Royal Assassin

The oldest reference to the Elderlings in the Buckkeep library is a battered scroll. Vague discolorations upon the vellum suggest that it came from a parti-colored beast, one mottled in a way unfamiliar to any of our hunters. The lettering ink is one derived from squid ink and bell root. It has stood the test of time well, much better than the colored inks that originally supplied illustrations and illuminations for the text. These have not only faded and bled, but in many places have drawn the attentions of some mite that has gnawed and stiffened the once-supple parchment, making parts of the scroll too brittle to unroll.

Unfortunately, the damage was concentrated most at the innermost parts of the scroll, which deal with portions of King Wisdom’s quest that were not recorded elsewhere. From these fragmented remains, one can glean that sore need drove him to seek the homeland of the Elderlings. His troubles are familiar ones; ships raided his coastline mercilessly. Tatters hint that he rode off toward the Mountain Kingdom. We don’t know why he suspected that way would lead him to the home of the mythical Elderlings. Unfortunately the final stages of his journey and his encounter with the Elderlings seem to have been richly illustrated, for here the parchment is reduced to a lacy web of tantalizing word bits and body parts. We do not know anything of this first encounter. Nor have we even an inkling as to how he induced the Elderlings to become his allies. Many songs, rich in metaphor, tell how the Elderlings descended, like “storms,” like “tidal waves,” like “vengeance gone gold,” and “wrath embodied in flesh of stone” to drive the Raiders away from our shores. Legends also tell that they swore to Wisdom that if ever the Six Duchies had need of their aid, they would rise again to our defense. One may conjecture; many have, and the variety of legends that surround this alliance are proof of that. But King Wisdom’s scribe’s recounting of the event has been lost to mildew and worms forever.

*

My chamber had a single tall window that looked out over the sea. In winter a wooden shutter closed out the storm winds, and a tapestry hung over that gave my room an illusion of cozy warmth. So I awakened to darkness, and for a time lay quietly finding myself. Gradually the subtle sounds of the Keep filtered in to me. Morning sounds. Very early morning sounds. Home, I realized. Buckkeep. And in the next instant, “Molly,” I said aloud to the darkness. My body was weary and aching still. But not exhausted. I clambered from my bed into the chill of my room.