Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (12 page)

I dozed. I awakened to a draft on my shoulder.
The secret door beside the hearth that led up to Chade's domain was
wide-open and beckoning. I arose stiffly, stretched, and went up
the stone stairs. Thus had I first gone, so long ago, clad then as
I was now in just my nightshirt. I had followed a frightening old
man with a pocked visage and eyes sharp and bright as a raven's. He
had offered to teach me to kill people. He had also offered,
wordlessly, to be my friend. I had accepted both offers.

The stone steps were cold. Here there were still
cobwebs and dust and soot above the sconces on the walls. So the
housecleaning hadn't extended to this staircase. Nor to Chade's
quarters. They were as chaotic, disreputable, and comfortable as
ever. At one end of his chamber was his working hearth, bare stone
floors and an immense table. The usual clutter overflowed it:
mortars and pestles, sticky dishes of meat scraps for Slink the
weasel, pots of dried herbs, tablets and scrolls, spoons and tongs,
and a blackened kettle, still sending a reeking smoke curling into
the chamber.

But Chade was not there. No, he was at the other
end of the chamber, where a fatly cushioned chair faced a hearth
with a dancing fire. Carpets overlay one another over the floor
there, and an elegantly carved table held a glass bowl of fall
apples and a decanter of summer wine. Chade was ensconced in the
chair, a partially unrolled scroll held to the light as he read it.
Did he hold it farther from his nose than once he had, and were his
spare arms more desiccated? I wondered if he had aged in the months
I had been away, or if I had simply not noticed before. His gray
woolen robe looked as well-worn as ever, and his long gray hair
overlay its shoulders and seemed the same color. As always, I stood
silent until he deigned to look up and recognize my presence. Some
things changed, but some things did not.

He finally lowered the scroll and looked my way.
He had green eyes, and their lightness was always surprising in his
Farseer face. Despite the poxlike scars that stippled his face and
arms, his bastard bloodlines were almost as plain-marked as mine. I
suppose I could have claimed his as a great-uncle, but our
apprentice-to-master relationship was closer than a blood tie. He
looked me over and I self-consciously stood straighter under his
scrutiny. His voice was grave as he commanded, Boy, come into the
light.

I advanced a dozen steps and stood
apprehensively. He studied me as intently as he had studied the
scroll. Were we ambitious traitors, you and I, we would make sure
folk marked your resemblance to Chivalry. I could teach you to
stand as he stood; you already walk as he did. I could show you how
to add lines to your face to make you appear older. You have most
of his height. You could learn his catchphrases, and the way he
laughed. Slowly, we could gather power, in quiet ways, with none
even recognizing what they were conceding. And one day, we could
step up and take power.

He paused. .

Slowly I shook my head. Then we both smiled, and
I came to sit on the hearthstones by his feet. The warmth of the
fire on my back felt good.

It's my trade, I suppose. He sighed and took a
sip of his wine. I have to think of these things, for I know that
others will. One day, sooner or later, some petty noble will
believe it an original idea and approach you with it. Wait and see
if I am not right.

I pray you are wrong. I have had enough of
intrigues, Chade, and not fared as well at that game as I had
expected to.

You did not do badly, with the hand you were
dealt. You survived. He looked past me into the fire. A question
hung between us, almost palpably. Why had King Shrewd revealed to
Prince Regal that I was his trained assassin? Why had he put me in
the position of reporting to and taking orders from a man who
wished me dead? Had he traded me away to Regal, to distract him
from his other discontents? And if I had been a sacrificial pawn,
was I still being dangled as bait and a distraction to the younger
Prince? I think not even Chade could have answered all my
questions, and to ask any of them would have been blackest betrayal
of what we were both sworn to be: King's Men. Both of us long ago
had given our lives into Shrewd's keeping, for the protection of
the royal family. It was not for us to question how he chose to
spend us. That way lay treason.

So Chade lifted the summer wine and filled a
waiting glass for me. For a brief time we conversed of things that
were of no import to any save us, and all the more precious for
that. I asked after Slink the weasel, and he haltingly offered
sympathy over Nosy's death. He asked a question or two that let me
know he was privy to everything I had reported to Verity, and a lot
of stable gossip as well. I was filled in on the minor gossip of
the Keep, and all the doings I had missed among the lesser folk
while I was gone. But when I asked him what he thought of
Kettricken, our queen-in-waiting, his face grew grave.

She faces a difficult path. She comes to a
Queenless court, where she herself is and yet is not the Queen. She
comes in a time of hardship, to a kingdom facing both raiders and
civil unrest. But most difficult for her is that she comes to a
court that does not understand her concept of royalty. She has been
besieged with feasts and gatherings in her honor. She is used to
walking out among her own people, to tending her own gardens and
looms and forge, to solving disputes and sacrificing herself to
spare her people hardship. Here, she finds, her society is solely
the nobility, the ,privileged, the wealthy. She does not understand
the consumption of wine and exotic foods, the display of costly
fabrics in dress, the flaunting of jewels that are the purpose of
these gatherings. And so she does not `show well.' She is a
handsome woman, in her way. But she is too big, too heartily
muscled, too fair amongst the Buckkeep women. She is like a charger
stabled among hunters. Her heart is good, but I do not know if she
will be sufficient to the task, boy. In truth, I pity her. She came
here alone, you know. Those few who accompanied her here have long
since returned to the Mountains. So she is very alone here, despite
those who court her favor.

And Verity, I asked, troubled. He does nothing
to allay that loneliness, nothing to teach her of our
ways?

Verity has little time for her, Chade said
bluntly. He tried to explain this to King Shrewd before the
marriage was arranged, but we did not listen to him. King Shrewd
and I were beguiled with the political advantages she offered. I
forgot there would be a woman here, in this court, day after day.
Verity has his hands full. Were they just a man and a woman, and
given time, I think they could genuinely care for one another. But
here and now, they must devote all their efforts to appearance.
Soon an heir will be demanded. They have no time to get to know one
another, let alone care for one another. He must have seen the pain
in my face, for he added, That's how it has always been for
royalty, boy. Chivalry and Patience were the exception. And they
bought their happiness at the cost of political advantages. It was
unheard of, for the King-in-Waiting to marry for love. I'm sure
you've heard over and over how foolish a thing it was.

And I'd always wondered if he'd
cared.

It cost him, Chade said quietly. I don't think
he regretted his decision. But he was king-in-waiting. You don't
have that latitude.

Here it came. I'd suspected he'd know
everything. And useless to hope he'd say nothing. I felt a slow
flush steal up my face. Molly.

He nodded slowly. It was one thing when it was
down in town, and you were more or less a boy. That could be
ignored. But now you're being seen as a man. When she came here
asking after you, it started tongues wagging and folk speculating.
Patience was remarkably agile at hushing the rumors and taking
charge of the situation. Not that I'd have kept the woman here, had
it been left to me. But Patience handled it well enough.

The woman ... I repeated, stung. If he'd said
the whore I couldn't have felt it more sharply. Chade, you misjudge
her. And me. It began as a friendship, a long time ago, and if
anyone was at fault in ... how things went, it was me, not Molly.
I'd always thought that the friends I made in town, that the time I
spent there as `Newboy' belonged to me. I faltered to a halt,
hearing only the foolishness of my words.

Did you think you could lead two lives? Chade's
voice was soft but not gentle. We belong to the King, boy. King's
Men. Our lives belong to him. Every moment, of every day, asleep or
awake. You have no time for your own concerns. Only his.

I shifted slightly, to look into the fire. I
considered what I knew of Chade in that light. I met him here, by
darkness, in these isolated chambers. I had never seen him out and
about around Buckkeep. No one spoke his name to me. Occasionally,
disguised as Lady Thyme, he ventured forth. Once we had ridden
together through the night, to that first awful Forging at Forge.
But even that had been at the King's command. What did Chade have
for a life? A chamber, good food and wine, and a weasel for a
companion. He was Shrewd's older brother. But for his bastardy, he
would be upon the throne. Was his life a foreshadowing of what mine
was to be?

No.

I hadn't spoken, but as I looked up into Chade's
face he guessed my thoughts. I chose this life, boy. After a
mishandled potion exploded and scarred me. I was handsome, once.
And vain. Almost as vain as Regal. When I ruined my face, I wished
myself dead. For months I did not stir out of my chambers. When I
finally went forth, it was in disguises, not Lady Thyme, not then,
no. But disguises that covered my face and my hands. I left
Buckkeep. For a long time. And when I came back, that handsome
young man I had been was dead. I found myself more useful to the
family, now that I was dead. There is much more to that story, boy.
But know that I chose the way I live. It was not something Shrewd
forced me into. I did it myself. Your fixture may be different. But
do not imagine it is yours to command.

Curiosity prodded me. Is that why Chivalry and
Verity knew of you, but not Regal?

Chade smiled in an odd way. I was a sort of a
kindly step-uncle to the two older boys, if you can believe it. I
watched over them, in some ways. But once I was scarred, I kept
myself even from them. Regal never knew me. His mother had a horror
of the pox. I think she believed all the legends of the Pocked Man,
harbinger of disaster and misfortune. For that matter, she had an
almost superstitious dread of anyone who was not whole. You see it
in Regal's reaction to the Fool. She would never keep a clubfooted
maid or even a serving man with a missing finger or two. So. When I
returned, I was never introduced to the lady, or the child she
bore. When Chivalry became king-in-waiting to Shrewd, I was one of
the things revealed to him. I was shocked to find he recalled me,
and had missed me. He brought Verity to see me that evening. I had
to scold him over that. It was difficult to make them understand
they could not come calling on me anytime they chose. Those boys.
He shook his head and smiled at his memories. I can not explain the
twinge of jealousy I felt. I called the conversation back to
myself.

What do you think I should do?

Chade pursed his lips, sipped his wine, and
thought. For now, Patience has given you good advice. Ignore or
avoid Molly, but not obviously. Treat her as if she were a new
scullery maid; courteously, if you encounter her, but not
familiarly. Do not seek her out. Devote yourself to the
Queen-in-Waiting. Verity will be glad of your distracting her.
Kettricken will be glad of a friendly face. And if your intent is
to win permission to marry Molly, the Queen-in-Waiting could be a
powerful ally. As you divert Kettricken, watch over her as well.
Bear in mind there are those whose interests do not support Verity
having an heir. Those same ones who would not be enthused about
your having children. So be wary and alert. Keep your guard
up.

Is that all? I asked, daunted.

No. Get some rest. Deadroot was what was used on
you, by Regal? I nodded and he shook his head, narrowing his eyes.
Then he looked me squarely in the face. You are young. You may be
able to recover, mostly. I've seen one other man survive it. But he
trembled the rest of his life. I see the small signs of it on you
yet. It will not show much, except to those who know you well. But
do not overtire yourself. Weariness will bring on tremblings and
blurred vision. Push yourself, and you will have fits. You do not
want anyone to know you have a weakness. The best course is to
conduct your life in such a way that the weakness never
shows.

Was that why there was elfbark in the tea? I
asked needlessly.

He raised an eyebrow at me. Tea?

Perhaps it was the Fool's doing. I awoke to food
and tea in my room ....

And if it had been Regal's doing?

It took a moment for the realization to dawn. I
could have been poisoned.

But you weren't. Not this time. No, it was
neither I nor the Fool. It was Lacey. There is someone deeper than
you credit. The Fool discovered you, and something possessed him to
tell Patience. While she was flustering, Lacey quietly ordered it
all done. I think that privately she considers you as
scatterbrained as her mistress. Give her the slightest opening, and
she will move in and organize your life. Good as her intentions
are, you cannot allow that, Fitz. An assassin needs privacy. Get a
latch for your door.