Assassin's Quest tft-3

by Robin Hobb

  As dusk fell, Starling and the Fool sat by the fire. She played her harp softly, wordlessly, and looked into the flames. A bared knife lay on the ground beside her. I stood a time and watched how the firelight touched her face. Starling Birdsong, the last minstrel to the last true Farseer King and Queen. She would write no song that anyone would recall.

  The Fool sat still and listened. They had found a friendship, of sorts. I thought to myself, if this is the last night she can play, he can give her no finer thing than that. To listen well, and let her music lull him with her skill.

  I left them sitting there and took up a full waterskin. Slowly I climbed the ramp up to the dragon. Nighteyes followed me. Earlier, I had built a fire on the dais. Now I fed it from what remained of Kettricken's firewood, and then sat down beside it. Verity and Kettle slept on. Once Chade had used carris seed for two days straight. When he collapsed, he had taken most of a week to recover. All he had wanted to do was sleep and drink water. I doubted that either would awaken soon. It was all right. There was nothing left to say to them anyway. So I simply sat beside Verity and kept watch over my king.

  I was a poor watchman. I came awake to his whispering my name. I sat up instantly and reached for the waterskin I had brought with me. "My king," I said quietly.

  But Verity was not sprawled on the stone, weak and helpless. He stood over me. He made a sign to me to rise and follow him. I did, moving as quietly as he did. At the base of the dragon's dais, he turned to me. Without a word, I offered him the waterskin. He drank half of what it held, paused a bit, and then drank the rest. When he was finished, he handed it back to me. He cleared his throat. "There is a way, FitzChivalry." His dark eyes, so like my own, met mine squarely. "You are the way. So full of life and hungers. So torn with passions."

  "I know," I said. The words came out bravely. I was more frightened than I had ever been in my life. Regal had scared me badly in his dungeon. But that had been pain. This was death. I suddenly knew the difference. My traitorous hands twisted the front hem of my tunic.

  "You will not like it," he warned me. "I do not like it. But I see no other way."

  "I am ready," I lied. "Only… I should like to see Molly once more. To know that she and Nettle are safe. And Burrich."

  He peered at me. "I recall the bargain you offered. That I would not take Nettle for the throne." He glanced away from me. "What I ask of you will be worse. Your actual life. All the life and energy of your body. I have spent all my passions, you see. I have nothing left. If I could but kindle in myself one more night of feelings… if I could recall what it was to desire a woman, to hold the woman I loved in my arms…" His voice dwindled away from me. "It shames me to ask it of you. Shames me more than when I drew strength from you, when you were no more than an unsuspecting boy." He met my eyes again and I knew how he struggled to use words. Imperfect words. "But you see, even that. The shame I feel, the pain that I do this to you… even that is what you give me. Even that I can put into the dragon." He looked away from me. "The dragon must fly, Fitz. He must."

  "Verity. My king." He stared away from me. "My friend." His eyes came back to mine. "It is all right. But… I should like to see Molly again. Even briefly."

  "It is dangerous. I think what I did to Carrod woke true fear in them. They have not tried their strength against us since then, only their cunning. But…"

  "Please." I said the small word quietly.

  Verity sighed. "Very well, boy. But my heart misgives me."

  Not a touch. He didn't even take a breath. Even as Verity dwindled, that was the power of his Skill. We were there, with them. I sensed Verity retreating, giving me the illusion I was there alone.

  It was an inn room. Clean and well furnished. A branch of candles burned beside a loaf of bread and a bowl of apples on a table. Burrich lay shirtless on his side on the bed. Blood had clotted thickly about the knife wound and soaked the waist of his breeches. His chest moved in the slow, deep rhythms of sleep. He was curled around Nettle. She was snugged against him, deeply asleep, his right arm over her protectively. As I watched, Molly leaned over them and deftly slid the babe from under Burrich's arm. Nettle did not stir as she was carried over to a basket in the corner and tucked into the blankets that lined it. Her small pink mouth worked with memories of warm milk. Her brow was smooth beneath her sleek black hair. She seemed none the worse for everything she had endured.

  Molly moved efficiently about the room. She poured water into a basin, and took up a folded cloth. She returned to crouch beside Burrich's bed. She set the basin of water on the floor beside the bed and dipped the rag into it. She wrung it out well. As she set it to his back he jerked awake with a gasp. Fast as a striking snake, he had caught her wrist.

  "Burrich! Let go, this has to be cleaned." Molly was annoyed with him.

  "Oh. It's you." His voice was thick with relief. He released her.

  "Of course it's me. Who else would you expect?" She sponged at the knife wound gently, then dipped the rag in the water again. Both the rag in her hand and the basin of water beside her were tinged with blood.

  His hand groped carefully over the bed beside him. "What have you done with my baby?" he asked.

  "Your baby is fine. She's asleep in a basket. Right there." She wiped his back again, then nodded to herself. "The bleeding has stopped. And it looks clean. I think the leather of your tunic stopped most of her thrust. If you sit up, I can bandage it."

  Slowly Burrich moved to sit up. He gave one tiny gasp, but when he was sitting up, he grinned at her. He pushed a straggle of hair back from his face. "Wit-bees," he said admiringly. He shook his head at her. I could tell it was not the first time he had said it.

  "It was all I could think of," Molly pointed out. She could not keep from smiling back. "It worked, did it not?"

  "Wondrously," he conceded. "But how did you know they'd go after the red-bearded one? That was what persuaded them. And damn near persuaded me as well!"

  She shook her head to herself. "It was luck. And the light. He had the candles and stood before the hearth. The hut was dim. Bees are drawn to light. Almost like moths are."

  "I wonder if they are still inside the hut." He grinned as he watched her rise to take away the bloody rag and water.

  "I lost my bees," she reminded him sadly.

  "We will go burning for more," Burrich comforted her.

  She shook her head sadly. "A hive that has worked the whole summer makes the most honey." At a table in the corner, she took up a roll of clean linen bandaging and a pot of unguent. She sniffed at it thoughtfully. "It doesn't smell like what you make," she observed.

  "It will probably work all the same," he said. A frown creased his brow as he looked slowly around the room. "Molly. How are we to pay for all this?"

  "I've taken care of it." She kept her back to him.

  "How?" he asked suspiciously.

  When she looked back at him, her mouth was flat. I'd known better than to argue with that face. "Fitz's pin. I showed it to the innkeeper to get this room. And while you both slept this afternoon, I took it to a jeweler and sold it." He had opened his mouth, but she gave him no chance to speak. "I know how to bargain and I got its full worth."

  "Its worth was more than coins. Nettle should have had that pin," Burrich said. His mouth was as flat as hers.

  "Nettle needed a warm bed and porridge far more than she needed a silver pin with a ruby in it. Even Fitz would have had the wisdom to know that."

  Oddly enough, I did. But Burrich only said, "I shall have to work many days to earn it back for her."

  Molly took up the bandages. She did not meet his eyes. "You are a stubborn man, and I am sure you will do as you please about that," she said.

  Burrich was silent. I could almost see him trying to decide if that meant he had won the argument. She came back to the bed. She sat beside him on the bed to smear the ointment on his back. He clenched his jaws, but made no sound. Then she came to crouch in front of him. "Lift your arms so I can wr
ap this," she commanded him. He took a breath and lifted his arms up and away from his body. She worked efficiently, unrolling the bandaging as she wrapped it around him. She tied it over his belly. "Better?" she asked.

  "Much." He started to stretch, then thought better of it.

  "There's food," she offered as she went to the table.

  "In a moment." I saw his look darken. So did Molly. She turned back to him, her mouth gone small. "Molly." He sighed. He tried again. "Nettle is King Shrewd's great grandchild. A Farseer. Regal sees her as a threat to him. He may try to kill you again. Both of you. In fact, I am sure he will." He scratched at his beard. Into her silence, he suggested, "Perhaps the only way to protect you both is to put you under the true king's protection. There is a man I know… perhaps Fitz told you of him. Chade?"

  She shook her head mutely. Her eyes were going blacker and blacker.

  "He could take Nettle to a safe place. And see you were well provided for." The words came out of him slowly, reluctantly.

  Molly's reply was swift. "No. She is not a Farseer. She is mine. And I will not sell her, not for coin or safety." She glared at him and practically spat the words. "How could you think I would!"

  He smiled at her anger. I saw guilty relief on his face. "I did not think you would. But I felt obliged to offer it." His next words came even more hesitantly. "I had thought of another way. I do not know what you will think of it. We will still have to travel away from here, find a town where we are not known." He looked at the floor abruptly. "If we were wed before we got there, folk would never question that she was mine…"

  Molly stood as still as if turned to stone. The silence stretched. Burrich lifted his eyes and met hers pleadingly. "Do not take this wrong. I expect nothing of you… that way. But… even so, you need not wed me. There are Witness Stones in Kevdor. We could go there, with a minstrel. I could stand before them, and swear she was mine. No one would ever question it."

  "You'd lie before a Witness Stone?" Molly asked incredulously. "You'd do that? To keep Nettle safe?"

  He nodded slowly. His eyes never left her face.

  She shook her head. "No, Burrich, I will not have it. It is the worst of luck, to do such a thing. All know the tales of what becomes of those who profane the Witness Stones with a lie."

  "I will chance it." He spoke grimly. I had never known the man to lie before Nettle had come into his life. Now he offered to give a false oath. I wondered if Molly knew what he was offering her.

  She did. "No. You will not lie." She spoke with certainty.

  "Molly. Please."

  "Be quiet!" she said with great finality. She cocked her head and looked at him, puzzling something out. "Burrich?" she asked with a tentative note to her voice. "I have heard it told… Lacey said that once you loved Patience." She took a breath. "Do you love her still?" she asked.

  Burrich looked almost angry. Molly met his stare with a pleading look until Burrich looked away from her. She could barely hear his words. "I love my memories of her. As she was then, as I was then. Probably much as you still love Fitz."

  It was Molly's turn to wince. "Some of the things I remember… yes." She nodded as if reminding herself of something. Then she looked up and met Burrich's eyes. "But he is dead." So oddly final, those words coming from her. Then, with a plea in her voice, she added, "Listen to me. Just listen. All my life it's been… First my father. He always told me he loved me. But when he struck me and cursed me, it never felt like love to me. Then Fitz He swore he loved me and touched me gently. But his lies never sounded like love to me. Now you… Burrich, you never speak to me of love. You have never touched me, not in anger nor desire.

  But both your silence and your look speak more of love to me than ever their words or touches did." She waited. He did not speak. "Burrich?" she asked desperately.

  "You are young," he said softly. "And lovely. So full of spirit. You deserve better."

  "Burrich. Do you love me?" A simple question, timidly asked.

  He folded his work-scarred hands in his lap. "Yes." He gripped his hands together. To stop their trembling?

  Molly's smile broke forth like the sun from a cloud. "Then you shall marry me. And afterward, if you wish, I shall stand before the Witness Stones. And I will admit to all that I was with you before we were wed. And I will show them the child."

  He finally lifted his eyes' to hers. His look was incredulous. "You'd marry me? As I am? Old? Poor? Scarred?"

  "You are none of those things to me. To me, you are the man I love."

  He shook his head. Her answer had only baffled him more. "And after what you just said about bad luck? You would stand before a Witness Stone and lie?"

  She smiled a different sort of smile at him. One I had not seen in a long time. One that broke my heart. "It need not be a lie," she pointed out quietly.

  His nostrils flared like a stallion's as he surged to his feet. The breath he drew swelled his chest.

  "Wait," she commanded him softly, and he did. She licked her thumb and forefinger. She swiftly pinched out all but one candle. Then she crossed the darkened room to his arms.

  I fled.

  "Oh, my boy. I am so sorry."

  I shook my head silently. My eyes were squeezed tight shut, but tears leaked from them anyway. I found my voice. "He will be good to her. And Nettle. He is the sort of man she deserves. No, Verity. I should take comfort in it. To know he will be with her, caring for them both."

  Comfort. I could find no comfort in it. Only pain.

  "It seems a very poor bargain I have made you." Verity sounded genuinely grieved for me.

  "No. It's all right." I caught my breath. "Now, Verity. I would it were done quickly."

  "Are you sure?"

  "As you will."

  He took my life from me.

  It was a dream I had had before. I knew the feel of an old man's body. The other time, I had been King Shrewd, in a soft nightshirt, in a clean bed. This time was harsher. I ached in every joint of my body. My gut burned inside me. And I had scalded myself, on my face and hands. There was more pain than life left in this body. Like a candle almost burned to the socket. I opened my eyes stickily. I sprawled on cold, gritty stone. A wolf sat watching me.

  This is wrong, he told me.

  I could think of nothing to say to that. It certainly did not feel right. After a time, I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. My hands hurt. My knees hurt. Every joint in my body creaked and complained as I drew myself up and looked around. The night was warm, but I still shivered. Above me, on a dais, an incomplete dragon slumbered.

  I do not understand. Nighteyes pleaded for an explanation.

  I do not wish to understand. I do not want to know.

  But whether I wished it or not, I did know. I walked slowly and the wolf came at my heels. We walked past a dying fire between two tents. No one kept watch. From Kettricken's tent, there were small noises. Verity's face was what she saw in the dimness. Verity's dark eyes, looking into hers. She believed her husband had finally come to her.

  In truth, he had.

  I did not want to hear, I did not want to know. I walked on with my old man's careful pacing. Great black blocks of stone loomed around us. Ahead of us, something clicked and chinked softly. I walked through the sharp-edged stone shadows and into moonlight again.

  Once you shared my body. Is this like that?

  "No." I spoke the word aloud, and in the wake of my voice, I heard a small scrabbling. What's that?

  I'll go and see. The wolf melted into the shadows. He returned instantly. It's only the Scentless One. He hides from you. He does not know you.

  I knew where I would find him. I took my time. This body had all it could do to move, let alone move swiftly. When I came to Girl-on-a-Dragon, it was horribly hard to clamber up on her dais. Once I was up, I could see the fresh rock chips everywhere. I sat down by the dragon's feet, a cautious lowering of my body to cold stone. I looked at his work. He had almost cut her free. "Fool?" I called out
softly in the night.

  He came slowly, from the shadows, to stand eyes down before me. "My king," he said softly. "I tried. But I cannot help myself. I cannot just leave her here…"

  I nodded slowly, wordlessly. At the base of the dais, Nighteyes whined. The Fool glanced down at him, then back up at me. Puzzlement crossed his face. "My lord?" he asked.

  I reached for the thread of Skill-bond between us and found it. The Fool's face grew very still as he struggled to understand. He came to sit beside me. He stared at me, as if he could see through Verity's skin. "I like this not," he said at last.

  "Nor I," I agreed.

  "Why have you…"

  "Better not to know," I said briefly.

  For a time we sat in silence. Then the Fool reached back to brush a handful of fresh stone chips from about the dragon's foot. He met my eyes, but there was still furtiveness as he drew a chisel from his shirt. His hammer was a stone.

  "That's Verity's chisel."

  "I know. He doesn't need it anymore, and my knife broke." He set the edge carefully to the rock. "It works much better anyway." I watched him tap another small chip free. I aligned my thoughts with his.

  "She draws on your strength," I observed quietly.

  "I know." Another chip came free. "I was curious. And my touch hurt her." He placed his chisel again. "I feel I owe her something."

  "Fool. She could take all you offer her and it would still not be enough."

  "How do you know?"

  I shrugged. "This body knows."

  Then I stared as he laid his Skill-fingers to the place where he had chiseled. I winced, but sensed no pain from her. She took something from him. But he had not the Skill to shape her with his hands. What he gave her was only enough to torment her.

  "She reminds me of my older sister," he said into the night. "She had golden hair."

  I sat in stunned silence. He did not look at me as he added, "I should have liked to see her again. She used to spoil me outrageously. I would have liked to have seen all my family again." His tone was no more than wistful as he moved his fingers idly against the chiseled stone.