Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (94 page)

Not yet. But like yours, my future does not seem
promising. The others are all dead or fled I will go on. But I
don't know how much farther I must go. Or what I must do when I get
there. And I am so very tired. To give in would be so
easy.

Verity read me with ease, I knew. But I had to
reach for him and for all he was not conveying to me. I sensed the
great cold that surrounded him, and an injury that made it painful
to breathe. His aloneness, and the pain of knowing that those who
had died had died so far from home, and for him. Hod, I thought, my
own grief echoing his. Charim. Gone forever. And something else,
something he could not quite convey. A temptation, a teetering at
the brink. A pressure, a plucking, very similar to the Skillish
plucking I had felt from Serene and Justin. I tried to push past
him, to look at it more closely, but he held me back.

Some dangers become more dangerous when
confronted, he warned me. This is one of them. But I am sure it is
the path I must follow, if I am to find the Elderlings.

Prisoner!

I jolted out of my trance. A key turned in the
lock of my door and it swung open. A girl stood in the doorway.
Regal was beside her, one hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Two
guards, Inlanders both by the cut of their clothes, flanked them.
One leaned forward to thrust a torch into my cell. I cowered back
inadvertently, then sat blinking in the unaccustomed light. Is that
him? Regal asked the girl gently. She peered at me fearfully. I
peered back, trying to decide why she looked familiar.

Yes, sir, Lord Prince, King, sir. That's him. I
went to the well that morning, had to, had to have water, or the
baby would die, just as sure as if the Raiders killed him. And it
had been quiet awhile, all Neatbay as quiet as the dead. So I went
to the well in the early morning, creeping like through the mist,
sir. Then there was this wolf there, right by the well, and he
starts up and stares at me. And the wind moves the mist, and the
wolf is gone, he's a man now. That man, sir. Your Majesty King. She
continued to stare at me wide-eyed.

I recalled her now. The morning after the battle
for Neatbay and Bayguard. Nighteyes and I had paused to rest by the
well. I recalled how he had jostled me awake as he fled at the
girl's approach.

You're a brave girl, Regal praised her, and
patted her shoulder again. Here, guard, take her back above to the
kitchens, and see she gets a good meal and a bed somewhere. No,
leave me the torch. They backed out of the door, and the guard shut
it firmly behind him. I heard departing footsteps, but the light
outside the door stayed. After the footsteps had dwindled, Regal
spoke again.

Well, Bastard, it looks as if this game is
played out. Your champions will abandon you fairly quickly, I
suspect, once they understand what you are. There are other
witnesses, of course. Ones who will speak of how there were wolf
tracks and men dead of bites everywhere you fought at Neatbay.
There are even some of our own Buckkeep guard who, when put to
oath, must admit that when you have fought Forged ones, some of the
bodies have borne the marks of teeth and claws. He heaved a great
sigh of satisfaction. I heard the sounds of him setting the torch
into a wall sconce. He came back to the door. He was just tall
enough to peer in at me. Childishly I stood, and approached the
door to look down at him. He stepped back. I felt petty
satisfaction.

It had tweaked his temper. You were so gullible.
Such a fool. You came limping home from the Mountains with your
tail between your legs, and thought that Verity's favor would be
all you needed to survive. You and all your foolish plottings. I
knew of them all. All of them, Bastard. All your little chats with
our queen, the tower-garden bribes to turn Brawndy against me. Even
her plans to leave Buckkeep. Take warm things, you told her. The
King will go with you. He stood on tiptoe to be sure I could see
his smile. She left with neither, Bastard. Not the King, nor the
warm things she had packed. He paused. Not even a horse. His voice
caressed the last words as if he had been saving them for a long
time. He watched my face avidly.

I suddenly knew myself for nine kinds of a fool.
Rosemary. Sweet, sleepy child, always nodding off in a corner. So
bright one could trust her with any errand. So young one forgot she
was even there. Yet I should have known. I was no older when Chade
had first begun to teach me my trade. I felt ill, and it must have
shown on my face. I could not recall what I had or had not said in
front of her. I had no way of knowing what secrets Kettricken had
confided over that little dark curly head. What talks with Verity
had she witnessed, what chats with Patience? The Queen and the Fool
were missing. That only I knew for certain. Had they ever gotten
out of Buckkeep alive? Regal was grinning, well satisfied with
himself. The barred door between us was the only thing that kept my
promise to Shrewd intact.

He left, still grinning.

Regal had his proof that I had the Wit. The
Neatbay girl was the binding knot for that. All that remained now
was for him to torture from me a confession that I had killed
Shrewd. He had plenty of time for that. However much time as it
would take, he had.

I sank down onto the floor. Verity had been
right. Regal had won.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

Torture

BUT NOTHING WOULD satisfy the Willful Princess
but that she rode the Piebald Stallion to the hunt. All her ladies
warned her, but she turned aside her head and would not hear them.
All the lords warned her, but she scoffed at their fears. Even the
stablemaster sought to say her nay, telling her, Lady Princess, the
stallion should be put down in blood and fire, for he was trained
by Sly o' the Wit, and only to him is he true! Then the Willful
Princess grew wroth and said, Are these not my stables and my
horses, and may I not choose which of my beasts I shall ride? Then
all grew silent before her temper, and she ordered the Piebald
Stallion saddled for the hunt.

Forth they went, with a great baying of hounds
and fluttering of colors. And the Piebald Stallion bore her well,
and carried her far ahead of the field, and at last out of sight of
the other hunters entirely. Then, when the Willful Princess was far
and away, over the hill and beneath the green trees, the Piebald
Stallion bore her this way and that, until she was lost and the
crying of the hounds but an echo in the hills. At last she stopped
by a stream to sip the cool water but lo, when she turned, the
Piebald Stallion was gone, and in his place stood Sly o' the Wit,
as mottled as his Wit beast. Then he was with her as a stallion is
with a mare, so that ere the, year had turned, she went heavy with
child. And when those who. attended her birth saw the babe, all
mottled on the face and shoulders, they cried aloud with fear. When
the Willful Princess saw him, she screamed, and gave up her spirit
in blood and shame, that she had borne Sly's Wit child. So the
Piebald Prince was born in fear and shame, and that was what he
brought into the world with him.

- Legend of the Piebald Prince

The torch Regal had left set the shadows of the
bars to dancing. I watched them for a time, thoughtless, hopeless.
Knowledge of my own death numbed me. Gradually my mind began to
work again, but without order. Was this what Chade had been trying
to tell me? Without her horse; how much had Regal known about the
horses? Had he known the destination? How had Burrich escaped
detection? Or had he? Might not I meet him in the torturer's
chamber? Did Regal think Patience was connected to the escape plan?
If he did, would he still be content simply to abandon her, or
would he take more direct vengeance? When they came for me, should
I fight?

No. I would go with dignity. No. I would kill as
many of his inland-bred curs as I could with my bare hands. No. I
would go quietly, and wait for a chance at Regal. I knew he would
be there, to watch me die. My promise to Shrewd, not to kill one of
his own? It no longer bound me. Did it? No one could save me. Don't
even wonder if Chade would act, if Patience could do anything at
all. After Regal had tortured a confession from me ... would he
keep me alive to hang and quarter before all? Of course he would.
Why deny himself that pleasure? Would Patience come to watch me
die? I hoped not. Maybe Lacey could keep her away. I had thrown my
life away, sacrificed all for nothing. At least, I had killed
Serene and Justin
.
Had
it been worth it? Had my queen escaped at all, or was she still
hidden somewhere within the castle walls? Was that what Chade had
been trying to tell me? No. My mind paddled and scrabbled through
thoughts like a rat fallen into a rain barrel. I longed to talk to
someone, anyone. I forced myself to calmness, to rationality, and
finally found a grip. Nighteyes. Nighteyes had said that he had
taken them, had guided them to Burrich.

My brother? I reached for Nighteyes.

I am here. I am always here.

Tell me of that night.

What night?

The night you guided the people from the Keep to
Heart of the Pack.

Ah. I sensed him struggling. His ways were a
wolf's ways. A thing done was a thing done. He planned no further
ahead than the next kill, recalled almost nothing of events that
happened a month or a year ago, unless they touched most directly
on his own survival. Thus he recalled the cage I had taken him
from, but where he had hunted four nights ago was lost to him.
General things he recalled: a well-used rabbit trail, a spring that
did not freeze over, but specific details of how many rabbits he
had killed three days ago were lost forever. I held my breath,
hoping he could give me hope.

I took them all to Heart of the Pack. I wish you
were here. I've a porcupine quill in my lip. I can't paw it loose.
It hurts.

And how did you get that? In the midst of all
else, I still had to smile. He knew better but had not been able to
resist the fat waddling creature.

It isn't funny.

I know. Truly, it was not funny. A quill was a
nasty barbed thing that would only work deeper, festering all the
way. It could get bad enough to keep him from hunting. I turned my
attention to his problem. Until I had solved it for him, he would
be able to focus on nothing else. Heart of the Pack would get it
out for you, if you asked him nicely. You can trust him.

He pushed me when I spoke to him. But then he
spoke to me.

Did he?

A slow working through of thought. That night.
When I guided them to him. He said to me, Bring them here to me,
not to the dog fox place.

Picture me the place you went.

This was harder for him. But as he tried he
recalled the roadside, empty in the blowing snow, save for Burrich
astride Ruddy and leading Sooty. I glimpsed the Female and the
Scentless One, as he thought of them. Chade he remembered well,
chiefly for a fat beef bone bestowed on Nighteyes at their
parting.

Did they speak to one another?

Overly much. I left them yipping to one
another.

Try as I might, that was really all he had for
me. It was enough that I knew the plans had changed drastically and
at the last minute. Odd. I had been willing to lay down my life for
Kettricken, but at the last accounting, I was not sure how I felt
about giving up my horse. Then I recalled I would probably never
ride a horse again, save the one that carried me to the hanging
tree. At least Sooty had gone with someone I cared about. And
Ruddy. Why those two horses? And only those two? Had Burrich been
unable to get others out of the stable? Was that why he had not
gone?

The quill hurts, Nighteyes reminded me. I cannot
eat for the pain.

I wish I could come to help you, but I cannot.
You must ask Heart of the Pack.

Cannot you ask him to do it? He does not push
you.

I smiled to myself. He did once. It was enough;
I learned from it. But if you go to him, asking for help, he will
not repel you.

Cannot you ask him to help me?

I cannot speak to him as we speak. And he is too
far away for me to yip at him.

I will try, then, Nighteyes said
doubtfully.

I let him go. I thought of trying to make him
understand my situation. I decided against it. There was nothing he
could do; it would only distress him. Nighteyes would tell Burrich
I had sent him; Burrich would know I was still alive. There was
little else to convey that he would not already know.

A long slow time passed then. I measured it in
the small ways I could. The torch Regal had left burned out. The
guard changed. Someone came and put food and water through my door.
I had not asked for it. I wondered if that meant a very long time
had passed since I had last eaten. The guard changed again. These
were a chatty pair, a man and a woman. But they spoke in low
voices, and all I heard were the murmurs, and the laughter. Some
sort of a ribald flirtation between the two, I surmised.
Interrupted by someone's arrival.

The friendly chatter suddenly ceased. Low
murmurs, in a very respectful tone. My stomach roiled cold inside
me. Quietly I came to my feet, crept to my door. I peered through
the doors toward the guards' station.