Farseer 1 – Assassin’s Apprentice

“So.” He spoke at last, and put a finality into the word. “So. You had to put yourself before his eyes, did you? Had to call attention to yourself. Well. He’s decided what to do with you.” He sighed, and his silence changed. For a brief time I almost felt he pitied me. But after a bit he spoke.

“I’m to choose a horse for you tomorrow. He suggested that it be a young one, that I train you up together. But I talked him into starting you with an older, steadier beast. One student at a time, I told him. But I’ve my own reasons for putting you with an animal that’s … less impressionable. See that you behave; I’ll know if you’re playing about. Do we understand one another?”

I gave him a quick nod.

“Answer, Fitz. You’ll have to use your tongue, if you’ll be dealing with tutors and masters.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was so like Burrich. Entrusting a horse to me had been uppermost in his mind. With his own concern attended to, he announced the rest quite casually.

“You’ll be up with the sun from now on, boy. You’ll learn from me in the morning. Caring for a horse, and mastering it. And how to hunt your hounds properly, and have them mind you. A man’s way of controlling beasts is what I’ll teach you.” The last he emphasized heavily and paused to be sure I understood. My heart sank, but I began a nod, then amended it to “Yes, sir.”

“Afternoons, they’ve got you. For weapons and such. Probably the Skill, eventually. In winter months, there will be indoor learning. Languages and signs. Writing and reading and numbers, I don’t doubt. Histories, too. What you’ll do with it all, I’ve no idea, but mind you learn it well to please the King. He’s not a man to displease, let alone cross. Wisest course of all is not to have him notice you. But I didn’t warn you about that, and now it’s too late.”

He cleared his throat suddenly and took a breath. “Oh, and there’s another thing that’s to change.” He took up the bit of leather he’d been working on and bent over it again. He seemed to speak to his fingers. “You’ll have a proper room of your own now. Up in the keep where all those of noble blood sleep. You’d be sleeping there right now, if you’d bothered to come in on time.”

“What? I don’t understand. A room?”

“Oh, so you can be swift spoken, when you’ve a mind? You heard me, boy. You’ll have a room of your own, up at the keep.” He paused, then went on heartily, “I’ll finally get my privacy back. Oh, and you’re to be measured for clothes tomorrow as well. And boots. Though what’s the sense of putting a boot on a foot that’s still growing, I don’t-”

“I don’t want a room up there.” As oppressive as living with Burrich had become, I suddenly found it preferable to the unknown. I imagined a large, cold stone room, with shadows lurking in the corners.

“Well, you’re to have one,” Burrich announced relentlessly. “And it’s time and past time for it. You’re Chivalry’s get, even if you’re not a proper-born son, and to put you down here in the stable, like a stray pup, well, it’s just not fitting.”

“I don’t mind it,” I ventured desperately.

Burrich lifted his eyes and regarded me sternly. “My, my. Positively chatty tonight, aren’t we?”

I lowered my eyes from his. “You live down here,” I pointed out sullenly: “You aren’t a stray pup.”

“I’m not a prince’s bastard, either,” he said tersely. “You’ll live in the keep now, Fitz, and that’s all.”

I dared to look at him. He was speaking to his fingers again.

“I’d rather I was a stray pup,” I made bold to say. And then all my fears broke my voice as I added, “You wouldn’t let them do this to a stray pup, changing everything all at once. When they gave the bloodhound puppy to Lord Grimbsy, you sent your old shirt with it so it would have something that smelled of home until it settled in.”

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