Assassin's Quest (UK)

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Assassin's Quest (UK) Page 26

by Robin Hobb


  ‘FitzChiv­alry,’ I said quietly, meet­ing his eyes, mak­ing sure he knew. ‘FitzChiv­alry.’ For the second time that night, I cut a throat. It scarcely needed do­ing. I wiped my knife on his sleeve as he died. As I stood, I felt two things. Dis­ap­point­ment that he had died so swiftly. And a sen­sa­tion as if a harp string had been plucked, let­ting out a sound I felt rather than heard.

  In the next in­stant, I felt a wave of Skill in­und­ate me. It was laden with ter­ror, but this time I re­cog­nized it for what it was and knew its source. I stood firm be­fore it, my de­fences strong. I al­most felt it part and go around me. Yet I sensed that even that act was read by someone, some­where. I did not won­der who. Will felt the shape of my res­ist­ance. I felt the echo of his surge of tri­umph. For a mo­ment it froze me with panic. Then I was mov­ing, sheath­ing my knife, rising to slip out the door and into the still-empty hall­way. I had but a short time to find a new hid­ing place. Will had been rid­ing with the guards­man’s mind, had seen that cham­ber and me just as clearly as the dy­ing man had. Like the sound­ing of horns, I could sense him Skilling out, set­ting the guards in mo­tion as if he were set­ting dogs to a fox’s trail.

  As I fled, a part of me knew with un­deni­able cer­tainty that I was dead. I might be able to hide my­self for a time, but Will knew I was within the man­sion. All he had to do was block off every exit and be­gin a sys­tem­atic search. I raced down a hall, turned a corner and went up a stair­case there. I held my Skill walls firm and clutched my tiny plan to my­self as if it were a pre­cious gem. I would find Regal’s cham­bers and poison everything there. Then I would go seek­ing Regal him­self. If the guards dis­covered me first, well, I’d lead them a merry chase. They couldn’t kill me. Not with all the poison I was car­ry­ing. I’d take my own life first. It wasn’t much of a plan, but the only al­tern­at­ive was sur­ren­der­ing.

  So I raced on, past more doors, more statu­ary and flowers, more hangings. Every door I tried was locked. I turned an­other corner and was sud­denly back at the top of the stair­case. I felt a mo­ment of dizzy dis­or­i­ent­a­tion. I at­temp­ted to brush it off but panic rose like a black tide in­side my mind. It ap­peared to be the same stair­case. I knew I had not turned enough corners to have come back to it. I hur­ried past the stair­case, past the doors again, hear­ing the shouts of guards­men be­low me as know­ledge grew and squirmed queas­ily in­side me.

  Will leaned on my mind.

  Dizzi­ness and pres­sure in­side my eyes. Grimly I set my men­tal walls yet again. I turned my head quickly and my vis­ion doubled for a mo­ment. Smoke, I wondered? I had no head for any of the fume in­tox­ic­ants that Regal fa­voured. Yet this felt like more to me than the gid­di­ness of Smoke or the mel­low­ness of merry­bud.

  The Skill is a power­ful tool in the hand of a mas­ter. I had been with Ver­ity when he had used it against the Red Ships, to so muddle a helms­man that he turned his own ships onto the rocks, to con­vince a nav­ig­ator that he had not yet passed a point of land when it was far be­hind him, to raise fears and doubts in a cap­tain’s heart be­fore he went into battle, or to bol­ster the cour­age of a ship’s crew so that they fool­hardily set sail into the very teeth of a storm.

  How long had Will been work­ing on me? Had he lured me here, for this en­counter, by subtly con­vin­cing me that he would never ex­pect me to come?

  I forced my­self to halt at the next door. I held my­self firm, fo­cused my­self on the latch of the door as I worked it. It was not locked. I slipped into it, clos­ing the door be­hind me. Blue fab­ric was set out on a table be­fore me, ready for sew­ing. I’d been in this room be­fore. I knew a mo­ment of re­lief, then checked it. No. This room had been on the ground floor. I was up­stairs. Wasn’t I? I crossed quickly to the win­dow, stood to one side of it as I peered out. Far be­low me were the torch­lit grounds of the King’s Gar­dens. I could see the white of the great drive gleam­ing in the night. Car­riages were com­ing up it and liv­er­ied ser­vants dar­ted here and there, open­ing doors. Ladies and gen­tle­men in ex­tra­vag­ant red even­ing clothes were leav­ing in droves. I gathered that Verde’s end had rather spoiled Regal’s ball. There were liv­er­ied guards on the doors, reg­u­lat­ing who might leave and who must wait. All this I took in at a glance, and real­ized also that I was up a lot higher than I had thought.

  Yet I had been sure that this table and the blue gar­ments wait­ing to be sewn had been down in the ser­vants’ wing of the ground floor.

  Well, it was not all that un­likely that Regal would be hav­ing two dif­fer­ent sets of blue clothes sewn. No time to puzzle about it; I had to find his bed­cham­ber. I felt a strange ela­tion as I slipped out of the room and fled once more down the hall­way, a thrill not un­like that of a good hunt. Let them catch me if they could.

  I came sud­denly to a T in the cor­ridor and stood a mo­ment, puzzled. It did not seem to fit in with what I had seen of the build­ing from out­side. I glanced left, then right. Right was no­tice­ably grander, and the tall double doors at the end of the hall were em­blaz­oned with the golden oak of Far­row. As if to put spurs to me, I heard a mut­ter of angry voices from a room some­where off to my left. I went right, draw­ing my knife as I ran. When I came to the great double doors, I put my hand to the latch quietly, ex­pect­ing to find it locked tight. In­stead the door gave eas­ily and swung for­ward si­lently. It was al­most too easy. I set those ap­pre­hen­sions aside and slipped in, knife drawn.

  The room be­fore me was dark, save for two candles burn­ing in sil­ver hold­ers on the man­tel­piece. I slipped in­side what was ob­vi­ously Regal’s sit­ting room. A second door stood ajar, re­veal­ing the corner of a mag­ni­fi­cently-cur­tained bed and bey­ond it a hearth with a rack of fire­wood laid ready in it. I pulled the door gently closed be­hind me and ad­vanced into the room. On a low table a carafe of wine and two glasses awaited Regal’s re­turn, as did a plat­ter of sweets. The censer be­side it was heaped with powdered Smoke wait­ing to be ig­nited on his re­turn. It was an as­sas­sin’s fantasy. I could scarcely de­cide where to be­gin.

  ‘That, you see, is how it is done.’

  I spun about, then ex­per­i­en­ced a dis­tor­tion of my senses that diz­zied me. I stood in the middle of a well-lit but rather bare room. Will sat, neg­li­gently re­laxed, in a cush­ioned chair. A glass of white wine waited on a table be­side him. Car­rod and Burl flanked him, wear­ing ex­pres­sions of ir­rit­a­tion and dis­com­fit­ure. Des­pite my long­ing, I dared not take my eyes off them.

  ‘Go ahead, Bas­tard, look be­hind you. I shan’t at­tack you. It would be a shame to spring such a trap as this on one such as you, and have you die be­fore you ap­pre­ci­ated the full­ness of your fail­ure. Go on. Look be­hind you.’

  I turned my whole body slowly, to al­low me to glance back with a mere shift­ing of my eyes. Gone, it was all gone. No royal sit­ting room, no cur­tained bed or carafe of wine, noth­ing. A plain, simple room, prob­ably for sev­eral lady’s maids to share. Six liv­er­ied guards stood si­lent but at­tent­ive. All had drawn swords.

  ‘My com­pan­ions seem to feel that a drench­ing of fear will fer­ret out any man. But they, of course, have not ex­per­i­en­ced your strength of will as com­pletely as I have. I do hope you ap­pre­ci­ate the fin­esse I used, in simply as­sur­ing you that you were see­ing ex­actly what you most wished to see.’ He gave a glance each to Car­rod and Burl. ‘He has walls the like of which you have never ex­per­i­en­ced. But a wall that will not yield to a bat­ter­ing ram can still be breached by the gentle twin­ing of ivy.’ He swung his at­ten­tion back to me. ‘You would have been a worthy op­pon­ent, save that in your con­ceit you al­ways un­der­es­tim­ated me.’

  I still had not said a word. I stared at them all, let­ting the hatred that filled me strengthen my Skill walls. All three had changed since I had last seen them. Burl, once a w
ell-muscled car­penter, showed the ef­fects of a good ap­pet­ite and lack of ex­er­cise. Car­rod’s at­tire out­shone the man within it. Rib­bons and charms fes­tooned his gar­ments like blos­soms on a spring-time apple tree. But Will, seated between them in his chair, showed the greatest change of all. He was dressed en­tirely in dark blue in gar­ments whose pre­cise tail­or­ing made them seem richer than Car­rod’s cos­tume. A single chain of sil­ver, a sil­ver ring on his hand, sil­ver ear­rings; these were his only or­na­ments. Of his dark eyes, once so ter­ri­fy­ingly pier­cing, only one re­mained. The other was sunken deep in its socket, show­ing cloudy in the depths like a dead fish in a dirty pool. He smiled at me as he saw me look­ing at it. He ges­tured at his eye.

  ‘A memento of our last en­counter. Whatever it was that you threw into my face.’

  ‘A pity,’ I said, quite sin­cerely. ‘I had meant those pois­ons to kill Regal, not half-blind you.’

  Will sighed lack­a­dais­ic­ally. ‘An­other ad­mis­sion of treason. As if we needed one. Ah, well. We shall be more thor­ough this time. First, of course, we will spend a bit of time fer­ret­ing out just how you es­caped death. A bit of time for that, and how­ever much longer King Regal finds you amus­ing. He will have no need for either haste or dis­cre­tion this time.’ He gave a minus­cule nod to the guards be­hind me.

  I smiled at him as I set the poisoned blade of my own knife to my left arm. I clenched my teeth against the pain as I dragged it down the length of my arm, not deeply, but enough to open my skin and let the poison from the blade into my blood. Will leapt to his feet in shock, while Car­rod and Burl looked hor­ri­fied and dis­gus­ted. I passed my knife to my left hand, drew my sword with my right.

  ‘I’m dy­ing now,’ I told them, smil­ing. ‘Prob­ably very soon. I’ve no time to waste, and noth­ing to lose.’

  But he had been cor­rect. I had al­ways un­der­es­tim­ated him. Some­how I found my­self fa­cing, not the co­terie mem­bers, but six guards with drawn blades. Killing my­self was one thing. Be­ing hacked to death while those I de­sired ven­geance on watched was an­other. I spun about, and felt a wave of dizzi­ness as I did so, as if the room moved rather than I my­self. I lif­ted my eyes to find the swords­men still con­front­ing me. I turned again and again ex­per­i­en­ced a sen­sa­tion of swinging. The thin line of blood along my arm had be­gun to burn. My chance to do any­thing about Will and Burl and Car­rod was leak­ing away as the poison seeped through my blood.

  The guards were ad­van­cing on me, un­hur­riedly, fan­ning out in a half circle and driv­ing me be­fore them as if I were an er­rant sheep. I backed up, glanced once over my shoulder and caught the most fleet­ing glimpse of the co­terie mem­bers. Will stood, a step or so in front of the oth­ers, an an­noyed look on his face. I had come here in the hope of killing Regal. I had barely suc­ceeded in an­noy­ing his hench­man with my sui­cide.

  Sui­cide? Some­where deep within me, Ver­ity was hor­ror­struck.

  Bet­ter than tor­ture. Less than a whis­per of Skill on that thought, but I swear I felt Will go grop­ing after it.

  Boy, stop this in­san­ity. Get out of there. Come to me.

  I can­not. It’s too late. There’s no es­cape. Let go of me, you only re­veal your­self to them.

  Re­veal my­self? Ver­ity’s Skill boomed sud­denly in my mind, like thun­der on a sum­mer night, like storm waves shak­ing a shale cliff. I had seen him do this be­fore. Angered, he would ex­pend all of his Skill-strength in one ef­fort, with no thought to what might be­fall him af­ter­wards. I felt Will hes­it­ate, then plunge into that Skilling, reach­ing after Ver­ity and try­ing to leech onto him.

  Study this rev­el­a­tion, you nest of ad­ders! My king let forth his wrath.

  Ver­ity’s Skilling was a blast, of a strength I had never en­countered any­where. It was not dir­ec­ted at me, but still I went to my knees. I heard Car­rod and Burl cry out, gut­tural cries of ter­ror. For a mo­ment my head and per­cep­tions cleared, and I saw the room as it had al­ways been, with the guards­men ar­rayed between me and the co­terie. Will was stretched sense­less on the floor. Per­haps I alone felt the great surge of strength it cost Ver­ity to save me. The guards were stag­ger­ing, wilt­ing like candles in the sun. I spun, saw the door at my back as it opened to ad­mit more guards. Three strides would carry me to the win­dow.

  COME TO ME!

  There was no choice left for me in that com­mand. It was im­preg­nated with the Skill it rode on, and it burned into my brain, be­com­ing one with my breath­ing and the beat­ing of my heart. I had to go to Ver­ity. It was a cry both of com­mand, and now, of need. My king had sac­ri­ficed his re­serves to save me.

  There were heavy cur­tains over the win­dow, and thick whorled glass be­hind them. Neither stopped me as I launched my­self out into the air bey­ond, hop­ing there would at least be bushes be­low me to break some of my fall. In­stead I slammed to the earth amid the shards of glass a frac­tion of a mo­ment later. I had leaped, ex­pect­ing to fall at least one storey, from a ground-floor win­dow. For a split second I ap­pre­ci­ated the com­plete­ness of how Will had de­ceived me. Then I staggered to my feet, still clutch­ing my knife and my sword, and ran.

  The grounds were not well lit out­side the ser­vants’ wing. I blessed the dark­ness and fled. Be­hind me I heard cries, and then Burl shout­ing or­ders. They’d be on my trail in mo­ments. I’d not es­cape here on foot. I veered off to the more solid dark­ness of the stables.

  The de­par­ture of the ball’s guests had stirred the stable to activ­ity. Most of the hands on duty were prob­ably around in front of the man­sion, hold­ing horses. The doors of the stable were opened wide to the soft night air, and lan­terns were lit within it. I charged in, very nearly bowl­ing over a stable-hand. She could not have been more than ten, a skinny, freckled girl, and she staggered back, then shrieked at the sight of my drawn weapons.

  ‘I’m just tak­ing a horse,’ I told her re­as­sur­ingly. ‘I won’t hurt you.’ She was back­ing away as I sheathed my sword and then my knife. She spun sud­denly. ‘Hands! Hands!’ She raced off shriek­ing his name. I had no time to give any thought to it. Three stalls down from me, I saw Regal’s own black re­gard­ing me curi­ously over his manger. I ap­proached him calmly, reached to rub his nose and re­call my­self to him. Per­haps it had been eight months since he’d smelled me, but I’d known him since he was foaled. He nibbled at my col­lar, his whiskers tick­ling my neck. ‘Come on, Ar­row. We’re go­ing for some night ex­er­cise. Just like old times, huh, fel­low?’ I eased his stall open, took his hal­ter and walked him out. I didn’t know where the girl had gone, but I could no longer hear her.

  Ar­row was tall, and not ac­cus­tomed to be­ing rid­den bare­back. He crow-hopped a bit as I scrabbled up onto his sleek back. Even in the midst of all the danger, I felt a keen pleas­ure at be­ing on horse­back again. I gripped his mane, kneed him for­ward. He took three steps, then hal­ted at the man block­ing his way. I looked down at Hands’ in­cred­u­lous face. I had to grin at his shocked ex­pres­sion.

  ‘Just me, Hands. Got to bor­row a horse, or they’ll kill me. Again.’

  I think per­haps I ex­pec­ted him to laugh and wave me through. In­stead he just stared up at me, go­ing whiter and whiter un­til I thought he’d faint.

  ‘It’s me, Fitz. I’m not dead! Let me out, Hands!’

  He stepped back. ‘Sweet Eda!’ he ex­claimed, and I thought surely he would throw back his head and laugh. In­stead, he hissed, ‘Beast ma­gic!’ Then he spun and fled off into the night, bawl­ing, ‘Guards! Guards!’

  I lost per­haps two seconds gawk­ing after him. I felt a wrench in­side me such as I had not felt since Molly had left me. The years of friend­ship, the long day-in, day-out routine of stable-work to­gether, all washed away in a mo­ment of his su­per­sti­tious ter­ror. It was un­fair, but I felt sickened by his be
­trayal. Cold­ness welled up in me, but I set heels to Ar­row and plunged out into dark­ness.

  He trus­ted me, did that good horse so well trained by Burrich. I took him away from the torch­lit car­riage path and the cleared walk­ways, flee­ing through flower­beds and plant­ings, be­fore ra­cing out past a huddle of guards at one of the trade­folks’ gates. They had been watch­ing up the path, but Ar­row and I came thun­der­ing across the turf and were out the gate be­fore they knew what we were about. They’d wear stripes for that to­mor­row, if I knew Regal at all.

  Bey­ond the gate, we once more cut across the gar­dens. Be­hind us, I could hear shouts of pur­suit. Ar­row answered my knees and weight very well for a horse that was used to a rein. I con­vinced him to push through a hedge and out onto a side road. We left the King’s Garden be­hind us, and kept our gal­lop up through the bet­ter sec­tion of town over cobbled streets where torches still burned. But soon we left the fine houses be­hind as well. We thundered along past inns still lit for trav­el­lers, past shops dark and shuttered for the night, Ar­row’s hooves thud­ding on the clay roads. As late as it was, there was little move­ment on the streets. We raced through them as un­checked as the wind.

  I let him slow as we reached the com­moner sec­tion of town. Here street torches were more widely spaced and some had already burned out for the night. Still, Ar­row sensed my ur­gency and kept up a re­spect­able pace. Once I heard an­other horse, rid­den hard, and for a mo­ment I thought the pur­suit had found us. Then a mes­sen­ger passed us by, head­ing in the op­pos­ite dir­ec­tion, without even check­ing his horse’s pace. I rode on and on, al­ways fear­ing to hear horses be­hind us, wait­ing for the sounds of horns.

  Just when I began to think we had eluded pur­suit, I dis­covered that Trade­ford held one more hor­ror for me. I entered what had once been the Great Circle Mar­ket of Trade­ford. In the earli­est days of the city, it had been the heart of it, a won­der­ful great open mar­ket where a man might stroll and find goods from every corner of the known world on dis­play.

 

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