Assassin’s Fate

He was silent for a long time. Then he reached his hand out, palm open and up, the back of his hand on the floor. He waited. After a time, I put my hand in his. ‘You are untaught,’ he said quietly. ‘I wish you had been born to folk who recognized what you were. I wonder if it is too late now to teach you anything.’

‘I was taught,’ I said indignantly. I nearly said that I could read and write. I stopped short. It still did not feel safe to admit that to anyone.

‘You were not taught the things you needed to be taught, or you would have understood more, sooner. You are a White, descended from a very old race, one that no longer walks in this world. You may grow slowly and live a very long time. Perhaps as long as I have.’

‘Will I turn into a Black like you?’

‘If you make the changes that fate calls on you to make. I would guess that you’ve changed at least a few times by now. It comes with a fever and weakness. Your skin peels away. It’s how you know you’ve made a step on your Path.’

I thought about it. ‘Perhaps twice I have.’

He made a noise as if he confirmed something to himself. ‘Do you know that every White Prophet has a Catalyst? Do you know what a Catalyst does?’

I knew the word from my father’s writings. ‘A catalyst changes something.’

‘That’s right.’ He sounded approving. ‘And a White’s Catalyst helps to make the changes that the White needs to change the world. To put this old world on a new and better path.’

I waited for him to say more, but he was quiet. I finally asked, ‘Are you my Catalyst?’

He laughed, but it was a sad sound. ‘No. I am sure I am not.’ After a long pause, he said, ‘Unless I am very mistaken, you killed your Catalyst last night.’

I hated him saying out loud that I had killed someone. It made it too real. I made no reply.

‘Think about it,’ he said softly. ‘Who brought you here? Who hammered and pounded you into what you are now? Who set your feet on this journey to this present that was once your future?’

His words were frightening. I found I was breathing hard. No. I did not want Dwalia to be my Catalyst. A question burned in my gut, forced itself out of my mouth. ‘Was I supposed to kill her?’

‘I don’t know. Only you can know what you are supposed to do.’ Then he added, ‘What you believe you are supposed to do. The Pale Woman opposed my view of the future. She believed it was her destiny to ensure that dragons never returned to our world. She saw a righteous Path in keeping the OutIslands at war with the Six Duchies. She wished to crack the Six Duchies into squabbling minor states, and ensure that the ancient magic of the Elderlings did not resurface in the Farseer lines.’

‘You chose the other path?’

He laughed softly. ‘Little one, I am older than old. I accomplished my tasks as a White Prophet long before Ilistore came to Aslevjal. When my Catalyst died, I did not want to leave the place where we had done our work. I stayed on, as the snows grew deeper and ice claimed the ruins. Then, when IceFyre came, I chose to remain and watch over him in his icy sleep. I suppose it was well that I did …’ His voice trailed off as if he now wondered at his choice.

‘When Ilistore came to that place and began to make her choices and changes, they rang against my senses like a cracked bell clanging. I began to oppose her. I thwarted her efforts to kill the trapped dragon.’

I heard the strength of his muffled sigh. I knew he skated past painful memories as he added, ‘And many events then happened that were not my direct intent. Things that triggered me into a role I thought long finished. My dreams came back to me. That was her doing. Her fault that I awoke to those tasks.’ Again, a short silence. ‘That is what I want to tell you now. I have glimpsed in some dreams what you might do, so I caution you. Choose carefully, little Bee. Clerres Castle has stood for time beyond memory. Since the Servants have claimed domain over it, it has become a repository of history. The scrolls stored here track not just what may be, if events tumble a certain way. A great deal of history has been recorded here. Wisdom has been gained and preserved in the scrolls and books. The Servants have documented the changes they engineered, and before that, the works of the original White Prophets.

‘And then there are the folk who live here, in the castle, and the city beyond that depend on the trade the castle and the Servants generate. Beyond them, there are the rolling hills where flocks graze and farmers till the fields. The fisherfolk, and beyond the inlets and waters where they work, the islands of the archipelago. It is like a child’s tower of blocks. If you pull out the bottom block, all tumbles down. Thousands of lives changed.’

I thought for a long time. ‘Always in a bad way?’

He paused before answering. ‘No. Some benefit.’