My third evening in the inn, I heard the gossip that made me cold.
“The King hisself, it was, aye, and the head Skill-wizard. Cloaks of fine wool with so much fur at the collar and hood you could scarcely see their faces. Riding black horses with gold saddles, fine as you please, and a score of brown-and-golds riding at their heels. Cleared the whole square so they might pass, did the guards. So I said to the fella next to me, Hey, what’s all this, you know? And he told me King Regal has come to town to hear for himself what the Mountain witch has been doing to us, and to put an end to it. And more. Says he, the King himself has come to track down the Pocked Man and the Witted Bastard, for it’s well known they work hand in glove with the Mountain witch.”
I overheard this from a rheumy-eyed beggar who’d earned enough coin to buy a mug of hot cider and nurse it next to the inn fire. This bit of gossip earned him another round, while his patron told him yet again the tale of the Wit-Bastard and how he had slaughtered a dozen of the King’s Guard and drunk their blood for his magic. I found myself a turmoil of emotions. Disappointment that my poisons had evidently done nothing to Regal. Fear that I might be discovered by him. And a savage hope that I might have one more chance at him before I found my way to Verity.
I scarcely needed to ask any questions. The next morning found all of Blue Lake abuzz with the King’s arrival. It had been many years since a crowned king had actually visited Blue Lake, and every merchant and minor noble intended to take advantage of the visit. Regal had commandeered the largest and finest inn in the town, blithely ordering that all the rooms be cleared for him and his retinue. I heard rumors that the innkeeper was both flattered and aghast at being chosen, for while it would certainly establish the reputation of his inn, there had been no mention of recompense, only a lengthy list of victuals and vintages that King Regal expected to be available.
I dressed in my new winter garments, pulled my wool cap down over my ears, and set forth. The inn was found easily. No other inn at Blue Lake was three stories high, nor could any boast so many balconies and windows. The streets outside the inn were thick with nobles attempting to present themselves to King Regal, many with comely daughters in tow. They were jostling elbow to elbow with minstrels and jugglers offering to entertain, merchants bearing samples of their finest wares as gifts, as well as those making deliveries of meat, ale, wine, bread, cheese, and every other foodstuff imaginable. I did not attempt to get in, but listened mostly to those coming out. The taproom was packed with guardsmen, and a rude lot were they, badmouthing the local ale and whores as if they got better in Tradeford. And King Regal was not receiving today, no, he felt poorly after his hasty trip, and had sent for the best stocks of merrybud to settle his complaints. Yes, there was to be a dinner this evening, a most lavish affair, my dear, only the very finest of folk to be invited. And did you see him, with that one eye gone like a dead fish’s, fair give me the creeps, was I the King, I’d find a better-made man to advise me, Skill or no. Such was the talk from a variety of folk leaving by front door and back, and I stored it all away as well as noting which windows in the inn were curtained against the day’s brief light. Resting, was he? I could aid him with that.
But there I found my dilemma. A few weeks ago, I would simply have slipped in and done my best to plant a knife in Regal’s chest, and damn the consequences. But now I not only had Verity’s Skill-command eating at me, but also the knowledge that if I survived, I had a woman and child awaiting me. I was no longer willing to trade my life for Regal’s. This time, I needed a plan.
Nightfall found me on the roof of the inn. It was a cedar shake roof, sharply peaked, and very slippery with frost. There were several wings to the inn, and I lay in the juncture of the pitched roofs between two of them, waiting. I was grateful to Regal for having chosen the largest and finest inn. I was up well above the level of the neighboring buildings. No one was going to see me with a casual glance; they’d have to be looking for me. Even so, I waited till full dark before I half slid and half clambered down to the edge of the eaves. I lay there a time, calming my heart. There was nothing to hold on to. The roof had a generous eave, to shield the balcony below it. I would have to slide down, catch the eave with my hands in passing, and swing myself in if I was to land on the balcony. Otherwise, it was a three-story drop to the street. I prayed I would not land upon the balcony’s decoratively spiked railing.
I had planned well. I knew which rooms were Regal’s bedchamber and sitting room, I knew the hour at which he would be at dinner with his guests. I had studied the door and window latches on several buildings in Blue Lake. I found nothing I was unfamiliar with. I had secured some small tools, and a length of light line would provide my exit. I would enter and leave without a trace. My poisons waited in my belt pouch.
Two awls taken from a cobbler’s shop earlier in the day provided my hand grips as I worked my way down the roof. I thrust them, not into the tough shakes, but between them so they caught on the overlapping shakes below. I was most nervous for the moments when part of my body dangled off the roof, with no clear view of what was happening below. At the crucial moment, I swung my legs a few times for impetus, and braced myself to let go.
Trap, trap.
I froze where I was, my legs curled under the eave of the roof while I clung to the two awls sunk between the shakes. I did not even breathe. It was not Nighteyes.
No. Small Ferret. Trap, trap. Go away. Trap, trap.
It’s a trap?
Trap, trap for Fitz-Wolf. Old Blood knows, Big Ferret said, go with, go with, warn Fitz-Wolf. Rolf-Bear knew your smell. Trap, trap. Go away.
I almost cried out when a small warm body suddenly struck my leg and then ran up my clothes. In a moment, a ferret poked its whiskery face into mine. Trap, trap, he insisted. Go away, go away.
Dragging my body back up onto the roof was more difficult than lowering it down. I had a bad moment when my belt caught on the edge of the eaves. After a bit of wriggling, I got loose and slowly slithered back up onto the roof. I lay still a moment, catching my breath, while the ferret sat between my shoulders, explaining over and over. Trap, trap. A tiny, savagely predatory mind was his, and I sensed a great anger in him. I would not have chosen such a bond-animal for myself, but someone had. Someone who was no more.
Big Ferret hurt to death. Tells Small Ferret, go with, go with. Take the smell. Warn Fitz-Wolf. Trap, trap.
There was so much I wanted to ask. Somehow Black Rolf had interceded for me with the Old Blood. Since I had left Tradeford, I had feared that every Witted one I encountered would be against me. But someone had sent this small creature to warn me. And he had held to his purpose, even though his bond-partner was dead. I tried to learn more from him, but there was not much more in that small mind. Great hurt and outrage at the passing of his bond-partner. A determination to warn me. I would never learn who Big Ferret had been, nor how he had discovered this plan nor how his bond-beast had managed to conceal himself in Will’s possessions. For that was whom he showed me waiting silently in the room below. One-Eye. The Trap, trap.