Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin (29 page)

I did not drop my guard. I did not give him
leave. But he swept through my mind like a wind sweeps through an
unshuttered window and fills a room. The night and the snow. Meat
in our jaws. Listen, snuff, the world is alive tonight and so are
we! We can hunt until dawn, we are alive and the night and the
forest are ours! Our eyes are keen, our jaws are strong, and we can
run down a buck and feast before morning. Come! Come back to what
you were born to be!

A moment later I came to myself. I was
on my feet, standing, and I was trembling from head to foot. I
lifted my hands and looked at them, and suddenly my own flesh
seemed foreign and confining, as unnatural as the clothes I wore. I
could go. I could go, now, tonight, and travel far to find our own
kind, and no one would ever be able to follow us, let alone find
us. He offered me a moonlit world of blacks and whites, of food and
rest, so simple, so complete. Our eyes were locked, and his were
lambent green and beckoning to me. Come. Come with me. What have
the likes of us to do with men and all their petty plotting? There
is not one mouthful of meat to be had in all their wrangling, no
clean joys in their scheming, and never a simple pleasure taken
unthinkingly. Why do you choose it? Come, come away!

I blinked. Snowflakes clung to my eyelashes, and
I was standing in the dark, chilled and shaking. A short distance
from me, a wolf stood up and shook himself all over. Tail out flat,
ears up, he came to me, and rubbed his head along my leg and with
his nose gave my cold hand a flip. I went down on one knee and
hugged him, felt the warmth of his ruff against my hands, the
solidity of his muscle and bone. He smelled good, clean and wild.
We are what we are, brother. Eat well, I told him. I rubbed his
ears briefly, and then stood. As he picked up the sack of bones to
drag them into the den he'd scuffed out under the cottage, I turned
away. The lights of Buckkeep were almost blinding, but I went
toward them anyway. I could not have said why just then. But I did
it.

CHAPTER TEN

Fool's Errand

IN TIMES OF peace, the teaching of the Skill was
restricted to those of royal blood, to keep the magic more
exclusive and reduce the chance of it being turned against the
King. Thus
,
when Galen
became apprentice to Skill Master Solicity, his duties consisted of
assisting in completing the training of Chivalry and Verity. No
others were receiving instruction at that time. Regal, a delicate
child, was judged by his mother to be too sickly to withstand the
rigors of the Skill training. Thus, after Solicity's untimely
death, Galen came to the title of Skill Master, but had few duties.
Some, at least, felt that the time he had served as apprentice to
Solicity was insufficient to be the full training of a Skill
Master. Others have averred that he never possessed the Skill
strength necessary to be a true Skill Master. In any case, during
those years he had no opportunity to prove himself, and disprove
his critics. There were no young Princes or Princesses to train
during the years that Galen was Skill Master.

It was only with the Red-Ship raids that it was
decided that the circle of those trained in the Skill must be
expanded. A proper coterie had not existed for years. Tradition
tells us that in previous troubles with the Outislanders, it was
not unusual for three, or even four coteries to exist. These
usually consisted of six to eight members, mutually chosen, well
suited to be bonded among themselves, and with at least one member
possessing a strong amity with the reigning monarch. This key
member reported directly to the monarch all that his coterie
members relayed to him, if they were a messaging, or
information-gathering coterie. Other coteries existed to pool
strength and extend to the monarch their Skilling resources as he
might need them. The key members in these coteries were often
referred to as a King's or Queen's Man or Woman. Very rarely, such
a one existed independent of any coterie or training, but simply as
one who had such an affinity for the monarch that strength could be
tapped, usually by a physical touch. From this key member, the
monarch could draw endurance as needed to sustain a Skilling
effort. By custom, a coterie was named after its key member. Thus
we have legendary examples such as Crossfire's coterie.

Galen chose to ignore all tradition in
the creation of his first and only coterie. Galen's coterie came to
be named after the Skill Master who fashioned it, and retained that
name even after his death. Rather than creating a pool of Skilled
ones and letting a coterie emerge from it, Galen himself selected
those who would be members of it. The coterie lacked the internal
bonding of the legendary groups, and their truest affinity was to
the Skill Master rather than to the King. Thus, the key member,
initially August, reported to Galen fully as often as he reported
to King Shrewd or, King-in-Waiting Verity. With the death of Galen
and the blasting of August's Skill sense, Serene rose to be key
member of Galen's coterie. The other surviving members of the group
were Justin, Will, Carrod, and Burl.

By night I ran as a wolf.

The first time I thought it a singularly vivid
dream. The wide stretch of white snow with the inky tree shadows
spilled on it, the elusive scents on the cold wind, the ridiculous
fun of bounding and digging after shrews that ventured out of their
winter burrows. I awoke clear-minded and good-tempered.

But the next night I dreamed again so vividly. I
awoke knowing that when I blocked from Verity and hence myself my
dreams of Molly, I left myself wide to the wolf's night thoughts.
Here was a whole realm where not Verity nor any Skilled one could
follow me. It was a world bereft of court intrigues or plotting, of
worries and plans. My wolf lived in the present. I found his mind
clean of the cluttering detail of memories. From day to day, he
carried only that necessary to his survival. He did not remember
how many shrews he had killed two nights ago, but only larger
things, such as which game trails yielded the most rabbits to chase
or where the spring ran swift enough that it never iced
over.

This, then, was when and how I first showed him
how to hunt. We did not do so well at first. I still arose very
early each morning to take him food as needed. I told myself that
it was but a small corner of my life that I kept for myself. It was
as the wolf had said, not a thing I did, but something I was.
Besides, I promised myself, I would not let this joining become a
full bond. Soon, very soon, he would be able to hunt for himself,
and I would send him away to be free. Sometimes I told myself that
I only permitted him into my dreams that I might teach him to hunt,
the sooner to set him free. I refused to consider what Burrich
would think of such a thing.

I returned from one of my early-morning
expeditions to find two soldiers sparring with one another in the
kitchen yard. They had staves and were good-naturedly insulting one
another as they huffed and shifted and traded whacks in the cold
clear air. The man I did not know at all, and for a moment I
thought both were strangers. Then the woman of the pair caught
sight of me. Ho! FitzChivalry. A word with you! she called, but
without retiring her stave.

I stared at her, trying to place her. Her
opponent missed a parry and she clipped him sharply with her stave.
As he hopped she danced back and laughed aloud, an unmistakable
high-pitched whinny. Whistle? I asked incredulously.

The woman I had just addressed flashed her
famous gaptoothed smile, caught her partner's stave a ringing blow,
and danced back again. Yes? she asked breathlessly. Her sparring
partner, seeing her occupied, courteously lowered his stave.
Whistle immediately darted hers at him. With so much skill he
almost looked lazy, his stave leaped up to counter hers. Again she
laughed and held up her hand to ask a truce.

Yes, she repeated, this time turning to me. I've
come ... that is, I've been chosen to come and ask a favor of
you.

I gestured at the clothes she wore. I don't
understand. You've left Verity's guard?

She gave a tiny shrug, but I could see the
question delighted her. But not to go far. Queen's guard. Vixen
badge. See? She tugged the front of the short white jacket she wore
to hold the fabric taut. Good sensible woolen homespun, I saw, and
saw, too, the embroidered snarling white fox on a purple
background. The purple matched the purple of her heavy woolen
trousers. The loose pants cuff had been tucked into knee boots. Her
partner's garb matched hers. Queen's guard. In light of
Kettricken's adventure, the uniform made sense.

Verity decided she needed a guard of her own? I
asked delightedly.

The smile faded a bit from Whistle's face. Not
exactly, she hedged, and then straightened as if reporting to me.
We decided she needed a Queen's guard. Me and some of the others
that rode with her the other day. We got to talking about ...
everything, later. About how she handled herself out there. And
back here. And how she came here, all alone. We talked about it
then, that someone should get permission to form up a guard for
her. But none of us really knew how to approach it. We knew it was
needed, but no one else seemed to be paying much attention ... but
then last week, at the gate, I heard you got pretty hot about how
she'd gone out, on foot and alone, and no one at her back. Well,
you did! I was in the other room, and I heard!

I bit back my protest, nodded curtly, and
Whistle went on: So. Well, we just did. Those of us who felt we
wanted to wear the purple and white just said so. It was a pretty
even split. It was time to take in some new blood anyway; most of
Verity's guard was getting a bit long in the tooth. And soft, from
too much time in the Keep. So we re-formed, giving rank to some who
should have made it long ago, if there'd been any openings to fill,
and taking in some recruits to fill in where needed. It all worked
out perfectly. These newcomers will give us something to hone our
skills on while we teach them. The Queen will have her own guard,
when she wants one. Or needs one.

I see. I was beginning to get an uneasy feeling.
And what was the favor you wanted of me?

Explain it to Verity. Tell the Queen she has a
guard. She said the words simply and quietly.

This walks close to disloyalty, I said just as
simply. Soldiers of Verity's own guard, setting aside his colors to
take on his queen's ...

Some might see it that way. Some might speak it
that way. Her eyes met mine squarely, and the smile was gone from
her face. But you know it is not. It's a needed thing. Your ...
Chivalry would have seen it, would have had a guard for her before
she even arrived here. But King-in-Waiting Verity ... well, this is
no disloyalty to him. We've served him well, because we love him.
Still do. This is those who've always watched his back, falling
back and re-forming to watch his back even better. That's all. He's
got a good Queen, is what we think. We don't want to see him lose
her. That was all. We don't think any the less of our
King-in-waiting. You know that.

I did. But still. I looked away from her plea,
shook my head, and tried to think. Why me? a part of me demanded
angrily. Then I knew, that in the moment I'd lost my temper and
berated the guard for not protecting their queen, I'd volunteered
for this. Burrich had warned me about not remembering my place. I
will speak to King-in-Waiting Verity. And to the Queen, if he
approves this.

Whistle flashed her smile again. We knew you'd
do it for us. Thanks, Fitz.

As quickly she was spinning away from me, stave
at the ready as she danced threateningly toward her partner, who
gave ground grudgingly. With a sigh, I turned away from the
courtyard. I had thought Molly would be fetching water at this
time. I'd hoped for a glimpse of her. But she was not, and I left
feeling disappointed. I knew I should not play at such games, but
some days I could not resist the temptation. I left the
courtyard.

The last few days had become a special sort of
self-torture for me. I refused to allow myself to see Molly again,
but could not resist shadowing her. So I was in the kitchen but a
moment after she had left, fancying I could still catch the trace
of her perfume in the air. Or I stationed myself in the Great Hall
of an evening, and tried to be where I could watch her without
being noticed. No matter what amusement was offered, minstrel or
poet or puppeteer, or just folk talking and working on their
handicrafts, my eyes would be drawn always to wherever Molly might
be. She looked so sober and demure in her dark blue skirts and
blouse, and she had never a glance for me. Always she spoke with
the other Keep women, or on the rare evenings when Patience chose
to descend, she sat beside her and attended to her with a focus of
attention that denied I even existed. Sometimes I thought my brief
encounter with her had been a dream. But at night I could go back
to my room and take out the shirt I had hidden in the bottom of my
clothes chest, and if I held it close to my face, I fancied I could
still smell the faint trace of her perfume upon it. And so I
endured.

A number of days had passed since we had burned
the Forged ones on their funeral pyre. In addition to the formation
of the Queen's guard, other changes were afoot within and without
the Keep. Two other master boat builders, unsummoned, had come to
volunteer their skills for the building of the ships. Verity had
been delighted. But even more so had Queen Kettricken been
approved, for it was to her that they presented themselves, saying
that they desired to be of service. Their apprentices came with
them, to swell the ranks of those working in the shipyards. Now the
lamps burned both before dawn and after the sun's setting, and work
proceeded at a breakneck pace. So Verity was away all the more, and
Kettricken, when I called on her, was more subdued than ever. I
tempted her with books or outings to no avail. She spent most of
her time sitting near idly at her loom, growing more pale and
listless with every passing day. Her dark mood infected those
ladies who attended her, so that to visit her room was as cheery as
keeping a deathwatch.