Assassin's Quest tft-3

by Robin Hobb

  She led me away from the waterfront, away from the poorer quarters of the town, up to the merchant streets and the inns that served the tradefolk of the town. It was not so far from the inn where King Regal was not truly staying at all. She opened an inn door that was inscribed with a tusked boar's head, and nodded to me to precede her. I did, but cautiously, glancing about well before I entered. Even after I saw no guardsmen, I was not sure if I was running my head into a snare or not.

  This inn was bright and warm, with glass as well as shutters for its windows. The tables were clean, the reeds on the floor almost fresh, and the smell of roasting pork filled the air. A serving boy walked by us with a tray full of brimming mugs, looked at me, then raised an eyebrow to Starling, obviously questioning her choice of men. Starling replied with a swooping bow, and in the process swept off her damp cloak. I followed suit more slowly, and then trailed after her as she led me to a table near the hearth.

  She seated herself, then looked up at me. She was confident she had me now. "Let's eat before we talk, shall we?" she invited me engagingly, and indicated the chair opposite her. I took the offered seat, but turned it so my back was to the wall and I could command a view of the room. A small smile twitched at her mouth and her dark eyes danced. "You've nothing to fear from me, I assure you. On the contrary, it is I who place myself at risk in seeking you out."

  She glanced about, then called to a boy named Oak that we wished two platters of the roast pork, some fresh bread and butter, and apple wine to go with it. He hastened off to fetch it, and served it out on our table with a charm and grace that bespoke his interest in Starling. He exchanged some small chatter with her; he noticed me very little, save to make a face of distaste as he stepped around my damp carry-basket. Another patron called him away, and Starling attacked her plate with appetite. After a moment, I sampled mine. I had not had fresh meat in some days, and the hot crackling fat on the pork almost made me dizzy with its savor. The bread was fragrant, the butter sweet. I had not tasted food this good since Buckkeep. For a second my appetite was all I considered. Then the taste of the apple wine put me suddenly in mind of Rurisk and how he had died of poisoned wine. I set my goblet carefully back on the table and recalled my caution. "So. You sought me out, you say?"

  Starling nodded as she chewed. She swallowed, wiped her mouth, and added, "And you were not easy to find, for I was not asking folk for news of you. Only looking with my own two eyes. I hope you appreciate that."

  I gave a half nod. "And now that you have found me? What do you want of me? A bribe for your silence? If so, you'll have to content yourself with a few coppers."

  "No." She took a sip of wine, then cocked her head to look at me. "It is as I've told you. I want a song. It seems to me I've missed one already, not following you when you were… removed from our company. Though I hope you'll favor me with the details of exactly how you survived." She leaned forward, the power of her trained voice dropping down to a confidential whisper. "I can't tell you what a thrill that was for me, when I heard they'd found those six guardsmen dead. I had thought I was wrong about you, you see. I truly believed they had dragged off poor old Tom the shepherd as a scapegoat. Chivalry's son, I told myself, would never go as quietly as all that. And so I let you go and I didn't follow. But when I heard the news, it put a shiver up my spine as stood every hair on my body on end. 'It was him,' I chided myself. 'The Bastard was there and I watched him taken away and never stirred a finger.' You can't imagine how I cursed myself for doubting my instincts. But then I decided, well, if you survived, you'd still come here. You're on your way to the Mountains, aren't you?"

  I just looked at her, a flat gaze that would have sent any Buckkeep stableboy scuttling, and wiped the grin from the face of a Buck guard. But Starling was a minstrel. Singers of songs are never easily abashed. She went on with her meal, waiting for my answer. "Why would I be going to the Mountains?" I asked her, softly.

  She swallowed, took a sip of wine, then smiled. "I don't know why. To rally to Kettricken's aid perhaps? Whatever the reason, I suspect there's a song in it, don't you?"

  A year ago, her charm and smile might have won me. A year ago I would have wanted to believe this engaging woman, I'd have wanted her to be my friend. Now she only made me tired. She was an encumbrance, a connection to avoid. I didn't answer her question. I only said, "It's a foolish time to even think of going to the Mountains. The winds are against the trip; there will be no barge runs until spring; and King Regal has forbidden travel or trade between the Six Duchies and the Mountains. No one's going to the Mountains."

  She nodded her agreement. "I understand that the King's guards pressed two barges and their crews a week ago, and forced them to attempt the trip. Bodies from at least one barge washed back to shore. Men and horses. No one knows if the other soldiers made it across or not. But" she smiled with satisfaction and drew closer to me as she dropped her voice "I do know of one group who are still bound for the Mountains."

  "Who?" I demanded.

  She made me wait a moment.

  "Smugglers." She spoke the word very softly.

  "Smugglers?" I asked cautiously. It made sense. The tighter the restrictions on trade, the more profitable for those who managed it. There would always be men who would risk their lives for a profit.

  "Yes. But that is not truly why I sought you out. Fitz, you must have heard that King Regal has come to Blue Lake. But it's all a lie, a trap to lure you in. You must not go there."

  "I knew that," I told her calmly.

  "How?" she demanded. She spoke quietly, but I could see how annoyed she was that I had known before she had told me.

  "Perhaps a little bird told me," I told her loftily. "You know how it is, we Witted ones speak the tongues of all the animals."

  "Truly?" she asked me, gullible as a child.

  I raised one eyebrow at her. "It would be more interesting to me to know how you knew."

  "They tracked us down to question us. Everybody they could find from Madge's caravan."

  "And?"

  "And such tales as we told! According to Creece, several sheep were lost along the way, dragged off at night without a sound. And when Tassin told of the night you tried to rape her, she said it was only then she noticed that your nails were black like a wolf's claws, and your eyes glowed in the darkness."

  "I never tried to rape her!" I exclaimed, and then hushed myself when the waiting-boy turned toward us inquiringly.

  Starling leaned back in her chair. "But such a fine tale as it made, it fair brought tears to my eyes. She showed the Skillwizard the mark on her cheek where you'd clawed her, and said she would never have escaped you but for the wolfsbane that happened to grow nearby."

  "It sounds to me as if you should follow Tassin about if you are looking for a song," I muttered disgustedly.

  "Oh, but the tale I told was even better," she began, then shook her head at the serving boy as he approached. She pushed away her empty plate and glanced about the room. It was starting to fill with the evening's customers. "I have a room upstairs," she invited me. "We can talk more privately there."

  This second meal had finally filled my belly. And I was warm. I should have felt wary, but the food and the warmth were making me sleepy. I tried to focus my thoughts. Whoever these smugglers were, they offered the hope of getting to the Mountains.

  The only hope I'd had lately. I gave a small nod. She rose and I followed with my carry-basket.

  The room upstairs was clean and warm. There was a feather bed on the bedframe, with clean wool blankets upon it. A pottery ewer of water and a washbasin rested on a small stand by the bed. Starling lit several candles in the room, driving the shadows back into the corners. Then she gestured me in. As she latched the door behind us, I sat down on the chair. Odd, how a simple, clean room could seem such a luxury to me now. Starling sat down on the bed.

  "I thought you said you had no more coin than I did," I commented.

  "I didn't, back then. But since I ca
me to Blue Lake, I've been in demand. Even more so since the guards' bodies were found."

  "How is that?" I asked her coldly.

  "I'm a minstrel'' she retorted. "And I was there when the Wit-Bastard was taken. Do you think I can't tell the story of that well enough to be worth a coin or two?"

  "So. I see." I mulled over what she had told me, then asked, "So, do I owe my glowing red eyes and fangs to your telling?"

  She gave a snort of disdain. "Of course not. Some street corner ballad maker came up with that." Then she halted, and smiled almost to herself "But I'll admit to a bit of embroidery. As I tell it, Chivalry's Bastard was stoutly thewed and fought like a buck, a young man in the prime of his years, despite the fact that his right arm still bore the savage marks of King Regal's sword. And above his left eye, he'd a streak of white as wide as a man's hand in his hair. It took three guardsmen just to hold him, and he did not stop fighting, even when the leader of the guard struck him so hard it knocked the teeth from the front of his mouth." She paused and waited. When I said nothing, she cleared her throat. "You might thank me for making it a bit less likely that folk would recognize you on the street."

  "Thank you. I suppose. How did Creece and Tassin react to that?"

  "They nodded all the while. My story only made theirs all the better, you see."

  "I see. But you still haven't told me how you know it was a trap."

  "They offered us money for you. If any of us had had word from you. Creece wanted to know how much. We had been taken up to the King's own sitting room for this questioning. To make us feel more important, I suppose. We were told the King himself felt ill after his long trip, and was resting right next door. While we were there, a servant came out, bringing the King's cloak and his boots to be cleaned of mud." Starling gave me a small smile. "The boots were immense."

  "And you know the size of the King's feet?" I knew she was correct. Regal had small hands and feet, and was more vain of them than many a court lady.

  "I've never been to court. But a few of those better born at our keep had been up to Buckkeep for occasions. They spoke much of the handsome youngest prince, of his fine manners and dark curling hair. And his tiny feet, and how well he danced on them." She shook her head. "I knew it was not King Regal in that room. The rest was easy to deduce. They had come to Blue Lake too promptly following the killings of the guards. They came for you."

  "Perhaps," I conceded. I was beginning to have a high opinion of Starling's wits. "Tell me more of the smugglers. How did you come to hear of them?"

  She shook her head, smiling. "If you strike a bargain with them, it will be through me. And I shall be a part of it."

  "How are they getting to the Mountains?" I asked.

  She looked at me. "If you were a smuggler, would you tell others what route you used?" Then she shrugged. "I've heard gossip that smugglers have a way to cross the river. An old way. I know there was once a trade route that went upriver and then across. It fell out of favor when the river became so unpredictable. Since the bad fires a few years back, the river floods every year. When it does, it shifts in its bed. So the regular traders have come to rely more on boats than on a bridge that may or may not be intact." She paused to gnaw briefly at a thumbnail. "I think that at one time there was a bridge a way upstream, but after the river washed it out for the fourth consecutive year, no one had the heart to rebuild it. Someone else told me that in summer there is a pulley ferry, and that they used to cross on the ice in winter. In the years when the river freezes. Maybe they are hoping the river will freeze this year. My own thought is, when trade is stopped in one place, it starts in another. There will be a way across."

  I frowned. "No. There must be another way to the Mountains."

  Starling seemed mildly insulted that I'd doubt her. "Ask about it yourself, if you choose. You might enjoy waiting with the King's Guard that strut all about the waterfront. But most folk will tell you to wait for spring. A few will tell you that if you want to get there in the winter, you don't start from here. You could go south, around Blue Lake entirely. From there, I gather there are several trade routes to the Mountains, even in winter."

  "By the time I did that, it would be spring. I could get to the Mountains just as quickly by waiting it out here."

  "That's another thing I've been told," Starling agreed smugly.

  I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. Come to me. "Are there no close, easy ways across that damnable lake?"

  "No. If there were an easy way to cross, there would not still be guardsmen infesting the entire waterfront."

  There seemed no other choice for me. "Where would I find these smugglers?"

  Starling grinned broadly. "Tomorrow, I will take you to them," she promised. She rose and stretched. "But tonight I must take myself to the Gilded Pin. I have not sung my songs there yet, but yesterday I was invited. I've heard their clients can be quite generous to traveling minstrels." She stooped to gather up her well-wrapped harp. I rose as she picked up her still-damp cloak.

  "I must be on my way as well," I said politely.

  "Why not sleep here?" she offered. "Less chance of being recognized and a lot fewer vermin in this room." A smile twisted the corner of her mouth as she looked at my hesitant face. "If I wanted to sell you to the King's Guard, I could have done it. As alone as you are, FitzChivalry, you had better decide to trust someone."

  When she called me by my name, it was as if something twisted inside me. And yet, "Why?" I asked her softly. "Why do you aid me? And don't tell me it's the hope of a song that may never be."

  "That shows how little you understand minstrels," she said. "There is no more powerful lure for one than that. But I suppose there is more. No. I know there is." She looked up at me suddenly, her eyes meeting mine squarely. "I had a little brother. Jay. He was a guard stationed at the Antler Island Tower. He saw you fight the day the Raiders came." She gave a brief snort of laughter. "Actually, you stepped over him. You sank your axe into the man who had just struck him down. And waded deeper into the battle without even a glance back at him." She looked at me from the corner of her eye. "That is why I sing 'Antler Tower Raid' slightly differently from any other minstrel. He told me of it, and I sing you as he saw you. A hero. You saved his life."

  She looked abruptly aside from me. "For a time, anyway. He died later, fighting for Buck. But for a time, he lived because of your axe." She stopped speaking, and swung her cloak around her shoulders. "Stay here," she told me. "Rest. I won't be back until late. You can have the bed until then, if you want."

  She whisked out the door without waiting for a reply. I stood for a time staring at the closed door. FitzChivalry. Hero. Just words. But it was as if she had lanced something inside me, drained away some poison, and now I could heal. It was the strangest feeling. Get some sleep, I advised myself. I actually felt as if I could.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Smugglers

  There are few spirits so free as those of traveling minstrels, at least within the Six Duchies. If a minstrel is sufficiently talented, he can expect almost all rules of conduct to be suspended for him. They are permitted to ask the most prying of questions as a normal part of their trade. Almost without exception, a minstrel can presume hospitality anywhere from the King's own table to the lowliest hovel. They seldom marry in youth, though it is not unusual for them to bear children. Such children are free of the stigma of other bastards, and are frequently keep raised to become minstrels themselves. It is expected of minstrels that they will consort with outlaws and rebels as well as nobles and merchants. They carry messages, bring news, and hold in their long memories many an agreement and promise. At least, so it is in times of peace and plenty.

  Starling came in so late, Burrich would have regarded it as early morning. I was awake the instant she touched the latch. I rolled quickly off her bed as she came in, then wrapped myself well in my cloak and lay down on the floor. "FitzChivalry," she greeted me fuzzily, and I could smell the wine on her breath. Sh
e stripped off her damp cloak, looked sideways at me, then spread it over me as an extra covering. I closed my eyes.

  She dropped her outer clothing to the floor behind me with a fine disregard for my presence. I heard the give of the bed as she threw herself onto it. "Um. Still warm," she muttered, shouldering into the bedding and pillows. "I feel guilty, taking your warm spot."

  Her guilt could not have been too sharp-edged, for in just a matter of moments her breathing went deep and even. I followed her example.

  I awoke very early and left the inn. Starling didn't stir as I let myself out of her room. I walked until I found a bathhouse. The baths were almost deserted at this hour of the day; I had to wait while the day's first water was warmed. When it was ready, I stripped down and clambered gingerly in. I eased the ache in my shoulder in the deep, hot tub. I washed myself. Then I leaned back in the hot water and silence and thought.

  I didn't like taking up with the smugglers. I didn't like linking up with Starling. I couldn't see any other choice. I could not think of how I'd bribe them to take me. I had little enough coin. Burrich's earring? I refused to consider it. For a long time, I lay up to my chin in the water and refused to consider it. Come to me. I would find another way, I swore to myself. I would. I thought of what I had felt back in Tradeford when Verity had intervened to save me. That blast of Skill had left Verity without reserves. I did not know his situation, only that he had not hesitated to expend all he had for my sake. And if I had to choose between parting with Burrich's earring and going to Verity, I would choose Verity. Not because he had Skill-summoned me, nor even for the oath I had sworn to his father. For Verity.

  I stood up and let the water stream off me. I dried off, spent a few minutes attempting to trim my beard, gave it up as a bad job, and went back to the Boar's Head. I had one bad moment on my way back to the inn. A wagon passed me as I strode along, none other than the wagon of Dell the puppeteer. I kept walking briskly and the young journeyman driving the wagon gave no sign of noticing me. Nonetheless, I was glad to reach the inn and get inside.