Assassin's Quest tft-3

by Robin Hobb

  The sergeant stooped down and relieved Nik of the pouch of gold, and his own pouch as well. Nik struggled, and lost some blood in the process. I did not bother watching much of it. He'd sold me to Regal's guards. And how had he known who I was? Pillow talk with Starling, I told myself bitterly. I had trusted, and it had brought me what it always did. I did not even turn to look when they dragged him away.

  I had but one true friend, and my foolishness had cost him. Again. I stared up at the sky and reached out of my body, threw my senses as wide as I could, questing, questing. I found him. Somewhere, his claws scrabbled and scratched at a steep and icy bank. His dense coat was laden with water, heavy with it so he could scarcely keep his head up. He lost his purchase, the river seized him again, and once more he spun around in it. It pulled him under and held him there, then threw him suddenly to the surface. The air he gasped in was laden with spray. He had no strength left.

  Try! I commanded him. Keep trying!

  And the fickle current flung him again against a riverbank; but this one was a tangle of dangling roots. His claws caught in them, and he hauled himself high, scrabbling at them as he choked out water and gasped in air. His lungs worked like bellows.

  Get out! Shake off!

  He gave me no answer at all, but I felt him haul himself out. Little by little, he gained the brushy bank. He crawled out like a puppy, on his belly. Water ran from him, forming a puddle around him where he cowered. He was so cold. Frost was already forming on his ears and muzzle. He stood up and tried to shake. He fell over. He staggered to his feet again and tottered a few more steps from the river. He shook again, water flying everywhere. The action both lightened him and stood his coat up. He stood, head down, and gagged out a gush of river water. Find shelter. Curl up and get warm, I told him. He was not thinking very well. The spark that was Nighteyes had almost winked out. He sneezed violently several times, then looked around himself. There, I urged him. Under that tree. Snow had bent the evergreen's fronds almost to the ground. Beneath the tree was a little hollow, thickly floored with shed needles. If he crept in there, and curled up, he might get warm again. Go on, I urged him. You can make it. Go on.

  "I think you kicked him too hard. He's just staring at the sky."

  "Did you see what that woman did to Skef? He's bleeding like a pig. He popped her a good one back."

  "Where'd the old one go? Did anyone find her?"

  "She won't get far in this snow, so don't worry about it. Wake him up and get him on his feet."

  "He's not even blinking his eyes. He's hardly even breathing."

  "I don't care. Just take him to the Skill-wizard. After that, he's not our problem."

  I knew guards dragged me to my feet, I knew I was walked up the hill. I paid no attention to that body. Instead, I shook myself again, and then crept under the tree. There was just room to curl myself up. I put my tail over my nose. I flicked my ears a few times to shake the last of the water from them. Go to sleep now. Everything's fine. Go to sleep. I closed his eyes for him. He was still shivering, but I could feel a hesitant warmth creeping through him again. Gently I drew myself clear.

  I lifted my head and looked out of my own eyes. I was walking up a trail, with a tall Farrow guard on either side of me. I didn't need to look back to know that others followed. Ahead of us, I saw Nik's wagons, pulled up in the shelter of the trees. I saw his men sitting on the ground with their hands bound behind them. The pilgrims, still dripping, huddled around a fire. Several guards stood around their group as well. I didn't see Starling or Kettle. One woman clutched her child to her and wept noisily over his shoulder. The boy did not appear to be moving. A man met my eyes, then turned aside to spit on the ground. "It's the Witted Bastard's fault we've come to this," I heard him say loudly. "Eda scowls upon him! He tainted our pilgrimage!"

  They marched me to a comfortable tent pitched in the lee of some great trees. I was shoved through the tent flaps and pushed down onto my knees on a thick sheepskin rug on an elevated wooden floor. One guard kept a firm grip on my hair as the sergeant announced, "Here he is, sir. The wolf got Captain Mark, but we got him."

  A fat brazier of coals gave off a welcome heat. The interior of the tent was the warmest place I'd been in days. The sudden heat almost stupefied me. But Burl did not share my opinion. He sat in a wooden chair on the other side of the brazier, his feet outstretched toward it. He was robed and hooded and covered over with furs as if there were nothing else between him and the night cold. He had always been a large framed man; now he was heavy as well. His dark hair had been curled in imitation of Regal's. Displeasure shone in his dark eyes.

  "How is it that you aren't dead?" he demanded of me.

  There was no good answer to that question. I merely looked at him, expression bland, walls tight. His face flushed suddenly red and his cheeks appeared swollen with his anger. When he spoke, his voice was tight. He glared at the sergeant.

  "Report properly." Then, before the man could begin, he asked, "You let the wolf get away?"

  "Not let him, no, sir. He attacked the captain. He and Captain Mark went into the river together, sir, and were carried off. Water that cold and swift, neither had a chance to survive. But I've sent a few men downriver to check the bank for the captain's body."

  "I'll want the wolf's body as well, if it's washed up. Be sure your men know that."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Did you secure the smuggler, Nik? Or did he get away, as well?" Burl's sarcasm was heavy.

  "No, sir. We have the smuggler and his men. We have those traveling with him as well, though they put up more of a fight than we expected. Some ran off in the woods, but we got them back. They claim to be pilgrims seeking Eda's shrine in the Mountains."

  "That concerns me not at all. What matters why a man broke the King's law, after he has broken it? Did you recover the gold the captain paid the smuggler?"

  The sergeant looked surprised. "No, sir. Gold paid to a smuggler? There was no sign of that. I wonder if it went downriver with Captain Mark. Perhaps he hadn't given it to the man…"

  "I am not a fool. I know far more of what goes on than you think I do. Find it. All of it, and return it here. Did you capture all the smugglers?"

  The sergeant took a breath and decided on the truth. "There were a few with the pony team on the far side when we took down Nik. They rode off before…"

  "Forget them. Where is the Bastard's accomplice?"

  The sergeant looked blank. I believe he did not know the word.

  "Did not you capture a minstrel? Starling?" Burl demanded again.

  The sergeant looked uncomfortable. "She got a bit out of control, sir. When the men were subduing the Bastard on the ramp. She lit into the man holding her and broke his nose. It took a bit to… get her under control."

  "Is she alive?" Burl's tone left no doubt of his contempt for their competence.

  The sergeant flushed. "Yes, sir. But…" Burl silenced them with a look. "Were your captain still alive, he would wish he were dead now. You have no concept of how to report, or of how to retain control of a situation. A man should have been sent to me immediately, to inform me of these events as they happened. The minstrel should not have been permitted to see what was happening, but secured immediately. And only an idiot would have tried to subdue a man on a barge in the middle of a strong current when all he had to do was wait for the barge to land. He'd have had a dozen swords at his command there. As for the smuggler's bribe, it will be returned to me, or you shall all go unpaid until it is made up. I am not a fool." He glared around at everyone in the tent. "This has been bungled. I will not excuse it." He folded his lips tightly. When he spoke again, he spat out the words. "All of you. Go."

  "Yes, sir. Sir? The prisoner?"

  "Leave him here. Leave two men outside, swords drawn. But I wish to speak to him alone." The sergeant bowed and hastened out of the tent. His men followed him promptly.

  I looked up at Burl and met his eyes. My hands were bound tightly behind me, b
ut no one held me on my knees anymore. I got to my feet and stood looking down on Burl. He met my gaze unflinchingly. When he spoke his voice was quiet. It made his words all the more threatening. "I repeat to you what I told the sergeant. I am not a fool. I do not doubt that you already have a plan to escape. It probably includes killing me. I have a plan as well, and it includes my surviving. I am going to tell it to you. It's a simple plan, Bastard. I have always preferred simplicity. It is this. If you give me any trouble at all, I shall have you killed. As you have no doubt deduced, King Regal wishes you brought to him alive. If possible. Don't think that will prevent me from killing you if you become inconvenient. If you are thinking of your Skill, I will warn you my mind is well warded. If I even suspect you of trying it, we will try your Skill against my guard's sword. As for your Wit, well, it seems my problems are solved there, as well. But should your wolf materialize, he, too, is not proof against a sword."

  I said nothing.

  "Do you understand me?"

  I gave a single nod.

  "That is as well. Now. If you give me no problems, you will be treated fairly. As will the others. If you are difficult at all, they, too, will share your privations. Do you understand that as well?" He met my gaze, demanding an answer.

  I matched his quiet tone. "Do you truly think I'd care if you spilled Nik's blood, now that he's sold me to you?"

  He smiled. It turned me cold, for that smile had once belonged to the carpenter's genial apprentice. A different Burl now wore his skin. "You're a wily one, Bastard, and have been since I've known you. But you've the same weakness of your father and the Pretender; you believe even one of these peasants' lives to be worth the equal of yours. Be any trouble to me, and they all pay, to the last drop of blood. Do you understand me? Even Nik."

  He was right. I had no stomach to visualize the pilgrims paying for my daring. I quietly asked, "And if I am cooperative? What becomes of them, then?"

  He shook his head over my foolishness in caring. "Three years' servitude. Were I a less kindly man, I'd take a hand from each of them, for they have directly disobeyed the King's orders in attempting to cross the border and deserve to be punished as traitors. Ten years for the smugglers."

  I knew few of the smugglers would survive. "And the minstrel?"

  I do not know why he answered my question, but he did. "The minstrel will have to die. You know that already. She knew who you were, for Will questioned her back in Blue Lake. She chose to help you, when she could have served her king instead. She is a traitor."

  His words ignited the spark of my temper. "In helping me, she serves the true king. And when Verity returns, you will feel his wrath. There will be no one to shield you or the rest of your false coterie."

  For a moment, Burl only looked at me. I caught control of myself. I had sounded like a child, threatening another with his big brother's wrath. My words were useless, and worse than useless.

  "Guards!" Burl did not shout. He scarcely lifted his voice at all, but the two were inside the tent instantly, swords drawn and pointed at my face. Burl behaved as if he did not notice the weapons. "Bring the minstrel to us here. And see that she does not get 'out of control' this time." When they hesitated, he shook his head and sighed. "Go on, now, both of you. Send your sergeant to me as well." When they had departed, he met my eyes and made a face of discontent. "You see what they give me to work with. Moonseye has ever been the refuse pile for Six Duchies soldiery. I have the cravens, the fools, the discontents, the connivers. And then I must face my king's displeasure when every task given them is botched."

  I think he actually expected me to commiserate with him. "So, Regal has sent you here to join them," I observed instead.

  Burl gave me a strange smile. "As King Shrewd sent your father and Verity here before me."

  That was true. I looked down at the thick sheepskin covering the floor. I was dripping on it. The warmth from the brazier was seeping into me, causing me to shiver as if my body were giving up cold it had hoarded. For an instant I quested away from myself. My wolf slept now, warmer than I was. Burl reached to a small table beside his chair and took up a pot. He poured a steaming cup of beef broth for himself and sipped at it. I could smell its savor. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  "We've come a long ways from where we began, haven't we?" He almost sounded regretful.

  I bobbed my head. He was a cautious man, Burl, and I did not doubt that he would carry out his threats. I had seen the shape of his Skill, and seen, too, how Galen had bent and twisted it into a tool that Regal would use. He was loyal to an upstart prince. That Galen had forged into him; he could no longer separate it from his Skill. He had ambitions for power, and he loved the indolent life his Skill had earned him. His arms no longer bulged with the muscles of his work. Instead his belly stretched his tunics and the jowls of his cheeks hung heavy. He seemed a decade older than I was. But he would guard his position against anything that threatened it. Guard it savagely.

  The sergeant reached the tent first, but his men came with Starling shortly afterward. She walked between them and entered the tent with dignity despite her bruised face and swollen lip. There was an icy calm to her as she stood straight before Burl and gave him no greeting at all. Perhaps only I sensed the fury she contained. Of fear she showed no sign at all.

  When she stood alongside me, Burl lifted his eyes to consider us both. He pointed one finger at her. "Minstrel. You are aware that this man is FitzChivalry, the Witted Bastard."

  Starling made no response. It was not a question.

  "In Blue Lake, Will, of Galen's Coterie, servant of King Regal, offered you gold, good honest coin, if you could help us track down this man. You denied all knowledge of where he was." He paused, as if giving her a chance to speak. She said nothing.

  "Yet, here we have found you, traveling in his company again." He took a deep breath. "And now he tells me that you, in serving him, serve Verity the Pretender. And he threatens me with Verity's wrath. Tell me. Before I respond to this, do you agree with this? Or has he misspoken on your behalf?"

  We both knew he was offering her a chance. I hoped she'd have the sense to take it. I saw Starling swallow. She did not look at me. When she spoke, her voice was low and controlled. "I need no one to speak for me, my lord. Nor am I any man's servant. I do not serve FitzChivalry." She paused, and I felt dizzying relief. But then she took breath and went on, "But if Verity Farseer lives; then he is true King of the Six Duchies. And I do not doubt that all who say otherwise will feel his wrath. If he returns."

  Burl sighed out through his nose. He shook his head regretfully. He gestured to one of the waiting men. "You. Break one of her fingers. I don't care which one."

  "I am a minstrel!" Starling objected in horror. She stared at him in disbelief. We all did. It was not unheard of for a minstrel to be executed for treason. To kill a minstrel was one thing. To harm one was entirely another.

  "Did you not hear me?" Burl asked the man when he hesitated.

  "Sir, she's a minstrel." The man looked stricken. "It's bad luck to harm a minstrel."

  Burl turned away from him to his sergeant. "You will see he receives five lashes before I retire this night. Five, mind you, and I wish to be able to count the separate welts on his back."

  "Yes, sir," the sergeant said faintly.

  Burl turned back to the man. "Break one of her fingers. I don't care which one." He spoke the command as if he had never uttered the words before.

  The man moved toward her like a man in a dream. He was going to obey, and Burl was not going to stop the order.

  "I will kill you," I promised Burl sincerely.

  Burl smiled at me serenely. "Guardsman. Make that two of her fingers. I do not care which ones." The sergeant moved swiftly, drawing his knife and stepping behind me. He set it to my throat and pushed me to my knees. I looked up at Starling. She glanced at me once, her eyes flat and empty, then looked away. Her hands, like mine, were bound behind her. She stared straight ahead
at Burl's chest. Still and silent she stood, going whiter and whiter until he actually touched her. She cried out, a hoarse guttural sound as he gripped her wrists. Then she screamed, but her cry could not cover the two small snaps her fingers made as the man bent them backward at the joints.

  "Show me," Burl commanded.

  As if angry with Starling that he had had to do this, the man thrust her down on her face. She lay on the sheepskin before Burl's feet. After the scream, she had not made a sound. The two smallest fingers on her left hand stood out crazily from the others. Burl looked down at them, and nodded, satisfied.

  "Take her away. See she is well guarded. Then come back and see your sergeant. When he is finished with you, come to me." Burl's voice was even.

  The guard seized Starling by her collar and dragged her to her feet. He looked both ill and angry as he prodded her out of the tent. Burl nodded to the sergeant. "Let him up, now."

  I stood looking down at him, and he looked up at me. But there was no longer the slightest doubt as to who was in control of the situation. His voice was very quiet as he observed, "Earlier you said you understood me. Now I know that you do. The journey to Moonseye can be swift and easy for you, FitzChivalry. And for the others. Or it can be otherwise. It is entirely up to you."

  I made no reply. None was needed. Burl nodded to the other guardsman. He took me from Burl's tent to another one. Four other guards inhabited it. He gave me both bread and meat and a cup of water. I was docile as he retied my hands in front of me so I could eat. Afterward, he pointed me to a blanket in a corner, and I went like an obedient dog. They bound my hands behind me again and tied my feet. They kept the brazier burning all night, and always there were at least two watching me.

  I did not care. I turned away from them and faced the wall of the tent. I closed my eyes, and went, not to sleep, but to my wolf. His coat was mostly dry, but still he slept in exhaustion. Both the cold and the battering of the river had taken their toll of him. I took what small comfort was left to me. Nighteyes lived, and now he slept. I wondered on which side of the river.