Assassins Apprentice Page 9

  “Don’t trouble yourself about it, boy. It leaves its tracks on all of us, and sooner or later you’ll get the tumble of it. But now, well . . . ” He rose, stretching, so that his cassock bared his skinny white calves. “Now it’s mostly later. Or earlier, depending on which end of the day you fancy most. Time you headed back to your bed. Now. You’ll remember that this is all a very dark secret, won’t you? Not just me and this room, but the whole thing, waking up at night and lessons in how to kill people, and all of it. ”

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  “I’ll remember,” I told him, and then, sensing that it would mean something to him, I added, “You have my word. ”

  He chuckled, and then nodded almost sadly. I changed back into my night robe, and he saw me down the steps. He held his glowing light by my bed as I clambered in, and then smoothed the blankets over me as no one had done since I’d left Burrich’s chambers. I think I was asleep before he had even departed from my bedside.

  Brant was sent to wake me the next morning, so late was I in arising. I came awake groggy, my head pounding painfully. But as soon as he left, I sprang from my bed and raced to the corner of my room. Cold stone met my hands as I pushed against the wall there, and no crack in mortar or stone gave any sign of the secret door I felt sure must be there. Never for one instant did I think Chade had been a dream, and even if I had, there remained the simple copper bracelet on my wrist to prove he wasn’t.

  I dressed hurriedly and passed through the kitchens for a slab of bread and cheese that I was still eating when I got to the stables. Burrich was out of sorts with my tardiness and found fault with every aspect of my horsemanship and stable tasks. I remember well how he berated me. “Don’t think that because you’ve a room up in the castle and a crest on your jerkin that you can turn into some sprawlabout rogue who snores in his bed until all hours and then only rises to fluff at his hair. I’ll not have it. Bastard you may be, but you’re Chivalry’s bastard, and I’ll make you a man he’ll be proud of. ”

  I paused, the grooming brushes still in my hands. “You mean Regal, don’t you?”

  My unwonted question startled him. “What?”

  “When you talk about rogues who stay in bed all morning and do nothing except fuss about hair and garments, you mean how Regal is. ”

  Burrich opened his mouth and then shut it. His wind-reddened cheeks grew redder. “Neither you nor I,” he muttered at last, “are in a position to criticize any of the Princes. I meant only as a general rule, that sleeping the morning away ill befits a man, and even less so a boy. ”

  “And never a prince. ” I said this, and then stopped, to wonder where the thought had come from.

  “And never a prince,” Burrich agreed grimly. He was busy in the next stall with a gelding’s hot leg. The animal winced suddenly, and I heard Burrich grunt with the effort of holding him. “Your father never slept past the sun’s midpoint because he’d been drinking the night before. Of course, he had a head for wine like I’ve never seen since, but there was discipline to it, too. Nor did he have some man standing by to rouse him. He got himself out of bed, and then expected those in his command to follow his example. It didn’t always make him popular, but his soldiers respected him. Men like that in a leader, that he demands of himself the same thing he expects of them. And I’ll tell you another thing. Your father didn’t waste coin on decking himself out like a peacock. When he was a younger man, before he was wed to Lady Patience, he was at dinner one evening, at one of the lesser keeps. They’d seated me not too far below him, a great honor to me, and I overheard some of his conversation with the daughter they’d seated so hopefully next to the King-in-Waiting. She’d asked him what he thought of the emeralds she wore, and he had complimented her on them. “I had wondered, sir, if you enjoyed jewels, for you wear none of them yourself tonight,’ she said flirtatiously. And he replied, quite seriously, that his jewels shone as brilliantly as hers, and much larger. “Oh, and where do you keep such gems, for I should dearly love to see them. ’ Well, he replied, he’d be happy to show them to her later that evening, when it was darker. I saw her blush, expecting a tryst of some kind. And later he did invite her out onto the battlements with him, but he took with them half the dinner guests as well. And he pointed out the lights of the coast watchtowers, shining clearly in the dark, and told her that he considered those his best and dearest jewels, and that he spent the coin from her father’s taxes to keep them shining so. And then he pointed out to the guests the winking lights of that lord’s own watchmen in the fortifications of his keep, and told them that when they looked at their duke, they should see those shining lights as the jewels on his brow. It was quite a compliment to the Duke and Duchess, and the other nobles there took note of it. The Outislanders had very few successful raids that summer. That was how Chivalry ruled. By example, and by the grace of his words. So should any real prince do. ”

  “I’m not a real prince. I’m a bastard. ” It came oddly from my mouth, that word I heard so often and so seldom said.

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  Burrich sighed softly. “Be your blood, boy, and ignore what anyone else thinks of you. ”

  “Sometimes I get tired of doing the hard things. ”

  “So do I. ”

  I absorbed this in silence for a while as I worked my way down Sooty’s shoulder. Burrich, still crouched by the gelding, spoke suddenly. “I don’t ask any more of you than I ask of myself. You know that’s true. ”

  “I know that,” I replied, surprised that he’d mentioned it further.

  “I just want to do my best by you. ”

  This was a whole new idea to me. After a moment I asked, “Because if you could make Chivalry proud of me, of what you’d made me into, then maybe he would come back?”

  The rhythmic sound of Burrich’s hands working liniment into the gelding’s leg slowed, then ceased abruptly. But he remained crouched down by the horse and spoke quietly through the wall of the stall. “No. I don’t think that. I don’t suppose anything would make him come back. And even if he did,” and Burrich spoke more slowly, “even if he did, he wouldn’t be who he was. Before, I mean. ”

  “It’s all my fault he went away, isn’t it?” The words of the weaving women echoed in my head. But for the boy, he’d still be in line to be King.

  Burrich paused long. “I don’t suppose it’s any man’s fault that he’s born. . . . ” He sighed, and the words seemed to come more reluctantly. “And there’s certainly no way a babe can make itself not a bastard. No. Chivalry brought his downfall on himself, though that’s a hard thing for me to say. ” I heard his hands go back to work on the gelding’s leg.

  “And your downfall, too. ” I said it to Sooty’s shoulder, softly, never dreaming he’d hear.

  But a moment or two later I heard him mutter, “I do well enough for myself, Fitz. I do well enough. ”

  He finished his task and came around into Sooty’s stall. “Your tongue’s wagging like the town gossip today, Fitz. What’s got into you?”

  It was my turn to pause and wonder. Something about Chade, I decided. Something about someone who wanted me to understand and have a say in what I was learning had freed up my tongue to finally ask all the questions I’d been carrying about for years. But because I couldn’t very well say so, I shrugged and truthfully replied, “They’re just things I’ve wondered about for a long time. ”

  Burrich grunted his acceptance of the answer. “Well. It’s an improvement that you ask, though I won’t always promise you an answer. It’s good to hear you speak like a man. Makes me worry less about losing you to the beasts. ” He glared at me over the last words and then gimped away. I watched him go, and remembered that first night I had seen him, and how a look from him had been enough to quell a whole room full of men. He wasn’t the same man. And it wasn’t just the limp that had changed the way he carried himself and how men looked at him. He was still the acknowledged master
in the stables and no one questioned his authority there. But he was no longer the right hand of the King-in-Waiting. Other than watching over me, he wasn’t Chivalry’s man at all anymore. No wonder he couldn’t look at me without resentment. He hadn’t sired the bastard that had been his downfall. For the first time since I had known him, my wariness of him was tinged with pity.

  5

  Loyalties

  IN SOME KINGDOMS AND lands, it is the custom that male children will have precedent over female in matters of inheritance. Such has never been the case in the Six Duchies. Titles are inherited solely by order of birth.

  The one who inherits a title is supposed to view it as a stewardship. If a lord or lady were so foolish as to cut too much forest at once, or neglect vineyards or let the quality of the cattle become too inbred, the people of the Duchy could rise up and come to ask the King’s justice. It has happened, and every noble is aware it can happen. The welfare of the people belongs to the people, and they have the right to object if their duke stewards it poorly.

  When the titleholder weds, he is supposed to keep this in mind. The partner chosen must be willing likewise to be a steward. For this reason, the partner holding a lesser title must surrender it to the next younger sibling. One can only be a true steward of one holding. On occasion this has led to divisions. King Shrewd married Lady Desire, who would have been Duchess of Farrow had she not chosen to accept his offer and become Queen instead. It is said she came to regret her decision and convinced herself that had she remained Duchess, her power would have been greater. She married Shrewd knowing well she was his second queen, and that the first had already borne him two heirs. She never concealed her disdain for the two older Princes and often pointed out that as she was much higher born than King Shrewd’s first queen, she considered her son, Regal, to be more royal than his two half brothers. She attempted to instill this idea in others by her choice of name for her son. Unfortunately for her plans, most saw this ploy as poor taste. Some even mockingly referred to her as the Inland Queen, for when intoxicated she would ruthlessly claim that she had the political influence to unite Farrow and Tilth into a new kingdom, one that would shrug off King Shrewd’s rule at her behest. But most put her claims down to her fondness for intoxicants, both alcoholic and herbal. It is true, however, that before she finally succumbed to her addictions, she was responsible for nurturing the rift between the Inland and Coastal Duchies.

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  I grew to look forward to my dark-time encounters with Chade. They never had a schedule, nor any pattern that I could discern. A week, even two, might go by between meetings, or he might summon me every night for a week straight, leaving me staggering about my daytime chores. Sometimes he summoned me as soon as the castle was abed; at other times, he called upon me in the wee hours of the morning. It was a strenuous schedule for a growing boy, yet I never thought of complaining to Chade or refusing one of his calls. Nor do I think it ever occurred to him that my night lessons presented a difficulty for me. Nocturnal himself, it must have seemed a perfectly natural time for him to be teaching me. And the lessons I learned were oddly suited to the darker hours of the world.

  There was tremendous scope to his lessons. One evening might be spent in my laborious study of the illustrations in a great herbal he kept, with the requirement that the next day I was to collect six samples that matched those illustrations. He never saw fit to hint as to whether I should look in the kitchen garden or the darker nooks of the forest for those herbs, but find them I did, and learned much of observation in the process.

  There were games we played, too. For instance, he would tell me that I must go on the morrow to Sara the cook and ask her if this year’s bacon was leaner than last year’s. And then I must that evening report the entire conversation back to Chade, as close to word perfect as I could, and answer a dozen questions for him about how she stood, and was she left-handed and did she seem hard of hearing and what she was cooking at the time. My shyness and reticence were never accounted a good enough excuse for failing to execute such an assignment, and so I found myself meeting and coming to know a good many of the lesser folk of the keep. Even though my questions were inspired by Chade, every one of them welcomed my interest and was more than willing to share expertise. Without intending it, I began to garner a reputation as a “sharp youngster” and a “good lad. ” Years later I realized that the lesson was not just a memory exercise but also instruction in how to befriend the commoner folk, and to learn their minds. Many’s the time since then that a smile, a compliment on how well my horse had been cared for, and a quick question put to a stable boy brought me information that all the coin in the kingdom couldn’t have bribed out of him.

  Other games built my nerve as well as my powers of observation. One day Chade showed me a skein of yarn and told me that, without asking Mistress Hasty, I must find out exactly where she kept the supply of yarn that matched it and what herbs had been used in the dyeing of it. Three days later I was told I must spirit away her best shears, conceal them behind a certain rack of wines in the wine cellar for three hours, and then return them to where they had been, all undetected by her or anyone else. Such exercises initially appealed to a boy’s natural love of mischief, and I seldom failed at them. When I did, the consequences were my own lookout. Chade had warned me that he would not shield me from anybody’s wrath and suggested that I have a worthy tale ready to explain away being where I should not be or possessing that which I had no business possessing.

  I learned to lie very well. I do not think it was taught me accidentally.

  These were the lessons in my assassin’s primer. And more. Sleight of hand and the art of moving stealthily. Where to strike a man to render him unconscious. Where to strike a man so that he dies without crying out. Where to stab a man so that he dies without too much blood welling out. I learned it all rapidly and well, thriving under Chade’s approval of my quick mind.

  Soon he began to use me for small jobs about the keep. He never told me, ahead of time, if they were tests of my skill, or actual tasks he wished accomplished. To me it made no difference; I pursued them all with a single-minded devotion to Chade and anything he commanded. In spring of that year I treated the wine cups of a visiting delegation from the Bingtown traders so that they became much more intoxicated than they had intended. Later that same month I concealed one puppet from a visiting puppeteer’s troupe so that he had to present the Incidence of the Matching Cups, a lighthearted little folktale, instead of the lengthy historical drama he had planned for the evening. At the High-Summer Feast I added a certain herb to a serving girl’s afternoon pot of tea so that she and three of her friends were stricken with loose bowels and could not wait the tables that night. In fall I tied a thread around the fetlock of a visiting noble’s horse, to give the animal a temporary limp that convinced the noble to remain at Buckkeep two days longer than he had planned. I never knew the underlying reasons for the tasks Chade set me. At that age, I set my mind to how I would do a thing rather than why. And that, too, was a thing that I believe it was intended I learn: to obey without asking why an order was given.

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  There was one task that absolutely delighted me. Even at the time I knew that the assignment was more than a whim of Chade’s. He summoned me for it in the last bit of dark before dawn. “Lord Jessup and his lady have been visiting this last two weeks. You know them by sight; he has a very long mustache, and she constantly fusses with her hair, even at the table. You know who I mean?”

  I frowned. A number of nobles had gathered at Buckkeep to form a council to discuss the increase in raids from the Outislanders. I gathered that the Coastal Duchies wanted more warships, but the Inland Duchies opposed sharing the taxes for what they saw as a purely coastal problem. Lord Jessup and Lady Dahlia were inlanders. Jessup and his mustaches both seemed to have fitful temperaments and to be constantly impassioned. Lady Dahlia, on the othe
r hand, seemed to take no interest at all in the council, but spent most of her time exploring Buckkeep.

  “She wears flowers in her hair all the time? They keep falling out?”

  “That’s the one,” Chade replied emphatically. “Good. You know her. Now, here’s your task, and I’ve no time to plan it with you. Sometime today, at any moment today, she will send a page to Prince Regal’s room. The page will deliver something—a note, a flower, an object of some kind. You will remove the object from Regal’s room before he sees it. You understand?”

  I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, but Chade stood abruptly and almost chased me from the room. “No time; it is nearly dawn!” he declared.

  I contrived to be in Regal’s room, in hiding, when the page arrived. From the way the girl slipped in, I was convinced this was not her first mission. She set a tiny scroll and a flower bud on Regal’s pillow and slipped out of the room. In a moment both were in my jerkin, and later under my own pillow. I think the most difficult part of the task was refraining from opening the scroll. I turned scroll and flower over to Chade late that night.

  Over the next few days I waited, certain there would be some sort of furor and hoping to see Regal thoroughly discomfited. But to my surprise, there was none. Regal remained his usual self, save that he was even sharper than usual, and seemed to flirt even more outrageously with every lady. As for Lady Dahlia, she suddenly took an interest in the council proceedings and confounded her husband by becoming an ardent supporter of warship taxes. The Queen expressed her displeasure over this change of alliance by excluding Lady Dahlia from a wine tasting in her chambers. The whole thing mystified me, but when I at last mentioned it to Chade, he rebuked me.

  “Remember, you are the King’s man. A task is given you, and you do it. And you should be well satisfied with yourself that you completed the given task: That is all you need to know. Only Shrewd may plan the moves and plot his game. You and I, we are playing pieces, perhaps. But we are the best of his markers; be assured of that. ”