rh.theassassinsapprentice-第9章
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night。 It could not have been a good time for him。 He had been Chivalry's man； and now that Chivalry had cast himself down； what was to bee of him？ That must have been much on his mind。 And there was the matter of his leg。 Despite his knowledge of poultices and bandaging； he could not seem to work the healing on himself that he so routinely served to his beasts。 Once or twice I saw the injury unwrapped and winced at the ragged tear that refused to heal smoothly but remained swollen and oozing。 Burrich cursed it roundly at first and set his teeth grimly each night as he cleaned and redressed it； but as the days passed he regarded it with more of a sick despair than anything else。 Eventually he did get it to close； but the ropy scar twisted his leg and disfigured his walk。 Small wonder he had little mind to give to a young bastard deposited in his care。
So I ran free in the way that only small children can； unnoticed for the most part。 By the time Springfest was over； the guards at the keep's gate had bee accustomed to my daily ings and goings。 They probably thought me an errand boy； for the keep had many of those； only slightly older than I。 I learned to pilfer early from the keep's kitchen enough for both Nosy and myself to breakfast heartily。 Scavenging other food…burned crusts from the bakers； sheet and seaweed from the beach； smoked fish from untended racks was a regular part of my day's activities。 Molly Nosebleed was my most frequent panion。 I seldom saw her father strike her after that day； for the most part he was too drunk to find her； or to make good on his threats when he did。 To what I had done that day； I gave little thought； other than to be grateful that Molly had not realized I was responsible。
The town became the world to me； with the keep a place I went to sleep。 It was summer； a wonderful time in a port town。 No matter where I went； Buckkeep Town was alive with ings and goings。 Goods came down the Buck River from the Inland Duchies； on flat river barges manned by sweating bargemen。 They spoke learnedly about shoals and bars and landmarks and the rising and falling of the river waters。 Their freight was hauled up into the town shops or warehouses； and then down again to the docks and into the holds of the sea ships。 Those were manned by swearing sailors who sneered at the rivermen and their inland ways。 They spoke of tides and storms and nights when not even the stars would show their faces to guide them。 And fishermen tied up to Buckkeep docks as well； and were the most genial of the group。 At least so they were when the fish were running well。
Kerry taught me the docks and the taverns； and how a quick…footed boy might earn three or even five pence a day； running messages up the steep streets of the town。 We thought ourselves sharp and daring； to thus undercut the bigger boys who asked two pence or even more for just one errand。 I don't think I have ever been as brave since as I was then。 If I close my eyes； I can smell those glorious days。 Oakum and tar and fresh wood shavings from the dry docks where the shipwrights wielded their drawknives and mallets。 The sweet smell of very fresh fish； and the poisonous odor of a catch held too long on a hot day。 Bales of wool in the sun added their own note to the scent of oak kegs of mellow Sandsedge brandy。 Sheaves of fevergone hay waiting to sweeten a forepeak mingled scents with crates of hard melons。 And all of these smells were swirled by a wind off the bay； seasoned with salt and iodine。 Nosy brought all he scented to my attention as his keener senses overrode my duller ones。
Kerry and I would be sent to fetch a navigator gone to say good…bye to his wife； or to bear a sampling of spices to a buyer at a shop。 The harbormaster might send us running to let a crew know some fool had tied the lines wrong and the tide was about to abandon their ship。 But I liked best the errands that took us into the taverns。 There the storytellers and gossips plied their trades。 The storytellers told the classic tales； of voyages of discovery and crews who braved terrible storms and of foolish captains who took down their ships with all hands。 I learned many of the traditional ones by heart； but the tales I loved best came not from the professional storytellers but from the sailors themselves。 These were not the tales told at the hearths for all to hear； but the warnings and tidings passed from crew to crew as the men shared a bottle of brandy or a loaf of yellow pollen bread。
They spoke of catches they'd made； nets full to sinking the boat almost； or of marvelous fish and beasts glimpsed only in the path of a full moon as it cut a ship's wake。 There were stories of villages raided by Outislanders； both on the coast and on the outlying islands of our Duchy； and tales of pirates and battles at sea and ships taken by treachery from within。 Most gripping were the tales of the Red…Ship Raiders； Outislanders who both raided and pirated； and attacked not only our ships and towns but even other Outislander ships。 Some scoffed at the notion of the red…keeled ships； and mocked those who told of Outislander pirates turning against other pirates like themselves。
But Kerry and I and Nosy would sit under the tables with our backs braced against the legs； nibbling penny sweet loaves； and listen wide…eyed to tales of red…keeled ships with a dozen bodies swinging from their yardarms； not dead； no； but bound men who jerked and shrieked when the gulls came down to peck at them。 We would listen to deliciously scary tales until even the stuffy taverns seemed chilling cold； and then we would race down to the docks again； to earn another penny。
Once Kerry； Molly； and I built a raft of driftwood logs and poled it about under the docks。 We left it tied up there； and when the tide came up； it battered loose a whole section of dock and damaged two skiffs。 For days we dreaded that someone would discover we were the culprits。 And one time a tavern keeper boxed Kerry's ears and accused us both of stealing。 Our revenge was the stinking herring we wedged up under the supports of his tabletops。 It rotted and stank and made flies for days before he found it。
I learned a smattering of trades in my travels： fish buying； net mending； boat building； and idling。 I learned even more of human nature。 I became a quick judge of who would actually pay the promised penny for a message delivered； and who would just laugh at me when I came to collect。 I knew which baker could be begged from； and which shops were easiest to thieve from。 And through it all； Nosy was at my side； so bonded to me now that I seldom separated my mind pletely from his。 I used his nose； his eyes； and his jaws as freely as my own； and never thought it the least bit strange。
So the better part of the summer passed。 But one fine day； with the sun riding a sky bluer than the sea； my good fortune came at last to an end。 Molly； Kerry； and I had pilfered a fine string of liver sausages from a smokehouse and were fleeing down the street with the rightful owner in pursuit。 Nosy was with us； as always。 The other children had e to accept him as a part of me。 I don't think it ever occurred to them to wonder at our singleness of mind。 Newboy and Nosy we were； and they probably thought it but a clever trick that Nosy would know before I threw where to be to catch our shared bounty。 Thus there were actually four of us； racing down the cluttered street； passing the sausages from grubby hand to damp jaws and back to hand again while behind us the owner bellowed and chased us in vain。
Then Burrich stepped out of a shop。
I was running toward him。 We recognized one another in a moment of mutual dismay。 The blackness of the look that appeared on his face left me no doubts about my conduct。 Flee； I decided in a breath； and dodged away from his reaching hands； only to discover in sudden befuddlement that I had somehow run right into him。
I do not like to dwell on what happened next。 I was soundly cuffed； not only by Burrich but by the enraged owner of the sausages。 All my fellow culprits save Nosy evaporated into the nooks and crannies of the street。 Nosy came bellying up to Burrich； to be c
