. Then tears brimmed them. No, she said
aloud. No. I won't think of you anymore. No. She stooped and lifted
the heavy buckets and went into the cottage. She shut the door
firmly behind her. The wind blew past it. The roof was poorly
thatched. The wind blew harder and I let it carry me
away.

I tumbled on it, dove through it, and let it
flow my pains away. I thought of diving deeper, down into the main
flow of it, where it could sweep me entirely away, right out of
myself and all my petty worries. I trailed my hands in that deeper
current, swift and heavy as a moving river. It tugged at
me.

I'd stand back from that if I were
you.

Would you? I let Verity consider my situation
for a moment.

Perhaps not, he replied grimly. Something like a
sigh. I should have guessed at how bad it was. It seems it takes
great pain, or illness, or extreme duress of some kind to break
down your walls so you can Skill. He paused long and we were both
silent, thinking of nothing and everything all at once. So. My
father is dead. Justin and Serene. I should have guessed somehow.
His weariness and dwindling strength; those are the hallmarks of a
King's Man, drained too low too often. I suspect it had been going
on long, probably since before Galen ... died. Only he could have
conceived such a thing, let alone devised a way to do it. What a
loathsome way to use the Skill. And they spied upon us?

Yes. I do not know how much they learned. And
there is another to fear. Will.

Damn me thrice for a fool. Look at it, Fitz. We
should have known. The ships worked so well for us at first, and
then, as soon as they knew what we were up to, you and I, they
found ways to block us. The coterie has been in Regal 's pocket
since they were formed. Thus we have delayed messages, or messages
not delivered. Help always sent too late, or never sent at all. He
is as full of hate as a tick is full of blood. And he has
won.

Not quite, my king. I reined my mind back from
thinking of Kettricken safely on her way to the Mountains. Instead,
I repeated, There is still Will. And Burl and Carrod. We must be
circumspect, my. prince.

A shade of warmth. l shall. But you know the
depths of my thanks. Perhaps we paid highly, but what we bought was
worth it. To me, at least.

To me, also. I sensed the weariness in him, and
the resignation. Are you giving up?