Assassin's Quest tft-3

by Robin Hobb

  He stood up suddenly and shook himself all over. It was time to come back, he replied evasively. Then he added, I ran with them. They finally allowed me to be part of their pack. We hunted together, we killed together, we shared meat. It was very good.

  But?

  I wanted to be the leader. He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out. I am used to being the leader, you know.

  Are you? And they would not accept you?

  Black Wolf is very large. And quick. I am stronger than he is, I think, but he knows more tricks. It was much like when you fought Heart of the Pack.

  I laughed quietly and he spun on me, lifting his lips in a mock snarl.

  "Be easy," I said quietly, warding him off with open hands. "So. What happened?"

  He flung himself down beside me. He is still the leader. He still has the mate and the den. He considered and I sensed him wrestling with the concept of the future. It could be different, another time.

  "It could be," I agreed. I scratched him gently behind the ear and he all but fell over in the snow. "Will you go back to them, someday?"

  He was having difficulty focusing on my words while I scratched his ears. I stopped and asked him again. He cocked his head to one side and regarded me with amusement. Ask me on the someday, and I will be able to answer.

  One day at a time, I agreed with him. I am glad you are here. But I still don't understand why you came back to me. You could have stayed with the pack.

  His eyes met mine, and even in the darkness they gripped me.

  You are called, are you not? Did not your king howl to you, "Come to me"?

  I nodded unwillingly. I am called.

  He stood suddenly, shook himself all over. He looked off into the night. If you are called, I am called, too. He did not admit it willingly.

  You do not have to come with me. This call from my king binds me, not you.

  In that, you are wrong. What binds you, binds me.

  I do not understand how that could be, I said carefully.

  Nor do I. But it is so. "Come to me," he called to us. And for a time, I could ignore it. But no more.

  I am sorry. I groped for a way to express it. He has no right to you. I know that. I do not think he intended to call you. I do not think he intended to bind me. But it happened, and I must go to him.

  I stood up and dusted off the snow that was starting to melt on me. I felt ashamed. Verity, a man whom I trusted, had done this to me. That was bad enough. But through me it was imposed on the wolf. Verity had no right to put any demands on Nighteyes. For that matter, I had no right to put any demands on him. What had been between us had always been entered into voluntarily, a mutual giving on both sides with no laying-on of obligations. Now, through me, he was entrapped as surely as if I had caged him.

  We share a cage, then.

  I wish it were otherwise. I wish there were someway I could free you of this. But I do not even know how to free myself. Not knowing how you are bound, I do not know how to loose you. You and I, we share the Wit. Verity and I share the Skill. How could his Skill-sending have gone through me to seize you? You were not even with me when he summoned me.

  Nighteyes sat very still in the snow. The wind had come up, and in the faint starlight I could see it ruffling his coat. I am always with you, brother. You may not always be aware of me, but I am always with you. We are one.

  We share many things, I agreed. Uneasiness itched at me.

  No. He turned to face me squarely, met my eyes as no wild wolf would have. We do not share. We are one. I am no longer a wolf, you are no longer a man. What we are together, I have no name for. Perhaps the one who spoke to us of the Old Blood would have a word to explain it. He paused. See how much a man I am, that I speak of having a word for an idea? No word is needed. We exist, and we are whatever we are.

  I would set you free if I could.

  Would you? I would not part from you.

  That is not what I meant. I meant I would have for you a life of your own.

  He yawned, then stretched. I will have for us a life of our own. We shall win it together. So. Do we travel by night or by day?

  We travel by day.

  He sensed what I meant. You will stay with this huge pack to travel? Why not break free of it and run with me? We shall go faster.

  I shook my head. It is not that simple. To travel where we must, I will need shelter, and I have none that is mine alone. I need the aid of this pack to survive in this weather.

  There followed a difficult half hour, as I tried to explain to him that I would need the support of the others in the caravan to reach the Mountains. Had I had a horse and provisions of my own, I would not have hesitated to trust to luck and strike out with the wolf. But on foot with only what I could carry myself, facing the deep snows and deeper cold of the Mountains, not to mention a river crossing? I would not be that great a fool.

  We could hunt, Nighteyes insisted. We would curl together in the snow at night. He could take care of me as he always had. With persistence, I was able to convince him that I must continue to travel as I did. Then I shall have to continue to sneak along like a stray dog, following all these folk?

  "Tom? Tom, are you out there?" There was irritated annoyance and worry in Nik's voice.

  "Right here!" I stepped out of the bushes.

  "What were you doing?" he demanded suspiciously.

  "Pissing," I told him. I made a sudden decision. "And my dog has followed me from town and caught up with us here. I left him with friends, but he must have chewed his rope. Here, boy, come to heel."

  I'll chew your heel off for you, Nighteyes offered savagely, but he came, following me out into the cleared yard.

  "Damn big dog," Nik observed. He leaned forward. "Looks more than half a wolf to me."

  "Some in Farrow have told me that. It's a Buck breed. We use them for herding sheep."

  You will pay for this. I promise you.

  In answer I leaned down to pat his shoulder and then scratch his ears. Wag your tail, Nighteyes. "He's a loyal old dog. I should have known he wouldn't be left behind."

  The things I endure for you. He wagged his tail. Once.

  "I see. Well. You'd best get yourself inside and get some sleep. And next time, don't go off by yourself. For anything. At least, not without letting me know first. When my men are on watch, they get jumpy. They might cut your throat before they knew you."

  "I understand."

  I walked right past two of them.

  "Nik, you don't mind, do you? The dog, I mean." I tried to act affably abashed. "He can stay outside. He's a real good watchdog, actually."

  "Just don't expect me to feed him for you," Nik growled. "And don't let him be any trouble to us."

  "Oh, I'm sure he won't. Will you, boy?"

  Starling chose that moment to come to the door. "Nik? Tom?"

  "We're right here. You were right, he was just pissing," Nik said quietly. He took Starling's arm and began to guide her back into the shed.

  "What's that?" she demanded, sounding almost alarmed.

  I suddenly had to wager everything on her quick wits and our friendship. "Just the dog," I said quickly. "Nighteyes must have chewed his rope. I warned Creece to watch him when I left him there, that he'd want to follow me. But Creece didn't listen, and here he is. I guess I'll have to take him to the Mountains with us after all."

  Starling was staring at the wolf. Her eyes were as wide and black as the night sky above us. Nik tugged at her arm and she finally turned back to the door. "I suppose so," she said faintly.

  I silently thanked Eda and any other god that might be listening. To Nighteyes I said, "Stay and guard, there's a good fellow."

  Enjoy it while you can, little brother. He flung himself down by the cart. I doubted that he'd stay there for more than a few heartbeats. I followed Starling and Nik inside. Nik shut the door firmly behind us and dropped the bolt in place. I pulled off my boots and shook out my snow-laden cloak before I wrapped
myself in my blankets. Sleep was suddenly very close as I grasped the full relief I felt. Nighteyes was back. I felt whole. Safe, with the wolf at the door.

  Nighteyes. I'm glad you're here.

  You've an odd way of showing it, he replied, but I could sense he was more amused than upset.

  Black Rolf sent me a message. Regal seeks to turn those of Old Blood against us. He offers them gold to hunt us down for him. We should not speak overly much.

  Gold. What is gold to us, or those like us? Do not fear, little brother. I am here to take care of you again.

  I closed my eyes and sank into sleep, hoping he was right. For an instant, as I teetered on the edge of wakefulness, I noticed that Starling had not spread her blankets by mine. She sat on her blankets on the other side of the room. By Nik. Heads together, they spoke softly about something. She laughed. I could not hear the words she next said, but the tone was a teasing challenge.

  I almost felt a pang of jealousy. I rebuked myself for it. She was a companion, no more. What was it to me how she spent her nights? Last night she had slept against my back. This night she would not. I decided it was the wolf. She couldn't accept it. She was not the first. Knowing I was Witted was not the same thing as confronting my bond-animal. Well. That was how that was.

  I slept.

  Sometime in the night I felt a gentle groping. It was the barest brushing of the Skill across my senses. I came alert, but still, waiting. I felt nothing. Had I imagined it, dreamed it? A more chilling thought came to me. Perhaps it was Verity, too weakened to do more than reach for me. Perhaps it was Will. I lay still, longing to reach out, and fearing to. I wanted so badly to know that Verity was all right; since he had blasted Regal's coterie that night, I had felt nothing of him. Come to me, he had said. What if that had been his dying wish? What if all my seeking would yield me were bones? I pushed the fear away and tried to be open.

  The mind I felt brush mine was Regal's.

  I had never Skilled to Regal, had only suspected he was able to Skill. Even now, I doubted what I sensed. The strength of the Skill seemed Will's, but the feel of the thoughts was Regal's. And you have not found the woman either? The Skilling was not meant for me. He reached for someone else. I grew bolder, venturing closer. I tried to be open to his thoughts without reaching for them.

  Not as of yet, my king. Burl. Hiding his trembling behind formality and courtesy. I knew Regal could sense it as clearly as I could. I even knew that he enjoyed it. Regal had never been able to grasp the difference between fear and respect. He had no belief in a man's respect for him unless it was tainted with fear. I had not thought he would extend that to his own coterie. I wondered what the threat was that he held over them.

  And nothing of the Bastard? Regal demanded. There was no mistaking it now. Regal Skilled, using Will's strength. Did that mean he could not Skill by himself?

  Burl steeled himself. My king, I have found no sign of him. I believe he is dead. Truly dead, this time. He cut himself with a poisoned blade; the despair he felt at that moment of decision was absolute. No man could have pretended it.

  Then there should be a body, should there not?

  Somewhere, my king, I am sure there is. Your guards have simply not found it yet. This from Carrod, who did not tremble with fear. He hid his fear even from himself, pretending it was anger. I understood how he might need to do that, but doubted the wisdom of it. It forced him to stand up to Regal. Regal did not appreciate a man who spoke his mind.

  Perhaps I should put you in charge of riding the roads, looking for it, Regal suggested pleasantly. At the same time, you might find the man who killed Bolt and his patrol.

  My lord king… Carrod began, but SILENCE! Regal overrode him. He drew freely on Will's strength to do it. The effort cost him nothing.

  I believed him dead once before, and my trust in the word of others nearly got me killed. This time I will see him, see him hacked in pieces before I rest. Will's feeble attempt to trap the Bastard into betraying himself failed miserably.

  Perhaps because he is already dead, Carrod ventured foolishly.

  Then I witnessed a thing I wished I had not. A needle of pain, hot and piercing, he sent to Carrod with Will's Skill. In that sending, I finally glimpsed the whole of what they had become. Regal rode Will, not like a man rides a horse, to be thrown by the horse in anger, but as a tick or a leech bites into its victim and clings and sucks life from him. Waking or asleep, Regal was with him always, had access always to his strength. And now he spent it viciously, caring nothing for what it would cost Will. I had not known pain could be inflicted with Skill alone. A numbing blast of strength such as Verity had spent upon them, that I knew. But this was different. This was no show of force or temper. This was a display of purest vindictiveness. Somewhere, I knew, Carrod fell to the floor and thrashed in wordless agony. Linked as they were, Burl and Will must have shared a shadow of that pain. It surprised me that a member of a coterie was even capable of doing that to another. But then, it was not Will who sent the pain. It was Regal.

  It passed, after a time. Perhaps in reality it only lasted an instant. For Carrod, it certainly lasted long enough. I sensed from him a faint mental whimpering. He was capable of no more than that just now.

  I do not believe the Bastard died. I dare not believe it until I've seen his body. Someone killed Bolt and his men. So find his body and bring it to me, whether alive or dead. Burl. Remain where you are, and redouble your efforts. I am certain he is bound that way. Let no traveler pass you unchallenged. Carrod, I think perhaps you should join Burl. An indolent life does not seem to agree with your temperament. Be on your way tomorrow. And as you travel, do not be lazy. Keep your minds upon your task. We know that Verity lives; he proved that to all of you most effectively. The Bastard will try to get to him. He must be stopped before he does so, and then my brother must be eliminated as a threat. These are the only tasks I have given you; why cannot you do them? Have you no thought for what will become of us should Verity succeed? Search for him, with Skill and men. Do not let folk forget what I have offered for his capture. Do not let them forget the punishment for aiding him. Am I understood?

  Of course, my lord king. I shall spare no effort. Burl was quick to reply.

  Carrod? I hear nothing from you, Carrod. The threat of punishment hung over them all.

  Please, my lord king. I shall do all, everything. Alive or dead, I shall find him for you. I shall.

  Without even an acknowledgment, Will and Regal's presence vanished. I felt Carrod collapse. Burl lingered a moment longer. Did he listen, did he grope back toward my presence? I let my thoughts float free, my concentration dissipate. Then I opened my eyes and lay staring at the ceiling, thinking. The Skilling had left me queasy and trembling.

  I am with you, my brother, Nighteyes assured me.

  And I am glad that you are. I rolled over and tried to find sleep.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Bolthole

  In many of the old legends and tales of the Wit, it is insisted that a Wit user eventually takes on many traits of his bond-animal. Some of the most frightening tales say that eventually a Witted one becomes capable of assuming the guise of that animal. Those who know intimately of such magic have assured me it is not so. It is true that a Witted one may, without realizing it, assume some of the physical mannerisms of his bond-animal, but one bonded to an eagle will not sprout wings, nor will one bonded to a horse begin to neigh. As time goes by, a Witted one grows in understanding of the bond-beast, and the longer a human and an animal are bonded, the greater will be the similarity of their mannerisms. The bond-animal is as likely to assume the mannerisms and traits of the human as the human is to adopt those of his beast. But this only happens over a long period of intense contact.

  Nik agreed with Burrich's idea of when mornings began. I awoke to the sound of his men leading the horses out. A cold wind blew in the open door. Around me in the darkness the others were stirring. One of the children was crying at being awakened
so early. Her mother shushed her. Molly, I thought with sudden longing. Somewhere hushing my child.

  What's this?

  My mate bore a cub. Far away.

  Immediate concern. But who will hunt meat to feed them? Should not we return to her?

  Heart of the Pack watches over her.

  Of course. I should have known that. That one knows the meaning of pack, no matter how he denies it. All is well, then.

  As I rose and bundled my blankets together, I wished I could accept it as blithely as he did. I knew Burrich would care for them. It was his nature. I recalled all the years he had watched over me as I had grown. Often I had hated him then; now I could not think of anyone else I would prefer to care for Molly and my baby. Save myself. I would much rather it was I watching over them, even rocking a crying babe in the middle of the night. Though I rather wished, just now, that the pilgrim woman would find a way to quiet her child. I was paying for my Skill-spying of the night before with a savage headache.

  Food seemed to be the answer, for when the girl had a piece of bread and some honeycomb, she soon quieted. It was a hasty meal we shared, the only hot item being tea. I noticed Kettle was moving very stiffly and took pity on her. I fetched her a cup of hot tea to wrap her twisted fingers around while I rolled up her blankets for her. I had never seen hands so distorted by rheumatism; they reminded me of bird claws. "An old friend of mine said that sometimes the sting of nettles actually relieved his hands when they ached," I suggested to her as I tied her bundle.

  "You find me nettles growing under the snow and I'll try them, boy," she replied peevishly. But a few moments later she was offering me a dried apple from her small store. I accepted it with thanks. I loaded our things onto the cart and harnessed the mare while she finished her tea. I glanced about but saw nothing of Nighteyes.

  Hunting, came the reply.

  Wish I were with you. Good luck.

  Aren't we supposed to speak but little, lest Regal hear us?