'Get back from the door.' The man's voice was right outside my cell. I had been so occupied with Nighteyes I had not heard him approach. I was not myself at all.
A small panel at the bottom of the door slid open. A pot of water and a half a loaf were set inside. The panel closed again.
'Thank you.'
There was no reply. I picked them up, examined both carefully. The water smelled as if it had been standing for some time, but neither smell nor a cautious sip revealed any trace of poison. I broke the loaf into smaller pieces, looking for flecks in the dough or any discoloration. It was not fresh, but it was not poisoned in any way I could detect. And someone had eaten the other half of it. In a very short time they were gone. I went and lay on my stone bench again, and tried to find the least uncomfortable position.
The cell was dry, but cold, in the way that any unused chamber in Buckkeep was cold during the winter. I knew exactly where I was. The cells were not far from the wine cellars. I knew I could scream my lungs bloody and no one but my guards would hear. I had explored down here as a boy. I had seldom found occupants in the cells, and even more rarely guards upon them. The swiftness of justice at Buckkeep meant there was seldom a reason to hold a prisoner for more than a few hours. Transgressions of the law usually demanded you pay with your life, or with the work of your hands. I suspected these cells would see a deal more use, now that Regal claimed to be king.
I tried to sleep, but insensibility had deserted me. Instead, I shifted about on the cold hard stone and thought. I tried for a while to convince myself that if the Queen had gotten away, I had won. After all, winning was getting what you wanted, wasn't it? Instead, I found myself thinking of how quickly King Shrewd had gone. Like a bubble popping. If they hanged me, would it be that swift for me? Or would I strangle and dangle a long time? To divert myself from those pleasant thoughts, I wondered how long a civil war Verity would have to fight with Regal before he could put the Six Duchies on a map once more as the Six Duchies. Assuming, of course, that Verity returned and was able to rid the coast of Red-Ships. When Regal abandoned Buckkeep, as I was sure he would, I wondered who would step forward to take it. Patience had said the Coastal Dukes wanted nothing of Lord Bright. Buck had a few lesser nobles, but none of them so bold as to claim Buckkeep, I thought. Perhaps one of the three Coastal Dukes would reach out a hand and claim it. No. None of them had the might right now to care for anything beyond their own borders. It would be each for his own now. Unless Regal stayed at Buckkeep. With the Queen missing and Shrewd dead, he was, after all, the rightful King. Unless one knew that Verity was alive. But few did. Would the Coastal Duchies accept Regal as king now? Would the Coastal Duchies accept Verity as their king when he returned? Or would they scorn the man who had left them for a foolish quest?
Time passed slowly in that unchanging place. I was not given food nor water unless I asked for them, and sometimes not then, so meals were no measure of the day. Awake, I was a prisoner of my thoughts and worries. Once I tried to Skill to Verity, but the effort brought on a darkening of my vision and a long period of pounding headache. I had not the strength for a second effort. Hunger became a constant, as unrelenting as the cold of the cell. I heard the guards twice turn Patience away, heard them refuse to give me the food and bandages she had brought. I did not call to her. I wanted her to give up, to disassociate herself from me. My only respite came when I slept and dream-hunted with Nighteyes. I tried to use his senses to explore what went on at Buckkeep, but he attached only a wolf's importance to things, and when I was with him, I shared his values. Time was not divided by days and nights, but from kill to kill. The meat I devoured with him could not sustain my human body, and yet there was satisfaction in the gorging. With his senses I found the weather changing, and awoke one morning knowing that a clear winter day had dawned. Raider weather. The Coastal Dukes could not linger much longer in Buckkeep, if they had lingered at all.
As if to bear me out, there were voices at the guard station and the rasp of boots against the stone floor. I heard Regal's voice, strained with anger, and the guard's conciliatory greeting, and then they came down the corridor. For the first time since I had awakened there, I heard a key in the lock of my cell, and the door was swung open. I sat up slowly. Three Dukes and a traitor Prince peered in at me. I managed to come to my feet. Behind my lords stood a row of soldiers armed with pikes, as if ready to hold a maddened beast at bay. A guard with a drawn sword stood beside the open door, between Regal and me. He did not underestimate my hatred.
'You see him,' Regal declared flatly. 'He is alive and well. I have not done away with him. But know also that I have the right to. He killed a man, my servant, right in my hall. And a woman upstairs in her chamber. I have a right to his life, for those crimes alone.'
'King-in-Waiting Regal. You charge FitzChivalry killed King Shrewd using the Wit,' Brawndy stated. With ponderous logic he added, 'I have never heard of such a thing being possible. But if this is so, then the council has first right to his life, for he would have killed the King first. It would take a convening of the council, to decide his guilt or innocence, and to set his sentence.'
Regal sighed in exasperation. 'Then I will convene the council. Let us get it done and have it over with. It is ridiculous to delay my coronation for a murderer's execution.'
'My lord, a King's death is never ridiculous,' Duke Shemshy of Shoaks pointed out quietly. 'And we will have done with one King before we have another, Regal, King-in-Waiting. '
'My father is dead and buried. How much more done with him can you be?' Regal was becoming reckless. There was nothing of grief or respect in his retort.
'We will know how he died, and at whose hand,' Brawndy of Beams told him. 'Your man Wallace said FitzChivalry killed the King. You, King-in-Waiting Regal, agreed, saying he used the Wit to do it. Many of us believe that FitzChivalry was singularly devoted to his king and would not do such a thing. And FitzChivalry said the Skill users did.' For the first time Duke Brawndy looked directly at me. I met his eyes and spoke to him as if we were alone.
'Justin and Serene killed him,' I said quietly. 'By treachery, they killed my king.'
'Silence!' Regal bawled. He lifted his hand as if to strike me. I did not flinch.
'And so I killed them,' I continued, looking only at Brawndy. 'With the King's knife. Why else would I have chosen such a weapon?'
'Crazy men do strange things.' This from Duke Kelvar of Rippon, while Regal strangled, livid with fury. I met Kelvar's eyes calmly. Last I had spoken with him had been at his own table, at Neatbay.
'I am not crazy,' I asserted quietly. 'I was no more crazy that night than I was the night I wielded an ax outside the walls of Bayguard.'
'That may be so,' Kelvar affirmed thoughtfully. 'It is common talk that he goes berserk when he fights.'
A glint came into Regal's eyes. 'It is common talk, too, that he has been seen with blood on his mouth after he has fought. That he becomes one of the animals that he was raised with. He is Witted.'
Silence greeted this remark. The Dukes exchanged glances, and when Shemshy glanced back at me, there was distaste in the look. Brawndy finally answered Regal. 'This is a grave charge you level. Have you a witness?'
'To blood on his mouth? Several.'
Brawndy shook his head. 'Any man may finish a battle with a bloody face. An ax is not a tidy weapon. I can attest to that. No. It would take more than that.'
'Then let us convene the council,' Regal repeated impatiently. 'Hear what Wallace has to say about how my father died and at whose hand.'
The three Dukes exchanged glances. Their eyes came back to me, considering. Duke Brawndy led the coast now. I was certain of it when he was the one who spoke. 'King-in-Waiting Regal. Let us speak plainly. You have accused FitzChivalry, son of Chivalry, of using the Wit, the Beast magic, to slay King Shrewd. This is indeed a grave charge. To satisfy us of it, we ask that you prove to us that not only is he Witted, but that he can use it to do injury to another. All of us were witness that there were no marks on King Shrewd's body, no sign of a death struggle at all. Had not you raised this cry of treachery, we might have accepted that he had died of his years. Some, even, have whispered that you but seek an excuse to be rid of FitzChivalry. I know you have heard these rumors; I speak them aloud that we may confront them.' Brawndy paused, as if debating with himself. He glanced once more at his peers. When neither Kelvar nor Shemshy gave sign of dissension, he cleared his throat and continued.
'We have a proposal, King-in-Waiting Regal. Prove to us, sir, that FitzChivalry is Witted, and that he used that Wit to kill King Shrewd, and we will let you put him to death as you see fit. We will witness your coronation as
