Fools Quest, Page 33

  Perseverance brought the horses. Chade looked at Lord Derrick’s roan mare and an almost-smile twitched his mouth. “A fine mount,” he observed.

  “I only steal the best,” I admitted.

  To my surprise, Perseverance was mounted and leading Bee’s gray. His arm was bound across his chest, but he sat his horse firmly. “We don’t need Bee’s horse,” I told him.

  “I should bring her, sir. Bee will want to ride her home. ”

  I gave the boy a look. “You aren’t coming with me, lad. You’re hurt and your mother needs you. ”

  “I told her I was sworn to you. She understood. ” He sat a little straighter. “And Lady Bee will expect it of me. ”

  That choked me. I spoke past the tightness in my throat. “We are not going by a road where anyone can follow. We are not even going to take the horses we are riding. You can’t go with us, Perseverance, though I admire your courage. When it is time for Bee to ride again, I promise you will be with her. ”

  Just the slightest tremble of his lower lip betrayed him. “Sir,” he said, not agreeing but obeying. I nodded to him, then Chade and I mounted and joined the waiting officers. Once I had loved the carriageway in winter, the white-barked birches burdened with snow arching over it. But today, in the dim morning light, I felt we traveled through a tunnel of gloom. The two Rousters were happy to precede us. They rode side by side, conversing sporadically. Chade and I rode stirrup-to-stirrup, not speaking as the cold stiffened our faces.

  By the time we entered the main road, the sun had summoned a bit more strength. The day warmed, but not appreciably. At any other time, the roan mare would have been a pleasure to ride. I wondered idly how many people knew that Prince FitzChivalry had stolen a horse, or if Dutiful had somehow smoothed it over. I tried to feel shame, but could not. I had needed her and I took her. I would do it again. I sensed agreement from my mount but chose to ignore it.

  I glanced over at Chade. Once my teacher had been a faded old man, the burn-pocks obvious on his pale face. When he had finally emerged into Buckkeep society after years in the spy-warren he had seemed to drop more than a score of years. He had laughed, eaten elaborate meals, ridden to the hunt, and danced as lively as a youth. For a short time, he had recaptured a few of the years denied to him. Now he was truly old, aged by years rather than circumstance. But he sat his horse well and held his head high. He would display no weakness to the world. No stranger would have suspected he was a man agonizing over a missing daughter. He had dressed precisely, in fine Buck-blue garments and gleaming black boots. He had a classic profile, his beard trimmed neatly, his leather-gloved hands holding his reins easily.

  “What?” he demanded in a soft voice.

  I’d been staring at him as I mused. “I’m glad of you. That’s all. In this hard time, I’m glad of you. That we’ll ride together. ”

  He gave me an unreadable glance. Even more softly, he said, “Thank you, my boy. ”

  “A question?”

  “Why bother asking me that when you know you’ll ask it anyway?”

  “The boy Ash. Your apprentice. Is he yours, too?”

  “My son, you mean? No. I’ve only the two, Lant and Shine. ” In a lowered voice, he added, “I hope I still have two. ”

  “He’s a fine apprentice. ”

  “I know. He’ll stay with me, that one. He’s got the edge. ” He glanced at me. “Your boy. That Perseverance. He’s a good one. Keep him. When you were out of the room, I asked him, ‘If all the others were summoned to come to the front of the manor and assembled, why weren’t you?’ And he said, ‘I felt that I wanted to go there and be with the others, but I knew my duty was to guard Bee. So I didn’t go. ’ He resisted what I suspect was a strong Skill-suggestion to do his best to protect your daughter. ”

  Page 122

 

  I nodded, and wondered if a stable boy had known his duty better than I had known mine.

  A silence fell between us. Oh, Bee, where are you? Do you know I’m coming after you? How could she? Why would she think I’d bother coming for her when I’d abandoned her before? I fenced the question with stone. Focus on finding her and bringing her home. Don’t let your agony cloud your thoughts.

  We heard hoofbeats behind us, and I turned in my saddle. Four of the Rousters were catching up with us. “A message from Withywoods?” I hazarded.

  But they came on at a gallop, and then pulled their horses in hard when they were alongside their captain. One of them, a youngster with orange hair and freckles, greeted his captain with a grin. “Sir, it’s boring as old maids at tea back there. Mind if we ride along?”

  Lieutenant Crafty laughed aloud and leaned over to clasp wrists with his man as he shot a glance at his captain. “I told you we had a lively one when we found him, sir! And you’ve brought a few like-minded friends, I see. Excellent. ”

  Their captain was not as merry about it. “Well. If you must ride along, form up and try to look like you’ve a bit of discipline. ”

  “Sir!” the redhead agreed with a shout, and in a moment Chade and I were in the center of an honor guard. I sat straighter on the roan, suddenly uncomfortable with such a status. I felt a tendril of Wit-quest from the mare. Were we safe? We were fine, I assured her, and scowled to myself. She was becoming too attuned to me. Chade glanced over at me and misinterpreted my expression.

  Become accustomed to it, Prince FitzChivalry. The tone of his Skilling was wry.

  They know me only as Badgerlock, I objected.

  I doubt that. Gossip flies swiftly. But even if they name you Badgerlock now, that will change when they return to Buckkeep Castle. So conduct yourself as a prince.

  It was good advice and hard to follow. I was not accustomed to being at the center of anything. Assassins lurk at the edges, looking like no one in particular.

  And you will learn now to do that while being at the center of scrutiny, Chade suggested.

  We rode on, not speaking aloud. Out of the forest and on the open road, the day was blue and white. Farmsteads set in their fields plumed smoke from their chimneys. The road was little-traveled on this fine cold day, and when we reached the turn for Gallows Hill, the only tracks were the soft dimples from Chade, Thick, and Nettle’s journeyman when they had arrived the day before. We followed them.

  “What’s up this trail?” the redhead asked curiously. He looked to me for an answer.

  “Not much of anything. The old gallows for Withy and Oaksbywater. And a standing stone. ”

  “Then no one comes up here much?”

  “True,” I affirmed. “And I am glad of it. ”

  We rode a bit farther in silence.

  “As good a place as any, then,” the lad said.

  Amateur. The betrayal was in his arrogant tone, his confidence allowing him to bait us. The bit of braggadocio cost them their surprise. Chade was pulling his sword even as the boy tried to wheel his horse into Chade’s. I felt the flash of Chade’s Skill as he arrowed a message to Dutiful. We are attacked! I sensed a startled response from the king but had no time to pay attention to it. In front of us, the lieutenant thrust his sword deep into his captain’s side below the ribs, and then pulled his foot from his stirrup to kick the dying man off his horse. I saw it as I urged the roan so that she surged forward and carried me out of the jaws of danger as my two “guards” tried to trap me between them. One shouted, “Witted Bastard!” The roan chested the lieutenant’s horse hard. His foot had not returned to the stirrup and she caught him off balance. I shoved him hard, he fell sideways, and his startled horse dragged him a short way before his foot came free and he fell. Down but not dead.

  Chade.

  I wheeled the roan tightly and was in time to see Chade and the redhead exchange sword-thrusts. The tip of Red’s sword skittered across Chade’s belly before slicing into his side. Chade’s thrust was surer. He gave a low cry and bared his teeth as his blade sank into the youngster’s bel
ly. I echoed it with a horrified shout of my own. As Red fell away from Chade, another guard closed with him from the other side.

  I had no time to see more. The banked rage I had felt at Bee’s kidnapping and the rape of Withywoods roared to life in me, and I let it. I had two adversaries of my own. I wore the nondescript sword Chade had armed me with before I left Buckkeep. I’ve never been an excellent swordsman, but as there was no axe handy and since the situation did not seem suited to poison or garrotes, I began to draw the blade. Then I leaned far back in my saddle to allow one sword to pass through the air that occupied the place where my midsection had been a moment before. Snapping myself upright again was far harder than it should have been but it enabled me to slam the pommel of my sword into one opponent’s mouth. There was a satisfying crunch of teeth.

  Page 123

 

  Kicking. The roan’s warning was instantaneous with her action. I had no time to prepare for her sudden motion, but I did manage to stay in the saddle. Resourceful man, that Lord Derrick, and I suddenly knew he was very unlikely to forgive me the theft of such a horse. I’d seen warhorses trained for battle, but the roan was a palfrey that looked built more for running than fighting. She wheeled under me and kicked out powerfully with her hind legs. I held on and felt the blow impact solidly with the other horse. I gave less than a heartbeat’s thought to the realization that I had not signaled her to do this: She had undertaken it herself. As her hind legs came down under her again, she gave a great leap forward. She’d carried me out of range of the swords. I scarcely needed to guide her as she swung tightly to face our attackers. I had a moment to see that Red was down and unmoving, and Chade’s other opponent was draped forward on his mount with his blood running freely down his horse’s neck, as his mount paced in a confused circle. Chade was off his horse, locked tight with Lieutenant Crafty. I was dimly aware of the captain sitting up in the snow, cursing at them.

  The roan crashed chest-to-chest with one of the Rousters’ mounts. I leaned in time and his sword sliced only the good wool of my cloak and glanced off the point of my shoulder. I was more accurate. This time I used the pointed end of my weapon, pushing it deep into the chest of the very young and very surprised guardsman. So satisfying to finally shed blood, to let the anger rage! My Wit shared his agony with me. I blocked it even as I took satisfaction in it. The attack had brought me close to him. As I seized his throat to push him off my blade, I smelled on his breath the breakfast he’d eaten at my table. His two front teeth overlapped slightly. Probably younger than Lant. And much deader as he fell from his horse.

  “You bastard!” his partner shouted.

  “Yes!” I responded. I turned in the saddle, ducked, and the tip of his blade etched fire across my brow instead of beheading me. The pain was shockingly sharp. We were knee-to-knee. Blood from my earlier blow ran over his chin, but I knew that in a moment the flowing blood from my brow would blind me and my sword would be useless. I nudged the roan. She responded. I kicked free of my stirrups as she wheeled into the other horse. I needed to get my hands on him while I could see. I dropped my sword and shook my hands out of my gloves, then launched myself at him.

  It was possibly the last thing he’d expected me to do. I was inside the range of his sword. He kept hold of his weapon and hit me with the hilt, with little impact. He had stayed in his saddle but my sudden extra weight sent his horse staggering sideways. The Rouster fought to keep his balance. He had a fine beard and mustache and I seized two great handfuls of hair and let myself fall. He came after me, shouting curses and delivering several solid punches to my chest. He lost his sword as we went down. As we fell together from his horse into the deep snow, I twisted, hoping to land on top of him. I didn’t. I heard a muffled shout and knew Chade’s voice. “Wait!” I shouted stupidly, as if Chade and his enemy would delay their fight for me, and the man on top of me hit me in the jaw. Even as we fell, I had not released his beard and now I did my best to pull out as big a handful as I could. He roared with the pain, a very satisfactory sound. I let go of his beard and boxed both his ears as hard as I could with the heels of my hands.

  Then I fastened my hands to his throat. Strangling a man with a heavy beard and a high collar is difficult. I worked my fingers through the beard, slid them under his collar. The warm column of his throat was mine, and I sank my fingers into it. Doing this while the man was on top of me, pummeling me while blood ran into my eyes, meant that it took much longer for me to kill the man than I care to recall. When he stopped hitting me and seized my wrists, I darted my head in and bit his hand as hard as I could. He roared and then screamed with pain and outrage. Assassins take no pride in fighting fairly. We take pride in winning. As I spat out a piece of finger, I told myself Nighteyes would have been proud. I’d kept my grip and I felt the flesh of his throat standing in ridges between my fingers. “BEE!” I gasped and squeezed harder. Throttling someone while being struck requires focus. I knew that as long as I had his throat and kept squeezing, there was a limit to how long he could do whatever painful things he could think of as I inexorably cut off his breath. I jerked him close enough to me that he couldn’t make a large swing, while keeping his broken teeth away from my face. He tried to find my throat, but I locked my chin to my chest and hung on. It had been a long time since I’d had to fight this way, but some things a man does not forget. His blows began to lose force. He gripped my wrists. Hold tight, I reminded myself. All I had to do was keep squeezing. When he collapsed on me the first time, I knew he was feigning death. He did not fake it for long. He stirred enough to lift his hands and pry at mine. It was a feeble effort. The second time he collapsed, I knew he was truly unconscious. I squeezed. When I knew he was dead, I let go and pushed him off me.

  Page 124

 

  I rolled away, my ribs aching, my jaw burning where I’d clenched it against his blows. I staggered to my knees and dragged my cuff across my bloodied vision. When I could see, I got to my feet and looked for Chade. The horses had scattered. The captain was curled on his side, calling faintly for help. The four guardsmen were down, three dead and one dying. Chade was still on his feet. Blood from his side had darkened his coat and dripped red on the snow. The tough old bastard was behind the lieutenant, his arm locked around the man’s throat. The lieutenant was wasting time clawing at Chade’s arm. I brought out my knife to make a quick end to him.

  “No!” Chade forbade me breathlessly. “My kill. ” Never before had my old mentor sounded so much like my wolf. I took a respectful two steps back and without remorse dispatched the fourth guardsman and then went to the captain’s aid.

  He was dying and he knew it. I didn’t try to move him. I went down on my knees and leaned on my hand to look in his face. He could barely focus on me. He tried to lick his lips, then said, “Not traitor. Not me. Not the rest of my boys. My Rousters. ”

  I thought he was finished. “I’ll tell Lord Chade,” I assured him.

  “That son of a mangy bitch,” he said, anger lending him strength. “Leave their bodies … on the gibbet. That dung-eating bastard Crafty. Led them astray. My boys. Mine. ”

  “The others won’t be punished,” I promised him, but knew I lied. The reputation of the Rousters, never sterling, would be dirtied. No one would want to join that guard company, and the other guardsmen would avoid them at table. But it was what I could say, and he closed his eyes and let go of life.

  I went back to Chade. He knelt by Crafty. The man was not dead. He was unconscious from being choked, and Chade was hamstringing him. He’d pushed the man facedown, pulled up the legs of his trousers, and cut the big tendons behind his knees. As I watched, he trussed the man’s wrists behind his back with a length of cord he materialized from his sleeve. Then with a grunt, he rolled Crafty onto his back. With those tendons cut, Crafty wasn’t going to stand, run, or fight. Chade was pale and breathing hard as he settled back on his haunches. I didn’t tell him to finish the man or ask him hi
s intent. Assassins have a code of their own. Bee was at stake as well as Shun, and if this man’s attempt on us had to do with her abduction, then whatever we had to do to extract his information was acceptable.

  Crafty was drawing deeper breaths, a scratchy sound. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. He gasped loudly and then looked up at us, me standing and Chade kneeling beside him with a bloody knife. Chade didn’t wait for him to speak. He set his knife to the hollow of the man’s throat.

  “Who paid you? How much? What was your mission?” Chade spoke the words as if he were counting aloud.

  Crafty didn’t answer immediately. I observed the standing stone. My roan stood at a distance, watching me closely. The other horses had bunched together, confused and taking comfort in her company. I suspect Chade did something with his knife because Crafty gasped high. I muffled my Wit so as not to share what he felt. I heard him struggle and then demand, “What did you do to my legs, you bastard?”

  Chade spoke again. “Who paid you? How much? What was your mission?”

  “Don’t know his name! He wouldn’t say!” The man was breathless with pain. “What did you do to my legs?” He tried to sit up, but Chade pushed him roughly back. I eyed the old man critically. He was still bleeding, the red melting the snow beside him. Soon, I’d have to intervene, if only to bandage him.

  “What did he tell you to do? How much did he offer you to do it?”

  “Kill you. Five gold for me, and two for any man who helped. He came to us in a tavern in Buckkeep. Actually, he came to the captain, but he cursed him and said no. Is he dead? Captain Stout?”

  I couldn’t tell if it was fear or regret in his voice.

  “Only me?” Chade asked him.

  “Kill you. Kill you slow if we could, but kill you and bring back your hand. To prove it. ”

  “When?” I interrupted Chade’s questioning. “When did you get this job?”

  He rolled his eyes to look at me. “In Buckkeep. Before we left. Right after we got word that we were leaving, that we would miss Winterfest to come out here. No one was happy about that. ”