Royal Assassin. Робин Хобб
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he recalled me, and had missed me. He brought Verity to see me that evening. I had to scold him over that. It was difficult to make them understand they could not come calling on me anytime they chose. Those boys.’ He shook his head and smiled at his memories. I can not explain the twinge of jealousy I felt. I called the conversation back to myself.
‘What do you think I should do?’
Chade pursed his lips, sipped his wine, and thought. ‘For now, Patience has given you good advice. Ignore or avoid Molly, but not obviously. Treat her as if she were a new scullery maid: courteously, if you encounter her, but not familiarly. Do not seek her out. Devote yourself to the Queen-in-Waiting. Verity will be glad of your distracting her. Kettricken will be glad of a friendly face. And if your intent is to win permission to marry Molly, the Queen-in-Waiting could be a powerful ally. As you divert Kettricken, watch over her as well. Bear in mind there are those whose interests do not support Verity having an heir. Those same ones who would not be enthused about your having children. So be wary and alert. Keep your guard up.’
‘Is that all?’ I asked, daunted.
‘No. Get some rest. Deadroot was what was used on you, by Regal?’ I nodded and he shook his head, narrowing his eyes. Then he looked me squarely in the face. ‘You are young. You may be able to recover, mostly. I’ve seen one other man survive it. But he trembled the rest of his life. I see the small signs of it on you yet. It will not show much, except to those who know you well. But do not overtire yourself. Weariness will bring on tremblings and blurred vision. Push yourself, and you will have fits. You do not want anyone to know you have a weakness. The best course is to conduct your life in such a way the weakness never shows.’
‘Was that why there was elfbark in the tea?’ I asked needlessly.
He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Tea?’
‘Perhaps it was the Fool’s doing. I awoke to food and tea in my room …’
‘And if it had been Regal’s doing?’
It took a moment for the realization to dawn. ‘I could have been poisoned.’
‘But you weren’t. Not this time. No, it was neither I nor the Fool. It was Lacey. There is someone deeper than you credit. The Fool discovered you, and something possessed him to tell Patience. While she was flustering, Lacey quietly ordered it all done. I think that privately she considers you as scatter-brained as her mistress. Give her the slightest opening, and she will move in and organize your life. Good as her intentions are, you cannot allow that, Fitz. An assassin needs privacy. Get a latch for your door.’
‘Fitz?’ I wondered aloud.
‘It is your name. FitzChivalry. As it seems to have lost its sting with you, I will use it now. I was beginning to weary of “boy”.’
I bowed my head. We went on to talk of other things. It was an hour or so until morning when I left his windowless chambers and returned to my own. I went back to bed, but sleep eluded me. I had always stifled the hidden anger I felt at my position at court. Now it smouldered within me so that I could not rest. I threw off my blankets and dressed in my outgrown clothes, left the keep, and walked down into Buckkeep Town.
The brisk wind off the water blew damp cold like a wet slap in the face. I pulled my cloak more tightly around myself and tugged up my hood. I walked briskly, avoiding icy spots on the steep roadway down to town. I tried not to think, but I found that the brisk pumping of my blood was warming my anger more than my flesh. My thoughts danced like a reined-in horse.
When I had first come to Buckkeep Town, it had been a busy, grubby little place. In the last decade it had grown and adopted a veneer of sophistication, but its roots were only too plain. The town clung to the cliffs below Buckkeep Castle, and when those cliffs gave way to the rocky beaches, the warehouses and sheds were built out on docks and pilings. The good deep anchorage that sheltered below Buckkeep attracted merchant vessels and traders. Further to the north, where the Buck River met the sea, there were gentler beaches and the wide river to carry trading barges far inland to the Inland Duchies. The land closest to the river mouth was susceptible to flooding, and the anchorage unpredictable as the river shifted in its course. So the folk of Buckkeep Town lived crowded together on the steep cliffs above the harbour like the birds on Egg Bluffs. It made for narrow, badly cobbled streets that wound back and forth across the steepness as they made their way down to the water. The houses, shops and inns clung humbly to the cliff face, endeavouring to offer no resistance to the winds that were almost constant there. Higher up the cliff, the more ambitious homes and businesses were of timber, with their foundations cut into the stone itself. But I knew little of that stratum. I had run and played as a child among the humbler shops and sailors’ inns that fronted almost on the water itself.
By the time I reached this area of Buckkeep Town, I was reflecting ironically that both Molly and I would have been better off had we never become friends. I had compromised her reputation, and if I continued my attentions, she would most likely become a target for Regal’s malice. As for myself, the anguish I had felt at believing she had blithely left me for another was but a scratch compared to the bleeding now at knowing she thought I had deceived her.
I came out of my bleak thoughts to realize that my traitorous feet had carried me to the very door of her chandlery. Now it was a tea and herb shop. Just what Buckkeep Town needed, another tea and herb shop. I wondered what had become of Molly’s bee hives. It gave me a pang to realize that for Molly the sense of dislocation must be ten times, no, a hundred times worse. I had so easily accepted that Molly had lost her father, and with him her livelihood and her prospects. So easily accepted the change that made her a servant in the keep. A servant. I clenched my teeth and kept walking.
I wandered the town aimlessly. Even in my bleak mood, I noticed how much it had changed in the last six months. Even on this cold winter day, it bustled. The construction of the ships had brought more folk, and more folk meant more trade. I stopped in a tavern where Molly, Dirk, Kerry and I had used to share a bit of brandy now and then. The cheapest blackberry brandy was usually what we got. I sat by myself and drank my short beer in silence, but around me tongues wagged and I learned much. It was not just the ship construction which had bolstered Buckkeep Town’s prosperity; Verity had put out a call for sailors to man his warships. The call had been amply answered, by men and women from all of the Coastal Duchies. Some came with a grudge to settle, to avenge those killed or Forged by the Raiders. Others came for the adventure, and the hope of booty, or simply because, in the ravaged villages, they had no other prospects. Some were from fisher or merchant families, with sea time and water skills. Other were the former shepherds and farmers of ravaged villages. It mattered little. All had come to Buckkeep Town, eager to shed Red Ship blood.
For now, many were housed in what had once been warehouses. Hod, the Buckkeep Weapons-master, was giving them weapons training, winnowing out those she thought might be suitable for Verity’s ships. The others would be offered hire as soldiers. These were the extra fold that swelled the town and crowded the inns and taverns and eating places. I heard complaints, too, that some of those who came to man the warships were immigrant Outislanders, displaced from their own land by the very Red Ships that now menaced our coasts. They, too, claimed to be eager for revenge, but few Six Duchies folk trusted them, and some businesses in town would not sell to them. It gave an ugly charged undercurrent to the busy tavern. There was a snickering discussion of an Outislander who had been beaten on the docks the day before. No one had called the town patrol. When the speculation became even uglier, that these Outislanders were all spies and that burning them out would be a wise and sensible precaution, I could no longer stomach it, and left the tavern. Was there nowhere I could go to be free of suspicions and intrigues, if only for an hour?
I walked alone through the wintry streets. A storm was blowing up. The merciless wind prowled the twisting streets, promising snow. The same angry cold twisted and churned inside me, switching from anger to hatred to frustration and back to anger again, building to an unbearable pressure. They had no right to do this to me. I had not been born to be their tool. I had a right to live my life freely, to be who I was born to be. Did they think they could bend me to their will, use me however they would, and I would never retaliate? No. A time would come. My time would come.