‘He’s come to poison you,’ she warned Rurisk.

  ‘I know,’ he said gravely. ‘He put it in my wine. That’s why I’m drink­ing his.’ He re­filled the glass from the carafe, and offered it to her. ‘It’s apple,’ he ca­joled when she shook her head.

  ‘I don’t see any hu­mour in this,’ she snapped. Rurisk and I looked at one an­other and grinned fool­ishly. Smoke.

  Her brother smiled be­nignly. ‘It’s like this. FitzChiv­alry real­ized to­night he is a dead man. Too many people have been told he is an as­sas­sin. If he kills me, you kill him. If he doesn’t kill me, how can he go home and face his king? Even if his king for­gives him, half the court will know he’s an as­sas­sin: that makes him use­less. Use­less bas­tards are a li­ab­il­ity to roy­alty.’ Rurisk fin­ished his lec­ture by drain­ing the rest of the glass.

  ‘Kettricken told me that even if I killed you to­night, she would still pledge to Ver­ity to­mor­row.’

  Again, he was not sur­prised. ‘What would she gain by re­fus­ing? Only the enmity of the Six Duch­ies. She would be forsworn to your people, a great shame to our people. She would be­come out­cast, to the good of no one. It would not bring me back.’

  ‘And would not your people rise up at the thought of giv­ing her to such a man?’

  ‘We would pro­tect them from such know­ledge. Eyod and my sis­ter would, any­way. Shall a whole king­dom rise to war over the death of one man? Re­mem­ber, I am Sac­ri­fice here.’

  For the first time, I dimly un­der­stood what that meant.

  ‘I may soon be an em­bar­rass­ment to you,’ I warned him. ‘I was told it was a slow poison. But I looked at it. It is not. It is a simple ex­tract of dead­root, and ac­tu­ally rather swift, if given in suf­fi­cient quant­ity. First, it gives a man tremors.’ Rurisk ex­ten­ded his hands on the table, and they trembled. Kettricken looked furi­ous with both of us. ‘Death fol­lows swiftly. And I ex­pect I am sup­posed to be caught in the act and dis­posed of along with you.’

  Rurisk clutched at his throat, then let his head loll for­ward on his chest. ‘I am poisoned!’ he in­toned the­at­ric­ally.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Kettricken spat, just as Cob tore the door open.

  ‘’Ware treach­ery!’ he cried. He went white at the sight of Kettricken. ‘My lady prin­cess, tell me you have not drunk of the wine! This trait­or­ous bas­tard has poisoned it!’

  I think his drama was rather spoiled by the lack of re­sponse. Kettricken and I ex­changed looks. Rurisk rolled from his chair onto the floor. ‘Oh, stop it,’ she hissed at him.

  ‘I put the poison in the wine,’ I told Cob gen­i­ally. ‘Just as I was charged to do.’

  And then Rurisk’s back arched in his first con­vul­sion.

  The blind­ing real­iz­a­tion of how I had been duped took but an in­stant. Poison in the wine. A gift of Far­row apple wine, prob­ably given this very even­ing. Regal had not trus­ted me to put it there, but it was easy enough to ac­com­plish, in this trust­ing place. I watched Rurisk arch again, know­ing there was noth­ing I could do. Already, there was the spread­ing numb­ness in my own mouth. I wondered, al­most idly, how strong the dose had been. I had only had a sip. Would I die here, or on a scaf­fold?

  Kettricken her­self un­der­stood, a mo­ment later, that her brother was truly dy­ing. ‘You soul­less filth!’ she spat at me, and then sank down at Rurisk’s side. ‘To lull him with jests and smoke, to smile with him as he dies!’ Her eyes flashed to Cob. ‘I de­mand his death. Tell Regal to come here, now!’

  I was mov­ing for the door, but Cob was faster. Of course. No smoke for Cob this night. He was faster and more mus­cu­lar than I, clearer of head. His arms closed around me and he bore me down to the floor. His face was close to mine as he drove his fist into my belly. I knew this breath, this scent of sweat. Smithy had scen­ted this, be­fore he died. But this time the knife was in my sleeve and very sharp and treated with the swift­est poison Chade knew. After I put it into him, he man­aged to hit me twice, good solid punches, be­fore he fell back, dy­ing. Good­bye, Cob. As he fell I sud­denly saw a freckly stable-boy say­ing, ‘Come along now, there’s some good fel­lows.’ It could have gone so many dif­fer­ent ways. I had known this man; killing him killed a part of my own life.

  Burrich was go­ing to be very up­set with me.

  All those thoughts had taken but a frac­tion of a second. Cob’s out­flung hand had not struck the floor be­fore I was mov­ing for the door.

  Kettricken was even faster. I think it was a brass wa­ter-ewer. I saw it as a white burst of light.

  When I came to my­self, everything hurt. The most im­me­di­ate pain was in my wrists, for the cords that knot­ted them to­gether be­hind my back were un­bear­ably tight. I was be­ing car­ried. Sort of. Neither Rowd nor Sevrens seemed to care much if parts of me dragged. Regal was there, with a torch, and a Chy­urda I didn’t know lead­ing the way with an­other. I didn’t know where I was, either, ex­cept that we were out­doors.

  ‘Is there nowhere else we can put him? No place es­pe­cially se­cure?’ Regal was de­mand­ing. There was a muttered reply, and Regal said, ‘No, you are right. We do not want to raise a great out­cry right now. To­mor­row is soon enough. Not that I think he will live that long.’

  A door was opened and I was flung head­long to an earthen floor barely cush­ioned by straw. I breathed dust and chaff. I could not cough. Regal ges­tured with his torch. ‘Go to the Prin­cess,’ he in­struc­ted Sevrens. ‘Tell her I will be there shortly. See if there is any­thing we can do to make the Prince more com­fort­able. You, Rowd, sum­mon Au­gust from his cham­bers. We will need his Skill, so that King Shrewd may know how he has suc­coured a scor­pion. I will need his ap­proval be­fore the bas­tard dies. If he lives long enough to be con­demned. Go on, now. Go.’

  And they left, the Chy­urda light­ing their way for them. Regal re­mained, look­ing down on me. He waited un­til their foot­falls were dis­tant be­fore he kicked me sav­agely in the ribs. I cried out word­lessly, for my mouth and throat were numb. ‘It seems to me we have been here be­fore, have we not? You wal­low­ing in straw, and me look­ing down on you, won­der­ing what mis­for­tune had brought you into my life? Odd, how so many things end as they be­gin.

  ‘And so much of justice is a circle, also. Con­sider how you fall to poison and treach­ery. Just as my mother did. Ah, you start. Did you think I did not know? I knew. I know much you do not think I know. Everything from the stench of Lady Thyme to how you lost your Skill when Burrich would no longer let you tap his strength. He was swift enough to aban­don you, when he saw it might oth­er­wise cost him his life.’

  A tremor shook me. Regal threw back his head and laughed. Then he gave a sigh and turned. ‘A pity I can­not stay and watch. But I have a prin­cess to con­sole. Poor thing, pledged to a man she already hates.’

  Either Regal left then, or I did. I am not clear. It was as if the sky opened up and I flowed out into it. ‘Be­ing open,’ Ver­ity told me, ‘is simply not be­ing closed.’ Then I dreamed, I think, of the Fool. And of Ver­ity, sleep­ing with his arms wrapped around his head, as if to keep his thoughts in. And of Ga­len’s voice, echo­ing in a dark, cold cham­ber. ‘To­mor­row is bet­ter. When he Skills now, he scarce has any sense of the room he sits in. We do not have enough bond for me to do this from a dis­tance. A touch will be re­quired.’

  There was a squeak­ing in the dark, a dis­agree­able mouse of a mind that I did not know. ‘Do it now,’ it in­sisted.

  ‘Do not be fool­ish,’ Ga­len re­buked it. ‘Shall we lose it all now, for the sake of haste? To­mor­row is soon enough. Let me worry about that part. You must tidy things there. Rowd and Sevrens know too much. And the sta­ble­mas­ter has an­noyed us too long.’

  ‘You leave me stand­ing in a blood­bath,’ the mouse squeaked an­grily.

  ‘Wade through it to a throne,’ Ga­len sug­ges­ted.

  ‘And Cob is dead. Who will see to my horses on the way home?’

  ‘Leave the sta­ble­mas­ter, then,’ Ga­len said in dis­gust. And then, con­sid­er­ing, ‘I will do him my­self, when you get home. I shall not mind. But the oth­ers were bet­ter done quickly. Per­haps the bas­tard poisoned other wine, in your quar­ters. A pity your ser­vants got into it.’

  ‘I sup­pose. You must find me a new valet.’

  ‘We will have your wife do that for you. You should be with her now. She has just lost her brother. You must be hor­ri­fied at what has come to pass. Try to blame the bas­tard rather than Ver­ity. But not too con­vin­cingly. And to­mor­row, when you are as be­reaved as she, well, we shall see what mu­tual sym­pathy leads to.’

  ‘She is big as a cow and pale as a fish.’

  ‘But with the moun­tain lands, you will have a de­fens­ible in­land king­dom. You know the Coastal Duch­ies will not stand for you, and Far­row and Tilth can­not stand alone between the moun­tains and the Coastal Duch­ies. Be­sides, she need not live longer than her first child’s birth.’

  ‘FitzChiv­alry Farseer,’ Ver­ity said in his sleep. King Shrewd and Chade played at dice-bones to­gether. Pa­tience stirred in her sleep. ‘Chiv­alry?’ she asked softly. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s no one. No one at all.’

  She nod­ded and slept on.

  When my eyes fo­cused again, it was dark and I was alone. My jaws trembled, and my chin and shirt-front were wet with my own saliva. The numb­ness seemed less. I wondered if that meant the poison wouldn’t kill me. I doubted that it mattered; I would have small chance to speak on my own be­half. My hands had gone numb. At least they didn’t hurt any more. I was hor­ribly thirsty. I wondered if Rurisk was dead yet. He had taken a lot more of the wine than I had. And Chade had said it was quick.

  As if in an­swer to my ques­tion, a cry of purest pain rose to the moon. The ulu­la­tion seemed to hang there, and to pull my heart out with it as it rose. Nosy’s mas­ter was dead.

  I flung my­self to­ward him, wrapped the Wit around him. I know, I know, and we shivered to­gether as one he had loved passed bey­ond reach. The great alone­ness wrapped us to­gether.

  Boy? Faint, but true. A paw and a nose, and a door edged open. He pad­ded to­ward me, his nose telling me how bad I smelled. Smoke and blood and fear sweat. When he reached me, he lay down be­side me, and put his head on my back. With the touch came the bond again. Stronger now that Rurisk was gone.

  He left me. It hurts.

  I know. A long time passed. Free me? The old dog lif­ted his head. Men can­not grieve as dogs do. We should be grate­ful for that. But from the depths of his an­guish, he still rose, and set worn teeth to my bonds. I felt them loosen, a strand at a time, but had not even the strength to pull them apart. Nosy turned his head to set his back teeth to them.

  At last the thongs par­ted. I pulled my arms for­ward. That made everything hurt dif­fer­ently. I still could not feel my hands, but I could roll over and get my face out of the straw. Nosy and I sighed to­gether. He put his head on my chest and I wrapped a stiff arm around him. An­other tremor shook me. My muscles clenched and un­clenched them­selves so vi­ol­ently that I saw dots of light. But it passed, and I still breathed.

  I opened my eyes again. Light blinded me, but I did not know if it was real. Be­side me, Nosy’s tail thumped the straw. Burrich slowly sank down be­side us. He put a gentle hand on Nosy’s back. As my eyes ad­jus­ted to his lan­tern, I could see the grief in his face. ‘Are you dy­ing?’ he asked me. His voice was so neut­ral, it was like hear­ing a stone speak.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ That was what I tried to say. My mouth still wasn’t work­ing very well. He rose and walked away. He took the lan­tern with him. I lay alone in the dark.

  Then the light came back and Burrich with a bucket of wa­ter. He lif­ted my head and sloshed some into my mouth. ‘Don’t swal­low it,’ he cau­tioned me, but I couldn’t have made those muscles work any­way. He washed out my mouth twice more, and then half-drowned me try­ing to get me to drink some. I fended off the bucket with a wooden hand. ‘No,’ I man­aged.

  After a bit, my head seemed to clear. I moved my tongue against my teeth, and could feel them. ‘I killed Cob,’ I told him.

  ‘I know. They brought his body out to the stables. No one wanted to tell me any­thing.’

  ‘How did you know to find me?’

  He sighed. ‘I just had a feel­ing.’

  ‘You heard Nosy.’

  ‘Yes. The howl­ing.’

  ‘That isn’t what I meant.’

  He was quiet a long time. ‘Sens­ing a thing isn’t the same as us­ing a thing.’

  I couldn’t think of any­thing to say back to that. After a while I said, ‘Cob is the one who knifed you on the stairs.’

  ‘Was he?’ Burrich con­sidered. ‘I had wondered why the dogs barked so little. They knew him. Only Smithy re­acted.’

  My hands screamed sud­denly to life. I fol­ded them to my chest and rocked over them. Nosy whined.

  ‘Stop it,’ Burrich hissed.

  ‘Just now, I can’t help it,’ I replied. ‘It all hurts so badly, I’m spill­ing out all over.’

  Burrich was si­lent.

  ‘Are you go­ing to help me?’ I asked fi­nally.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said softly, and then, al­most plead­ingly, ‘Fitz, what are you? What have you be­come?’

  ‘I am what you are, I told him hon­estly. ‘A King’s man. Burrich, they’re go­ing to kill Ver­ity. If they do, Regal will be­come King.’

  ‘What are you talk­ing about?’

  ‘If we stay here while I ex­plain it all, it will hap­pen. Help me get out of here.’

  He seemed to take a very long time to think about it. But in the end, he helped me to stand and I held onto his sleeve as I staggered out of the stables and into the night.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The Wed­ding

  The art of dip­lomacy is the luck of know­ing more of your rival’s secrets than he knows of yours. Al­ways deal from a po­s­i­tion of power. These were Shrewd’s max­ims. And Ver­ity abided by them.

  ‘You have to get Au­gust. He’s the only hope Ver­ity has.’

  We were sit­ting in the grey­ness be­fore dawn on a hill­side above the palace. We had not gone far. The ter­rain was steep, and I was in no con­di­tion for hik­ing. I was be­gin­ning to sus­pect that Regal’s kick had re­newed Ga­len’s old dam­age to my ribs. Every deep breath stabbed me. Regal’s poison still sent tremors through me, and my legs buckled of­ten and un­pre­dict­ably. Alone, I could not stand, for my legs would not sup­port me. I could not even cling to a tree-trunk and hold my­self up­right: there was no strength in my arms. Around us in the dawn forest birds called, squir­rels were gath­er­ing stores for the winter and in­sects chirred. It was hard, in the midst of all that life, to won­der how much of this dam­age was per­man­ent. Were the days and strength of my youth already spent, and noth­ing left to me but trem­bling and weak­ness? I tried to push the ques­tion from my mind, to con­cen­trate on the greater prob­lems fa­cing the Six Duch­ies. I stilled my­self, as Chade had taught me. Around us, the trees were im­mense, with a pres­ence like peace. I un­der­stood why Eyod would not cut them for tim­ber. Their needles were soft be­neath us, the fra­grance sooth­ing. I wished I could just lie back and sleep, like Nosy at my side. Our pains still mingled to­gether, but at least Nosy could es­cape his in sleep.

  ‘What makes you think Au­gust would help us?’ Burrich asked. ‘If I could get him out here.’

  I pulled my thoughts back to our di­lemma. ‘I don’t think he’s in­volved with the rest of it. I think he is still loyal to the King.’ I had presen­ted my in­form­a­tion to Burrich as my own care­ful con­clu­sions. He was not a man likely to be con­vinced by phantom voices over­heard in my head. So I could not tell him that Ga­len had not sug­ges­ted killing Au­gust, and there­fore he was prob­ably ig­nor­ant of the plot. I was still not sure my­self of what I had ex­per­i­enced. Regal could not Skill. Even if he could, how could I have over­heard Skilling between two oth­ers? No, it had to be some­thing else, some other ma­gic. Of Ga­len’s de­vis­ing? Was he cap­able of a ma­gic that strong? I did not know. So much I did not know. I forced my­self to set it all aside. For now, it fit­ted the facts I had, bet­ter than any other sup­pos­i­tion I could ima­gine.

  ‘If he’s loyal to the King, and has no sus­pi­cions of Regal, then he is loyal to Regal as well,’ Burrich poin­ted out as if I were a witling.

  ‘Then we’ll have to force him, some­how. Ver­ity must be warned.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll just walk in, put a knife to Au­gust’s back, and march him out of there. No one will bother us.’

  I floundered for ideas. ‘Bribe someone to lure him out here. Then jump him.’

  ‘Even if I knew someone brib­able, what would we use?’

  ‘I have this.’ I touched the ear­ring in my ear.

  Burrich looked at it and al­most jumped. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘Pa­tience gave it to me. Just be­fore I left.’

  ‘She had no right!’ And then, more quietly, ‘I thought it went to his grave with him.’

  I was si­lent, wait­ing.

  Burrich looked aside. ‘It was your father’s. I gave it to him.’ He spoke quietly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Be­cause I wanted to, ob­vi­ously.’ He closed the topic.

  I reached up and began to un­fasten it.

  ‘No,’ he said gruffly. ‘Keep it where it is. But it is not a thing to be spent in a bribe. These Chy­urda can’t be bribed any­way.’

  I knew he was right about that. I tried to think of other plans. The sun was com­ing up. Morn­ing, when Ga­len would act. Per­haps had already ac­ted. I wished I knew what was go­ing on in the palace be­low. Did they know I was miss­ing? Was Kettricken pre­par­ing to pledge her­self to a man she would hate? Were Sevrens and Rowd dead yet? If not, could I turn them against Regal by warn­ing them?