Assassin’s Quest. Робин Хобб
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was regarding me with a distaste as fervent as Burrich’s was for the Wit while Holly silently shook her head. ‘You bonded as a child? Forgive me, but that is perversion. As well allow a little girl to be wed off to a grown man. A child is not ready to share the full life of a beast; all Old Blood parents I know most carefully shelter their children from such contacts.’ Sympathy touched his face. ‘Still, it must have been excruciating for your bond-friend to be taken from you. But whoever did it, did the right thing, whatever his reason.’ He looked at me more closely. ‘I am surprised you survived, knowing nothing of the Old Blood ways.’
‘Where I come from, it is seldom spoken of. And when it is, it is called the Wit, and is deemed a shameful thing to do.’
‘Even your parents told you this? For while I well know how the Old Blood is regarded and all the lies that are told about it, one usually does not hear them from one’s own parents. Our parents cherish our lines, and help us to find proper mates when the time comes, so that our blood may not be thinned.’
I glanced from his frank gaze to Holly’s open stare. ‘I did not know my parents.’ Even anonymously, the words did not come easily to me. ‘My mother gave me over to my father’s family when I was six years old. And my father chose not to … be near me. Still, I suspect the Old Blood came from my mother’s side. I recall nothing of her or her family.’
‘Six years old? And you recall nothing? Surely she taught you something before she let you go, gave you some knowledge to protect yourself … ?’
I sighed. ‘I recall nothing of her.’ I had long ago grown weary of folk telling me that I must remember something of her, that most people have memories that go back to when they were three or even younger.
Black Rolf made a low noise in his throat, between a growl and a sigh. ‘Well, someone taught you something.’
‘No.’ I said it flatly, tired of the argument. I wished an end to it, and so resorted to the oldest tactic I knew for diverting people when they asked too many questions about me. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ I urged him. ‘What did your mother teach you, and how?’
He smiled, his cheeks wrinkling fatly about his black eyes and making them smaller. ‘It took her twenty years to teach it to me. Have you that long to hear about it?’ At my look he added, ‘No, I know you asked but to make conversation. But I offer what I see you needing. Stay with us a bit. We’ll teach you what you both need to know. But you won’t learn it in an hour or a day. It’s going to take months. Perhaps years.’
Holly spoke suddenly from the corner in a quiet voice. ‘We could find him a mate as well. He might do for Ollie’s girl. She’s older, but she might steady him down.’
Rolf grinned widely. ‘Isn’t that like a woman! Knows you for five minutes, and already matching you up for marriage.’
Holly spoke directly to me. Her smile was small but warm. ‘Vita is bonded to a crow. All of you would hunt well together. Stay with us. You will meet her, and like her. Old Blood should join to Old Blood.’
Refuse politely, Nighteyes suggested immediately. Bad enough to den among men. If you start sleeping near bears, you shall stink so that we can never hunt well again. Nor do I desire to share our kills with a teasing crow. He paused. Unless they know of a woman who is bonded with a bitch-wolf?
A smile twitched at the corner of Black Rolf’s mouth. I suspected he was more aware of what we said than he let on, and I told Nighteyes as much.
‘It is one of the things that I could teach you, should you choose to stay,’ Rolf offered. ‘When you two speak, to one of the Old Blood it is as if you were shouting to one another over the rattle of a tinker’s cart. There is no need to be so … wide open with it. It is only one wolf you address, not all of the wolf kindred. No. It is even more than that. I doubt if anything that eats meat is unaware of you two. Tell me. When was the last time you encountered a large carnivore?’
Dogs chased me some nights ago, Nighteyes said.
‘Dogs will stand and bark from their territory,’ Rolf observed. ‘I meant a wild carnivore.’
‘I don’t think I’ve seen any since we bonded,’ I admitted unwillingly.
‘They will avoid you as surely as Forged ones will follow you,’ Black Rolf said calmly.
A chill went down my spine. ‘Forged ones? But Forged ones seem to have no Wit at all. I do not sense them with my Wit-sense at all, only with eyes or nose or …’
‘To your Old Blood senses, all creatures give off a kinship warmth. All save the Forged ones. This is true?’
I nodded uneasily.
‘They have lost it. I do not know how it is stolen from them, but that is what Forging does. And it leaves an emptiness in them. This much is well known among those of the Old Blood, and we know, too, that we are more likely to be followed and attacked by Forged ones. Especially if we use those talents carelessly. Why this is so, no one can say with certainty. Perhaps only the Forged ones know, if they truly “know” anything any more. But it gives us one more reason to be cautious of ourselves and our talents.’
‘Are you suggesting that Nighteyes and I should refrain from using the Wit?’
‘I am suggesting that perhaps you should stay here for a while, and take the time to learn to master the talents of the Old Blood. Or you may find yourself in more battles such as the one you fought yesterday.’ He permitted himself a small smile.
‘I said nothing to you of that attack,’ I said quietly.
‘You did not need to,’ he pointed out. ‘I am sure that everyone of Old Blood for leagues around heard you when you fought them. Until you both learn to control how you speak to one another, nothing between you is truly private.’ He paused then added, ‘Did you never think it strange that Forged ones would spend time attacking a wolf when there is apparently nothing to gain from such an attack? They only focus on him because he is bonded to you.’
I gave Nighteyes a brief apologetic glance. ‘I thank you for your offer. But we have a thing we must do and it will not wait. I think that we shall encounter fewer Forged ones as we move inland. We should be fine.’
‘That is likely. The ones that go so far inland are gathered up by the King. Still, any that may be left will be drawn to you. But even if you encounter no more Forged ones, you are likely to encounter the King’s Guards. They take a special interest in “witted” folk these days. Of late, many of the Old Blood have been sold to the King, by neighbours, and even family. His gold is good, and he does not even ask much proof that they are truly Old Blood. Not for years has the vendetta against us burned so hot.’
I looked away uncomfortably, well aware of why Regal hated those with the Wit. His coterie would support him in that hate. I felt sickened as I thought of innocent folk sold to Regal that he might revenge himself on them in my stead. I tried to keep the rage I felt masked.
Hilda came back to the table, looked it over consideringly, then seized the pot that held the honeycombs in both her paws. She waddled carefully away from the table, to seat herself in the corner and begin a careful licking out of the pot. Holly continued to watch me. I could read nothing from her eyes.
Black Rolf scratched at his beard, then winced as his fingers found a sore spot. He smiled a careful, rueful smile at me. ‘I can sympathize with your desire to kill King Regal. But I do not think you shall find it as easy as you suppose.’
I just looked at him, but Nighteyes rolled a light snarl in the back of his throat. Hilda looked up at that and thumped down on all fours, the honey jar rolling away from her across the floor. Black Rolf sent her a glance and she sat back, but fixed both Nighteyes and me with a glare. I don’t think there is anything as gut-tightening as an angry glare from a brown bear. I did not move. Holly sat up straight in her chair but remained calm. Above us in the rafters Sleet rattled his plumage.
‘If you bay out all your plans and