Royal Assassin - Страница 59

I kissed her fingers. And then her mouth. At some time Molly got up and latched and barred my door. I remember sending up a fervent prayer that this would not be the night that Chade finally returned from his journeying. It was not. Instead I journeyed afar that night, into a place that was becoming ever more familiar, but no less wondrous to me.

She left me in the deep of the night, shaking me awake to insist that I latch and bar the door after her. I wanted to dress and walk her back to her room, but she refused me indignantly, saying she was perfectly capable of going up some stairs, and that the less we were seen together, the better. I reluctantly conceded her logic. The sleep I fell into then was deeper than any the valerian had induced.

I awoke to thunder and shouting. I found myself on my feet, dazed and confused. After a moment the thunder turned to pounding on my door, and the shouting was Burrich’s repetition of my name. “A moment!” I managed to call back. I ached everywhere. I dragged on some clothes and staggered to the door. It took a long time for my fingers to manage the catch. “What’s wrong?” I demanded.

Burrich just stared at me. He was washed and dressed, hair and beard combed, and carrying two axes.

“Oh.”

“Verity’s tower room. Hurry up, we’re already late. But wash first. What is that scent?”

“Perfumed candles,” I extemporized. “They’re supposed to bring restful dreams.”

Burrich snorted. “That’s not the kind of dreams that scent would bring me. It’s full of musk, boy. Your whole room reeks of it. Meet me up in the tower.”

And he was gone, striding purposefully down the hall. I went back into my room, groggily realizing that this was his idea of early morning. I washed myself thoroughly with cold water, not enjoying it, but lacking the time to warm any. I dug about for fresh clothes and was dragging them on when the pounding at my door began again. “I’m nearly there,” I called out. The pounding went on. That meant Burrich was angry. Well, so was I. Surely he could understand how badly I ached this morning. I jerked the door open to confront him, and the Fool slipped in as smoothly as a waft of smoke. He wore a new motley of black and white. The sleeves of his shirt were all embroidered with black vines crawling up his arms like ivy. Above the black collar, his face was as pale as a winter moon. Winterfest, I thought dully. Tonight was the first night of Winterfest. The winter had already been as long as any five others I had known. But tonight we would begin to mark the midpoint of it.

“What do you want?” I demanded, in no mood for his silliness.

He took a deep appreciative sniff. “Some of what you had would be lovely,” he suggested, and then danced back gracefully at the look on my face. I was instantly angry. He leaped lightly to the center of my tousled bed, then to the other side, putting it between us. I lunged across it after him. “But not from you,” he exclaimed coquettishly and fluttered his hands at me in girlish rebuke before retreating again.

“I’ve no time for you,” I told him disgustedly. “Verity’s expecting me and I cannot keep him waiting.” I rolled off the bed and stood to adjust my clothing. “Out of my room.”

“Ah, such a tone. Time was when the Fitz could handle a jest better than this.” He pirouetted in the center of my room, then stopped abruptly. “Are you truly angry with me?” he demanded straightforwardly.

I gaped to hear him speak so bluntly. I considered the question. “I was,” I said guardedly, wondering if he was deliberately drawing me out. “You made a fool of me that day, with that song, before all those people.”

He shook his head. “Don’t take titles to yourself. Only I am the Fool. And the Fool is always only what I am. Especially that day, with that song, before all those people.”

“You made me doubt our friendship,” I said bluntly.

“Ah, good. For doubt not that others must always doubt our friendship if we are to remain doughty friends.”

“I see. Then it was your end to sow rumors of strife between us. I understand, then. But I still must go.”

“Farewell, then. Have fun playing at axes with Burrich. Try not to be dumbstruck with all he teaches you today.” He put two logs onto my failing fire and made a great show of settling himself before it.

“Fool,” I began uncomfortably. “You are my friend, I know. But I like not to leave you here, in my room, while I am gone.”

“I like it not when others enter my room when I am not there,” he pointed out archly.

I flushed miserably. “That was long ago. And I apologized for my curiosity. I assure you, I have never done it again.”

“Nor shall I, after this. And when you come back, I shall apologize to you. Shall that do?”

I was going to be late. Burrich was not going to be amused. No help for it. I sat down on the edge of the rumpled bed. Molly and I had lain here. Suddenly it was a personal area. I tried to be casual as I tugged the quilts up over the feather beds. “Why do you want to stay in my room? Are you in danger?”

“I live in danger, Fitzy-fitz. As do you. We are all in danger. I should like to stay here for part of the day, and try to find a way out of that danger. Or at least a way to lessen it.” He shrugged significantly toward the scatter of scrolls.

“Verity entrusted those to me,” I said uneasily.

“Obviously because he feels you are a man whose judgment he trusts. So, perhaps you shall judge it safe to entrust them to me?”

It is one thing to trust a friend with one’s own possessions. It is another to allow him those another has put in your safe keeping. I found I had no doubt of my own trust of the Fool. But. “Perhaps it would be wiser to ask Verity first,” I offered.

“The less connection between Verity and me, the better it is for both of us.” The Fool spoke flatly.

“You do not care for Verity?” I was startled.

“I am the King’s fool. He is the King-in-Waiting. Let him wait. When he is King, I shall be his. If he does not get us all killed before then.”

“I will hear nothing spoken against Prince Verity,” I told him softly.

“No? Then you must walk about with your ears closely stoppered these days.”

I walked to the door, set my hand to the latch. “We must leave now, Fool. I am already late.” I kept my voice steady. His sneer at Verity had cut me as deeply as if aimed at me.

“Do not be the Fool, Fitz. That is my role. Think. A man can serve only one master. No matter what your lips may say, Verity is your King. I fault you not for that. Do you fault me that Shrewd is mine?”

“I do not fault you. Nor do I make mock of him before you.”

“Nor do you come to visit him, no matter how many times I have urged it.”

“I was at his door just yesterday. I was turned away. They said he was not well.”

“And if that were to happen at Verity’s door, would you take it so meekly?”

That made me stop and think. “No. I don’t suppose I would.”

“Why do you give him up so easily?” The Fool spoke softly, like a man grieved. “Why does not Verity bestir himself for his father, instead of luring away Shrewd’s men to his side?”

“I have not been lured away. Rather Shrewd has not seen fit to see me. As for Verity, well, I cannot speak for him. But all know it is Regal that Shrewd favors of his sons.”

“Do all know that? Then do all know as well where Regal’s heart is truly set?”

“Some do,” I said briefly. This was dangerous talk.

“Reflect on this. Both of us serve the King we love best. Yet there is another that we love least. I do not think we have a conflict of loyalty, Fitz, while we are united in who we love least. Come. Confess to me that you have scarce had time to set your eyes upon the scrolls, and I shall remind you that the time you have not had has fled us all too swiftly. This is not a task that can wait upon your convenience.”

I teetered on the decision. The Fool came suddenly closer. His eyes were always hard to meet and harder to read. But the set of his mouth showed me his desperation. “I will trade you. I offer you a bargain you will find nowhere else. A secret I hold, promised to you, after you have let me search the scrolls for a secret which may not even be there.”

“What secret?” I asked reluctantly.

“My secret.” He turned aside from me and stared at the wall. “The mystery of the Fool. Whence comes he and why?” He cast me a sidelong glance and said no more.

The curiosity of a dozen years leaped in me. “Freely given?” I asked.

“No. Offered as a bargain, as I said.”

I considered. Then: “I’ll see you later. Latch the door when you leave.” And I slipped out.

There were serving folk moving about in the corridors. I was grievously late. I forced myself into a creaking trot, and then to a run. I did not slow for the stairs to Verity’s tower, but rushed up their full length, knocked once, and then entered.

Burrich turned to me, greeting me with a frown. The Spartan furnishings of the room had already been pushed to one wall, save for Verity’s window chair. Verity was already ensconced in it. He turned his head to me more slowly, with eyes still full of distance. There was a drugged look to his eyes and mouth, a laxness painful to see when one knew what it meant. The Skill hunger gnawed at him. I feared that what he wished to teach me would only feed it and increase it. Yet how could either of us say no? I had learned something yesterday. It had not been a pleasant lesson, but once learned, it could not be undone. I knew now that I would do whatever I must to drive the Red-Ships from my shore. I was not the King, I would never be the King, but the folk of the Six Duchies were mine, just as they were Chade’s. I understood now why Verity spent himself so recklessly.