Royal Assassin

“I could have told you a bit of that,” he said gruffly. He looked at the food Molly had brought, then poured himself more brandy. “As we came down the Buck River road there were rumors and tidings. Some said Regal sold the beasts and grain off to fund the defense of the coasts. Others that he sent the breeding stock inland to safer pastures in Tilth.” He drank his brandy down. “The best of the horses are gone. I saw that at a glance when I came back. In ten years, I might breed stock up again to the quality of what we had. But, I doubt it.” He poured again. “There’s my life’s work gone, Fitz. A man likes to think he’ll leave his touch on the world somewhere. The horses I had brought together here, the bloodlines I was establishing — gone now, scattered throughout the Six Duchies. Oh, not that they won’t improve anything they’re bred to. But I’ll never see what would have come if I’d been allowed to continue. Steady will be studding rangy Tilth mares, no doubt. And when Ember drops her next foal, whoever rubs it off will think it just another horse. For six generations, I’ve been waiting for just that foal. They’ll take the finest coursing horse that’s ever been foaled and hook it to a plow.”

There was nothing to say about that. I feared it was all true. “Eat something,” I suggested. “How’s your leg now?”

He lifted the blanket to inspect it casually. “Still there, anyway. I suppose I should be grateful for that. And better than it was this morning. The devil’s-club did draw out the infection. Chicken-brained as she is, the woman still knows her herbs.”

I did not need to ask to whom he referred. “Are you going to eat?” I prodded.

He set down his cup and took up a spoon. He tasted the soup Molly had set out, grudgingly nodded his approval. “So,” he observed between bites, “that was the girl. Molly.”

I nodded.

“Seemed a bit cool with you today.”

“A bit,” I said dryly.

Burrich grinned. “You’re as testy as she was. I imagine Patience did not speak well of me to her.”

“She doesn’t like drunks,” I told him bluntly. “Her father drank himself to death. But before he finished the job, he managed to make her life unpleasant for years. Beating her when she was smaller. Railing and berating her when she got too big to beat.”

“Oh.” Burrich carefully refilled his cup. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She was sorry to live it.”

He looked at me levelly. “I did not do it, Fitz. Nor was I rude to her when she was here. I’m not even drunk. Not yet. So stuff your disapproval, and tell me what’s been going on at Buckkeep while I was away.”

So I stood and reported to Burrich, just as if he had a right to demand it. In a way, I suppose he did. He ate as I spoke. When I was finished, he poured himself more brandy and leaned back in his chair, holding it. He swirled the brandy in the cup, looked down at it, then up at me. “And Kettricken is with child, but neither the King nor Regal know of it yet.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. I half thought I’d dreamed that conversation. Well.” He downed the brandy. He sat up, swept the blanket off his leg. As I watched he deliberately bent his knee until the pulling flesh began to gap the wound open. I winced at the sight of it, but Burrich only looked thoughtful. He poured more brandy, drank it off. The bottle was half-gone. “So. I’m going to have to splint the leg straight, if I’m going to keep that closed.” He glanced up at me. “You know what I’ll need. Will you fetch it for me?”

“I think you should stay off it for a day or so. Give it a chance to rest. You don’t need a splint if you’re in bed.”

He gave me a long look. “Who guards Kettricken’s door?”

“I don’t think . . . I assume she has women who sleep in the outer chamber of her apartments.”

“You know he’ll try to kill her and the unborn child, as soon as he finds out.”

“It’s a secret still. If you start guarding her door, all will know.”

“By my count, five of us know. That’s no secret, Fitz.”

“Six,” I admitted ruefully. “The Fool surmised it some days ago.”

“Oh!” I had the satisfaction of seeing Burrich look shocked. “Well, at least that’s one tongue that won’t go wagging. Still, as you see, it won’t be secret long. Rumors will fly before the day’s out, mark my words. I guard her door this night.”

“Must it be you? Can’t you rest, and I will—”

“A man can die of failure, Fitz. Do you know that? Once, I told you, the fight isn’t over until you’ve won. This” — and he gestured at his leg in disgust, — “this will not be my excuse for giving up. Shame enough for me that my prince went on without me. I shall not fail him here. Besides” — he gave a bark of sour laughter — “there’s not enough in the stables now to keep both Hands and me busy. And the heart for it has gone out of me. Now. Will you go get the splint works?”