Assassin’s Fate

He took a breath. ‘And we must take with us Chade’s firepots and some of Fitz’s poisons. Once we have Bee and are certain of our escape, Fitz can place them as he thinks best.’

‘I can help with that,’ Per said quietly and added softly, ‘I have my own vengeance to claim. My father. My grandfather. I recall too well how their emissaries served the men who stood before the doors of Withywoods. I recall how Revel fell.’

A small silence followed his words. Pride and shame warred in me. What had I done to my good-hearted, honest young stableboy?

The Fool spoke. ‘Once we have Bee outside of Castle Clerres, that party will not wait for anyone else. She will immediately be taken to the docks and the ship’s boat. There we will wait for the others to join us. Unless …’ He paused and then spoke reluctantly, ‘Unless Bee is badly hurt. Then we must get her quickly to the ship and tend to her injuries.’ He drew a breath and spoke quickly. ‘The rest of us will have to fare as well as we can. But today we prepare. We dress the part; we conceal our weapons.’

‘I agree,’ I said quietly.

‘So let us begin,’ Spark announced. She was obviously more informed than the rest of us, for she began to pull out sets of garments from under the bunk.

She set a stack beside the Fool. ‘Here is your granny’s bonnet on top. I’ve finished putting on the lace to shield your old face from the sun. Try it on!’ Next to the Fool’s disguise she placed the butterfly cloak, folded and rolled into a tight packet. Wordlessly, she put out a maidservant’s shift and a headscarf. For Bee, I knew. I twitched when she spoke to me. ‘Fitz, please set out whatever has survived of your good clothing. Per, here are trousers and a loose vest and your old boots. You’ve scarcely worn them since we came aboard! Amber says that will pass as a serving boy’s garb. Lant, as you are courting me, I’ve devised some garments for you. And myself. It has been a challenge to remake Lady Thyme’s old things into presentable wear!’

She spoke with pardonable pride. She held up for Lant a garment that had been a fussy old woman’s blouse. It was now a passable gentleman’s shirt with a great deal of lace at the throat and cuff. ‘Luckily your father was of a size with you, so Thyme’s garments were generously cut.’ Her words suddenly choked to a halt. She held the shirt out to him blindly. ‘Try it on,’ she managed.

The Fool had donned the bonnet and was tying it under his chin. Granny suddenly spoke in a querulous old woman’s voice. ‘Fitz, we must play the game as the pieces move.’ She stopped and looked about. ‘What is that smell?’

I knew immediately. Spark’s digging for clothing had overset my pack and the Elderling fire-brick was smouldering. Next to Bee’s books. Next to Chade’s exploding pots!

I fell to the floor and dug like a dog, employing Burrich’s finest stable-curses as I did so. I dragged out my pack from beneath a tangle of petticoats. The scorched canvas parted under my frantic fingers. I tumbled the contents onto the deck. The fire-brick was glowing. Lant upended the water ewer over a lavishly embroidered skirt and I flipped the hot brick onto it so that the plain side was up. It hissed as it landed and I stuffed my burnt fingers into my mouth. Not enough to blister, but my fingertips stung. Spark had already stooped and pulled Bee’s books from the jumbled pile of my possessions. The books had shielded the firepots from the heat, but my heart hurt that the back cover of Bee’s journal showed a scorch-mark. Spark set the books into the Fool’s hands and he lifted them against his breast as if they were children in need of comfort.

‘Why did you store Chade’s pots near the fire-brick?’ Per asked incredulously and I had no good answer. Except that if I had been alone, my pack would never have been overset.

Spark had stooped down and was matter-of-factly sorting through my clothes. ‘Have you any good trousers left?’ she asked me as she pulled a shirt free.

‘Let me sort that!’ I said. Too late.

‘Are those tubes of Silver?’ Lant asked in an awestruck voice, for the heat of the bricks had weakened the frayed fabric of my old shirt and the tubes were exposed. I plucked one from the scorched fabric and examined the container. It seemed unharmed. The Silver inside shifted and twirled.

‘Silver?’ the Fool exclaimed in his own voice. ‘Fitz, you have Silver?’ He leaned over the tumbled items on the floor, as if peering hard enough would let him see them.

There was no lie large enough to cover what the others had seen. The truth fell out of my mouth. ‘Rapskal gave it to me.’

The silence that fell was like a fall of cold snow from steep eaves.

I felt obliged to add more. ‘I didn’t ask him for it. Heeby convinced him that it was acceptable to the dragons that I have it. He had heard Amber ask for it, and he gave it to me. That day that he helped me home.’

‘So it was for me,’ Amber said softly. So quickly my Fool had vanished.

‘No. He gave it to me,’ I replied firmly. ‘To use however I thought best.’