Royal Assassin

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“So what are we to do? What should I have done?”

Chade sat down across from me, clasped his mottled hands between his bony old knees. “I do not know. Brawndy is desperate indeed. If you had loftily refused him and rebuked him with treason, well . . . I don’t say he’d have done away with you. But remember he had no hesitation about dealing quickly with Virago when she represented a threat to him. This is all too much for one old assassin. We need a King.”

“Aye.”

“Could you Skill again to Verity?”

“I fear to try. I do not know how to guard against Justin and Serene. Or Will.” I sighed. “Still, I will try. Surely Verity will know if they ride with my Skilling.” Another thought intruded. “Chade, tomorrow night, when you lead Kettricken to escape, you must find a moment or two, to tell her of what has transpired, and assure her of my loyalty.”

“Oh, those will be reassuring tidings to give her as she flees back to the Mountains. No. Not tomorrow night. I will see that word reaches her, when she is safe. And you must continue to try to reach Verity, but beware of having your Skilling spied upon. Are you sure our plans are unknown to them?”

I had to shake my head. “But I believe they are safe. I had told all to Verity when first I Skilled him. It was not until the end that he said someone tried to spy upon us.”

“You probably should have killed Justin,” Chade grumbled to himself. Then he laughed at my outraged look. “No, no, calm yourself. I will not rebuke you that you refrained from it. Would that you had been so circumspect with the scheme that Brawndy brought you. Even a breath of this would be sufficient for Regal to have your neck stretched. And were he ruthless and foolish, he could try to hang his dukes as well. No. Let us not even think of that! The halls of Buckkeep would run blood before that was done. Would you had found a way to turn the conversation, before ever he made you such an offer. Save, as you say, that they might have found another. Ah, well. We cannot put old heads on young shoulders. Unfortunately, Regal could remove your young head from your young shoulders all too easily.” He knelt and put another piece of wood on the fire. He took a breath and sighed it out. “Have you got all other things in readiness?” he asked abruptly.

I was only too glad to change the topic. “As much as I could. Burrich will be in place and waiting, in the alder copse where the dog fox used to den.”

Chade rolled his eyes. “How do I find that? Ask a passing dog fox?”

I smiled inadvertently. “Close. Where will you emerge from Buck Castle?”

He was stubbornly silent for a moment. Still, that old fox hated to reveal his back door. Finally he said, “We will come out of the grain shed, the one third back from the stables.”

I nodded slowly. “A gray wolf will meet you. Follow him silently, and he will show you a way out of the walls of Buck that does not take you through the gates.”

For a long moment Chade just looked at me. I waited. For condemnation, for a look of disgust, even for curiosity. But the old assassin had studied too long how to mask his feelings. He said at last, “We are fools if we do not use every weapon that comes to hand. Is he any . . . danger to us?”

“No more than I am. You need not wear wolfsbane, nor offer him mutton to be allowed to pass.” I was as familiar with the old folklore as Chade was. “Simply show yourself, and he will appear to guide you. He will take you through the walls, and out to the copse where Burrich waits with the horses.”

“Is it a long walk?”

I knew he was thinking of the King. “It is not overly long, but it is not short, and the snow is deep and unpacked. It will not be easy to scrabble through the gap in the wall, but it can be done. I could ask Burrich to meet you at the wall instead, but I do not wish to draw attention to it. Perhaps the Fool could help you manage?”

“He will have to, from the sound of things. I am not willing to bring any others in on this plot. Our position seems only to become more and more untenable.”

I bowed my head to the truth of that. “And you?” I ventured to ask.

“My tasks are done as completely as they could be, ahead of time. The Fool has assisted me. He has spirited away both clothing and coin for his king’s journey. Shrewd has reluctantly agreed to our plan. He knows it is wise, but every part of it chafes him. Despite all, Fitz, Regal is his son, his favored youngest. Even having felt Regal’s ruthlessness, it is still hard for him to say the Prince threatens his life. You see how he is bound: to admit that Regal would turn on him is to admit he was wrong about his son. To flee Buckkeep is even worse, for that is admitting not only that Regal would turn on him, but that flight is his only option. Our King has never been a coward. It galls him now to run from one who should be most loyal of all to him. Yet he must. Of that I have convinced him; mostly, I’ll admit, by saying that without his acknowledgment, Kettricken’s child will have a poor claim on the throne.” Chade sighed. “All is as ready as I can make it. I have prepared the medicines, and all is well packed.”

“The Fool understands he cannot go with his King?”

Chade rubbed his forehead. “He intends to follow, a few days behind. He would not be dissuaded entirely. The best I could do was to get him to travel separately.”

“Then it but depends on me to find a way to empty the King’s room of witnesses, and for you to spirit him away.”

“Ah, yes,” Chade observed mirthlessly. “All is well planned and ready to carry out, save for the actual deed.”

We stared together into the fire.

29
Escapes and Captures

THE OUTBREAK OF strife between the coastal and Inland Duchies at the end of King Shrewd’s reign was not a new sundering, but rather a resumption of old differences. The four Coastal Duchies, Bearns, Buck, Rippon, and Shoaks, were a kingdom long before the Six Duchies came to be. When the unified battle tactics of the Chalced States convinced King Wielder that their conquest would be unprofitable, he turned his ambitions inland. The Farrow region, with its scattered nomadic tribal populations, fell easily to the organized armies he led. The more populous and settled Tilth grudgingly surrendered to him when the erstwhile King of that region found his territory surrounded and his trade routes severed.

Both the old kingdom of Tilth and the region that would come to be known as Farrow were held as conquered territory for over a generation. The wealth of their granaries, orchards, and herds were exploited lavishly for the benefit of the Coastal Duchies. Queen Munificence, granddaughter of Wielder, was wise enough to see that this was breeding discontent in the inland areas. She showed great tolerance and wisdom in elevating the tribal elders of the Farrow folk and the former ruling families of Tilth to nobles. She used marriages and grants of land to forge alliances between coastal and inland folk. She first referred to her kingdom as the Six Duchies. But all of her political maneuvers could not change the geographic and economic interests of the different areas. Climate, folk, and livelihoods of the Inland Duchies remained vastly different from that of the coastal peoples.

During Shrewd’s reign, the differing interests of the two regions were exacerbated by the offspring of his two queens. His elder sons, Verity and Chivalry, were the sons of Queen Constance, a noblewoman of Shoaks with relatives among the nobility of Bearns as well. She was very much of the coastal folk. Shrewd’s second Queen, Desire, was from Farrow, but traced her family lineage back to the long foundered royalty of Tilth as well as to distant Farseer connections. Hence came her oft-repeated claim that her son Regal was more royal than either of his half brothers, and hence had more right to the throne.

With the disappearance of King-in-Waiting Verity and rumors of his death, and the obvious failing of King Shrewd, it appeared to the Coastal Dukes that power and title would be passed on to Prince Regal, born of inland lineage. They preferred to align with the unborn child of Verity, a coastal Prince, and predictably did all they could to retain and consolidate power in the coastal bloodlines. Threatened as the Coastal Duchies were by Raiders and Forgings, it was really the only rational choice they could make.

*

The King-in-Waiting ceremony was too long. Folk were assembled well ahead of time, to allow Regal to make a stately entrance through our ranks and ascend to the high seat, where a drowsing King Shrewd awaited him. Queen Kettricken, pale as a wax taper, stood behind Shrewd at his left shoulder. Shrewd was bedecked in robes and fur collars and the full regalia of the royal jewels, but Kettricken had resisted Regal’s suggestions and enticements. She stood very tall and straight in a plain robe of purple, belted above her rounding belly. A simple circlet of gold confined the cropped remnants of her hair. Other than that band of metal at her temples, she might have been a servant standing ready to attend Shrewd. I knew she saw herself still as Sacrifice rather than Queen. She could not see that the starkness of her attire made her look dramatically foreign to the court.

The Fool was there as well, in a well-worn motley of black and white, and with Ratsy once more atop his scepter. He had striped his face in black and white as well, and I wondered if this was to camouflage his bruises, or simply to complement his motley. He had appeared sometime before Regal had, and had very obviously enjoyed the spectacle he created by sauntering up the aisle, waving Ratsy about in airy benediction, before he curtsied to the assemblage and then plopped gracefully at the King’s feet. Guards had begun to move to intercept him, but were blocked by grinning, craning people. When he arrived at the dais and seated himself, the King had reached down to absently tousle the Fool’s sparse locks, and so he had been suffered to remain where he was. Scowls or grins were exchanged over the Fool’s performance, depending largely on how deeply one had pledged his allegiance to Regal. I myself feared that it would be the Fool’s last prank.

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