Assassin's Quest (UK)

by Robin Hobb

  He gave me a nod, be­fore he turned and walked to­ward the dragon. Then he hal­ted sud­denly. As he turned back, he was un­buck­ling his battered sword belt. He came to­ward me, wrap­ping the belt loosely about the sheath as he came. ‘Take my sword,’ he said ab­ruptly. ‘I won’t need it. And you seem to have lost the last one I gave you.’ He hal­ted sud­denly in mid-stride, as if re­con­sid­er­ing. He hast­ily drew the sword from the sheath. One last time he ran a sil­ver hand down the blade, leav­ing it gleam­ing be­hind his touch. His voice was gruff as he said, ‘It would be a poor cour­tesy to Hod’s skill to pass this on with a blun­ted blade. Take bet­ter care of it than I did, Fitz.’ He resheathed it and handed it to me. His eyes met mine as I took it. ‘And bet­ter care of your­self than I did. I did love you, you know,’ he said brusquely. ‘Des­pite all I’ve done to you, I loved you.’

  At first I could think of no an­swer to that. Then, as he reached his dragon and placed his hands on its brow, I told him, I never doubted it. Never doubt I loved you.

  I don’t think I shall ever for­get that fi­nal smile over his shoulder. His eyes went a last time to his queen. He pressed his hands firmly to the dragon’s chis­elled head. He watched her as he went. For an in­stant, I could smell Kettricken’s skin, re­call the taste of her mouth on mine, the smooth warmth of her bare shoulders gripped in my hands. Then the faint memory was gone and Ver­ity was gone and Kettle was gone. To my Wit and my Skill they dis­ap­peared as com­pletely as if they had been Forged. For an un­nerv­ing in­stant, I saw Ver­ity’s empty body. Then he flowed into the dragon. Kettle had been lean­ing on the statue’s shoulder. She was gone faster than Ver­ity, spread­ing out across the scales as tur­quoise and sil­ver. Col­our flooded the creature and suf­fused him. No one breathed, save that Nighteyes keened softly. A great still­ness held un­der the sum­mer sun. I heard Kettricken give a single, choked sob.

  Then, like a sud­den wind, the great scaled body drew air into its lungs. His eyes, when he opened them, were black and shin­ing, the eyes of a Farseer, and I knew Ver­ity looked out of them. He lif­ted his great head upon his sinu­ous neck. He stretched like a cat, bow­ing and rolling rep­tilian shoulders and spread­ing claws. As he drew his clawed feet back, his talons scored the black stone deeply. Sud­denly, like a sail catch­ing the wind, his im­mense wings un­furled. He rattled them, a hawk set­tling his plumage, and re­fol­ded them sleek to his body. His tail gave a single lash, stir­ring rock dust and grit into the air. The great head turned, his eyes de­mand­ing we be as pleased with this new self as he was.

  Ver­ity-as-Dragon strode for­ward to present him­self to his queen. The head he bent to her dwarfed her. I saw her whole re­flec­tion in one gleam­ing black eye. Then he dipped a shoulder to her, bid­ding her mount.

  For one in­stant, grief con­trolled her face. Then Kettricken drew a breath and be­came Queen. Fear­lessly she strode for­ward. She placed her hand on Ver­ity’s shin­ing blue shoulder. His scales were slick and she slipped a trifle as she clambered to his back and then crawled for­ward to where she could straddle his neck. Starling gave me a look, of ter­ror and amazement, and fol­lowed the Queen more slowly. I saw her take her place be­hind Kettricken, and check once more that her harp-pack was se­cured to her back.

  Kettricken lif­ted an arm in farewell to us. She shouted some­thing, but the words were lost to me in the wind of the dragon’s open­ing wings. Once, twice, thrice he flapped them, as if get­ting the feel of them. Rock dust and grit flew sting­ingly against my face and Nighteyes pressed close against my leg. The dragon crouched as he gathered his great legs un­der him. The wide tur­quoise wings beat again and he sprang up sud­denly. It was not a grace­ful launch, and he wobbled a bit as he took flight. I saw Starling clutch des­per­ately at Kettricken, but Kettricken leaned for­ward against his neck, shout­ing her en­cour­age­ment. In four beats, his wings car­ried him half the length of the quarry. He lif­ted, circ­ling over the hills and trees that sur­roun­ded the quarry. I saw him dip his wings and turn to in­spect the Skill road that led to the quarry. Then his wings began to beat stead­ily, car­ry­ing him higher and higher. His belly was a blu­ish white, like a liz­ard’s. I squin­ted to see him against the sum­mer sky. Then, like a blue and sil­ver ar­row, he was gone, speed­ing to­ward Buck. Long after he was gone from sight, I stared after him.

  I let out my breath fi­nally. I was trem­bling. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and turned to­ward the Fool. Who was gone.

  ‘Nighteyes! Where is the Fool?’

  We both know where he is gone. There is no need to shout.

  I knew he was right. Yet I could not deny the ur­gency I felt. I ran down the ramp of stone, leav­ing the empty dais be­hind me. ‘Fool?’ I cried as I reached the tent. I even paused to look in­side, hop­ing that he might be pack­ing up what we’d need to take with us. I don’t know why I in­dulged such a fool­ish hope.

  Nighteyes had not waited. When I reached Girl on a Dragon, he was already there. He was sit­ting pa­tiently, tail neatly coiled about his feet, look­ing up at the Fool. I slowed when I saw him. My pre­mon­i­tion of danger faded. He was sit­ting on the edge of the dais, feet dangling, head leaned back against the dragon’s leg. The sur­face of the dais was littered with fresh chips from this day’s ef­forts. I walked to­ward him. His eyes were lif­ted to the sky and the ex­pres­sion on his face was wist­ful. Con­tras­ted against the dragon’s rich green hide, the Fool was white no longer, but the palest of golds. There was even a tawny edge to his silky fine hair. The eyes he turned to me were pale to­paz. He very slowly shook his head at me, but he did not speak un­til I leaned against her ped­es­tal.

  ‘I had been hop­ing. I could not help hop­ing. But I have seen today what must be put into a dragon so it can fly.’ He shook his head more force­fully. ‘And even if I had the Skill to give it, I do not have it to give. Even were she to con­sume all of me, it would not be enough.’

  I did not say that I knew that. I did not even say that I had sus­pec­ted it all along. I had fi­nally learned some­thing from Starling Bird­song. I let him have a si­lence for a time. Then I said, ‘Nighteyes and I are go­ing to go get two jep­pas. When I come back, we had bet­ter pack swiftly and be gone. I did not see Ver­ity give chase to any­thing. Per­haps that means Regal’s troops are still far away. But I don’t want to take any chances.’

  He drew a deep breath. ‘That is wise. It is time for this Fool to be wise. When you come back, I shall help you pack.’

  I real­ized then I was still grip­ping Ver­ity’s sword in its sheath. I took off the plain short sword and re­placed it with the blade Hod had made for Ver­ity. It weighed strangely against me. I offered the short sword to the Fool. ‘Want this?’

  He glanced at me, a puzzled look. ‘What for? I’m a Fool, not a killer. I’ve never even learned to use one.’

  I left him there, to say his farewells. As we wen­ded our way out of the quarry and to­ward the woods where we had been pas­tur­ing the jep­pas, the wolf lif­ted his nose and snuffed.

  Noth­ing left of Car­rod but a bad smell, he noted as we passed the vi­cin­ity of the body.

  ‘I sup­pose I should have bur­ied him,’ I said as much to my­self as him.

  No sense in bury­ing meat that is already rot­ten, he noted with puz­zle­ment.

  I passed the black pil­lar, but not without a small shud­der. I found our stray­ing jep­pas on a hill­side meadow. They were more re­luct­ant to be caught than I had ex­pec­ted. Nighteyes en­joyed round­ing them up con­sid­er­ably more than they or I did. I chose the lead jeppa and one other, but as I led them away, the oth­ers de­cided to trail along after us as well. I should have ex­pec­ted it. I had rather hoped the rest would stay and go wild. I did not rel­ish the idea of six jep­pas at my heels all the way back to Jhaampe. A new thought came to me as I led them past the pil­lar and into the quarry.

  I did not have to re­turn
to Jhaampe.

  The hunt­ing here is as good as any we’ve found.

  We’ve the Fool to think of, as well as ourselves.

  I would not let him go hungry!

  And when winter comes?

  When winter comes, then … He is at­tacked!

  Nighteyes did not wait for me. He streaked past me, grey and low, claws scratch­ing against the black stone of the quarry floor as he ran. I let go of my jep­pas and ran after him. The wolf’s nose told me of hu­man scent in the air. An in­stant later, he had iden­ti­fied Burl, even as he hurtled to­ward them.

  The Fool had not left Girl on a Dragon. That was where Burl had found him. He must have come quietly, for the Fool was never easy to take un­awares. Per­haps his ob­ses­sion had be­trayed him. Whatever the case, Burl had got the first cut in. Blood ran down the Fool’s arm and dripped from his fin­ger­tips. He had left smears of it all up the dragon as he climbed her. Now he clung, feet braced against the girl’s shoulders and one hand grip­ping the dragon’s gap­ing lower jaw. In his free hand he gripped his knife. He stared down at Burl bale­fully, wait­ing. Skill boiled from Burl, angry and frus­trated.

  Burl had climbed up onto the dais and was seek­ing to clam­ber up the dragon it­self now as he strove to reach up and im­pose a Skill-touch on the Fool. The smoothly-scaled hide was de­fy­ing him. Only one as agile as the Fool could have shin­nied up to the perch where he clung just out of Burl’s reach. Burl drew his sword in frus­tra­tion and swung it at the Fool’s braced feet. Its tip missed, but not by much, and its blade rang against the girl’s back. The Fool cried out as loudly as if the blade had bit truly, and sought to scrabble higher. I saw his hand slip where his own blood had greased the dragon’s hide. Then he was slid­ing down, scrab­bling frantic­ally as he came down hard right be­hind the girl’s seat on the dragon’s back. I saw his head bounce glan­cingly against her shoulder. He looked half stunned, and clung where he was.

  Burl lif­ted his sword for a second swing, one that could eas­ily sep­ar­ate the Fool’s leg from his body. In­stead, sound­less as hate could be, the wolf surged up onto the dais and took Burl from be­hind. I was still run­ning to­ward them as I saw Nighteyes’ im­pact drive Burl for­ward to smack against Girl on a Dragon. He sank to his knees against the statue. His sword blow missed the Fool and rang again against the dragon’s gleam­ing green hide. Ripples of col­our raced away from that clash of metal against stone, like the ripples made when one tosses a pebble in a still pond.

  I reached the dais as Nighteyes dar­ted his head in. His jaws closed, grip­ping Burl from be­hind, between his shoulder and neck. Burl screamed, his voice go­ing amaz­ingly shrill. He dropped his sword and lif­ted his hands to clutch at the wolf’s raven­ing jaws. Nighteyes wor­ried him like a rab­bit. Then the wolf braced his front feet on Burl’s wide back and made more sure of his grip.

  Some things hap­pen too swiftly to tell well. I felt Will be­hind me at the same mo­ment that the wild spat­ter­ing of Burl’s blood be­came a sud­den gush­ing. Nighteyes had severed the great vein in his throat, and Burl’s life was pump­ing out in jump­ing gouts of scar­let. For you, my brother! Nighteyes told the Fool. This kill for you! Nighteyes still did not let go, but shook him again. The blood leaped like a foun­tain as Burl struggled, not know­ing he was already dead. The blood struck the dragon’s gleam­ing hide and ran down it, to puddle in the chis­elled troughs the Fool had made at­tempt­ing to free his feet and tail. And there the blood bubbled and steamed, eat­ing into the stone as scald­ing wa­ter would have eaten into a chunk of ice. The scales and claws of the dragon’s hind feet were un­veiled, the de­tail of the whip­like tail ex­posed. And as Nighteyes fi­nally flung down Burl’s life­less body, the dragon’s wings opened.

  Girl on a Dragon soared up into the sky as she had strained to do for so long. It seemed an ef­fort­less lift­ing, al­most as if she floated away. The Fool was borne away with her. I saw him lean for­ward, clutch­ing in­stinct­ively at the supple waist of the girl be­fore him. His face was turned away from me. I glimpsed the bland eyes and still mouth of the girl’s face. Per­haps her eyes saw, but she was no more sep­ar­ate from the dragon than its tail or wing; merely an­other ap­pend­age, one to which the Fool clung as they rose higher and higher.

  I saw all these things, but not be­cause I stood and stared. I saw them in glimpses, and through the wolf’s eyes. My own gaze I turned on Will as he ran up be­hind me. He car­ried a bared blade in his hand and ran eas­ily. I drew Ver­ity’s sword as I turned, and found it took longer com­ing out of its sheath than the short sword I had be­come ac­cus­tomed to.

  The strength of Will’s Skill hit me in a buf­feting wave just as the tip of Ver­ity’s blade came free of the scab­bard. I staggered back a step and threw up my walls against him. He knew me well. That first wave had been com­poun­ded not just of fear, but of spe­cific pains. They had been pre­pared es­pe­cially for me. I knew again the shock of my broken nose, I felt the burn of my split face even if it did not stream hot blood down my chest as it once had. For a frozen heart­beat, all I could do was hold my walls against that crip­pling pain. The sword I gripped seemed sud­denly made of lead. It sagged in my hand, its tip droop­ing to­ward the earth.

  Burl’s death saved me. In the mo­ment that Nighteyes flung his life­less body down, I saw that death lap against Will. His eyes sagged al­most shut with the im­pact of it. The last mem­ber of his co­terie was gone. I felt Will di­min­ish ab­ruptly, not just as Burl’s Skill no longer sup­ple­men­ted his own, but as grief washed over him. I found in my mind an im­age of Car­rod’s rot­ting body and flung that at him for good meas­ure. He staggered back.

  ‘You’ve failed, Will!’ I spat the words. ‘Ver­ity’s dragon has already risen. Even now it wings to­ward Buck. His queen rides with him, and she bears within her his heir. The right­ful king will re­claim his throne and crown, he will scourge his coasts of Red Ships and scour Regal’s troops from the Moun­tains. No mat­ter what you do here now, you are de­feated.’ A strange smile twis­ted my mouth. ‘I win.’ Snarling, Nighteyes ad­vanced to stand at my side.

  Then Will’s face changed. Regal looked at me out of his eyes. He was as un­moved by Burl’s death as he would be by Will’s. I sensed no grief, only an­ger at a lessen­ing of his power. ‘Per­haps,’ he said with Will’s voice, ‘per­haps then, all I should care for is killing you, Bas­tard. At whatever the cost.’ He smiled at me, the smile of a man who knows how the tum­bling dice will fall be­fore they land. I knew a mo­ment of un­cer­tainty and fear. I flung my walls up tighter against Will’s in­si­di­ous tac­tics.

  ‘Do you really think a one-eyed swords­man has a fight­ing chance against my blade and my wolf, Regal? Or do you plan to throw his life away as cas­u­ally as you have the rest of the co­terie?’ I flung the ques­tion in a faint hope of stir­ring dis­cord between them.

  ‘Why not?’ Regal asked me calmly with Will’s voice. ‘Or did you think I was truly as stu­pid as my brother, to be con­tent with only one co­terie?’

  A wave of Skill struck me with the force of a wall of wa­ter. I staggered back be­fore it, then re­gained my­self and charged at Will. I’d have to kill him quickly. Regal had con­trol of Will’s Skill. He little cared what it would do to Will, how it might scorch him if he killed me with a Skill-blast. I could feel him draw­ing up Skill-power into him­self. Yet even as I put all my heart into killing Will, Regal’s words ate at me. An­other co­terie?

  One-eyed or not, Will was fast. His blade was a part of him as he met my first thrust and turned it. I wished for an in­stant for the fa­mili­ar­ity of my battered short sword. Then I threw such thoughts aside as use­less and thought only of break­ing past his guard. The wolf moved swiftly past me, belly low, as he sought to close on Regal from Will’s blind side.

  ‘Three new co­ter­ies!’ Will’s voice gasped with ef­fort as he par­ried my blade again. I slipped away fr
om his thrust and tried to wrap his blade. He was too fast for that.

  ‘Young, strong Skill-users. To carve dragons of my own.’ A swip­ing slash whose breeze I felt. ‘Dragons at my beck, loyal to me. Dragons to bring down Ver­ity, in blood and scales.’ He spun and dar­ted a thrust at Nighteyes. The wolf leapt wildly away. I sprang in, but his blade was already back to meet mine. He fought with in­cred­ible speed. An­other use of the Skill? Or a Skill-il­lu­sion he forced on me?

  ‘Then they shall clear the Red Ships. For me. And open the Moun­tain passes. The Moun­tains will be mine as well. I shall be a hero. No one will op­pose me then.’ His blade struck mine hard, a jolt I felt in my shoulder. His words jol­ted me as well. They rang with truth and de­term­in­a­tion. Skill-im­bued, they poun­ded against me with the solid force of hope­less­ness. ‘I shall mas­ter the Skill road. The an­cient city will be my new cap­ital. All my Skill-users shall be drenched in the river’s ma­gic.’

  An­other swipe at Nighteyes. It shaved a wisp of hair from his shoulder. And again that open­ing passed too swiftly for my own clumsy blade. I felt I stood shoulder-deep in wa­ter and fought a man whose blade was light as a straw. ‘Stu­pid Bas­tard! Did you truly think I cared about one preg­nant whore, one dragon a-wing? The quarry it­self is the true prize, the one you have left un­guarded for me. The stuff from which a score, no, a hun­dred dragons shall rise!’

  How had we been so stu­pid? How had we not seen what Regal truly sought? We had thought with our hearts, of Six Duch­ies folk, of farm­ers and fish­er­men who needed their king’s arm to de­fend them. But Regal? He had thought only of what the Skill could win for him. I knew his next words be­fore he flung them. ‘In Bing­town and Chalced they will bend their knees to me. And in the Out Is­lands, they will cower at my name.’