Royal Assassin (58 page)

“Too late to fight Raiders, perhaps. But what of those burned out in Ferry? A contingent of workers to help repair houses, some wagons of food …”

“Says there’s no coin for it.” Cook bit each word off separately. She began to break her dough into rolls and to slap each one down to rise. “Says the treasury was drained to build ships and man them. Said Verity took what little was left for this expedition to find Elderlings.” A world of disdain on that last word. Cook paused to wipe her hands on her apron. “Then he said he was very sorry. Very truly sorry.”

A cold fury uncoiled inside me. I patted Cook’s shoulder and assured her that everything would be all right. Like a man in a daze, I left the kitchen and went to Verity’s study. Outside the study, I paused, groping. One clear glimpse of Verity’s intent. In the back of a drawer, I would find an antique emerald necklace, the stones set in gold. It had been his mother’s mother’s. It would be enough to hire men, and buy grain to send with them. I pushed open the study door, and halted.

Verity was an untidy man, and he had packed hastily. Charim had gone with him; he had not been here to clean up
after him. But this was no act of either of them. To another man’s eyes, probably little would have seemed amiss. But I saw the room both as myself and as Verity. It had been gone through. Whoever had done it had either not cared if it was detected, or had not known Verity well. Every drawer was neatly shut, every cupboard closed. The chair was pushed up close to the table. It was all too tidy. Without much hope, I went to the drawer and opened it. I pulled it completely open and peered into the back corner. Perhaps Verity’s own untidiness had saved it. I would not have looked for an emerald necklace under a jumble that included an old spur, a broken belt buckle, and a piece of antler partly worked into a knife haft. But it was there, wrapped up in a scrap of homespun. There were several other small but valuable items to be removed from the room. As I gathered them I was puzzled. If these had not been taken, what had been the goal of the search? If not minor valuables, then what?

Methodically, I sorted out a dozen vellum maps, and then began to remove several others from the wall. As I was carefully rolling one of them Kettricken entered silently. My Wit had made me aware of her before she had even touched the door, so I glanced up to meet her eyes without surprise. I stood firm before the surge of Verity’s emotion that rushed through me. The sight of her seemed to strengthen him within me. She was lovely, pale and slender in a robe of soft blue wool. I caught my breath and looked aside. She looked at me quizzically.

“Verity wanted these put away while he was gone. Damp can harm them, and this room is seldom heated when he is not here,” I explained as I finished rolling the map.

She nodded. “It seems so empty and cold in here without him. Not just the cold hearth. There is no scent of him, none of his clutter….”

“Then you tidied in here?” I tried to ask it casually.

“No!” She laughed. “My tidying only destroys what little order he keeps here. No, I will leave it as he left it, until he returns. I want him to come home to his own things in their places.” Her face grew grave. “But this room is the least of it.
I sent a page to find you this morning, but you were out. Have you heard the news about Ferry?”

“Only the gossip,” I replied.

“Then you have heard as much as I. I was not summoned,” she said coldly. Then she turned to me, and there was pain in her eyes. “I heard the most of it from Lady Modesty, who heard Regal’s serving man talking to her maid. The guardsmen went to Regal, to tell him of the messenger’s arrival. Surely, they should have sent to me? Do not they think of me as a Queen at all?”

“My lady queen,” I reminded her gently. “By all rights, the message should have been taken directly to King Shrewd. I suspect it was, and Regal’s men, who mind the King’s door, sent for him instead of you.”

Her head came up. “There is a thing that must be remedied, then. Two can play at that silly game.”

“I wonder if other messages have similarly gone astray,” I speculated aloud.

Her blue eyes turned gray with chill. “What do you mean?”

“The message birds, the signal fires. A Skill message, from Will in Red Tower to Serene. Surely at least one of these things should have brought us word that Ferry was attacked. One might go astray, but all three?”

Her face paled, her mind made the leap. “The Duke of Bearns will believe his call for aid went unheeded.” She lifted a hand to cover her mouth. She whispered through it, “This is treachery to defame Verity!” Her eyes grew very round and she hissed at me suddenly, “It shall not be tolerated!”

She turned and rushed for the door, anger in her every motion. I was barely able to leap in front of her. I put my back to it, held it closed. “Lady, my lady queen, I beg you, wait! Wait and consider!”

“Consider what? How best to reveal the depth of his perfidy?”

“We are not in the best position of power in this. Please, wait. Think with me. You think, as I do, that Regal must have known something of this and kept silent. But we have no proof. None at all. And perhaps we are wrong. We must go a step at a
time, lest we bring dissension when we want it least. The first person to speak to must be King Shrewd. To see if he has been aware of this at all, to see if he has sanctioned Regal to speak on his behalf.”

“He would not!” she declared angrily.

“He is often not himself,” I reminded her. “But he, not you, must be the one to rebuke Regal publicly, if it is to be public. If you speak out against him, and the King later supports him, the nobles will see the Farseers as a house divided. Already, there has been too much doubt and discord sown amongst them. This is not a time to set Inland Duchies against Coastal ones, with Verity not here.”

She halted. I could see that she still quivered with anger, but at least she was hearing me. She took a breath. I sensed her calming herself.

“This was why he left you here, Fitz. To see these things for me.”

“What?” It was my turn to be jolted.

“I thought you had known. You must have wondered why he did not ask you to accompany him. It was because I asked him who I should trust, as an adviser. He said to rely on you.”

Had he forgotten Chade’s existence? I wondered, and then realized that Kettricken knew nothing of Chade. He must have known I would function as a go-between. Inside myself, I felt Verity’s agreement. Chade. In the shadows as always.

“Think with me again,” she bade me. “What will happen next?”

She was right. This was not an isolated instance.

“We will have visitors. The Duke of Bearns and his lesser nobles. Duke Brawndy is not a man to send emissaries on a mission like that. He will come himself and he will demand answers. And all the Coastal Dukes will be listening to what is said to him. His coast is the most exposed of all, save that of Buck itself.”

“Then we must have answers worth hearing,” Kettricken declared. She closed her eyes. She set her hands to her forehead for a moment, then pressed her own cheeks. I realized how great a control she was keeping. Dignity, she was telling herself, calm and rationality. She took a breath and looked at
me again. “I go to see King Shrewd,” she announced. “I shall ask him about everything. This whole situation. I shall ask him what he intends to do. He is the King. His position must be affirmed to him.”

“I think that is a wise decision,” I told her.

“I must go alone. If you go with me, if you are always at my side, it will make me appear weak. It may give rise to rumors of a schism in the reign. You understand this?”

“I do.” Though I longed to hear for myself what Shrewd might say to her.

She gestured at the maps and items I had sorted onto a table. “You have a safe place for those?”

Chade’s chambers. “I do.”

“Good.” She gestured with a hand, and I realized I was still blocking her from the door. I stepped aside. As she swept past me her mountainsweet scent engulfed me for a moment. My knees went weak, and I cursed the fate that sent emeralds to rebuild houses when they should have girdled that graceful throat. But I knew, too, with a fierce pride, that if I set them in her hands this moment, she would insist they be spent for Ferry. I slipped them into a pocket. Perhaps she would be able to rouse King Shrewd’s wrath, and he would rattle the coin loose from Regal’s pocket. Perhaps, when I returned, these emeralds could still clasp that warm skin.

If Kettricken had looked back, she would have seen the Fitz blushing with her husband’s thoughts.

I went down to the stables. It had always been a soothing place for me, and with Burrich gone I felt a certain obligation to look in on it from time to time. Not that Hands had shown any signs of needing my help. But this time as I approached the stable doors, there was a knot of men outside them, and voices raised in anger. A young stable boy hung on to the headstall of an immense draft horse. An older boy was tugging at a lead attached to the horse’s halter, attempting to take the horse from the boy, as a man in Tilth colors looked on. The usually placid animal was becoming distressed at the tugging. In a moment someone was going to get hurt.

I stepped boldly into the midst of it, plucking the lead from the startled boy’s hand even as I quested soothingly
toward the horse. He did not know me as well as he once had, but he calmed at the touch. “What goes on here?” I asked the stable boy.

“They came and took Cliff out of his stall. Without even asking. He’s my horse to take care of each day. But they didn’t even tell me what they were doing.”

“I have orders—” began the man who had been standing by.

“I am speaking to someone,” I informed him, and turned back to the boy. “Has Hands left orders with you about this horse?”

“Only the usual ones.” The boy had been close to tears when I first came on the struggle. Now that he had a potential ally, his voice was firming. He stood up straighter and met my eyes.

“Then it’s simple. We take the horse back to his stall until we have other orders from Hands. No horse moves from the Buckkeep stable without the knowledge of the acting stablemaster.” The boy had never let go his grip on Cliffs headstall. Now I placed the lead rope in his hands.

“Exactly what I thought, sir,” he told me chippily. He turned on his heel. “Thank you, sir. Come on, Cliffie.” The boy marched off with the big horse lumbering placidly after him.

“I have orders to take that animal. Duke Ram of Tilth wishes him sent up the river immediately.” The man in Tilth colors was breathing through his nose at me.

“He does, does he? And has he cleared that with our stablemaster?” I was sure he had not.

“What goes on here?” This was Hands come running, very pink about the ears and cheeks. On another man it might have looked funny. I knew it meant he was angry.

The Tilth man drew himself up straight. “This man, and one of your stable hands, interfered when we came to get our stock from the stables!” he declared haughtily.

“Cliff isn’t Tilth stock. He was foaled right here at Buckkeep. Six years ago. I was present at the time,” I pointed out.

The man gave me a condescending look. “I was not
speaking to you. I was speaking to him.” He jerked a thumb at Hands.

“I have a name, sir,” Hands pointed out coldly. “Hands. I’m acting as stablemaster while Burrich is gone with king-in-waiting Verity. He has a name, too. FitzChivalry. He assists me from time to time. He belongs in my stable. As does my stable boy, and my horse. As to you, if you have a name, I haven’t been told it. I know of no reason why you should be in my stable.”

Burrich had taught Hands well. We exchanged a glance. In accord, we turned our backs and began to go back into the stables.

“I am Lance, a stable man for Duke Ram. That horse was sold to my duke. And not just him. Two spotted mares, and a gelding as well. I have the papers here.”

As we turned back slowly the Tilth man proffered a scroll. My heart lurched at the sight of a blob of red wax with the buck sign mashed into it. It looked real. Hands took it slowly. He gave me a sideways glance, and I moved to stand beside him. He had some letters, but reading was usually a lengthy business for him. Burrich had been working on it with him, but letters did not come easily to him. I looked over his shoulder as he unrolled the scroll and began to study it.

“It’s quite clear,” said the Tilth man. He reached for the scroll. “Shall I read it to you?”

“Don’t bother,” I told him as Hands rerolled the scroll. “What’s written there is as plain as what’s not. Prince Regal has signed it. But Cliff is not his horse. He, and the mares and gelding, are Buckkeep horses. Only the King may sell them.”

“King-in-Waiting Verity is away. Prince Regal acts in his stead now.”

I put a restraining hand on Hands’s shoulder. “King-in-Waiting Verity is indeed away. But King Shrewd is not. Nor is Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken. One of those must sign to sell a horse from Buckkeep stable.”

Lance snatched his scroll back, examined the signature for himself. “Well, Prince Regal’s mark should be good enough for you, with Verity away. After all, everyone knows the old King is not in his right mind most of the time. And Kettricken
is, well … not of the family. Really. So, with Verity gone, Regal is—”

“Prince.” I spoke the word crisply. “To say less of him would be treason. As it would be to say he were king. Or queen. When he is not.”

I let the implied threat settle into his mind. I would not directly accuse him of treason, for then he would have to die for it. Not even a pompous ass like Lance deserved to die just for parroting what his master had no doubt spoken aloud. I watched his eyes grow wide.

“I meant nothing….”

“And no harm is done,” I filled in. “As long as you remember one cannot buy a horse from a man who doesn’t own it. And these are Buckkeep horses, owned by the King.”

“Of course,” Lance dithered. “Perhaps this is the wrong paper. I am sure there is a mistake of some kind. I will go back to my master.”

“A wise choice.” Hands spoke softly beside me, taking authority back.

“Well, come along, then,” Lance snapped at his boy and gave the lad a shove. The boy glowered at us as he trailed off after his master. I scarcely blamed him. Lance was the sort who must vent his ill temper somewhere.