Assassin's Quest (UK)

Home > Science > Assassin's Quest (UK) > Page 60
Assassin's Quest (UK) Page 60

by Robin Hobb


  ‘I doubt he ex­pec­ted you to use them on your­self,’ the Fool ob­served mildly. He pushed the knife away from the ma­ri­on­ette he was string­ing. ‘Per­haps he thought you might use them to pro­tect your­self.’

  ‘Don’t you un­der­stand?’ I de­man­ded of him. ‘These are gifts for the boy Chade taught to be an as­sas­sin. He can’t see that isn’t who I am any longer. He can’t for­give me for want­ing a life of my own.’

  ‘Any more than you can for­give him for no longer be­ing your be­ne­vol­ent and in­dul­gent tu­tor,’ the Fool ob­served drily. He was knot­ting the strings from the con­trol paddles to the ma­ri­on­ette’s limbs. ‘It’s a bit of a threat, isn’t it, to see him stride about like a war­rior, put­ting him­self joy­fully in danger for some­thing he be­lieves in, flirt­ing with wo­men, and gen­er­ally act­ing as if he’d claimed a life of his own for him­self?’

  It was like a dash of cold wa­ter in the face. Al­most, I had to ad­mit my jeal­ousy that Chade had boldly seized what still eluded me. ‘That isn’t it at all!’ I snarled at the Fool.

  The ma­ri­on­ette he was work­ing on wagged a re­buk­ing fin­ger at me while the Fool smirked at me over his head. It had an un­canny re­semb­lance to Ratsy. ‘What I see,’ he ob­served to no one in par­tic­u­lar, ‘is that it is not Ver­ity’s buck head he wears on his brow. No, the sigil he chose is more like one, oh, let me see, one that Prince Ver­ity chose for his bas­tard nephew. Do not you see a re­semb­lance?’

  I was si­lent for a time. Then, ‘What of it?’ I asked grudgingly.

  The Fool swung his ma­ri­on­ette to the floor, where the bony creature shrugged eer­ily. ‘Neither King Shrewd’s death, nor Ver­ity’s sup­posed death flushed that weasel out of hid­ing. Only when he be­lieved you murdered did an­ger flare up in him hot enough for him to fling aside all hid­ing and pre­tence and de­clare he would yet see a true Farseer on the throne.’ The ma­ri­on­ette wagged a fin­ger at me.

  ‘Are you try­ing to say he does this for me, for my sake? When the last thing I would wish is to see the throne claim my child?’

  The ma­ri­on­ette crossed its arms and wagged its head thought­fully. ‘It seems to me that Chade has al­ways done what he thought was best for you. Whether you agreed or not. Per­haps he ex­tends that to your daugh­ter. She would be, after all, his great grand-niece, and the last liv­ing rem­nant of his blood­line. Ex­clud­ing Regal and your­self, of course.’ The ma­ri­on­ette danced a few steps. ‘How else would you ex­pect a man that old to provide for a child so young? He does not ex­pect to live forever. Per­haps he thought she would be safer astride a throne than rid­den over by an­other who wished to claim it.’

  I turned away from the Fool and made some pre­tence of gath­er­ing cloth­ing to wash. It would take me a long time to think through what he had said.

  I was will­ing to ac­cept Kettricken’s choice of tents and cloth­ing for her ex­ped­i­tion, and hon­est enough to be grate­ful that she saw fit to provide for my cloth­ing and shel­ter as well. Had she ex­cluded me totally from her en­tour­age, I could not have com­pletely faul­ted her. In­stead, Jofron came one day bear­ing a stack of cloth­ing and bed­ding for me, and to meas­ure my feet for the sack­like boots the Moun­tain folk fa­voured. She proved merry com­pany, for she and the Fool ex­changed play­ful barbs all the while. His flu­ency in Chy­urda ex­ceeded my own, and at times I was hard pressed to fol­low the con­ver­sa­tion, while half of the Fool’s word-plays es­caped me. I wondered in passing ex­actly what went on between those two. When I had first ar­rived, I had thought her some sort of dis­ciple to him. Now I wondered if she had not af­fec­ted that in­terest simply as an ex­cuse to be near him. Be­fore she left, she meas­ured the Fool’s feet as well, and asked him ques­tions as to what col­ours and trims he wished worked into the boots.

  ‘New boots?’ I asked him after she had gone. ‘As little as you ven­ture out­side, I would scarcely think you need them.’

  He gave me a level look. The re­cent mer­ri­ment faded from his face. ‘You know I must go with you,’ he poin­ted out calmly. He smiled an odd smile. ‘Why else do you think we have been brought to­gether in this far place? It is by the in­ter­ac­tion of the Cata­lyst and the White Prophet that the events of this time shall be re­turned to their proper course. I be­lieve that if we suc­ceed, the Red Ships will be driven from the Six Duch­ies coast, and a Farseer will in­herit a throne.’

  ‘That would seem to fit most of the proph­ecies,’ Kettle agreed from her hearth corner. She was ty­ing off the last row of knit­ting on a thick mit­ten. ‘If the plague of the mind­less hun­ger is For­ging, and your ac­tions put a stop to that, that would fit an­other proph­ecy as well.’

  Kettle’s knack of provid­ing a proph­ecy for every oc­ca­sion was be­gin­ning to grate on me. I took a breath, and then asked the Fool, ‘And what does Queen Kettricken say about your join­ing her party?’

  ‘I haven’t dis­cussed it with her,’ he replied blithely. ‘I am not join­ing her, Fitz. I am fol­low­ing you.’ A sort of be­muse­ment came over his face. ‘I have known since I was a child that to­gether we should do this task. It had not oc­curred to me to ques­tion that I would go with you. I have been mak­ing pre­par­a­tions since the day you ar­rived here.’

  ‘As have I,’ Kettle ob­served quietly.

  We both turned to stare at her. She feigned not to no­tice as she tried on the mit­ten and ad­mired its fit.

  ‘No.’ I spoke bluntly. Bad enough to look for­ward to dy­ing pack an­im­als. I was not go­ing to wit­ness the death of an­other friend. It was too ob­vi­ous to voice that she was hope­lessly too old for such a trek.

  ‘I thought you might stay here, in my home,’ the Fool offered more gently. ‘There is plenty of fire­wood for the rest of the winter and some sup­plies of meal and –’

  ‘I ex­pect to die on the jour­ney, if it’s any com­fort to you.’ She took off the mit­ten and set it with its mate. Cas­u­ally she in­spec­ted what was left of her skein of wool. She began to cast on stitches, the yarn flow­ing ef­fort­lessly through her fin­gers. ‘And you needn’t worry about me be­fore then. I’ve made pro­vi­sion for my­self. Done a bit of trad­ing, and I have the food and such that I’ll need.’ She glanced up at me from her needles, and ad­ded quietly, ‘I have the where­withal to see this jour­ney through to the end.’

  I had to ad­mire her calm as­sump­tion that her life was still her own, to do with as she wished. I wondered when I had be­gun to think of her as a help­less old wo­man that someone would have to look after now. She looked back down to her knit­ting. Need­lessly, for her fin­gers con­tin­ued to work whether she watched them or not. I see you un­der­stand me,’ she said quietly. And that was that.

  I have never known any ex­ped­i­tion to get off ex­actly as planned. Gen­er­ally, the lar­ger one is, the more dif­fi­culties it has. Ours was no ex­cep­tion. The morn­ing be­fore we were sched­uled to de­part, I was rudely shaken out of my sleep.

  ‘Get up, Fitz, we have to leave now,’ Kettricken said tersely.

  I sat up slowly. I was wide awake in­stantly, but my heal­ing back still did not en­cour­age me to move swiftly. The Fool was sit­ting on the edge of his bed, look­ing more anxious than I had ever seen him. ‘What is it?’ I de­man­ded.

  ‘Regal.’ I had never heard so much venom in one word. Her face was very white and she knot­ted and un­knot­ted her fists at her side. ‘He has sent a cour­ier un­der a truce flag to my father, say­ing that we har­bour a known traitor to the Six Duch­ies. He says that if we re­lease you to him, he will see it as a sign of good faith with the Six Duch­ies and will not con­sider us an en­emy. But if we do not, he will loose the troops he has poised on our bor­ders, for he will know that we plot with his en­emies against him.’ She paused. ‘My father is con­sid­er­ing what to do.’

  ‘Kettrick
en, I am but the ex­cuse,’ I pro­tested. My heart was ham­mer­ing in my chest. Nighteyes whined anxiously. ‘You must know it has taken him months to mass those troops. They are not there be­cause I am here. They are in place be­cause he plans to move against the Moun­tain King­dom no mat­ter what. You know Regal. It is all a bluff to see if he can get you to turn me over to him. Once you do, he will find some other pre­text to at­tack.’

  ‘I am not a sim­pleton,’ she said coldly. ‘Our watch­ers have known of the troops for weeks. We have been do­ing what we can to pre­pare ourselves. Al­ways our moun­tains have been our strongest de­fence. But never be­fore have we con­fron­ted an or­gan­ized foe in such num­bers. My father is Sac­ri­fice, Fitz. He must do whatever will best serve the Moun­tain King­dom. So now he must pon­der if by turn­ing you over, he will have a chance to treat with Regal. Do not think my father is stu­pid enough to trust him. But the longer he can delay an at­tack against his people, the bet­ter pre­pared they will be.’

  ‘It sounds as if there is little left to de­cide,’ I said bit­terly.

  ‘There was no reason for my father to make me privy to the cour­ier’s mes­sage,’ Kettricken ob­served. ‘The de­cision is his.’ Her eyes met mine squarely, and held a shadow of our old friend­ship. ‘I think per­haps he of­fers me a chance to spirit you away. Be­fore I would be de­fy­ing his or­ders to turn you over to Regal. Per­haps he thinks to tell Regal you have es­caped but he in­tends to track you down.’

  Be­hind Kettricken, the Fool was pulling on leg­gings un­der his night­shirt.

  ‘It will be harder than I had planned,’ Kettricken con­fided in me. ‘I can­not in­volve any other Moun­tain folk in this. It will have to be you, I and Starling. Alone. And we must leave now, within the hour.’

  ‘I’ll be ready,’ I prom­ised her.

  ‘Meet me be­hind Joss’s wood­shed,’ she said, and left.

  I looked at the Fool. ‘So. Do we tell Kettle?’

  ‘Why are you ask­ing me?’ he de­man­ded.

  I gave a small shrug. Then I got up and began dress­ing hast­ily. I thought of all the small ways in which I was not pre­pared and then gave it up as use­less. In a very short time, the Fool and I shouldered our packs. Nighteyes rose, stretched thor­oughly, and went to the door to pre­cede us. I shall miss the fire­place. But the hunt­ing will be bet­ter. He ac­cep­ted all so calmly.

  The Fool took a care­ful look around the hut, and then closed the door be­hind us. ‘That’s the first place I’ve ever lived that was solely mine,’ he ob­served as we walked away from it.

  ‘You leave so much be­hind to do this,’ I said awk­wardly, think­ing of his tools, his half-fin­ished pup­pets, even the plants grow­ing in­side by the win­dow. Des­pite my­self, I felt re­spons­ible for it. Per­haps it was be­cause I was so glad that I was not go­ing on alone.

  He glanced over at me and shrugged. ‘I take my­self with me. That’s all I truly need, or own.’ He glanced back at the door he had painted him­self. ‘Jofron will take good care of it. And of Kettle, too.’

  I wondered if he left be­hind more than I knew.

  We were nearly to the wood­shed when I saw some chil­dren ra­cing down the path to­ward us. ‘There he is!’ one cried, point­ing. I shot a startled glance at the Fool, then braced my­self, won­der­ing what was to come. How could one de­fend one­self against chil­dren? At a loss, I awaited the at­tack. But the wolf did not wait. He sank low to his belly in the snow, even his tail flat. As the chil­dren closed the dis­tance, he sud­denly shot for­ward straight at the leader. ‘NO!’ I cried aloud in hor­ror, but none of them paid me any heed. The wolf’s front paws struck the boy’s chest, to drive him down hard in the snow. In a flash Nighteyes was up and after the oth­ers, who fled, shriek­ing with laughter as one after an­other he caught up with them and mowed them down. By the time he’d felled the last one, the first boy was up and after him, vainly try­ing to keep up with the wolf and mak­ing wild grabs at his tail as Nighteyes flashed by him, tongue lolling.

  He felled them all again, twice more, be­fore he hal­ted in one of his ra­cing loops. He watched the chil­dren get­ting to their feet, then glanced over his shoulder at me. He fol­ded his ears down abashedly, then looked back to the chil­dren, his tail wag­ging low. One girl was already dig­ging a chunk of fat­bread out of her pocket while an­other teased him with a strip of leather, snak­ing it over the snow and try­ing to get him in­volved in a tug-of-war. I feigned not to no­tice.

  I’ll catch up with you later, he offered.

  No doubt, I told him drily. The Fool and I kept walk­ing. I glanced back once to see the wolf, teeth set in the leather and all four feet braced while two boys dragged at the other end of it. I sur­mised that I now knew how he had been spend­ing his af­ter­noons. I think I felt a pang of envy.

  Kettricken was already wait­ing. Six laden jep­pas were roped to­gether in a train. I wished now I had taken the time to learn more about them, but I had as­sumed the oth­ers would have the care of them. ‘We’re still tak­ing all of them?’ I asked in dis­may.

  ‘It would take too long to un­pack the loads and re­pack with only what we need. Per­haps later we’ll aban­don the ex­tra sup­plies and an­im­als. But for now, I simply wish to be gone as soon as pos­sible.’

  ‘Then let’s leave,’ I sug­ges­ted.

  Kettricken looked poin­tedly at the Fool. ‘What are you do­ing here? Wish­ing Fitz farewell?’

  ‘I go where he does,’ the Fool said quietly.

  The Queen looked at him and some­thing in her face al­most softened. ‘It will be cold, Fool. I have not for­got­ten how you suffered from the cold on the way here. Where we go, now, the cold will linger long after spring has reached Jhaampe.’

  ‘I go where he does,’ the Fool re­peated quietly.

  Kettricken shook her head to her­self. Then she shrugged. She strode to the head of the line of jep­pas and snapped her fin­gers. The lead an­imal flapped his hairy ears and fol­lowed her. The oth­ers fol­lowed him. Their obed­i­ence im­pressed me. I ques­ted briefly to­ward them and found such a strong herd in­stinct at work that they scarcely thought of them­selves as sep­ar­ate an­im­als. As long as the lead an­imal fol­lowed Kettricken, there would be no prob­lems with the oth­ers.

  Kettricken led us along a trail that was little more than a path. It wound mostly be­hind the scattered cot­tages that housed the winter res­id­ents of Jhaampe. In a very short time we left the last of the huts be­hind and trav­elled through an­cient forest. The Fool and I walked be­hind the string of an­im­als. I watched the one in front of us, mark­ing how his wide, flat feet spread on the snow much as the wolf’s did. They set a pace slightly faster than a com­fort­able walk.

  We had not gone too far be­fore I heard a shout be­hind us. I flinched and glanced hast­ily over my shoulder. It was Starling, com­ing at a run, her pack joun­cing on her shoulders. When she came up to us, she said ac­cus­ingly, ‘You left without me!’

  The Fool grinned. I shrugged. ‘I left when my queen com­man­ded it,’ I ob­served.

  She glared at us, and then hur­ried past us, flounder­ing through the loose snow be­side the trail to pass the jep­pas and catch up with Kettricken. Their voices car­ried clearly in the cold air. ‘I told you I was leav­ing right away,’ the Queen said tersely. ‘Then I did.’

  To my amazement, Starling had the sense to be quiet. For a brief time she struggled along in the loose snow be­side Kettricken. Then she gradu­ally gave it up, let­ting first the jep­pas, and then the Fool and I pass her. She fell in be­hind me. I knew our pace would be dif­fi­cult for her to match. I felt sorry for her. Then I thought of my daugh­ter, and did not even look back to see if she were keep­ing up.

  It was the be­gin­ning of a long, un­event­ful day. The path led al­ways up­hill, never steeply, but the con­stant grade was tax­ing. Kettricken did not let up on the pace, b
ut kept us mov­ing stead­ily. None of us talked much. I was too busy breath­ing, and try­ing to ig­nore the gradu­ally in­creas­ing ache in my back. Sound flesh covered the ar­row-wound now, but the muscles un­der it still com­plained of their new heal­ing.

  Great trees towered above us. Most of the trees were ever­greens, some of kinds I had never seen be­fore. They made a per­petual twi­light of the brief winter day’s grey­ness. There was little un­der­brush to struggle with; most of the scenery was of the staggered ranks of im­mense trunks and a few low swoop­ing branches. For the most part, the live branches of the trees began far over our heads. From time to time, we passed patches of smal­ler de­cidu­ous trees that had sprung up in areas of open forest made by a great tree’s de­mise. The path was well packed, evid­ently used of­ten by an­im­als and by folk on skis. It was nar­row, and if one did not pay at­ten­tion, it was easy to step off the path and sink sur­pris­ingly deep in the un­packed snow. I tried to pay at­ten­tion.

  The day was mild, by moun­tain stand­ards, and I soon dis­covered that the cloth­ing Kettricken had pro­cured for me was very ef­fi­cient at keep­ing me warm. I loosened my coat at the throat and then the col­lar of my shirt to let body heat es­cape. The Fool threw back the fur-rimmed hood of his coat, to re­veal that he wore a gay wool­len hat within it. I watched the tas­sel on the end of it bob­bing as he walked. If the pace bothered him, he said noth­ing about it. Per­haps, like me, he had no breath left to com­plain.

 

‹ Prev