Assassin's Quest

"I recall hearing something of the sort." It had been a conversation long ago. Someone … Chade? … had told me that the people held the King accountable for everything, even droughts and fires. It had meant little to me then, but to these farmers it must have seemed like the end of the world.

The house, too, spoke of a loving hand and better times. It was two stories, built of timber, but its paint was long faded. Shutters were closed tight over the windows in the upper story. There were two chimneys at either end of the house, but one was losing its stones. Smoke rose from the other one. A young girl stood before the door of the house. A fat gray pigeon perched on her hand and she was stroking it lightly. "Good day," she bid us in a pleasantly low voice as we approached. Her tunic was leather over a loose cream shirt of wool. She wore leather trousers as well, and boots. I put her age at about twelve, and knew she was some kin to the folk in the other house by her eyes and hair.

"Good day," Starling returned to her. "We are looking for Nik."

The girl shook her head. "You have come to the wrong house. There is no Nik here. This is Pelf's house. Perhaps you should seek farther down the road." She smiled at us, no more than puzzlement on her face.

Starling gave me an uncertain glance. I took her arm. "We have been given poor directions. Come, let us take ourselves back to town and try again." At that time I hoped no more than to get ourselves out of the situation.

"But …" she objected in confusion.

I had a sudden inspiration. "Shush. We were warned these are not people to take lightly. The bird must have gone astray, or a hawk taken it. There is nothing more to be done here today."

"A bird?" the girl piped suddenly.

"Only a pigeon. Good day to you." I put my arm about Starling and turned her firmly. "We did not mean to bother you."

"Whose pigeon?"

I let my eyes meet hers for a moment. "A friend of Nik's. Do not let it concern you. Come, Starling."

"Wait!" the girl said suddenly. "My brother is inside. Perhaps he knows this Nik."

"I would not wish to bother him," I assured her.

"No bother." The bird on her hand stretched out his wings as she gestured to the door with it. "Come inside out of the cold for a bit."

"It is a cold day," I conceded. I turned to confront the whittler just as he was emerging from the line of birches. "Perhaps we should all go inside."

"Perhaps." The girl grinned at my shadow's discomfiture.

Within the door was a bare entry hall. The fine inlaid wood of the floor was scuffed and had gone unoiled for some time. Lighter spaces on the walls showed where paintings and tapestries had once hung. A bare staircase led to the upper floor. There was no light save what came in the thick windows. Inside, there was no wind, but it was not much warmer. "Wait here," the girl told us, and entered a chamber to our right, closing the door firmly behind her. Starling stood a bit closer to me than I wished. The whittler watched us expressionlessly.

Starling took a breath. "Hush," I told her before she could speak. Instead, she took my arm. I made the excuse of stooping to adjust my boot. As I straightened, I turned and put her on my left side. She immediately took hold of that arm. It seemed a very long time before the door opened. A tall man, brown-haired and blue-eyed, came out. He was dressed like the girl in leathers. A very long knife hung at his belt. The girl came on his heels, looking petulant. He had rebuked her, then. He scowled at us and demanded, "What's this about?"

"My mistake, sir," I said immediately. "We were seeking one named Nik, and obviously we have come to the wrong house. Your pardon, sir."

He spoke reluctantly. "I've a friend with a cousin named Nik. I could give word of you to him, perhaps."

I squeezed Starling's hand for silence. "No, no, we wouldn't wish to trouble you. Unless you'd like to tell us where we could find Nik himself."

"I could take a message," he offered again. But it was not really an offer.

I scratched at my beard and considered. "I've a friend whose cousin wished to send something across the river. He had heard that Nik might know someone who could take it for him. He promised my friend's cousin that he would send a bird, to let Nik know we were coming. For a fee, of course. That was all, a paltry matter."

He gave a slow nod. "I've heard of folks hereabouts who do such things. It's dangerous work, yes, treasonous work, too. They'd pay with their heads if the King's Guard caught them."

"That they would," I agreed readily. "But I doubt that my friend's cousin would do business with the kind of folk who'd get caught. That was why he was wishing to speak to Nik."

"And who was it sent you here to seek this Nik?"

"I forget," I said coolly. "I'm afraid I'm rather good at forgetting names."

"Are you?" the man asked consideringly. He glanced at his sister and gave a small nod. "May I offer you some brandy?"

"That would be most welcome," I told him.