Fools Quest, Page 21

  “She left out a lot. ”

  “She did. ”

  “Why?”

  Before I could respond, the Fool intervened. “Perhaps someday you should ask her that. ” I did not miss the lilt of amusement in his voice as he imagined such an encounter.

  “I have to go. ” A thought came to me and I dared it. “Fool, you should dress and come with me. I think you are strong enough to manage it, at least for an hour or so. ”

  “No. ” His response was swift and strong.

  I regretted my words instantly. The old light that had shone so briefly in his face, his pleasure in helping me and telling Ash stories, had vanished as if it had never been. The fear was back and he cringed back in his chair. I looked at him and wondered how he had ever managed to muster his courage to travel so far to find me, alone, hurt, and blind. Had he expended the last of his spirit to do so, and would he never recover to be once more the Fool I had known?

  “You don’t have to,” I said quietly.

  He spoke swiftly, his words tumbling out. “I’m still in danger, Fitz. I know you think I’m foolish. I know you can’t possibly believe that here, in Buckkeep Castle, they could not only come after me but take me back. But they could. I know this as clearly as I know … as I know that you are my friend. There are very few things I know anymore, Fitz. Few things I am certain about, but you are one of them. And the other is that the danger to me is real. ” His voice had become softer and softer as he spoke. On his last words, he folded his hands and looked down at them as if he could see them. Folded, they no longer resembled hands. There were knots of white and lumps of red and speckles of scars. I looked away from them.

  “I’ll stay with him, sir,” Ash said quietly. I hadn’t asked him to, and wouldn’t have thought of it, but the moment he volunteered, I was grateful.

  “I know you have to go,” the Fool said. Quiet desperation was in his voice.

  “I do. ” I’d felt several nudges from Chade, and Nettle was now pressing against my thoughts. It was important that I appear. Dutiful and Elliania were delaying their entrance until I could walk in with them. Much longer and it would appear that we slighted our nobles.

  I’m coming now, I Skilled back to them and then closed my thoughts to them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I assured the Fool, and “Soon!” the crow echoed. She hopped closer to the Fool and tilted her head.

  “Motley’s worried about you,” Ash said as gently as if he were coaxing a child. “She’s trying to look into your face. ”

  I did not think it would work. I was not sure what I felt as the Fool’s clenched hands slowly opened. He beckoned to the bird and she hopped closer. “Here’s a bit of bread for her,” Ash whispered, and dropped a torn crust into the Fool’s hand. He closed his fingers on it, forcing the bird to stand near and take it in chunks as he held it.

  “Soon,” I promised the Fool, and rose and left the table. I was halfway down the steps when Ash caught up with me.

  “Sir, sir,” he called in a carrying whisper. “Let me adjust your collar. ” But when he was closer to me, he spoke other words by my ear, for me alone to hear. “He is not as strong as he tries to show himself to you. Earlier today, I found him on the floor near the hearth, trying to rise. It was hard for him to make himself take my hand. Harder for him to endure the pain as I helped him back to his feet. You see him walk, and he can rise from a bedside or a chair. But once on the floor, he could not lift himself. ” And again in his whisper, he added, “There, that’s much better. ”

  “Thank you,” I told him, letting my voice carry as he did. I caught his hand and gripped it briefly; I knew he understood my unvoiced gratitude. Hard news for me to hear, and harder to know that my friend concealed his infirmity from me. I went the rest of the way down the stairs to my old room with a heavy heart.

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  No sooner had I closed the hidden door behind me than I heard a forceful rap at the chamber door. “A moment,” I called, and Riddle spoke through the door, saying, “That’s a moment more than I’m to give you. ” As I opened the door, he told me, “I’ve been sent to fetch you and bring you down to dinner regardless of objections or appearance. But actually, I think you’ve done very well with yourself. ”

  “And you,” I returned his barbed compliment, for truly Riddle looked little like his normal self. His white shirt was cuffed and collared in purple. Kettricken’s Mountain colors. His trousers were black. He was allowed to wear simple boots. I felt envy.

  He lifted his chin and showed me his profile. “You don’t think I look more noble-blooded already? It’s Kesir Riddle now, which Kettricken explains would translate more as ‘servant’ than ‘lord,’ given the Mountain Kingdom philosophy on the duties of rulers. But tonight they will call me Kesir Riddle and I will sit at the high table. ”

  “Were you sent to escort me there, lest I fail to arrive on time? Or am I to be seen with you to impart my paternal approval of your marriage to my daughter?”

  “Both, perhaps. Though I will admit it seems a bit odd that you should be in that role when you actually appear to be younger than I am. ”

  I had just shut the door behind me and locked it, or I think I would have insisted he stand beside me before the looking-glass. I turned my gaze on him and studied him in silence. Riddle was Riddle, and so I had seen him through the years. While he was scarcely a graybeard, when I surveyed him I noted the lines that now framed his mouth and that his hair was retreating from his brow. He grinned suddenly.

  “You’ve missed your moment to charitably disagree with me, Tom. Oh. It’s time to abandon that, too, isn’t it? Come, Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. It’s time to descend and face the hordes of well-wishers. ” He linked his arm through mine and marched me off with him as if he were escorting me to the gallows. As we walked the corridor and descended the stair, I pulled my awareness in. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. Hero. Humble hero, coming out of a long exile in Withywoods after spending decades amongst the mythical Elderlings. I was the son of Chivalry Farseer, nephew to Verity. Cousin to King Dutiful. Defender of the crown. What would the folk, common and noble, want to see in this handcrafted hero?

  By the time we were striding past folk in the halls, I knew that I was taciturn, but not too grave. I would be as interested in people as Web was, and whenever possible I would turn the conversation to who they were and what they had done. I would talk little and listen well. Modesty about my exploits would serve me until Chade and I could take counsel and decide exactly which ones were for public discussion.

  Ah, that evening. I had made us all tardy, and I realized belatedly that I had significantly heightened Nettle’s anxiety by doing so. I walked at her left side and Riddle on her right, and as we processed through the corridors to the Great Hall, she whispered to me that I must come to the dawn meetings in Verity’s tower if I was to understand what was happening in Buckkeep Castle. For tonight, follow Chade’s lead and if in doubt, Skill to her for direction. I successfully concealed my amusement at her dictatorial tone by watching Riddle endeavoring to master his nervousness.

  The Great Hall had been rearranged for the occasion. There was the high table, on its dais so all might watch the king and queen dine. A second, lower dais had been erected before it for chosen favorites and the dukes and duchesses in attendance. I found it reassuring, as it might act as a sort of barricade for any lesser assassin who might try to eliminate me. In the center of the hall, there was a third dais, bedecked with evergreen and holly thick with berries, as if we were just now commencing to celebrate Winterfest. Starling was seated there, before her harp, in the most extravagant minstrel’s garb that I had ever seen. As we entered, she struck a series of chords connected by stair steps of notes. She continued to play as we were seated, softening her volume when a page announced each of us as we took our places on the dais. I was introduced after Nettle and before Riddle, so the ripple of talk at my name muffled any
astonishment there might have been to hear him named as not only a landed noble but wed to Lady Nettle.

  The food was brought to us swiftly. I am sure it was excellent, though I barely noticed. I ate little and drank less and looked around with wide eyes as if I had never seen the Great Hall before. And in truth, I had not ever seen it from that vantage point. As the dishes were being cleared and wine and brandy brought, Starling struck up her harp more aggressively, and soon launched into a second rendition of last night’s song. I noted that she had modified it somewhat, and wondered if that had been Chade or Kettricken’s work. This night, there was mention of King Shrewd’s jester and how he had aided Kettricken’s escape and accompanied her on her flight to her father’s house. The Fool was given credit for rescuing me when I was injured and restoring me to Kettricken’s side. He was even mentioned as helping me wake the stone dragons that had risen to Verity’s aid. It pleased me to hear him given his due before such an august company, and I wished he had been there to hear it.

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  I was even more astonished at the end, when after her final notes had nearly finished vanishing to a whisper, she suddenly struck up a reverential air. From the far end of the hall came Lady Rosemary, bearing what appeared to be a jewel-studded casket. As she approached, Starling sang of Verity’s regard for me, and how he had left me a final token of that respect, to be claimed by me if ever I returned to Buckkeep Castle. I divined what was in the box even before Lady Rosemary presented it to the king and queen. Dutiful opened the chest and lifted from it the steel circlet. It had been polished and it shone. With trembling hands he took out his father’s scroll. I knew with heartfelt certainty that he had never seen or read it before, for his voice shook as he read Verity’s words. He carried the crown with his lady beside him until he stood in the center of the room near Starling’s harp. As she played, he called me forth to kneel before him while he set it on my brow. “Prince FitzChivalry Farseer, son of King-in-Waiting Chivalry Farseer,” he publicly named me.

  And so I was crowned twice that day.

  Then he bade me rise and embraced me. A roar of acclaim rose and for a time faces and sounds seemed to recede around me. Then, “Don’t faint!” my king exhorted me quietly, and I drew a deep breath lest that happen. I followed them back to the high dais, the circlet cold and heavy on my brow.

  A long evening followed. The tables were cleared and carried away. Kettricken’s guard was formed up around me to honor me, as every duchy was named and their nobility summoned to greet me. Duchess Celerity was hardest for me to face, but she had said her words the evening before, and so she but took my hands and wished me well as her husband offered me a stiff bow.

  The Duke and Duchess of Tilth presented another difficulty, as they escorted their daughter, a sturdy girl of perhaps seventeen years, and introduced her as Lady Meticulous, “unspoken for” as yet. They told me that she enjoyed riding and hawking and extended an immediate invitation that I might join them on the morrow for a winter hunt. The girl looked at me with such frank and undismayed appraisal that I barely managed to respond that I had a previous engagement and regrettably could not join them. The duchess immediately suggested that perhaps I would be free the next day. I was horribly grateful when Nettle leaned over to say that as she had not seen me for some time, she hoped to occupy most of my days for the next month.

  “Ah, then we shall have to invite you to Tilth in the spring,” the girl’s father observed brightly as his wife folded her lips in disappointment, and I managed to nod acquiescence to that.

  I do not know how many hours we were there. People came, presented themselves, commented on past connections, many of them extremely tenuous, and then moved on. The noise of conversation in the hall was a constant. I looked up to see that Starling had her own circle of admirers asking questions about her adventures. Both she and her husband appeared to be basking in the crowd’s adoration. As I was not. I envied them their ability to relax and be flattered. I watched the crowd with an assassin’s eyes, noting faces and names, alert for signs of hidden hostility, storing information and connections until I thought my brain would burst. The stares and glares that I noted were not many, but I suspected that for every minor noble who openly disdained the Witted Bastard, six would smile to my face while imagining putting a knife in my back.

  The smile on my face felt stiff and aching long before King Dutiful declared that we were all sated with too much good food, good wine, and good fortune and that we would now retire. We left as we had arrived, a formal exit from the Great Hall accompanied by the Buckkeep Blue Guard all the way to his private chamber.

  It was a large and comfortable room with many cushioned chairs, a large hearth with a hearty fire, and a table laden with yet more refreshments and a selection of brandy and wines. Even when King Dutiful had assured the serving staff that we were fine and dismissed them, I still felt somewhat constrained by the company. They were my closest friends and my family, and it took me a few silent moments to identify my problem. I had been a different person to every single one of them. What role was I expected to play this night? And if I decided to simply be myself, which self was that? The killer Chade had trained, Dutiful’s protector and mentor, Riddle’s brother-in-arms, Nettle’s negligent father? All me and all not me.

  Kettricken looked directly at me and heaved a great sigh. “Oh, my friend, I’m so glad it’s all over,” she said, and went to a chair and sat down.

  “It’s never over,” Dutiful observed wearily.

  “But the worst of it is,” his mother asserted. “For years it has been like a barbed thorn in my heart that Fitz did so much, sacrificed so much, and only a few knew of it. Now they know at least some of what he did. Now he can come home to us, can eat meals with us and walk in the gardens and ride in the hunt, and answer to his rightful name. And his little girl will soon arrive here and come to know the rest of her family!”

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  “Then will we reveal that Badgerlock is also Fitz? It may bring the rest of his deeds to light if we do, for there are many who know that Badgerlock and Riddle were among those who accompanied Prince Dutiful to Aslevjal. Will people be offended that Lady Molly of Withywoods was married to the Witted Bastard and they lived right under their noses all those years?” Nettle posed her query to all of us.

  “But,” Kettricken said, and then fell unhappily silent.

  “Let people make up their own explanations. ” Riddle chuckled. “I imagine many will claim to have known all along, and they will be the ones least likely to ask questions. ”

  I shot him a gaze of pure admiration. I looked to Chade to see him share that approval, but the old man looked distracted and displeased.

  “It will all be sorted out,” Dutiful said comfortingly, “but it will take time. And simply because Fitz can now move openly within Buckkeep Castle does not mean that he will joyfully give up his quiet life and private ways. ” Regretfully, he added, “Or that all will be glad to see the Witted Bastard return to Buckkeep and polite society. ”

  Chade abruptly interrupted. “Nettle, I must ask you to apply your Skill for me. It’s Sildwell. I sent him with messages and gifts to Withywoods. He was to Skill to me when he arrived safely. All this evening, I’ve felt him pecking at my thoughts like a woodpecker on a tree, but his Skill ebbs and flows as if blown by the wind. ”

  “Sildwell? The apprentice who left the Silver Coterie?” She looked startled, and my heart sank a bit. What had Chade been up to?

  “Yes. As he seemed unable to get along with his fellows in the coterie and you gave him leave to depart, I thought to train him as a messenger, one that could occasionally employ his Skill-talents as well. He’s a tough young man and an excellent horseman. ”

  “His Skill was erratic,” Nettle observed somewhat acerbically. “And his manners appalling. ”

  “Practice may improve both of those things,” Chade replied. �
�In any case, I sent him off to Withywoods with messages and small gifts for FitzVigilant and Bee and so on. And he seems to be trying to tell me he has reached Withywoods but he cannot find Bee. And FitzVigilant has been injured. Or burned. I cannot make out what he is trying to convey to me. If you would reach to him?”

  “He can’t find Bee?” I interrupted.

  Nettle shook her head at me, her mouth pinched with disapproval. “Take no alarm. Sildwell is disorganized and ill mannered. And possibly drunk. There were a number of reasons I chose to discontinue his Skill-training. Let’s not panic. ”

  I took a breath. Chade was scowling. He’d been caught going behind Nettle’s back to co-opt a former apprentice as his personal Skilled messenger. I wondered if he’d intended more than that. I noticed he’d mentioned Lant but said nothing of Shun. Was she a bigger secret than I’d realized?

  Nettle took a seat on the divan. “Let’s resolve this swiftly and put everyone’s mind at ease. Dutiful, will you join us? Fitz?”

  Although a joining of Skill-strength did not require physical proximity, each of us moved to sit beside her. Chade came to stand behind her. As I took my place and opened my Skill to theirs, it felt rather like wading into a river. No. Being a stream merging with a river. Together, we rushed out toward the messenger.

  I knew nothing of Sildwell, so I let the others guide us. We reached, I felt the connection, and then it failed and faded. I had never felt such a thing in the Skill. I tried not to let my puzzlement be a distraction. Nettle gathered us as if she were plaiting a rope and again she reached.

  Skillmistress! Sildwell seemed as startled as he was relieved. I cannot … And he was gone, like a voice swept away by wind or the glimpse of someone in a heavy snowfall. Fog … stable fire … no one knows of … strange folk.

  Fire in my stables? Fear leapt in me and I shoved it down relentlessly. I glanced at Chade. His eyes were wide with fear. I reached behind Nettle, took his hand, and squeezed it. Small and tight, I sent a thought to him. Don’t distract the others. First we discover the truth. I felt his assent but his fear did not abate. I tried to wall in mine. Nettle was taking control of Sildwell. I felt her reach and try to shape him into himself.