Royal Assassin - Страница 88

From where I sat, I could see little, and hear even less. I felt Verity’s churning frustration at the situation, but there was nothing I could do about it. The King looked more weary than dazed that evening, which I took to be positive. Kettricken, seated beside him, was near colorless save for two spots of pink on her cheeks. She did not seem to be eating much, and seemed graver and more silent than usual. Prince Regal, in contrast, was both social and merry. With Duke Ram and Lady Placid and their boys. He did not quite ignore Brawndy and his daughters, but his merriment clearly grated on the visitors’ mood.

Duke Brawndy was a large man, and well muscled even in his old age. Shocks of white hair in his black warrior’s tail attested to old battle injuries, as did a hand missing a few fingers. His daughters sat just downtable from him, indigo-eyed women whose high cheekbones told of his late Queen’s Near Island ancestry. Faith and Celerity wore their hair cut short and sleek in the northern style. The quick ways they turned their heads to observe everyone at the table reminded me of hawks on a wrist. These were not the gentled nobility of the Inland Duchies that Regal was used to dealing with. Of all the Six Duchies, the folk of Bearns came closest to being warriors still.

Regal was courting disaster to make light of their grievances. I knew they would not expect to discuss Raiders at the table, but his festive tone was completely at odds with their mission here. I wondered if he knew how badly he offended them. Kettricken obviously did. More than once I saw her clench her jaw, or cast her eyes downward at one of Regal’s witticisms. He was drinking too heavily as well, and it began to show in his extravagant hand gestures, and the loudness of his laughter. I wished desperately I could hear what he was finding so humorous in his own words.

Dinner seemed interminable. Celerity rapidly located me at table. After that, I was hard put to avoid the measuring looks she sent my way. I nodded affably to her the first time our eyes locked; I could tell she was puzzled by where I had been seated. I dared not ignore every look she sent my way. Regal was offensive enough without my appearing to snub Bearns’s daughter as well. I felt I teetered on a fence. I was grateful when King Shrewd rose and Queen Kettricken insisted on taking his arm to help him from the room. Regal frowned a trifle drunkenly to see the party disperse so soon, but made no effort to persuade Duke Brawndy and his daughters to stay at table. They excused themselves rather stiffly as soon as Shrewd had departed. I likewise made excuse of a headache and left my giggling companions for the solitude of my room. As I opened my door and went into my bedchamber, I felt myself the most powerless person in the Keep. Nameless the dog boy indeed.

“I see dinner was absolutely fascinating for you,” the Fool observed. I sighed. I didn’t ask how he had gotten in. No point to asking questions that would not be answered. He was sitting on my hearth, silhouetted against the dancing flames of a small fire he had kindled there. There was a peculiar stillness to him, no jingling of bells, no tumbling mocking words.

“Dinner was insufferable,” I told him. I did not bother with candles. My headache had not been entirely a fiction. I sat, then lay back on my bed with a sigh. “I do not know what Buckkeep is coming to, nor what I can do about it.”

“Perhaps what you have already done is enough?” the Fool ventured.

“I’ve done nothing noteworthy lately,” I informed him. “Unless you count knowing when to stop talking back to Regal.”

“Ah. That’s a skill we’re all learning, then,” he agreed morosely. He drew his knees up to his chin, rested his arms atop them. He took a breath. “Have you no news, then, that you’d care to share with a Fool? A very discreet Fool?”

“I’ve no news to share with you that you would not already know, and probably sooner than I did.” The darkness of the room was restful. My headache was easing.

“Ah.” He paused delicately. “Shall I, perhaps, ask a question? To be answered or not as you see fit?”

“Save your breath and ask it. You know you shall, whether I give you permission or no.”

“Indeed, there you are right. Well then. The question. Ah, I surprise myself, I blush, I do. FitzChivalry, have you made a fitz of your own?”

I sat up slowly on my bed and stared at him. He did not move nor flinch. “What did you ask me?” I demanded quietly.

He spoke softly, almost apologetically now. “I must know. Is Molly carrying your child?”

I sprang at him from the bed, caught him by the throat, and dragged him up to his feet. I drew back my fist, and then stopped, shocked by what the firelight revealed on his face.

“Batter away,” he suggested quietly. “New bruises will not show much atop the old ones. I can creep about unseen for a few more days.”

I snatched my hand back from him. Strange, how the act I had been about to commit now seemed so monstrous when I discovered someone else had already done it. As soon as I released him, he turned away from me, as if his discolored and swollen face shamed him. Perhaps the pallor of his skin and his delicate bone structure made it all the more horrifying to me. It was as if someone had done this to a child. I knelt by the fire and began to build it up.

“Didn’t get a good enough look?” the Fool asked acidly. “I’ll warn you, it gets no better by giving more light to it.”

“Sit on my clothes chest and take your shirt off,” I told him brusquely. He didn’t move. I ignored that. I had a small kettle for tea water. This I set to heat. I lit a branch of candles and set them atop the table, and then took out my small store of herbs. I did not keep that many in my room; I wished now I had Burrich’s full store to draw on, but I was sure that if I left to go to the stables, the Fool would be gone when I returned. Still, those I kept in my room were mostly for bruises and cuts and the types of injuries my other profession exposed me to most often. They would do.

When the water was warm, I poured some into my washbasin and added a generous handful of herbs, crushing them as I did so. I found an outgrown shirt in my clothing chest and tore it into rags. “Come into the light.” This I phrased as a request. After a moment he did so, but moving hesitantly and shyly. I looked at him briefly, then took him by the shoulders and sat him down atop my clothing chest. “What happened to you?” I asked, awed by the damage to his face. His lips were cut and swollen, and one eye swollen near closed.

“I’ve been going about Buckkeep, asking bad-tempered individuals if they’ve fathered bastards lately.” His one good eye met my glare straight on. Red webbed the white of it. I found I could neither be angry with him, nor laugh.

“You should know enough medicine to take better care of something like this. Sit still now.” I made the rag into a compress, held it gently but firmly to his face. After a moment he relaxed. I sponged away some dried blood. There wasn’t much; he had obviously cleaned himself up after this beating, but some of the cuts had continued to ooze blood. I ran my fingers lightly down the lines of his jaw, and around his eye sockets. At least no bone seemed damaged. “Who did this to you?” I asked him.

“I walked into a series of doors. Or the same one several times. It depends on which door you ask.” He spoke glibly for someone with mashed lips.

“That was a serious question,” I told him.

“As was mine.”

I glared at him again and he dropped his eyes. For a moment neither of us spoke as I searched out a pot of salve Burrich had given me for cuts and scrapes. “I’d really like to know the answer,” I reminded him as I took the lid off the pot. The familiar biting scent rose to my nostrils, and I suddenly missed Burrich with an amazing intensity.

“As would I.” He flinched slightly under my touch as I applied the salve. I knew it stung. I also knew it worked.

“Why do you ask such a question of me?” I finally demanded.

He considered a moment. “Because it is easier to ask of you than to ask Kettricken if she carries Verity’s child. As far as I can determine, Regal has shared his favors only with himself of late, so that dismisses him. You or Verity, then, must be the father.”

I looked at him blankly. He shook his head sadly for me. “Cannot you feel it?” he asked in a near whisper. He stared off in the distance dramatically. “Forces shift. Shadows flutter. Suddenly there is a rippling in the possibilities. A reordering of the futures, as destinies multiply. All paths diverge, and diverge again.” He looked back to me. I smiled at him, thinking he jested, but his mouth was sober. “There is an heir to the Farseer line,” he said quietly. “I am certain of it.”

Have you ever missed a step in the dark? There is that sudden feeling of teetering on the edge, and no knowledge of how far you may fall. I said, far too firmly, “I have fathered no child.”

The Fool regarded me with a skeptical eye. “Ah,” he said with false heartiness. “Of course not. Then it, must be Kettricken who is carrying.”

“It must,” I agreed, but my heart sank. If Kettricken were pregnant, she would have no reason to conceal it. Whereas Molly would. And I had not been to see Molly in several nights. Perhaps she had news for me. I felt suddenly dizzied, but I forced myself to take a long calming breath. “Take your shirt off,” I told the Fool. “Let’s see your chest.”

“I’ve seen it, thank you, and I assure you it’s fine. When they popped the bag over my head, I presume it was to provide a target. They were most conscientious about striking nowhere else.”