Royal Assassin

"Perhaps. But it is troubling that the incidents are happening closer and closer to Buckkeep. There are three different groups, from what the victims say. But each time there is a report of a robbery or a barn broken into or a cow butchered in the field, the group responsible seems to have moved closer to Buckkeep. I can think of no reason for Forged ones to do such a thing. And – he halted me as I began to speak – the descriptions of one group match those of another attack, reported over a month ago. If these are the same Forged ones, they have come a long way in that time."

"It does not seem like Forged ones," I said, and then carefully, I asked, "Do you suspect a conspiracy of some kind?"

Verity snorted bitterly. "Of course. When do I not suspect conspiracies anymore? But for this, at least, I think I can look further afield than Buckkeep to find the source." He halted abruptly, as if hearing how bluntly he had spoken. "Look into it for me, Fitz, will you? Ride out and about a bit, and listen. Tell me what they say in the taverns, and tell me what sign you find on the roads. Gather gossip of other attacks, and keep track of the detail. Quietly. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course. But why quietly? It seems to me that if we alerted folk, we would hear more swiftly of what goes on."

"We would hear more, that's true. More of rumors, and much more of complaint. So far these are individual complaints. I am the only one, I think, who has put together a pattern from them. I do not want Buckkeep itself up in arms, complaining that the King cannot even protect his capital city. No. Quietly, Fitz. Quietly."

"Just look into it quietly." I did not voice it as a question.

Verity gave his broad shoulders a small shrug. But it was more like a man shifting a burden than dislodging a load. "Put a stop to it where you can." His voice was small and he looked into the fire. "Quietly, Fitz. Very quietly."

I nodded slowly. I had had these kinds of assignments before also. Killing Forged ones did not bother me as much as killing a man did. Sometimes I tried to pretend I was laying a restless soul to peace, putting a family's anguish to a final end. I hoped I would not become too adept at lying to myself. It was a luxury an assassin could not afford. Chade had warned me that I must always remember what I truly was. Not an angel of mercy, but a killer who worked for the good of the King. Or the King-in-Waiting. It was my duty to keep the throne secure. My duty. I hesitated, then spoke.

"My prince. As I was coming back I saw our Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken. She was riding out with Prince Regal."

"They make a handsome pair, do they not? And does she sit her horse well?" Verity could not entirely keep bitterness from his voice.

"Aye. But in the Mountain style still."

"She came to me, saying she wished to learn to ride our tall lowland horses better. I commended the idea. I did not know she would choose Regal as a riding master." Verity leaned over his map, studying detail that was not there.

"Perhaps she hoped you would teach her." I spoke thoughtlessly, to the man, not the Prince.

"Perhaps." He sighed suddenly. "Oh, I know she did. Kettricken is lonely, sometimes. Often." He shook his head. "She should have been married to a younger son, to a man with time on his hands. Or to a King whose kingdom was not on the verge of war and disaster. I do not do her justice, Fitz. I know this. But she is so ... young. Sometimes. And when she is not being so young, she is so fanatically patriotic. She burns to sacrifice herself for the Six Duchies. Always I have to hold her back, to tell her that is not what the Six Duchies need. She is like a gadfly. There is no peace in her for me, Fitz. Either she wants to be romped like a child, or she is quizzing me on the very details of some crisis I am trying to set aside for a few moments."

I thought suddenly of Chivalry's single-minded pursuit of the frivolous Patience, and caught a glimpse of his motives. A woman who was an escape for him. Who would Verity have chosen, had he been allowed to choose for himself? Probably someone older, a placid woman possessed of inner self-worth and peace.

"I grow so tired," Verity said softly. He poured himself more mulled wine and stepped to the hearth to sip at it. "Do you know what I wish?"

It wasn't really a question. I didn't even bother to reply.

"I wish your father were alive, and king-in-waiting. And I his right-hand man still. He would be telling me what tasks I must tackle, and I would be doing as he asked. I would be at peace with myself, no matter how hard my work, for I would be sure he knew best. Do you know how easy it is, Fitz, to follow a man you believe in?"

He looked up at last to meet my eyes.

"My prince," I said quietly. "I believe I do."