Assassin's Fate (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #3)

The woman came to light the lamps. They smelled of pine, of a forest. I longed for the forest. I longed to be anywhere that people were not. I put my mattress on the floor but I did not sleep. The lamplight made different shadows from the bars. Their shadows became fainter. I lifted my head to look at the lamp. The flame was barely dancing on the wick. Then it winked out. Only the light from the lamp down the walkway lit my cell now. The world became shades of black and grey.

I heard the black man in the next cell shift on his bed. ‘Is it tonight, then? So soon.’

I wasn’t sure if he spoke to himself or to me. I waited.

‘Little one. Bee. Do you have dreams?’

Who did I trust? No one. Who deserved the truth from me? No. It was too dangerous to be truthful with anyone. ‘Of course I do. Everyone dreams.’

‘True. But not everyone dreams as we do.’

‘How do you dream?’

‘In pictures. In symbols. In hints and clues, in rhymes and riddles. Here’s one:

‘A piebald bird, a silver ship, oh what are you awaking?

‘One shall be two and two be one before the future’s breaking.’

A shiver went down my back. That was a poem I’d heard in a dream when I was sick, not long after Dwalia kidnapped me. I’d not spoken of it to anyone. I waited until I could keep my voice level. ‘What does it mean?’

‘I thought you might know.’

‘I know nothing of silver ships or piebald birds.’

‘Not yet. Sometimes we don’t know what a dream means until after it has become real. And some never become real. Usually when I dream, I can feel how likely it is that a dream will become a future. And if I dream something repeatedly, then I know it’s almost inevitable. I dreamed a white wolf, once. With silver teeth. I only dreamed it once, though.’

‘Did you dream about the bird over and over?’

‘Often enough to know it was going to happen. That it will happen.’

‘But you don’t know what will happen.’

‘No. That is our curse. To know that something will happen, and only after it is over, to look back and say, “oh, that is what that meant. If only I’d known”. It can break your heart.’ He was quiet for a time. Another lantern flickered and the corridor became dimmer. He whispered, ‘Oh, little one. Two flames die. It’s time. I’m so sorry.’ Almost to himself, he said, ‘But you are so young. So small. Can this truly be for you? Are you the one?’

I choked on my question. Quiet footsteps were approaching. I had not even heard the door open and shut. ‘Will I die?’

‘You will change, I think. Not all change is bad. Change is seldom good or bad; it’s only change. A tadpole becomes a frog. A poker is beaten into a blade. A chicken becomes meat. In a dream, I saw a feather slowly hammered into a blade. I saw the hard nut crack and become a mighty tree. I saw the young doe slain and cut into meat. You will become something different, tonight.’

The voice was as slow as falling snow. The silence that followed seemed empty and cold.

Night deepened. The faint light from the sentry towers made soft shapes in the perforated walls. Da. Why did you push me away? Do you know how much I need you now? I sent my thoughts out in a careful thread.

Stop that. Wolf Father’s warning was severe. You do not know how to prevent Vindeliar from hearing you. The rabbit that screams in the trap is found by the wolf, and dies more quickly. Be quiet and small until you can free yourself.

Symphe stood outside my cell door. Her fair hair was braided back and pinned to her head. She wore a simple shirt of white cotton, belted at her waist. Her trousers looked like soft linen, and she wore short brown boots. The cuffs of the white shirt were folded back almost to her elbows, as if she had dressed to scrub a floor. She lifted a finger to her lips, then produced a set of keys from a pouch at her belt. Four keys, spaced out on leashes of silver chains. She selected one and turned it in the lock. And another key, and another clicking turn. A third key.

‘How do you come to have all the keys?’ I asked her.

‘Ssshh.’ The lock clicked. The final key.

I stood and backed into the corner of my cell. ‘I won’t go with you.’

You should. She is alone and she thinks you are just a little girl. This may be your best chance for freedom.

The final click of the key. She swung the barred door open. She smiled at me. ‘You don’t have to be afraid. Look what I have.’ She opened a little pouch and shook something out into her hand. ‘Look,’ she whispered. ‘Candy.’ The pieces looked like gleaming buttons of red and pink and yellow. She took one and put it in her mouth. ‘Mmm. Delicious. Like a cherry but sweet as honey.’ She took a pink one between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Try it.’ She advanced on me, holding it out.

I stepped sideways to avoid being cornered.

‘Take it,’ she said in a breathy voice. I held out my hand and she set the candy into it. ‘Eat it,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll like it.’

‘Is it poisoned? Or drugged?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Didn’t you just see me eat one?’

Pretend to be stupid, stupid!

I nearly laughed out loud. Instead, I pretended to put the candy into my mouth.

‘Well?’ she demanded. Her whisper was not as soft. She was exasperated.

I nodded, pouching one cheek out. ‘Good,’ I said around my tongue.

Her smile was relieved. ‘See. I am nothing to be afraid of. If you come with me, very quietly, I will give you more candy.’ She crooked her finger at me, beckoning.

I assumed my most puzzled expression. ‘Where are we going?’

She barely hesitated. ‘To make things right. Poor little child. I’ve come to tell you it was all a mistake. No one meant to hurt you. It was all a misunderstanding. You should not have been taken from your home. So now we must make it right. Come with me.’

‘But where?’

She backed toward the open door and I followed her. In the corridor, she closed the door to my cell softly. ‘It’s a surprise,’ she added.

‘Surprise,’ said the black man and laughed quietly.

She turned toward his cell, her face contorted with hate. ‘Why aren’t you dead yet?’

‘Because I’m alive!’ he announced with no effort to lower his voice. He laughed aloud like rolling thunder. ‘Why aren’t you dead yet?’

‘Because I’m smarter than you. I know when to stop. I know when to cease being a problem.’ She steered me away, her hand heavy on my shoulder.

At that, his laughter boomed. ‘You think you know so much. You’ve seen so many possible futures and you think you can pick and choose. And you have, for so long. For so many generations, you’ve chosen what you thought was best. Not best for the world, not best for people. Best for you and those who serve you. You chose what would give you the greatest wealth, the most comfort, the most power!’

His words followed us. Other prisoners were waking staring through the bars of their cells as we passed. ‘It’s nothing, he’s mad, go back to sleep!’ Symphe spoke the words through gritted teeth, keeping her voice low.