Assassin's Apprentice

I quested toward him, for I had no qualms about it when Burrich wasn't about. Leon lifted his bony head and regarded me with martyred eyes. He was lying on Verity's sweaty shirt in a corner by a cold hearth. He was too hot, he was bored, and if we weren't going to hunt anything, he wanted to go home.

I made a show of running my hands over him and lifting his lips to examine his gums and then pressing my hand down firmly on his belly. I finished all this by scratching behind his ears and then told Verity's man, "There's nothing wrong with him, he just isn't hungry. Let's give him a bowl of cold water and wait. When he wants to eat, he'll let us know. And let's take away all this before it spoils in this heat and he eats it anyway and becomes really sick." I referred to a dish already overfilled with scraps of pastries from a tray that had been set for Verity. None of it was fit for the dog, but I was so hungry I wouldn't have minded dining off the scraps myself; in fact my stomach growled at the sight of it. "I wonder if I found the kitchens, if they would have a fresh beef bone for him? Something that's more toy than food is what he would welcome most now ....

"Fitz? Is that you? In here, boy! What's troubling my Leon?"

"I'll fetch the bone," the man assured me, and I rose and stepped to the entry of the adjoining room.

Verity rose dripping from his bath and took the proffered towel from his serving man. He toweled his hair briskly and then again demanded as he dried himself, "What's the matter with Leon?"

That was Verity's way. Weeks had passed since we had last spoken, but he took no time for greetings. Chade said it was a lack in him, that he didn't make his men feel their importance to him. I think he believed that if anything significant had happened to me, someone would have told him. He had a bluff heartiness to him that I enjoyed, an attitude that things must be going well unless someone had told him otherwise.

"Not much is wrong with him, sir. He's a bit out of sorts from the heat and from traveling. A night's rest in a cool place will perk him up; but I'd not fill him full of pastry bits and suety things; not in this hot weather."

"Well." Verity bent down to dry his legs. "Like as not, you're right, boy. Burrich says you've a way with the hounds, and I won't ignore what you say. It's just that he seemed so moony, and usually he has a good appetite for anything, but especially for anything from my plate." He seemed abashed, as if caught cooing at an infant. I didn't know what to say.

"If that's all, sir, should I be returning to the stables?"

He glanced at me over his shoulder, puzzled. "Seems a bit of a waste of time to me. Hands will see to your mount, won't he? You need to bathe and dress if you're to be on time for dinner. Charim? Have you water for him?"

The serving man straightened from arranging Verity's garments on the bed. "Right away, sir. And I'll lay out his clothes as well."

In the space of the next hour, my place in the world seemed to shift topsy-turvy. I had known this was coming. Both Burrich and Chade had tried to prepare me for it. But to suddenly go from an insignificant hanger-on at Buckkeep to part of Verity's formal entourage was a bit unnerving. Everyone else assumed I knew what was going on.

Verity was dressed and out of the room before I was into the tub. Charim informed me that he had gone to confer with his captain of guards. I was grateful that Charim was such a gossip. He did not consider my rank so lofty as to forbear chatting and complaining in front of me.

"I'll make you up a pallet in here for the night. I doubt you'll be chill. Verity said he wanted you housed close by him, and not just to tend the hound. He has other chores for you as well?"

Charim paused hopefully. I covered my silence by ducking my head into the lukewarm water and soaping the sweat and dust from my hair. I came up for air.

He sighed. "I'll lay out your clothes for you. Leave me those dirty ones. I'll wash them out for you."

It seemed very strange to have someone waiting on me while I washed, and stranger still to have someone supervise my dressing. Charim insisted on straightening the seams on my jerkin and seeing the oversized sleeves on my new best shirt hung to their fullest and most annoying length. My hair had regrown long enough to have snarls in it and these he tugged quickly and painfully out. To a boy accustomed to dressing himself, the primping and inspection seemed endless.

"Blood will tell," said an awed voice from the entry. I turned to find Verity beholding me with a mixture of pain and amusement on his face.

"He's the image of Chivalry at that age, is he not, my lord?" Charim sounded immensely pleased with himself.