Assassin’s Apprentice. Робин Хобб
you could do that, I’d believe I’d spent my time well in teaching you. I’d feel you appreciated what I’d taught you.’
‘You know I appreciate what you teach me,’ I said quickly. That wasn’t it at all. Chade seemed to be completely missing my point. ‘I’d feel … disloyal. As if I was using what you’d taught me to trick the King. Almost as if I were laughing at him.’
‘Ah!’ Chade leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face. ‘Don’t let that bother you, boy. King Shrewd can appreciate a good jest when he’s shown one. Whatever you take, I’ll return myself to him. It will be a sign to him of how well I’ve taught you and how well you’ve learned. Take something simple if it worries you so; it needn’t be the crown off his head or the ring from his finger! Just his hairbrush, or any bit of paper that’s about – even his glove or belt would do. Nothing of any great value. Just a token.’
I thought I should pause to think, but I knew I didn’t need to. ‘I can’t do it. I mean, I won’t do it. Not from King Shrewd. Name any other, anyone else’s room, and I’ll do it. Remember when I took Regal’s scroll? You’ll see, I can creep in anywhere and …’
‘Boy?’ Chade’s voice came slowly, puzzled. ‘Don’t you trust me? I tell you it’s all right. It’s just a challenge we’re talking about; not high treason. And this time, if you’re caught, I promise I’ll step right in and explain it all. You won’t be punished.’
‘That’s not it,’ I said frantically. I could sense Chade’s growing puzzlement over my refusal. I scrabbled frantically within myself to find a way to explain to him. ‘I promised to be loyal to Shrewd. And this …’
‘There’s nothing disloyal about this!’ Chade snapped. I looked up to see angry glints in his eyes. Startled, I drew back from him. I’d never seen him glare so. ‘What are you saying, boy? That I’m asking you to betray your king? Don’t be an idiot. This is just a simple little test, my way of measuring you and showing Shrewd himself what you’ve learned, and you balk at it. And try to cover your cowardice by prattling about loyalty. Boy, you shame me. I thought you had more backbone than this, or I’d never have begun teaching you.’
‘Chade!’ I began in horror. His words had left me reeling. He pulled away from me, and I felt my small world rocking around me as his voice went on coldly.
‘Best you get back to your bed, little boy. Think exactly how you’ve insulted me tonight. To insinuate I’d somehow be disloyal to our King. Crawl down the stairs, you little craven. And the next time I summon you … Hah, if I summon you again, come prepared to obey me. Or don’t come at all. Now go.’
Never had Chade spoken to me so. I could not recall that he had even raised his voice to me. I stared, almost without comprehension, at the thin pock-scarred arm that protruded from the sleeve of his robe, at the long finger that pointed so disdainfully toward the door and the stairs. As I rose, I felt physically sick. I reeled, and had to catch hold of a chair as I passed. But I went, doing as he told me, unable to think of anything else to do. Chade, who had become the central pillar of my world, who had made me believe I was something of value, was taking it all away. Not just his approval, but our time together, my sense that I was going to be something in my lifetime.
I stumbled and staggered down the stairs. Never had they seemed so long or so cold. The bottom door grated shut behind me, and I was left in total darkness. I groped my way to my bed, but my blankets could not warm me, nor did I find any trace of sleep that night. I tossed in agony. The worst part was that I could find no indecision in myself. I could not do the thing Chade asked of me. Therefore, I would lose him. Without his instruction, I would be of no value to the King. But that was not the agony. The agony was simply the loss of Chade from my life. I could not remember how I had managed before when I had been so alone. To return to the drudgery of living day to day, going from task to task seemed impossible.
I tried desperately to think of something to do. But there seemed no solution. I could go to Shrewd himself, show my pin and be admitted, and tell him of my dilemma. But what would he say? Would he see me as a silly little boy? Would he say I should have obeyed Chade? Worse, would he say I was right to disobey Chade and be angry with Chade? These were very difficult questions for a boy’s mind, and I found no answers that helped me.
When morning finally came, I dragged myself from my bed and reported to Burrich as usual. I went about my tasks in a grey listlessness that first brought me scoldings, and then an inquiry as to the state of my belly. I told him simply that I had not slept well, and he let me off without the threatened tonic. I did no better at weapons. My state of distraction was such that I let a much younger boy deliver a stout clout to my skull. Hod scolded us both for recklessness and told me to sit down for a bit.
My head was pounding and my legs were shaky when I returned to the keep. I went to my room, for I had no stomach for the noon meal or the loud conversations that went with it. I lay on my bed, intending to close my eyes for just a moment, but fell into a deep sleep. I awoke halfway through the afternoon, and thought of the scoldings I would face for missing my afternoon lessons. But it wasn’t enough to rouse me and I dropped off, only to be awakened at supper time by a serving-girl who had come to inquire after me at Burrich’s behest. I staved her off by telling her I had a sour gut and was going to fast until it cleared. After she left, I drowsed but did not sleep. I couldn’t. Night deepened in my unlit room, and I heard the rest of the keep go off to rest. In darkness and stillness, I lay waiting for a summons I would not dare answer. What if the door opened? I could not go to Chade, for I could not obey him. Which would be worse: if he did not summon me, or if he opened the door for me and I dared not go? I tormented myself from rock to stone, and in the grey creeping of morning I had the answer. He hadn’t even bothered to call for me.
Even now, I do not like to recall the next few days. I hunched through them, so sick at heart that I could not properly eat or rest. I could not focus my mind on any task, and took the rebukes that my teachers gave me with bleak acceptance. I acquired a headache that never ceased, and my stomach stayed so clenched on itself that food held no interest for me. The very thought of eating made me weary. Burrich put up with it for two days before he cornered me, and forced down me both a worming draught and a blood tonic. The combination made me vomit up what little I’d eaten that day. He made me wash out my mouth with plum wine afterwards, and to this day I cannot drink plum wine without gagging. Then, to my weary amazement, he dragged me up the stairs to his loft and gruffly ordered me to rest there for the day. When evening came, he chivvied me up to the keep, and under his watchful eye I was forced to consume a watery bowl of soup and a hunk of bread. He would have taken me back to his loft again, had I not insisted that I wanted my own bed. In reality, I had to be in my room. I had to know whether Chade at least tried to call me, whether I could go or not. Through another sleepness night, I stared in blackness at a darker corner of my room.
But he didn’t summon me.
Morning greyed my window. I rolled over and kept to my bed. The depth of bleakness that settled over me was too solid for me to fight. All of my possible choices led to grey ends. I could not face the futility of getting out of bed. A headachey sort of near-sleep claimed me. Any sound seemed too loud, and I was either too hot or too cold no matter how I fussed with my covers. I closed my eyes, but even my dreams were bright and annoying. Arguing voices, as loud as if they were in the bed with me, and all the more frustrating because it sounded like one man arguing with himself and taking both sides. ‘Break him as you broke the other one!’ he’d mutter angrily. ‘You and your stupid tests!’ and then, ‘Can’t be too careful. Can’t put your trust in just anyone. Blood will tell. Test his mettle, that’s all.’ ‘Metal! You want a brainless blade, go hammer it out yourself. Beat it flat.’ And more quietly, ‘I’ve got no heart for this. I’ll not be used again. If you wanted to test my temper, you’ve done it.’ Then, ‘Don’t talk to me about blood and family. Remember who I am to you! It isn’t his loyalty she’s worrying about, or mine.’
The angry voice broke up, merged, became another argument, this one shriller. I cracked open my eyelids. My chamber had become the scene of a brief battle. I woke to a spirited disagreement between Burrich and Mistress Hasty as to whose jurisdiction