Royal Assassin

In the Great Hall, musicians had been playing and folk dancing, but Justin’s entrance put an end to that. I had gained on him, so that there were scarce a score of steps between us when he caromed into one of the laden tables. Folk were still standing shocked at his entrance when I leaped on him and pulled him down. I punched the knife in and out of him half a dozen times before anyone thought they should interfere. As Regal’s Farrow-bred guards reached for me I flung his twitching body into them, found a table at my back, and leaped onto it. I held up my dripping blade. “The King’s knife!” I told them, and showed it ’round. “Taking blood in vengeance for the King’s death. That is all!”

“He’s mad!” someone cried. “Verity’s death has driven him mad!”

“Shrewd!” I cried in fury. “King Shrewd has fallen to treachery this night!”

Regal’s Inlander guards hit my table in a wave. I had not thought there were that many of them. We all went down in a wave of food and crockery. Folk were screaming, but as many surged forward to witness as retreated in horror. Hod would have been proud of me. With the king’s belt knife, I held off three men with short swords. I danced, I leaped, I pirouetted. I was much too fast for them and the cuts they did inflict on me caused me no pain. I scored two good slashes on two of them, simply because they did not think I would dare lunge close enough to inflict them.

Somewhere back in the crowd, someone raised a cry. “Arms! To the Bastard! They are killing FitzChivalry!” A struggle began, but I could not see who was involved, nor give it any attention at all. I stabbed one of the guards in the hand and he dropped his blade. “Shrewd!” someone cried above the din. “King Shrewd is slain!” By the sounds of the other struggle, more folk were becoming involved. I could not look to see. I heard another table crash to the floor, and a scream across the room. Then Buckkeep’s own guard came pouring into the room. I heard Kerf’s voice raised above the general din. “Separate them! Quell it! Try not to spill blood in the King’s own hall!” I saw my attackers ringed, saw Blade’s look of consternation as he saw me and then cried out over his shoulder, “It’s FitzChivalry! They’re trying to take down the Fitz!”

“Separate them! Disarm them!” Kerf butted heads with one of Regal’s guards, dropping him. Beyond him I saw knots of struggling break out as Buck guards fell on Regal’s personal guard, battering blades down and demanding that swords be sheathed. I had space for a breath, and could lift my eyes from my own struggle to see that, indeed, a great many folk had become involved, and not just guards. Fistfights had broken out among the guests as well. It looked to become both brawl and riot when suddenly Blade, one of our own guardsmen, shouldered between two of my attackers, sending them sprawling to the floor. He leaped forward and confronted me.

“Blade!” I greeted him with delight, thinking him an ally. Then, as I noticed his defensive stance, I told him, “You know I would not draw blade against you!”

“I know that well, lad,” he told me sadly, and the old soldier flung himself forward to trap me in a bear hug. I do not know who hit me on the back of the head, or with what.

30 Dungeons