Royal Assassin

She drew back a little from me. Her eyes searched my face. “You would not lie to me about this, Newboy?”

The question hurt, but I deserved it. “No. This is not a lie. I promise you that. And I promise that I shall never lie—”

Her fingers stopped my lips. “I hope to spend the rest of my life with you. Make me no promises that you cannot keep for the rest of your days.” Her other hand went to the lacing of my shirt. It was my turn to tremble.

I kissed her fingers. And then her mouth. At some time Molly got up and latched and barred my door. I remember sending up a fervent prayer that this would not be the night that Chade finally returned from his journeying. It was not. Instead I journeyed afar that night, into a place that was becoming ever more familiar, but no less wondrous to me.

She left me in the deep of the night, shaking me awake to insist that I latch and bar the door after her. I wanted to dress and walk her back to her room, but she refused me indignantly, saying she was perfectly capable of going up some stairs, and that the less we were seen together, the better. I reluctantly conceded her logic. The sleep I fell into then was deeper than any the valerian had induced.

I awoke to thunder and shouting. I found myself on my feet, dazed and confused. After a moment the thunder turned to pounding on my door, and the shouting was Burrich’s repetition of my name. “A moment!” I managed to call back. I ached everywhere. I dragged on some clothes and staggered to the door. It took a long time for my fingers to manage the catch. “What’s wrong?” I demanded.

Burrich just stared at me. He was washed and dressed, hair and beard combed, and carrying two axes.

“Oh.”

“Verity’s tower room. Hurry up, we’re already late. But wash first. What is that scent?”

“Perfumed candles,” I extemporized. “They’re supposed to bring restful dreams.”

Burrich snorted. “That’s not the kind of dreams that scent would bring me. It’s full of musk, boy. Your whole room reeks of it. Meet me up in the tower.”

And he was gone, striding purposefully down the hall. I went back into my room, groggily realizing that this was his idea of early morning. I washed myself thoroughly with cold water, not enjoying it, but lacking the time to warm any. I dug about for fresh clothes and was dragging them on when the pounding at my door began again. “I’m nearly there,” I called out. The pounding went on. That meant Burrich was angry. Well, so was I. Surely he could understand how badly I ached this morning. I jerked the door open to confront him, and the Fool slipped in as smoothly as a waft of smoke. He wore a new motley of black and white. The sleeves of his shirt were all embroidered with black vines crawling up his arms like ivy. Above the black collar, his face was as pale as a winter moon. Winterfest, I thought dully. Tonight was the first night of Winterfest. The winter had already been as long as any five others I had known. But tonight we would begin to mark the midpoint of it.

“What do you want?” I demanded, in no mood for his silliness.

He took a deep appreciative sniff. “Some of what you had would be lovely,” he suggested, and then danced back gracefully at the look on my face. I was instantly angry. He leaped lightly to the center of my tousled bed, then to the other side, putting it between us. I lunged across it after him. “But not from you,” he exclaimed coquettishly and fluttered his hands at me in girlish rebuke before retreating again.

“I’ve no time for you,” I told him disgustedly. “Verity’s expecting me and I cannot keep him waiting.” I rolled off the bed and stood to adjust my clothing. “Out of my room.”

“Ah, such a tone. Time was when the Fitz could handle a jest better than this.” He pirouetted in the center of my room, then stopped abruptly. “Are you truly angry with me?” he demanded straightforwardly.

I gaped to hear him speak so bluntly. I considered the question. “I was,” I said guardedly, wondering if he was deliberately drawing me out. “You made a fool of me that day, with that song, before all those people.”

He shook his head. “Don’t take titles to yourself. Only I am the Fool. And the Fool is always only what I am. Especially that day, with that song, before all those people.”

“You made me doubt our friendship,” I said bluntly.

“Ah, good. For doubt not that others must always doubt our friendship if we are to remain doughty friends.”

“I see. Then it was your end to sow rumors of strife between us. I understand, then. But I still must go.”

“Farewell, then. Have fun playing at axes with Burrich. Try not to be dumbstruck with all he teaches you today.” He put two logs onto my failing fire and made a great show of settling himself before it.

“Fool,” I began uncomfortably. “You are my friend, I know. But I like not to leave you here, in my room, while I am gone.”

“I like it not when others enter my room when I am not there,” he pointed out archly.