Assassin’s Fate

That shocked me to silence. But the Fool leaned in and said, ‘Oh, well done! Would that I could have done that myself.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do you like your father’s nose?’

She looked up at me and I fingered the break in it. She had never seen it any other way. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ she asked in puzzlement.

‘Nothing at all,’ the Fool told her merrily. ‘I’ve always told people, “There’s nothing wrong with his nose.’’’ He laughed out loud, and both Lant and Spark turned to regard us in surprise. I didn’t understand his joke, but their expressions made me laugh and even Bee smiled, in the way one does at a madman.

She leaned closer and closed her eyes. The pain from my leg came in surges with my heartbeat. Rest, rest, rest said the pain. I knew I could not. My body wanted to sleep, to heal, but now was not the time. I needed to get up, to help the others, but Bee was slumped against me and I didn’t want to move her. I leaned back and the last firepot in the belt poked me. ‘Help me,’ I said and the Fool tugged it off me.

Bee didn’t stir. I looked down at her little face. Her eyes were closed. Her disfigurement told a dreadful tale. Scars, some months old, some fresh, distorted her face. I wanted to touch the cut at the corner of her mouth and heal it. No. Don’t wake her. I realized I was leaning heavily on the Fool. I lifted my head to look at him.

‘Did we win?’ he asked me. His smile was lopsided in his swollen face.

‘The fight isn’t over until you win,’ I said. Burrich’s words. Spoken to me so long ago. I touched my leg. Warm and wet. I was hungry and thirsty and so tired. But I had them both beside me. Alive. Still bleeding, and my ears ringing. But alive.

Across the room, Lant was grinding at mortar with his knife. Per knelt on the floor beside him, likewise digging at a seam. Spark had crossed to a rack of tools meant for tearing flesh, not stone. Her upper lip curled back as she selected one of the black iron implements. I turned my gaze away from that and met the Fool’s eyes.

‘I should go help them,’ he said.

‘Not yet.’

He gave me a questioning look.

‘Let me have this moment. All of you here with me. Just for a short time.’ A smile suddenly came to me. ‘I have news for you,’ I told him. I found I still could grin. ‘Fool, I’m a grandfather! Nettle has a baby girl now. Hope! Isn’t that a wonderful name?’

‘You. A grandfather.’ He smiled with me. ‘Hope. A perfect name.’

For a time we sat together in silence. I was so weary, and danger still threatened, but that did not steal the sweetness of being here, alive, with them. I was so tired. And my leg hurt. Nonetheless, I had this moment. I slipped into the wolf’s enjoyment of the immediate.

Rest a moment. I will keep watch.

I didn’t realize I had dozed until I twitched awake. I was thirsty and ravenously hungry. Bee was holding my hand and was asleep against me. Skin to skin, I felt my daughter as a part of me. I smiled slowly as I became aware of her Skill-wall. Self-taught. She would be strong with it. I lifted my eyes to the Fool. He was haggard but smiling. ‘Still here,’ he said softly.

Through the dimness, I saw that Lant had taken off his shirt and was sweating in the chill. He, Per and Spark were employing our looted swords to dig out the mortar in a section of wall. They had made an opening big enough to admit a man’s arm. The stone they had pulled out was as long and wide as a man’s forearm but only a hand tall. The blocks in the wall were staggered. They’d have to remove three above to take out the two below. At least six to move before Per could squeeze through. I should go and help. I knew that. But my body had cheerily burned my reserves to try to heal my leg. I cautiously felt the bandaging. Sticky and crusty. No new blood. Still likely to split open again when next I stood.

Lant stood up. ‘Stand back,’ he said and when Per and Spark did he kicked at the block they’d been working on. ‘Not yet,’ Spark said wearily. Per went back to his scraping.

‘Can’t we put one of your firepots in there now?’

Spark gave him a look. ‘If you want to chance caving in the tunnel beyond, I suppose we could.’

Per made a small sound of amusement and went on scraping at mortar.

The Fool and I were silent. One of the prisoners came out of the cell. He stumbled slowly toward where Per, Spark and Lant scraped at the mortar. He spoke hoarsely, in a boy’s voice. ‘I will help, if you have a tool for me.’ Spark measured him with her eyes, then she gave him her belt-knife, and he began to dig feebly at a line of mortar.

‘I truly feared I had to choose between you,’ the Fool said quietly. When I said nothing, he added, ‘Her dream of the buck, the bee, and the scale.’