Read Online Assassin 3 - Royal Assassin by Hobb Robin - Free Book Online
Authors: Hobb Robin
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face is pale, or if you can barely
walk after a day in the saddle. You move as Chivalry's son should.
That is what shows in your bearing, and what those guards responded
to. And Hands. He took a breath and paused to shoulder the heavy
kitchen door open. And I, Eda help us all, he added in a
mutter.
But then, as if to belie his own words, he
steered me into the watch room off the kitchen and-unceremoniously
dumped me at one of the long benches beside the scarred wooden
table. The watch room smelled incredibly good. Here was where any
soldier, no matter how muddy or snowy or drunk, could come and find
comfort. Cook always kept a kettle of stew simmering over the fire
here, and bread and cheese waited on the table, as well as a slab
of yellow summer butter from the deep larder. Burrich served us up
bowls of hot stew thick with barley and mugs of cold ale to go with
the bread and butter and cheese.
For a moment I just looked at it, too weary to
lift a spoon. But the smell tempted me to one mouthful and that was
all it took. Midway through, I paused to shoulder out of my quilted
smock and break off another slab of bread. I looked up from my
second bowl of stew to find Burrich watching me with amusement.
Better? he asked.
I stopped to think about it. Yes. I was warm,
fed, and though I was tired, it was a good weariness, one that
might be cured by simple sleep. I lifted my hand and looked at it.
I could still feel the tremors, but they were no longer obvious to
the eye. Much better. I stood, and found my legs steady under
me.
Now you're fit to report to the King.
I stared at him in disbelief. Now? Tonight? King
Shrewd's long abed. I won't get past his door guard.
Perhaps not, and you should be grateful for
that. But you must at least announce yourself there tonight. It's
the King's decision as to when he will see you. If you're turned
away, then, you can go to bed. But I'll wager that if King Shrewd
turns you aside, King-in-Waiting Verity will still want a report.
And probably right away.
Are you going back to the stables?
Of course. He smiled in wolfish
self-satisfaction. Me, I'm just the stablemaster, Fitz. I have
nothing to report. And I promised Hands I'd bring him something to
eat.
I watched silently as he loaded a platter. He
sliced the bread lengthwise and covered two bowls of the hot stew
with a slab of it, and then loaded a wedge of cheese and a thick
slice of yellow butter onto the side of it.
What do you think of Hands?
He's a good lad, Burrich said
grudgingly.
He's more than that. You chose him to stay in
the Mountain Kingdom and ride home with us, when you sent all the
others back with the main caravan.
I needed someone steady. At that time you were
... very ill. And I wasn't much better, truth to tell. He lifted a
hand to a streak of white in his dark hair, testimony to the blow
that had nearly killed him.
How did you come to choose him?
I didn't, really. He came to me. Somehow he
found where they'd housed us, and then talked his way past Jonqui.
I was still bandaged up and scarce able to make my eyes focus. I
felt him standing there more than saw him. I asked him what he
wanted, and he told me that I needed to put someone in charge,
because with me sick and Cob gone, the stable help were getting
sloppy.
And that impressed you.
He got to the point. No idle questions about me,
or you, or what was going on. He had found the thing he could do
and come to do it. I like that in a man. Knowing what he can do,
and doing it. So I put him in charge. He managed it well. I kept
him when I sent the others home because I knew I might need a man
who could do that. And also to see for myself what he was. Was he
all ambition, or was there a genuine understanding of what a man
owes a beast when he claims to own him? Did he want power over
those under him, or the well-being of his animals?
What do you think of him now?
I am not so young as I once was. I think there
still may be a good stablemaster in Buckkeep stables
walk after a day in the saddle. You move as Chivalry's son should.
That is what shows in your bearing, and what those guards responded
to. And Hands. He took a breath and paused to shoulder the heavy
kitchen door open. And I, Eda help us all, he added in a
mutter.
But then, as if to belie his own words, he
steered me into the watch room off the kitchen and-unceremoniously
dumped me at one of the long benches beside the scarred wooden
table. The watch room smelled incredibly good. Here was where any
soldier, no matter how muddy or snowy or drunk, could come and find
comfort. Cook always kept a kettle of stew simmering over the fire
here, and bread and cheese waited on the table, as well as a slab
of yellow summer butter from the deep larder. Burrich served us up
bowls of hot stew thick with barley and mugs of cold ale to go with
the bread and butter and cheese.
For a moment I just looked at it, too weary to
lift a spoon. But the smell tempted me to one mouthful and that was
all it took. Midway through, I paused to shoulder out of my quilted
smock and break off another slab of bread. I looked up from my
second bowl of stew to find Burrich watching me with amusement.
Better? he asked.
I stopped to think about it. Yes. I was warm,
fed, and though I was tired, it was a good weariness, one that
might be cured by simple sleep. I lifted my hand and looked at it.
I could still feel the tremors, but they were no longer obvious to
the eye. Much better. I stood, and found my legs steady under
me.
Now you're fit to report to the King.
I stared at him in disbelief. Now? Tonight? King
Shrewd's long abed. I won't get past his door guard.
Perhaps not, and you should be grateful for
that. But you must at least announce yourself there tonight. It's
the King's decision as to when he will see you. If you're turned
away, then, you can go to bed. But I'll wager that if King Shrewd
turns you aside, King-in-Waiting Verity will still want a report.
And probably right away.
Are you going back to the stables?
Of course. He smiled in wolfish
self-satisfaction. Me, I'm just the stablemaster, Fitz. I have
nothing to report. And I promised Hands I'd bring him something to
eat.
I watched silently as he loaded a platter. He
sliced the bread lengthwise and covered two bowls of the hot stew
with a slab of it, and then loaded a wedge of cheese and a thick
slice of yellow butter onto the side of it.
What do you think of Hands?
He's a good lad, Burrich said
grudgingly.
He's more than that. You chose him to stay in
the Mountain Kingdom and ride home with us, when you sent all the
others back with the main caravan.
I needed someone steady. At that time you were
... very ill. And I wasn't much better, truth to tell. He lifted a
hand to a streak of white in his dark hair, testimony to the blow
that had nearly killed him.
How did you come to choose him?
I didn't, really. He came to me. Somehow he
found where they'd housed us, and then talked his way past Jonqui.
I was still bandaged up and scarce able to make my eyes focus. I
felt him standing there more than saw him. I asked him what he
wanted, and he told me that I needed to put someone in charge,
because with me sick and Cob gone, the stable help were getting
sloppy.
And that impressed you.
He got to the point. No idle questions about me,
or you, or what was going on. He had found the thing he could do
and come to do it. I like that in a man. Knowing what he can do,
and doing it. So I put him in charge. He managed it well. I kept
him when I sent the others home because I knew I might need a man
who could do that. And also to see for myself what he was. Was he
all ambition, or was there a genuine understanding of what a man
owes a beast when he claims to own him? Did he want power over
those under him, or the well-being of his animals?
What do you think of him now?
I am not so young as I once was. I think there
still may be a good stablemaster in Buckkeep stables
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