Assassin's Quest

Going hunting. It is time to go hunting. I look to where we came in, but the Scentless One has blocked that way, covering it over with another piece of deerskin. Door, part of us knows that is the door and we go to it, to whine softly and prod at it with our nose. It rattles against its catch like a trap about to spring shut. The Scentless One comes, stepping lightly, warily. He stretches his body past me, to put a pale paw on the door and open it for me. I slip out, back into a cool night world. It feels good to stretch my muscles again, and I flee the pain and the stuffy hut and the body that does not work to this wild sanctuary of flesh and fur. The night swallows us and we hunt.

It was another night, another time, before, after, I did not know, my days had come unlinked from one another. Someone lifted a warm compress from my brow and replaced it with a cooler one. "I'm sorry, Fool," I said.

"Thirty-two," said a voice wearily. Then, "Drink," it added more gently. Cool hands raised my face. A cup lapped liquid against my mouth. I tried to drink. Willowbark tea. I turned my face away in disgust. The Fool wiped my mouth and sat down on the floor beside my bed. He leaned companionably close against it. He held his scroll up to the lamplight and went on reading. It was deep night. I closed my eyes and tried to find sleep again. All I could find were things I'd done wrong, trusts I'd betrayed.

"I'm so sorry," I said.

"Thirty-three," said the Fool without looking up.

"Thirty-three what?" I asked.

He glanced over at me in surprise. "Oh. You're truly awake and talking?"

"Of course. Thirty-three what?"

"Thirty-three `I'm sorry's. To various people, but the greatest number of them to me. Seventeen calls for Burrich. I lost count of your calls for Molly, I'm afraid. And a grand total of sixty-two `I'm coming, Verity's."

"I must be driving you crazy. I'm sorry."

"Thirty-four. No. You've just been raving, rather monotonously. It's the fever, I suppose."

"I suppose."

The Fool went back to reading. "I'm so tired of lying on my belly," I ventured.

"There's always your back," the Fool suggested to see me wince. Then, "Do you want me to help you shift to your side?"

"No. That just hurts more."

"Tell me if you change your mind." His eyes went back to the scroll.

"Chade hasn't been back to see me," I observed.

The Fool sighed and set aside his scroll. "No one has. The healer came in and berated us all for bothering you. They're to leave you alone until she pulls the arrow out. That's tomorrow. Besides, Chade and the Queen have had much to discuss. Discovering that both you and Verity are still alive has changed everything for them."

"Another time, he would have included me." I paused, knowing I was wallowing in self-pity, but unable to stop myself. "I suppose they feel they cannot trust me anymore. Not that I blame them. Everyone hates me now. For the secrets I kept. For all the ways I failed them."

"Oh, not everyone hates you," the Fool chided gently. "Only me, really."

My eyes darted to his face. His cynical smile reassured me. "Secrets," he said, and sighed. "Someday I shall write a long philosophical treatise on the power of secrets, when kept or told."

"Do you have any more brandy?"

"Thirsty again? Do have some more willowbark tea." There was acid courtesy in his voice now, overladen with honey. "There's plenty, you know. Buckets of it. All for you."

"I think my fever is down a bit," I offered humbly.

He lifted a hand to my brow. "So it is. For now. But I do not think the healer would approve of you getting drunk again."

"The healer is not here," I pointed out.

He arched a pale eyebrow at me. "Burrich would be so proud of you." But he rose gracefully and went to the oak cabinet. He stepped carefully around Nighteyes sprawled on the hearth in heat-soaked sleep. My eyes traveled to the patched window and then back to the Fool. I supposed some sort of agreement had been worked out between them. Nighteyes was so deeply asleep he was not even dreaming. His belly was full as well. His paws twitched when I quested toward him, so I withdrew. The Fool was putting the bottle and two cups on a tray. He seemed too subdued.

"I am sorry, you know."

"So you have told me. Thirty-five times."