Assassin's Apprentice

Chade summoned me that night, but when I went to him, he seemed to have no more purpose in calling me than to see me. We sat almost silently before the black hearth, and I thought he looked older than he ever had. As Verity was devoured, so Chade was consumed. His bony hands appeared almost desiccated, and the whites of his eyes were webbed with red. He needed to sleep, but instead had chosen to call me. Yet he sat, still and silent, scarce nibbling at the food he had placed before us. At length, I decided to help him.

“Are you afraid I won’t be able to do it?” I asked him softly.

“Do what?” he asked absently.

“Kill the mountain Prince. Rurisk.”

Chade turned to look at me full face. The silence held for a long moment.

“You didn’t know King Shrewd had given me this,” I faltered.

Slowly he turned back to the empty hearth and studied it as carefully as if there were flames to read. “I’m only the toolmaker,” he said at last, quietly. “Another man uses what I make.”

“Do you think this is a bad . . . task? Wrong?” I took a breath. “From what I’ve been told, he has not that much longer to live anyway. It might almost be a mercy, if death were to come quietly in the night, instead of—”

“Boy,” Chade remarked quietly. “Never pretend we are anything but what we are. Assassins. Not merciful agents of a wise king. Political assassins dealing death for the furtherance of our monarchy. That is what we are.”

It was my turn to study the ghosts of the flames. “You are making this very hard for me. Harder than it already was. Why? Why did you make me what I am, if you then try to weaken my resolve . . . ?” My question died away, half-formed.

“I think . . . never mind. Maybe it is a kind of jealousy in me, my boy. I wonder, I suppose, why Shrewd uses you instead of me. Maybe I fear I have outlived my usefulness to him. Maybe, now that I know you, I wish I had never set out to make you what . . .” And it was Chade’s turn to fall silent, his thoughts going where his words could not follow them.

We sat contemplating my assignment. This was not a serving of a king’s justice. This was not a death sentence for a crime. This was a simple removal of a man who was an obstacle to greater power. I sat still until I began to wonder if I would do it. Then I lifted my eyes to a silver fruit knife driven deep into Chade’s mantelpiece, and I thought I knew the answer.

“Verity has made complaint, on your behalf,” Chade said suddenly.

“Complaint?” I asked weakly.

“To Shrewd. First, that Galen had mistreated you and cheated you. This complaint he made formally, saying that he had deprived the kingdom of your Skill, at a time when it would have been most useful. He suggested to Shrewd, informally, that he settle it with Galen, before you took matters into your own hands.”

Looking at Chade’s face, I could see that the full content of my discussion with Verity had been revealed to him. I was not sure how I felt about that. “I would not do that, take my own revenge on Galen. Not after Verity asked me not to.”

Chade gave me a look of quiet approval. “So I told Shrewd. But he said to me that I must say to you that he will settle this. This time the King works his own justice. You must wait and be satisfied.”

“What will he do?”

“That I do not know. I do not think Shrewd himself knows yet. The man must be rebuked. But we must keep in mind that if other coteries are to be trained, Galen must not feel too badly treated.” Chade cleared his throat and said more quietly, “And Verity made another complaint to the King as well. He accused Shrewd and me, quite bluntly, of being willing to sacrifice you for the sake of the kingdom.”

This, I knew suddenly, was why Chade had called me tonight. I was silent.

Chade spoke more slowly. “Shrewd claimed he had not even considered it. For my part, I had no idea such a thing was possible.” He sighed again, as if parting with these words cost him. “Shrewd is a king, my boy. His first concern must always be for his kingdom.”

The silence between us stretched long. “You are saying he would sacrifice me. Without a qualm.”

He did not take his eyes from the fireplace. “You. Me. Even Verity, if he thought it necessary for the survival of the kingdom.” Then he did turn to look at me. “Never forget that,” he said.

The night before the wedding caravan was to leave Buckkeep, Lacey came tapping on my door. It was late, and when she said Patience wished to see me, I foolishly asked, “Now?”

“Well, you leave tomorrow,” Lacey pointed out, and I obediently followed her as if that made sense.