Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (96 page)

I crawled over to my water. I will not enumerate
the pains it cost for me to lift it and drink. My initial attempts
to defend myself had left my hands swollen and sore. I tried vainly
to keep the edge of the water pot from bumping against my mouth.
Finally, I managed to drink. The water strengthened me, to make me
all the more aware of everywhere I hurt. My half loaf of bread was
there as well. I stuck the end of it in what was left of my water,
and then sucked the soaked bread from the loaf as it softened. It
tasted like blood. Bolt's initial battering of my head had loosened
teeth and cut my mouth. I was aware of my nose as an immense area
of throbbing pain. I could not bring myself to touch it with my
fingers. There was no pleasure in eating, only a partial relief
from the hunger that clawed at me alongside my pain.

After a time I sat up. I dragged the cloak
around me and considered what I knew. Regal would batter at me
physically until I either manifested the Wit in an attack his
guards could witness, or until I dropped my walls enough that Will
could get in my mind and inspire me to confess. I wondered which
way he would rather win. I did not doubt he would win. My sole way
out of this cell was by dying. Options. To try to make them beat me
to death before I either used the Wit or dropped my Skill barrier
to Will. Or, to take the poison I had made for Wallace. I would die
from it. That was definite. In my weakened state, it would probably
be faster than I had planned it for him. Still painful, though.
Wretchedly painful.

One kind of pain seemed as good as another.
Laboriously I folded back my bloodied right cuff. The hidden pocket
was secured by a thread that should have come loose at a slight
tug. But blood had matted it closed. I picked at it carefully.
Mustn't spill it. I'd need to wait until they gave me more water to
get it down. Otherwise I'd just gag and retch on the bitter powder.
I was still working at it when I heard voices down the
hallway.

It did not seem fair they would come back at me
so soon. I listened. It wasn't Regal. But anyone coming down here
meant something to do with me. A deep voice, rumbling along in a
rambling way. The guards replying briefly, in hostile tones.
Another voice, interceding, reasoning. The rumbling again, getting
louder, and the belligerence plain. Suddenly a shout.

You're going to die, Fitz! Hanged over water,
and your body burned!

Burrich's voice. A strange mix of anger and
threat and pain.

Get him out of here. One of the guards, speaking
loud and plain now. She was obviously an Inlander.

I will, I will. I knew that voice. Blade. He's
just had a bit too much to drink, that's all. It's always been a
problem with him. And he had the boy as his apprentice down there
in the stables for years. Everyone's saying he should have known
about it, did know about it and didn't do anything,
maybe.

Yessss. Burrich drew out the angry affirmation.
And I'm out of a job now, bastard! No more buck's crest for me!
Well, by El's ass, it hardly matters. Horses are gone. Best damn
horses I ever trained, gone inland now, given over to fools! Dogs
are gone, hawks are gone! All that're left are the scrubs and a
couple mules. Don't have one horse I'd admit to owning! His voice
was growing closer. There was madness in it.

I scrabbled up the door, clung to the bars to
see. I couldn't see the guard post, but their shadows were on the
wall. Burrich's shadow was attempting to come down the hall while
the guards and Blade tried to drag him back.

Wait. Now, just wait a minute, Burrich
remonstrated drunkenly. Wait. Look. I only want to talk to him.
That's all. The cluster of people surged down the hall, halted
again. The guards were between Burrich and my door. Blade was
clinging to Burrich's arm. He still showed the marks from the
brawl, and one of his arms was in a sling. He could do little to
stop Burrich.

Just get mine in before Regal gets his. That's
all. That's all. Burrich's voice was deep and slurry with drink.
Come on. Just for a minute. What's it going to matter anyway? He's
good as dead. Another pause. Look. I'll make it worth your while.
Look here.

The guards were exchanging glances.

Uh, Blade, you got any coin left? Burrich was
digging through his pouch, then snorted with disgust and upended it
over his hand. Coins fell in a shower, spilling past his fingers.
Here, here. There was the chink and rattle of coins dropped and
rolling on the stone floor of the passageway and he flung his arms
wide in a gesture of largesse.

Hey, he doesn't mean it, Burrich, you don't
bribe guards like that, you're going to get yourself tossed in a
cell, too. Blade stooped hastily, making apologies as he hurried to
gather up the spilled coins. The guards stooped alongside him and I
saw a hand make a furtive trip from floor to pocket.

Suddenly Burrich's face peered in my window. For
a moment we stood eye to eye at the barred window. Grief and
outrage battled in his face. His eyes were webbed red from his
drinking, and his breath was strong with it. The fabric of his
shirt showed ragged where the buck crest had been torn from it. He
glared at me, then, as he looked at me, his eyes widened in shock.
For a moment our gaze held, and I thought something of
understanding and farewell passed between us. Then he leaned back
and spat full in my face.

That, for you, he snarled. That for my life,
which you took from me. All the hours, all the days I spent upon
you.

Better that you had lain down and died amongst
the beasts before you let this come to pass. They're going to hang
you; boy. Regal's having the gallows built, over water, like the
old wisdom says. They'll hang you, then cut you up and burn you
down to bones. Nothing left to bury. He's probably afraid the dogs
would dig you up again. You'd like that, hey, boy? Buried like a
bone, for some dog to dig up later? Better to just lie down and die
right where you are.

I had recoiled from him when he spat at me. Now
I stood back from my door, swaying on my feet while he gripped the
bars and stared in at me, his eyes wide and bright with madness and
drink.

You're so good with the Wit, they say. Why don't
you change into a rat and scuttle out of there? Huh? He leaned his
forehead against the bars and peered in at me. Almost pensively, he
said, Better that than to hang, whelp. Change into a beast and run
off with your tail between your legs. If you can ... I heard you
can ... they say you can turn into a wolf. Well, unless you can,
you're going to hang. Hang by your neck, choking and kicking ...
His voice trailed off. His dark eyes locked with mine. They were
teary with drink. Better to lie down and die right there than hang.
Suddenly he seemed full of fury. Maybe I'll help you lie down and
die! he threatened through gritted teeth. Better you die my way
than Regal's! He began to wrest at the bars, shaking the door back
and forth against its locks.

The guards were instantly on him, one to an arm,
tugging and cursing while he ignored them. Old Blade jigged up and
down behind them, saying, Give it up, come on, Burrich, you had
your say, come on, man, before there's real trouble.

They did not pry him loose, but he gave it up
suddenly, just dropping his arms to his sides. It caught the guards
by surprise and they both stumbled back. I clutched at the barred
window.

Burrich. It was hard to make my mouth form
words. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry. I took a breath, tried
to find some words to end some of the torment in his eyes. No one
should blame you. You did the best with me you could.

He shook his head at me, his face contorting
with grief and anger. Lie down and die, boy. Just lie down and die.
He turned and walked away from me. Blade was walking backward,
apologizing a hundred times over to the two flustered guards who
followed him up the corridor. I watched them go, and then watched
Burrich's shadow go lurching off, while Blade's stayed a bit to
mollify the guards.

I swiped at the spittle on my swollen face and
went slowly back to my stone bench. I sat a long time, remembering.
From the beginning he had warned me off the Wit. The first dog that
I had ever bonded to, he had mercilessly taken from me. I had
fought him for that dog, repelled at him with every bit of strength
I had, and he had just deflected it back at me. So hard I had not
even attempted to repel anyone for years after that. And when he
had relented, ignoring if not accepting my bond with the wolf, it
had rebounded onto him. The Wit. All those times he had warned me,
and all those times I had been so sure I knew what I was
doing.

You did.

Nighteyes. I acknowledged him. I had no spirit
to do more than that.

Come with me. Come with me and we will hunt. I
can take you far from all of this.

In a while, perhaps, I put him off. I did not
have the strength to deal with him.

I sat a long time, actually. My encounter with
Burrich hurt as badly as the beating had. I tried to think of one
person in my life that I had not failed, had not disappointed. I
could think of no one.

I glanced down at Brawndy's cloak. I was cold
enough to want it, but too sore to pick it up. A pebble on the
floor beside it caught my eye. It puzzled me. I had looked at this
floor long enough to know there were no loose dark pebbles in my
cell.

Curiosity is a disturbingly strong force.
Finally, I leaned way over and picked up the cloak, and the pebble
next to it. It took some time to get the cloak around me. Then I
examined my pebble. It wasn't a pebble. It was dark and wet. A wad
of something? Leaves. A pellet of wadded leaves. A pellet that had
stung my chin when Burrich spat at me? Cautiously I held it up to
the fickle light that wandered in the barred window.

Something white secured the outer leaf. I picked
it loose. What had caught my eye was the white end of a porcupine
quill, while the black barbed tip had secured the leaf wrapping.
Unfolded, the leaf revealed a sticky brown wad. I lifted it to my
nose and sniffed it cautiously. A mixture of herbs, but one
dominated. I recognized the scent queasily. Carryme. A Mountain
herb. A powerful painkiller and sedative, sometimes used to
mercifully extinguish life. Kettricken had used it when she had
tried to kill me in the Mountains.

Come with me.

Not just now.

This was Burrich's parting gift to me? A
merciful end? I thought over what he had said. Better to just lie
down and die. This, from the man who had taught me the fight wasn't
over until you had won it? The contradiction was too
sharp.

Heart of the Pack says you should come with me.
Now. Tonight. Lie down, he says. Be a bone for the dogs to dig up
later, he says. I could feel the effort Nighteyes was putting into
relaying this message.

I was silent, thinking.

He took the quill from my lip, Brother. I think
we can trust him. Come with me, now, tonight.

I considered the three things that lay in my
hand. The leaf, the quill, the pellet. I rewrapped the pellet in
the leaf, secured it with the quill again.

I don't understand what he wants me to do, I
complained.

Lie down and be still. Still yourself, and go
with me, as myself. A long pause as Nighteyes worked something
through in his head. Eat what he gave you only if you must. Only if
you cannot come to me on your own.

I have no idea what he is up to. But, like you,
I think we can trust him. In the dimness, past all weariness, I sat
picking at the stitching in my sleeve. When it finally came loose,
I coaxed the tiny paper packet of powder out and then pushed the
leaf-wrapped pellet in. I managed to force the quill to hold it
there. I looked at the paper packet in my hand. A tiny idea came to
me, but I refused to dwell on it. I gripped it in my hand. Then I
wrapped myself in Brawndy's cloak and slowly lay myself down on the
bench. I knew I should keep vigil, lest Will come back. I was too
hopeless and too weary. I am with you, Nighteyes.

We sped away together, over crusted white snow,
into a wolf world.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO

Execution

STABLEMASTER BURRICH WAS renowned during his
years at Buckkeep as an extraordinary horse handler as well as a
houndsman and falconer. His skill with beasts was near legendary
even in his own lifetime.

He began his years of service as a common
soldier. It is said he came from folk who had settled in Shoaks.
Some say his grandmother was of slave stock, who bought herself
free from a Bingtown master by an extraordinary service.

As a soldier, his fierceness in battle brought
him to the attention of a young Prince Chivalry. It is rumored that
he first appeared before his prince on a disciplinary matter
regarding a tavern brawl. He served Chivalry for a time as a
weapons partner, but Chivalry discovered his gift for animals and
put him in charge of his guards' horses. He was soon caring for
Chivalry's hounds and hawks as well, and eventually came to oversee
the entire stables of Buckkeep. His sage doctoring of beasts and
knowledge of their internal workings extended to cattle, sheep, and
swine and the occasional treatment of fowl. No one exceeded him in
his understanding of beasts.