rh.royalassassin-第90章

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　than　what　you　have　given　me。〃　He　coughed　again；　suddenly；　a　dry　racking　cough。　When　he　could　speak；　it　was　not　to　me。
　　　　　　　〃Fool；　a　goblet　of　the　warmed　wine；　please。　And　ask　Wallace　for　the　。。。　spicing　herbs　to　season　it。〃　The　Fool　rose　immediately；　but　I　saw　no　willingness　on　his　face。　Instead；　as　he　passed　behind　the　King's　chair；　he　gave　me　a　look　that　should　have　drawn　blood。　The　King　made　a　small　gesture　at　me　to　wait。　He　rubbed　his　eyes；　and　then　stilled　his　hands　once　more　in　his　lap。　〃I　but　seek　to　keep　my　end　of　the　bargain；〃　he　resumed。　〃I　promised　to　see　to　your　needs。　I　would　do　more　than　that。　I　would　see　you　wed　to　a　lady　of　quality。　I　would　see　you　。。。　ah。　Thank　you。〃
　　　　　　　The　Fool　was　back　with　the　wine。　I　marked　how　he　filled　the　goblet　but　halfway；　and　how　the　King　picked　it　up　with　both　hands。　I　caught　a　waft　of　unfamiliar　herbs　mingled　with　the　rising　scent　of　the　wine。　The　rim　of　the　goblet　chattered　twice　against　Shrewd's　teeth　before　he　stilled　it　with　his　mouth。　He　took　a　long　deep　draft　of　it。　He　swallowed；　then　sat　still　a　moment　longer；　eyes　closed　as　if　listening。　When　he　opened　his　eyes　to　look　up　at　me　once　more；　he　seemed　briefly　puzzled。　After　a　moment　he　recollected　himself。　〃I　would　see　you　with　a　title；　and　land　to　steward。〃　He　lifted　the　goblet　and　drank　again。　He　sat　holding　it；　warming　his　thin　hands　around　it　while　he　considered　me。　〃I　should　like　to　remind　you　it　is　no　small　thing　that　Brawndy　deems　you　a　fit　match　for　his　daughter。　He　does　not　hesitate　over　your　birth。　Celerity　will　e　to　you　with　a　title　and　estates　of　her　own。　Your　match　gives　me　the　opportunity　to　see　that　you　have　the　same。　I　wish　only　the　best　for　you。　Is　this　so　hard　to　understand？〃
　　　　　　　The　question　left　me　free　to　speak。　I　took　a　breath　and　tried　to　reach　him。　〃My　king；　I　know　you　wish　me　well。　I　am　well　aware　of　the　honor　that　Duke　Brawndy　does　me。　The　Lady　Celerity　is　as　fair　a　woman　as　any　man　could　wish。　But　the　lady　is　not　of　my　choosing。〃
　　　　　　　His　look　darkened。　〃Now　there　you　sound　like　Verity；〃　he　said　crossly。　〃Or　your　father。　I　think　they　suckled　stubbornness　from　their　mother's　breasts。〃　He　lifted　the　goblet　and　drained　it　off。　He　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　shook　his　head。　〃Fool。　More　wine；　please。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　have　heard　the　rumors；〃　he　resumed　heavily　after　the　Fool　had　taken　his　cup。　〃Regal　brings　them　to　me　and　whispers　them　like　a　kitchen　maid。　As　if　they　were　important。　Chickens　clucking。　Dogs　barking。　Just　as　important。〃　I　watched　the　Fool　obediently　refill　the　goblet；　his　reluctance　plain　in　every　muscle　of　his　slender　body。　Wallace　appeared　as　if　summoned　by　magic。　He　heaped　more　Smoke　onto　the　censer；　blew　on　a　tiny　coal　with　carefully　pursed　lips　until　the　heap　smoldered；　and　then　drifted　away。　Shrewd　leaned　carefully　so　that　the　fumes　curled　past　his　face。　He　breathed　in；　gave　a　tiny　cough；　then　drew　in　more　of　the　Smoke。　He　leaned　back　in　his　chair。　A　silent　Fool　stood　holding　his　wine。
　　　　　　　〃Regal　claims　you　are　enamored　of　a　chambermaid。　That　you　pursue　her　relentlessly。　Well；　all　men　are　young　once。　As　are　all　maids。〃　He　accepted　his　goblet　and　drank　again。　I　stood　before　him；　biting　the　inside　of　my　cheek；　willing　my　eyes　to　stoniness。　My　traitorous　hands　began　the　shaking　that　physical　exertion　no　longer　wrung　from　them。　I　longed　to　cross　my　arms　on　my　chest　to　still　them；　but　I　kept　my　hands　at　my　side。　I　concentrated　on　not　crushing　the　small　scroll　I　gripped。
　　　　　　　King　Shrewd　lowered　the　goblet。　He　set　it　on　the　table　at　his　elbow　and　sighed　heavily。　He　let　his　lax　hands　uncurl　quietly　in　his　lap　as　he　leaned　his　head　back　against　the　cushions　of　his　chair。　〃FitzChivalry；〃　he　said。
　　　　　　　I　stood　numbly　before　him　and　waited。　I　watched　as　his　eyelids　drooped；　then　closed。　Then　opened　again　a　crack。　His　head　wavered　slightly　as　he　spoke。　〃You　have　Constance's　angry　mouth；〃　he　said。　His　eyes　drooped　again。　〃I　would　like　to　do　well　by　you；〃　he　muttered。　After　a　moment　a　snore　buzzed　from　his　slack　mouth。　And　still　I　stood　before　him　and　gazed　at　him。　My　king。
　　　　　　　When　finally　I　dropped　my　eyes　from　him；　I　saw　the　only　thing　that　could　have　wrenched　me　into　greater　turmoil。　The　Fool　huddled　disconsolately　at　Shrewd's　feet；　his　knees　drawn　up　to　his　chest。　He　stared　at　me　furiously；　his　mouth　a　flat　line。　Clear　tears　brimmed　in　his　colorless　eyes。
　　　　　　　I　fled。
　　　　　　　Within　my　chamber；　I　paced　a　bit　before　my　hearth。　The　feelings　inside　me　seared　me。　I　forced　myself　to　calmness；　sat　down；　and　took　out　pen　and　paper。　I　penned　a　brief；　correct　note　of　thanks　to　Duke　Brawndy's　daughter；　carefully　rolled　it　up；　and　sealed　it　with　wax。　I　stood　up；　tugged　my　shirt　straight；　smoothed　my　hair　back；　and　then　threw　the　scroll　onto　my　hearth　fire。
　　　　　　　Then　I　sat　down　again　with　my　writing　tools。　I　wrote　a　letter　to　Celerity；　the　shy　girl　who　had　flirted　with　me　at　table；　and　stood　with　me　on　the　cliffs　in　the　wind　and　waited　for　a　challenge　that　never　came。　I　thanked　her　for　the　scroll。　And　then　I　wrote　to　her　of　my　summer。　Of　pulling　an　oar　on　the　Rurisk；　day　after　day。　Of　my　clumsiness　with　a　sword　that　made　the　ax　my　weapon。　I　wrote　of　our　first　battle；　in　ruthless　detail；　and　of　how　sickened　I　had　been　afterward。　I　told　her　of　sitting　frozen　with　terror　at　my　oar　while　a　Red…Ship　attacked　us。　I　neglected　to　mention　the　white　ship　I　had　seen。　I　finished　by　confiding　that　I　was　still　troubled　by　tremors　occasionally　as　the　aftermath　of　my　long　illness　in　the　Mountains。　I　read　it　over　carefully。　Satisfied　that　I　had　presented　myself　as　a　mon　oarsman；　an　oaf；　a　coward；　and　an　invalid；　I　rolled　the　letter　into　a　scroll　and　tied　it　with　the　same　yellow　ribbon　she　had　used。　I　did　not　seal　it。　I　did　not　care　who　read　it。　Secretly；　I　hoped　that　Duke　Brawndy　might　peruse　this　letter　to　his　daughter；　and　then　forbid　her　ever　to　mention　my　name　again。
　　　　　　　When　I　knocked　again　at　King　Shrewd's　door；　Wallace　answered　if　with　his　usual　grim　displeasure。　He　took　the　scroll　from　me　as　if　it　were　dirtied　with　something；　and　shut　the　door　firmly　in　my　face。　As　I　went　back　up　to　my　room　I　thought　of　what　three　poisons　I　would　use　on　him；　were　I　given　the　opportunity。　It　was　less　plicated　than　thinking　of　my　king。
　　　　　　　Back　in　my　room；　I　flung　myself　down　on　my　bed。　I　wished　it　were　night　and　safe　to　go　to　Molly。　Then　I　thought　of　my　secrets；　and　even　that　pleasant　anticipation　vanished。　I　bounced　up　from　my　bed　to　fling　open　the　window　shutters　wide　to　the　storm。　But　even　the　weather　cheated　me。
　　　　　　　Blue　had　cracked　the　overcast　wide；　to　admit　a　watery　sunlight。　A　bank　of　black　clouds　boiling　and　mountaining　over　the　sea　promised　that　this　respite　would　not　last　long。　But　for　now　the　wind　and　the　rain　had　ceased。　There　was　even　a　hint　of　warmth　in　the　air。
　　　　　　　Nighteyes　came　to　my　mind　immediately。
　　　　　　　It's　too　wet　to　hunt。　Water　clings　to　every　blade　of　grass。　Besides；　it's　full　daylight。　Only　men　are　stupid　enough　to　hunt　in　full　daylight。
　　　　　　　Lazy　hound；　I　rebuked　him。　I　knew　he　was　curled；　nose　to　tail；　in　his　den。　I　sensed　the　warm　satiation　of　his　full　belly。
　　　　　　　Perhaps　tonight；　he　suggested；　and　drifted　back　to　sleep。
　　　　　　　I　pulled　back　from　him；　then　snatched　up　my　cloak。　My　feelings　were　not　conducive　to　a　day　within　walls。　I　left　the　Keep　and　headed　down　toward　Buckkeep　Town。　Anger　at　Shrewd's　decision　for　me　warred　with　dismay　at　how　he　had　weakened。　I　walked　briskly；　trying　to　escape　the　King's　trembling　hands；　his　drugged　sleep。　Damn　Wallace！　He　had　stolen　my　king　from　me。　My　king　had　stolen　my　life　from　me。　I　refused　to　think　anymore。
　　　　　　　Dripping　water　and　yellow…edged　leaves　fell　from　the　trees　as　I　passed。　Birds　sang　clearly　and　joyously　at　the　unexpected　respite　from　the　downpour。　The　sun　grew　stronger；　making　everything　sparkle　with　the　wet；　and　steaming　rich　scents　up　from　the　earth。　Despite　my　turmoil；　the　beauty　of　the　day　touched　me。
　　　　　　　The　recent　downpours　had　washed　Buckkeep　Town　clean。　I　found　myself　in　the　market；　in　the　midst　of　an　eager　crowd。　Everywhere　folk　hurried　to　make　purchases　and　rush　them　home　before　the　storm　could　drench　us　again。　The　amiable　busyness　and　friendly　clatter　was　at　odds　with　my　sour　mood；　and　I