Royal Assassin - Страница 65

“I think I might have been poisoned today.” A sudden shivering ran up me and I shuddered all over. When it passed, I felt more alert. “I seem to be waking up in stages. I keep thinking I’m awake, and then suddenly everything is clearer.”

Chade nodded gravely. “I suspect it was the ash residue. You weren’t thinking when you tidied King Shrewd’s room for him. Many times the burned residue of an herb concentrates the potency of the herb. You got it all over your hands and then sat there eating pastries. There was little I could do. I thought you would sleep it off. What possessed you to go downstairs?”

“I don’t know.” Then: “How do you always know so much?” I asked peevishly as he pushed me down into his old chair. He took my usual perch on the hearthstones. Even in my fuddled state, I noticed how fluidly he moved, as if he had somewhere abandoned the cramps and aches of an old man’s body. There was windburned color to his face and arms as well, the tan fading the pocks’ stigma. I had once noticed his resemblance to Shrewd. Now I saw Verity in his face as well.

“I have my little ways of finding things out.” He grinned at me wolfishly. “How much do you remember of Winterfest tonight?”

I winced as I considered it. “Enough to know that tomorrow is going to be a difficult day.” The little servant girl suddenly popped up in my memory. Leaning on my shoulder, her hand on my thigh. Molly. I had to get to Molly tonight and somehow explain things to her. If she came to my room tonight, and I wasn’t there to answer her knock . . . I started up in my chair, but then another shiver ran up over me. It felt almost like a skin being peeled off me.

“Here. Eat something. Puking your guts out wasn’t the best thing for you, but I’m sure Patience meant well. And under other circumstances, it could have been a lifesaver. No, you idiot, wash your hands first. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

I noticed then the vinegar water set out beside the food. I washed my hands carefully to remove every trace of whatever had clung to them, and then my face, amazed at how much more alert I suddenly felt. “It’s been like an extended dream, all day . . . is this what Shrewd has been feeling?”

“I’ve no idea. Perhaps not all those burning herbs down there are what I think they are. It was one of the things I wanted to discuss with you tonight. How has Shrewd been? Has this come on him suddenly? How long has Wallace been calling himself a healer?”

“I don’t know.” I hung my head in shame. I forced myself to report to Chade just how lax I had been in his absence. And how stupid. When I was finished, he did not disagree with me.

“Well,” he said heavily. “We can’t undo, we can only salvage. Too much is happening here to sort at one sitting.” He looked at me consideringly. “Much of what you tell me does not surprise me. Forged ones converging still on Buckkeep, the King’s illness lingering. But King Shrewd’s health has declined much more swiftly than I can account for, and the squalor in his rooms makes no sense to me. Unless . . .” He did not finish the thought. “Perhaps they believe that Lady Thyme was his only defender. Perhaps they think we no longer care; perhaps they believe him an isolated old man, an obstacle to be removed. Your carelessness has drawn them out, at least. And having drawn them out, perhaps we can cut them off.” He sighed. “I thought I could use Wallace as a tool, lead him subtly through the advice of others. He has little knowledge of herbs of his own; the man is a dabbler. But the tool I left carelessly lying about, perhaps another employs now. We shall have to see. Still. There are ways to stop this.”

I bit my tongue before I could utter Regal’s name. “How?” I asked instead.

Chade smiled. “How were you rendered ineffective as an assassin in the Mountain Kingdom?”

I winced at the memory. “Regal revealed my purpose to Kettricken.”

“Exactly. We shall shine a bit of daylight on what goes on in the King’s chambers. Eat while I talk.”

And so I did, listening to him as he outlined my assignments for the next day, but also noting what he chose to feed me. The flavor of garlic predominated, and I knew his confidence in its purifying abilities. I wondered just what I had ingested, and also how much it colored my recollection of my conversation with the Fool. I flinched as I recalled my brusque dismissal of him. He would be another I would have to seek out tomorrow. Chade noticed my preoccupation. “Sometimes,” he observed obliquely, “you have to trust people to understand you are not perfect.”

I nodded, then suddenly yawned immensely. “Beg pardon,” I muttered. My eyelids were suddenly so heavy I could barely keep my head up. “You were saying?”

“No, no. Go to bed. Rest. It’s the real healer.”

“But I haven’t even asked you where you’ve been. Or what you’ve been doing. You move and act as if you’d lost ten years of age.”

Chade puckered his mouth. “Is that a compliment? Never mind. Such questions would be useless anyway, so you may save them for another time, and be frustrated then when I refuse to answer them. As to my condition . . . well, the more one forces one’s body to do, the more it can do. It was not an easy journey. Yet I believe it was worth the hardship.” He held up a halting hand as I opened my mouth. “And that is all I am going to say. To bed, now, Fitz. To bed.”

I yawned again as I rose, and stretched until my joints popped. “You’ve grown again,” Chade complained admiringly. “At this rate, you’ll even top your father’s height.”

“I’ve missed you,” I mumbled as I headed toward the stair.

“And I you. But we shall have tomorrow night for catching up. For now, bed for you.”

I went down his stairs with the sincere intention of following his suggestion. As it always did, the staircase sealed itself moments after I exited it, by a mechanism I had never been able to discover. I threw three more logs on my dying fire and then crossed to my bed. I sat down on it to pull my shirt off. I was exhausted. But not so tired that I could not catch a faint trace of Molly’s scent on my own skin as I pulled my shirt off. I sat a moment longer, holding my shirt in my hands. Then I put it back on and rose. I went to my door and slipped out into the hallway.

It was late, by any other night’s standard. Yet this was the first night of Winterfest. There were many below who would not think of their beds until dawn was on the horizon. Others who would not find their own beds at all this night. I smiled suddenly as I realized I intended to be part of the latter group.

There were others in the halls that night and on the staircases. Most were too inebriated, or too engrossed in themselves to notice me. As for the others, I resolved to let Winterfest be my excuse for any questions asked of me the next day. Still, I was discreet enough to be sure the corridor was clear before I tapped on her door. I heard no reply. But as I lifted my hand to tap again, the door swung silently open into darkness.

It terrified me. In an instant I was sure harm had come to her, that someone had been here and hurt her and left her there in the darkness. I sprang into the room, crying out her name. The door swung shut behind me and “Hush!” she commanded.

I turned to find her, but it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The light from the hearth fire was the only illumination in the room, and it was to my back. When my eyes did penetrate the darkness, I felt as if I could not breathe.

“Were you expecting me?” I asked at last.

In a little cat voice, she replied, “Only for hours.”

“I thought you would be at the merrymaking in the Great Hall.” Slowly it dawned on me that I had not seen her there.

“I knew I would not be missed there. Except by one. And I thought perhaps that one might come seeking me here.”

I stood motionless and looked at her. She wore a wreath of holly atop the tumble of her hair. That was all. And she stood against the door, wanting me to look at her. How can I explain the line that had been crossed? Before we had ventured into, this together, exploring and inquisitive. But this was different. This was a woman’s frank invitation. Can there be anything so compelling as the knowledge that a woman desires you? It overwhelmed me and blessed me and somehow redeemed me from every stupid thing I had ever done.

Winterfest.

The heart of night’s secret.

Yes.

She shook me awake before dawn, and put me out of her rooms. The farewell kiss that she gave me before shooing me out the door was such that I stood in the hall trying to persuade myself that dawn was not all that close. After a few moments I recalled that discretion was called for, and wiped the foolish smile off my face. I straightened my rumpled shirt and headed for the stairs.

Once inside my room, an almost dizzying weariness overtook me. How long had it been since I had had a full night’s sleep? I sat down on my bed and dragged my shirt off. I dropped it to the floor. I fell back onto the bed and closed my eyes.

A soft tap at my door jerked me upright. I crossed the room swiftly, smiling to myself. I was still smiling as I swung the door wide.

“Good, you’re up! And almost dressed. I was afraid from the way you looked last night that I’d be dragging you out of your bed by the scruff of your neck.”

It was Burrich, freshly washed and brushed. The lines across his forehead were the only visible signs of the last night’s revelry. From my years of sharing quarters with him, I knew that no matter how fierce a hangover he might have, he would still rise to face his duties. I sighed. No good asking quarter, for none would be given. Instead I went to my clothes chest and found a clean shirt. I put it on as I followed him to Verity’s tower.