Assassin's Quest tft-3

by Robin Hobb

  "I told you. Nothing."

  "Ah. That explains why she speaks so ill of you then. But only in the last day or so, so I supposed you 'nothinged' her the night the rest of us went to town."

  "Starling," I began warningly, and she raised a placating hand.

  "I shan't say a word about whatever you didn't do to her. Not another word. That's not what I came up here to speak to you about anyway."

  She paused, and when I refused to ask the question, she did. "What do you plan to do after we get to Blue Lake?"

  I glanced at her. "Collect my pay. Have a beer and a decent meal, a hot bath and a clean bed for one night at least. Why? What do you plan?"

  "I thought I might go on to the Mountains." She gave me a sideways glance.

  "To seek your songworthy event there?" I tried to keep my question casual.

  "Songs are more likely to be found clinging to a man than bound to a place," she suggested. "I thought you might be going to the Mountains as well. We could travel together."

  "You've still that idiotic notion that I'm the Bastard," I accused her flatly.

  She grinned. "The Bastard. The Witted one. Yes."

  "You're wrong," I said flatly. "And even if you were right, why follow him to the Mountains? I'd take the chance for a bigger profit, and sell him to the King's Guard. With a hundred gold pieces, who'd need to make songs?"

  Starling made a small sound of disgust. "You've more experience of the King's Guard than I have, I'm sure. But even I've enough to know that a minstrel who tried to claim that reward would probably be found floating in the river a few days later. While some guardsmen became suddenly very wealthy. No. I've told you. I'm not after gold, Bastard. I'm after a song."

  "Don't call me that," I warned her sharply. She shrugged and turned away. After a moment she twitched as if I'd poked her and then turned back to me with a grin widening across her face.

  "Ah. I believe I've worked it out. That's how Tassin was squeezing you, isn't it? Asking for money to still her tongue."

  I made no reply.

  "You're smart to refuse her. Give her any and she'll think she's right. If she truly believed you were the Bastard, she'd be holding her secret to sell to the King's Guard. Because she's had no experience of them, and would believe she might actually get to keep the gold." Starling stood, stretching leisurely. "Well. I'm back to bed while I may. But keep my offer in mind. I doubt you'll find a better one." She swirled her cloak about herself theatrically, then bowed to me as if I were the King. I watched her stroll away from me down the hill, surefooted as a goat even in the moonlight. She reminded me briefly of Molly.

  I considered slipping away from the camp and going on to Blue Lake on my own. I decided that if I did, Tassin and Starling would only become certain that they had guessed correctly. Starling might try to follow and find me. Tassin would try to find a way to collect the reward. I wanted neither of those things. Better to stick it out and plod along as Tom the shepherd.

  I lifted my eyes to the night sky. Clear and cold it arched above me. The dead of the night had a nasty chill to it of late. By the time I got to the Mountains, winter would be more than just a threat. If only I hadn't wasted those early months of summer being a wolf, I'd be in the Mountains by now. But that was another useless thought. The stars were close and bright tonight. It made the world seem a smaller place to have the sky so close. I felt suddenly that if I just opened up and reached for Verity, I would find him there, right at my fingertips. Loneliness swelled so suddenly inside me that I felt it would tear its way out of me. Molly and Burrich were no farther away than the closing of my eyes. I could go to them, could trade the hunger of not knowing for the pain of being unable to touch. The Skill walls, clutched so closely every waking moment since I had left Tradeford, now felt suffocating rather than shielding. I bowed my head to my drawn-up knees and hugged myself against the chill emptiness of the night.

  After a time, the hunger passed. I lifted my head and looked out over the peaceful sheep, the cart and wagons, the motionless camp. A glance at the moon told me my watch was well over. Creece was never good about rousing himself to take his turn. So I stood and stretched and went down the hill to poke him from his warm blankets.

  The next two days passed uneventfully, save that the weather grew colder and windier. On the evening of the third, just as we had settled for the night and I had taken up my first watch of the evening, I saw a dust cloud on the horizon. I thought little of it at first. We were on one of the more traveled caravan routes, and had stopped at a watering place. A wagon full of a tinker family had already been there. I assumed that whoever was raising the dust would also be seeking a water-place to rest for the night. So I sat and watched the dust get closer as the evening darkened. Slowly the dust resolved into figures on horseback, riding in an orderly formation. The closer they came, the more certain I became. King's Guards. The light was too weak for me to see the gold and brown of Regal's colors, but I knew.

  It was all I could do to keep myself from leaping up and fleeing. Cold logic told me that if they were seeking me specifically, it would only take them a few minutes to ride me down. This vast plain offered me no near hiding places. And if they were not seeking me, to flee would only attract their attention, and make both Tassin and Starling certain in their suspicions. So I gritted my teeth and remained where I was, sitting with my stick across my knees watching the sheep. The riders bypassed me and the sheep and went directly to the water. I counted as they went past. Six of them. I recognized one of the horses, a buckskin colt Burrich had said would be a good courser someday. Seeing him reminded me too vividly of how Regal had plundered Buckkeep of every valuable thing before he left it to fend for itself. A tiny spark of anger ignited in me, one that somehow made it easier to sit and bide my time.

  After a while, I decided that they were just on their way as we were, and had stopped only to water and rest for the night. Then Creece came lumbering out to find me. "You're wanted in the camp," he told me with ill-conceived irritability. Creece always liked to sleep as soon as he'd eaten. I asked him what had changed our schedule as he settled down in my place.

  "King's Guards," he huffed angrily. "Pushing everybody about, demanding to see every member of our caravan. They searched all the wagons, too."

  "What are they looking for?" I asked idly.

  "Damned if I know. Didn't care to get a fist in the face for asking, either. But you suit yourself about finding out."

  I took my staff with me as I walked back into the camp. My shortsword still hung at my side. I thought of concealing it, then decided against it. Anyone might carry a sword, and if I needed to draw it, I didn't want to be wrestling with my trousers.

  The camp was like a stirred hornet's nest. Madge and her folk looked both apprehensive and angry. The guardsmen were currently harassing the tinker. One guardswoman kicked over a stack of tin pots with a fine clatter and then shouted something about searching anything she pleased, any way she pleased. The tinker stood by his wagon, his arms crossed on his chest. He looked as if he'd already been knocked down once. Two guardsmen had his wife and youngsters backed up against the tail of the wagon. The wife had a trickle of blood coming from her nose. She still looked ready to fight. I drifted into camp as silent as smoke and took a place beside Damon as if I'd always been there. Neither of us spoke.

  The leader of the guards turned away from his confrontation with the tinker, and a shiver went up my back. I knew him. It was Bolt, favored by Regal for his skill with his fists. I'd last seen him in the dungeon. He was the one who had broken my nose. I felt the beating of my heart pick up speed and heard my pulse in my ears. Darkness threatened the edges of my vision. I fought to breathe quietly. He paced to the center of the camp and cast a disdainful eye over us. "This is everyone?" he demanded more than queried.

  We all bobbed nods. He cast his gaze over us and I looked down to avoid it. I forced my hands to be still; to stay away from both knife and sword. I tried not to let my tensio
n show in my stance.

  "As sorry a lot of vagabonds as I've ever seen." His tone dismissed our importance. "Caravan master! We've been riding all day. Have your boy see to our horses. We'll want food prepared, and more fuel gathered for the fire. And warm us some water for washing." He ran his glance over us again. "I want no trouble. The men we were looking for aren't here, and that's all we required to know. Just do as we ask, and there won't be any problems. You can go about your normal business."

  There were a few mutters of agreement, but mostly silence greeted this. He snorted his disdain for us, then turned to his riders and spoke quietly to them. Whatever orders he was giving did not seem to sit well with them, but the two that had cornered the tinker woman came to heel at his words. They took over the fire Madge had built earlier, forcing the folk of our caravan to move off from it. Madge spoke quietly to her help, sending two off to care for the guards' horses, and another to fetch water and set it to warm. She herself strode heavily past our cart toward her own wagon and the food stores.

  An uneasy semblance of order returned to the camp. Starling kindled a second, smaller fire. The puppeteer's troupe, the minstrel, and the teamsters resettled next to it. The horse owner and her husband went quietly off to bed. "Well, seems to have settled down," Damon observed to me, but I noticed that he still twisted his hands nervously. "I'm off to bed. You and Creece settle out the watches between you."

  I started to go back to my sheep. Then I paused and looked back around the camp. The guards were silhouettes around the fire now, lounging and talking, while a single one of them stood slightly back of the group keeping a general watch. He was looking toward the other fire. I followed his gaze. I could not decide if Tassin was looking back at him, or simply staring off at the other guards about their fire. Either way, I suspected I knew what was on her mind.

  I turned aside and went to the back of Madge's wagon. She was scooping out beans and peas from sacks and measuring them into a soup kettle. I touched her lightly on the arm, and she jumped.

  "Beg pardon. Could you use some help with that?"

  She raised an eyebrow at me. "Why would I?"

  I glanced down at my feet and chose my lie carefully. "I didn't care for how they looked at the tinker woman, ma'am."

  "I know how to handle myself among rough men; shepherd. I couldn't be a caravan master if I didn't." She measured salt into the kettle, then a handful of seasonings.

  I nodded my head and said nothing. It was too obviously true for me to protest. But I did not leave, either, and after a few moments, she handed me a bucket and told me to fetch her some clean water. I obeyed her willingly, and when I brought it back, I stood holding it until she took it from me. I watched her fill the soup kettle and stood at her elbow until she told me with some asperity to get out from under her feet. I apologized and backed away, upsetting her water bucket as I did so. So I took it and fetched her more fresh water in it.

  After that, I went and got a blanket from Damon's cart, and rolled up in it for a few hours. I lay under the cart as if sleeping and watched, not the guardsmen, but Starling and Tassin. I noticed she did not take out her harp that night, as if she did not wish to call any attention to herself either. That somewhat reassured me about her. It would have been easy enough for her to visit their fire with her harp, to ingratiate herself with a few songs, and then offer to sell me. Instead she seemed as intent on watching Tassin as I was. Tassin rose once to leave on some excuse. I did not hear what Starling said quietly, but Tassin glared at her and Master Dell angrily ordered her back to her place. Certainly Dell wanted nothing to do with the guards in any way. But even after they had all gone off to bed, I could not relax. When it came time to relieve Creece on watch, I went reluctantly, not at all sure that Tassin would not choose the small hours of night in which to seek out the guards.

  I found Creece sound asleep, and had to wake him to send him back to the cart. I sat down, my blanket around my shoulders, and thought of the six men down below, now sleeping around their fire. I had cause for true hatred of only one of them. I recalled Bolt to myself as he had been then, smirking as he drew on his leather gloves to beat me, sulking when Regal reprimanded him for breaking my nose lest it make me less presentable if the dukes wished to see me. I recalled the disdainful way he had performed his task for Regal, hammering easily past my token defense as I strove to keep Will and his Skill out of my mind.

  Bolt hadn't even known me. He'd run his eyes over me and dismissed me, not even recognizing his own handiwork. I sat thinking for a bit about that. I supposed I had changed that much. Not just the scars he'd given me. Not just the beard and the workman's garb and the dirt of the road on me and my gauntness. FitzChivalry wouldn't have lowered his eyes before his gaze, would not have stood silent and let the tinkerfolk fend for themselves. FitzChivalry would not, perhaps, have poisoned all six guards for the sake of killing one. I wondered if I had grown wiser or wearier. Both, perhaps. It did not make me proud.

  The Wit-sense gives me an awareness of other living things, all other living things, around me. I am seldom startled by anyone. So they did not take me by surprise. The dawn had just begun to blanch the blackness from the sky when Bolt and his guards came for me. I sat still, first feeling and then hearing their stealthy approach. Bolt had roused all five of his soldiers for the task.

  With a sinking dismay, I wondered what had gone wrong with my poison. Had it lost its potency from being carried about so long? Been rendered useless by the cooking with the soup? I swear that for a moment my uppermost thought was that Chade would not have made this error. But I had no time to think about it. I glanced about at the gently undulating, near-featureless plain. Scrub brush and a few rocks. Not even a gully or a mound for cover.

  I could have run, and perhaps lost them for a time in the darkness. But in the end, that game was theirs. I'd have to come back for water eventually. If they did not track me down on the flat land by daylight on horseback, they could simply sit by the waterhole and wait me out. Besides, to flee was to admit I was FitzChivalry. Tom the shepherd would not run.

  And so I looked up, startled and anxious when they came for me, but not, I hoped, betraying the heart-pounding fear I felt. I came to my feet, and when one seized me by an arm, I did not struggle but only looked up at him incredulously. Another guard came up from the other side, to take both my knife and my sword. "Come down to the fire," she told me gruffly. "Captain wants a look at you."

  I went quietly, almost limply, and when they had reassembled at the campfire to present me to Bolt, I looked fearfully from one face to another, being careful not to single out Bolt. I was not sure I could look at him full face at close range and betray nothing. Bolt stood up, kicked at the fire to stir up the flames, and then came to inspect me. I caught a glimpse of Tassin's pale face and hair peeking at me around the end of the puppeteer's wagon. For a time Bolt just stood looking at me. After a time, he pursed his mouth and gave his guards a disgusted look. With a small shake of his head, he let them know I wasn't what he'd wanted. I dared to take a deeper breath.

  "What's your name?" Bolt suddenly demanded of me sharply.

  I squinted at him across the fire. "Tom, sir. Tom the shepherd. I've done nothing wrong."

  "Haven't you? Then you're the only man in the world who hasn't. You sound like a Buckman, Tom. Take off your kerchief."

  "I am, sir. From Buck, sir. But times are hard there." I hastily dragged my kerchief off, then stood clutching and wringing it. I hadn't taken Starling's advice about staining my hair. That wouldn't have done any good during a close inspection. Instead, I had used my looking glass and plucked out a good portion of the white hairs. Not all of them, but what I had now appeared more as a scattering of gray hair above my brow rather than a white streak. Bolt came around the fire to have a closer look at it. I flinched when he gripped me by the hair and tilted my head back to stare down into my face. He was as big and muscled as I remembered him. Every evil memory I had of him suddenly flooded my min
d. I swear I even recalled the smell of him. The wretched sickness of fear filled me.

  I offered him no resistance as he glared down at me. Nor did I meet his eyes, but rather shot frightened looks at him and then glanced away as if beseeching help. I noticed that Madge had come from somewhere and was standing, arms crossed on her chest, regarding us.

  "Got a scar on your cheek, don't you, man?" Bolt demanded of me.

  "Yes, sir, I do. Got it when I was a boy, fell out of a tree and a branch cut me…"

  "You break your nose then, too?"

  "No, sir, no, that was a tavern brawl, that was, about a year ago…"

  "Take off your shirt!" he demanded.

  I fumbled at the neck of it, then dragged it off over my head. I had thought he would look at my forearms and was prepared with my nail story for that. Instead he leaned over to look at a place between my shoulder and my neck, where a Forged one had bitten a chunk out of me in a long-ago fight. My bowels turned to water. He looked at the gnarled scar there, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed.

  "Damn. I didn't think it was you, Bastard. I was sure it wasn't. But that's the mark I remember seeing, the first time I drove you into the floor." He looked at the men standing around us, surprise and delight still on his face. "It's him! We've got him. The King's got his Skillwizards spread from the Mountains to the coast looking for him, and he falls like fruit into our hands." He licked his lips as he ran his eyes over me gloatingly. I sensed a strange hunger in him, one he almost feared. He seized me suddenly by the throat and hauled me up on my toes. He brought his face close to mine as he hissed, "Understand me. Verde was a friend. It's not a hundred gold pieces for you alive that keeps me from killing you here. It's only my faith that my king can come up with more interesting ways for you to die than I can improvise here. You're mine again, Bastard, in the circle. Or as much of you as my king leaves for me anyway."