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Fools Errand, Page 56

Robin Hobb


  “What about the way we came here? Can't we go back that way?” A frown divided his brows as he asked, “How did you learn to do that magic? Is it the Skill?”

  I broke a little piece of the truth off and gave it to him. “King Verity taught me to Skill. A long time ago. ” Before he could ask another question, I announced, “I'm going to walk down the beach and climb up those cliffs. It could be there's a town nearby. ” If I had to leave the boy here alone, I'd do my best to leave him in a safe place. And if the Skillpillar did not emerge from the water, then I'd best prepare for along walk home. My will was iron in that regard. I'd returnto Buck if I had to crawl there. And once there, I'd huntdown every one of those Piebalds and kill them slowly. Thepromise gave purpose to my motions. I began to pull on mysocks and boots. The feathers still lay on the sand. A flick ofmy fingers slid them up my sleeve. I'd secure them betterlater. I did not wish to discuss them with the Prince. Dutifulmade no reply to my words, but when I stood up and walkedaway from the fire, he followed me. I stopped at the freshwater stream, to wash my hands and face and to drink, aswell. The Prince watched me, and when I was finished, hewalked upstream to drink himself. While he was occupied, astrip from my shirt secured the feathers to my forearm. Bythe time he looked up from washing the blood from his face, my sleeve once more concealed them. Together we walkedon. The silence felt like a heavy thing we carried betweenus. I could feel him mulling over what I had told him aboutthe woman. I wanted to lecture him, to batter him withwords until he understood exactly what the woman wastrying to do. I wanted to ask if she was still in his mindwith him. Instead I bit my tongue and held back my words.

  He wasn't stupid, I told myself. I'd told him the truth. NowI had to let him work out what it meant to him. We keptwalking.

  To my relief, we found no more feathers on the sand. We found little of anything useful, though the beach seemed to have more than its share of flotsam. There were bits of rotting rope, and wormbored lengths of ship timbers. The remains of a deadeye lay not far from a thole. As we walked, the black cliff gradually loomed larger, until it towered above us and promised a good vantage of the land around it. As we drew closer, I saw that its face was pocked with holes. In a sand cliff, I would have thought them swallows' nests, but not in black stone. The holes seemed too regular and too evenly spaced to be the work of natural forces. The sun striking them seemed to wake glints in some of them. Curiosity beckoned me.

  The reality was stranger than anything I could have imagined. When we reached the foot of the cliff, the holes were revealed as alcoves, of graduated sizes. Not all, but many of them held an object. Wordless with wonder, the Prince and I strolled along looking at the lowest levels of alcoves. The variety of objects put me in mind of some mad king's treasure hoard. One held a jeweled goblet, the next a porcelain cup of amazing delicacy. In a large alcove . was something that looked like a wooden helmet for a horse, save that a horse's eyes are set on the sides of its head, not the front. A net of gold chain studded with tiny blue gems had been draped over a stone about the size of a woman's head. A tiny box of gleaming wood with images of flowers on it, a lamp carved from some lustrous green stone, a sheet of metal with odd characters graven into it, a delicate stone flower in a vase treasure after treasure after treasure was displayed there.

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  Wonder wrapped me. Who would so display such wealth, on an isolated cliff where the wind and waves could batter it? Each item shone as a cherished gem. No tarnish marred the metal, no coating of salt dimmed the wood. To whom did all this belong, and how and why was it here? I looked behind me down the beach, but saw no sign of any inhabitants. No footprints save our own marred the sand. All these marvels were left unguarded. Tempted beyond my control, I reached a finger to touch the flower in the vase, only to encounter resistance. It was as if a soft glass covered the opening of the alcove. Foolishly curious, I pressed my hand against the pliable surface. The harder I pressed, the more unyielding the invisible barrier became. I managed to touch one finger to the flower; it moved and a delicate chiming from its petals just reached my ears. Yet it would have taken a stronger man than I to press a hand in deep enough to grasp that flower. I drew my hand back, and as c-a , my flesh left the alcove, my fingers tingled unpleasantly. It reminded me of brushing a nettle, save that it did not last as long.

  The Prince had watched me. “Thief,” he observed quietly.

  I felt like a child caught in some reckless act. “I did not intend to take it. Ibut wished to touch it. ” “Certainly,” he observed sarcastically. “Have it as you will,” I replied. I turned my eyes from the distraction of the treasures and looked up the cliff. I realized then that one series of vertical holes was a ladder rather than a succession of alcoves. I said not a word to the Prince as I approached them. Studying them, I decided they had been cut for a man taller than myself, but that I could probably manage.

  Dutiful watched me curiously, but I decided he deserved no explanation. I began my climb. Each handhold was a bit of a stretch for me, and placing my feet demanded that I lift each foot uncomfortably high. I was about a third of the way up the cliff before I realized just how much work the whole climb was going to be. The new bruises the Prince had given me throbbed dully. If I had been by myself, I probably would have backed down.

  I kept climbing, though the old injury in my back began to shriek in protest each time I reaqhed for the next handhold. By the time I reached the top, my shirt was stuck to my back with sweat. I hauled myself over the lip of the cliff on my belly, and then lay still for a moment or two, catching my breath. The wind was freer here, and colder. I stood up slowly and surveyed my surroundings.

  Lots of water. The shores beyond the point I stood on were rocky and abrupt. No beaches. Behind me I saw forest. Beyond the tableland that fronted our beach was more forest. We were either on an island or a peninsula. I saw no sign of human habitation, no ships on the sea, not even a tendril of smoke rising anywhere. If we had to leave our jss beach on foot, we'd have to go through the forest. The thought sent a surge of unease through me.

  After a time, I became aware of a thin sound. I walked to the cliff's edge and looked down. Prince Dutiful looked up at me and shouted a question, but the inflection of his words was all that reached my ears. I made a vague hand motion at him, feeling annoyed. If he wanted so badly to know what I saw, let him climb up here himself. My mind was busy with other concerns. Someone had made those alcoves and gathered those treasures. I should see some sign of human occupation somewhere. Logic demanded it. At last I discovered what might be a footpath far down the beach. It led through the tableland and toward the forest. It did not look well used. It might be no more than a game trail, I thought, but I fixed it in my mind in case we had to resort to it.

  Then I looked out over the retreating water, searching for anything that might indicate worked stone. Nothing was exposed yet, but one area looked promising. As each wave fell back, I had glimpses of what might be several large black stones with straight edges. They were still under a shallow layer of water. I hoped it was not a geological quirk. There was a tangle of driftwood on the beach, with a seaweedfestooned branch that pointed toward the rocks. I noted it as a guide. I wasn't sure the tide would bare the rocks completely, but when it reached its full ebb, I intended to investigate them as much as I could.

  Finally, with a sigh, I lay down on my belly, scrabbled my legs over the edge, and felt for the first foothold. The climb down was even more unpleasant than the journey up, for I had to grope blindly for each step as I descended. By the time I reached the ground, my legs had a tremor of weariness in them. I skipped the last two steps, dropping to the sand and nearly falling to my knees.

  “Well, what did you see?” the Prince demanded.

  I let him wait while I caught my breath. “Water. Rocks. Trees. ”

  “No town? No road?”

  “No. ”

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  “So what are we going to do?” He sounded annoyed, as if it were all my fault.

  I knew what I would do. I was going back through the Skillpillar, even if I had to dive to find it. But what I said to him was, “What I tell you, she knows. Isn't that true?”

  That stole all his words from him. He stood for a time just staring at me. When I set off down the beach, he fol--lowed me, unaware of how much authority he had ceded to me.

  The day was not warm, but hiking on sand demands more effort than walking on solid ground. I was tired from my climb and preoccupied with my own worries, so I made no effort at conversation. It was Dutiful who broke the silence. “You said she was dead,” he abruptly accused me. “That's impossible. If she is dead, how does she speak to me?”

  I took a breath to speak, sighed it out after a moment, and then took another. “When you are Witted, you bond to an animal. It's more than sharing thoughts, it's sharing being. After a time, you can see through the animal's eyes, experience its life as it does, perceive the world as the animal does. It isn't just Ê”

  “I know all that. I am Piebald, you know. ” He gave a snort of contempt for my words.

  I don't think an interruption had ever irritated me more. “Old Blood,” I corrected him sharply. “Tell me you're Piebald again, and I'll have to beat it out of you. I've no respect for what they do with their magic. Now. How long have you known that you're Witted?” I demanded suddenly.

  “I ÊwhyÊ” I saw him struggle to push his mind past my threat. I'd meant it and he knew it. He took a breath. “For about five months. Since the cat was given to me. Almost as soon as her leash was given over to me, I felt ”You felt a trap closing on you, one you've been too stupid to perceive. The cat was given to you because others knew you were Witted before you knew it yourself. So you've shown signs of it, without being aware that you were doing so. Someone noticed, someone decided to use you. So they presented you with an animal to bond with. That's not how it's supposed to be, you know. Witted parents don't just hand their child an animal and say, here, this is your partner for as long as you both live. No. Usually the child is well schooled in the Wit and its consequences before it bonds. Usually the child makes a quest of some sort, seeking a likeminded animal. When it's done right, it's like getting married. This wasn't done right. You weren't educated about the Wit by people that cared aÊ?out you. A group ck Witted saw an opening, and took advantage of it. The cat didn't choose you. That's bad enough. But I don't think the cat was even allowed to choose the woman. She stole it, as a kit, from the mother's den, and forced the bond. Then the woman died, but she kept on living in the cat. "

  His eyes were wide and dark, staring up at me. He looked slightly aside from me, and I felt the Wit working between them.

  “I don't believe you. She says she can explain it all, that you're trying to confuse me. ” The words spilled out of him hastily, as if he tried to hide behind them.

  I glanced over at the boy. Skepticism and confusion had closed his face.

  I took a breath and kept my temper. “Look, lad. I don't know all the details. But I can speculate. Perhaps she knew she was dying; maybe that's why she chose such a helpless creature and forced the bond. When a bond is uneven, as that one would have been, the stronger partner can control the weaker one. She could dominate the kit, and move in and out, sharing the cat's body as she pleased. And when she died, instead of dying with her own body, she stepped over to the cat's. ”

  I stopped walking. I waited until Dutiful met my eyes. “You're next,” I said quietly.

  “You're mad! She loves me!”

  , I shook my head. “I sense great ambition in her. She'll want a human body of her own again, not to be a cat, not to die when the cat's days are done. She'd have to find someone. It would have to be someone who was both Witted, and ignorant of the Wit. Why not someone well placed? Why not a prince?”

  Conflicting expressions flickered over his face. Some part of him knew I spoke truth, and it shamed him that he had been so deceived. He struggled to disbelieve me. I tried to temper my words, so that he did not feel so foolish.

  “I think she selected you. You never had any choice at all, any more than the cat did. The womancat is what you're bonded to, not the cat itself. And it wasn't done for love of you, any more than she loved the cat. No. Somewhere, someone has a very careful plan, and you're just a tool for it. A tool for the Piebalds. ”

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  “I don't believe you!” His voice rose on the words. “You're a liar!” On those words, his voice cracked.

  I saw his shoulders heave with the breath he took. I almost felt my Skillcommand hold him back from attacking me. For a time I was carefully quiet. When I judged he had mastered himself, I spoke very quietly. “You've called me a bastard, a thief, and now a liar. A prince should be more mindful of what insults he flings, unless he thinks that his title alone will protect him. So here's an insult for you, and a warning. Hide behind being a prince while calling me nasty names, and I'll call you a coward. The next time you insult me, your bloodlines won't stop my fist. ”

  I held his gaze until he looked aside from me, a cub cowed by a wolf. I lowered my voice, forcing him to listen carefully to catch my words. “You're not stupid, Dutiful. You know I'm not a liar. She's dead, and you are being used. You don't want it to be true, but that's not the same as disbelieving me. You'll probably keep hoping and praying that something will happen to prove I'm wrong. It won't. ” I took a deep breath. “About the only thing I can offer you right now is that none of this is really your fault. Someone should have protected you from this. Someone should have taught you about Old Blood from the time you were small. ”

  There was no way to admit to either of us that that someone was me. The same person who had introduced him to the Wit and all it could be, through Skilldreams when he was four.

  We walked for a long time without speaking. I kept my eyes on my seaweedfestooned snag. Once I'd left the Prince here, I could not predict how long I'd be gone. Could he care for himself? The treasures in the alcove made me uneasy. Such wealth belonged to someone, and that person might resent an intruder on his beach. Yet I could not take him back with me. He'd be a hindrance. A time alone, taking care of himself, might do him good, I decided. And if I died trying to save the Fool and Nighteyes? Well, at least the Piebalds would not have the Prince.

  I set my teeth, trudged through the sand, and kept my grim thoughts to myself. We had nearly reached my snag when Dutiful spoke. His voice was very low. "You said my father taught you to Skill. Did he teach you to

  Then he tripped on something. As he fell, the toe of his boot jerked a gold chain free of the sand that had covered it. He sat up, cursing, and then reached down to free his boot. As he dragged the looped chain clear of the sand, I gaped at it. It was an intricately woven thing, each thread of metal the thickness of a horsehair. He coiled it into his hand, a necklacelength of chain that filled his palm. He gave a final tug to free the last loop, and a figurine popped from the sand. It was fastened to the chain as a dangling charm. It was the length of Dutiful's little finger. Bright colors had been enameled onto the metal.

  It was the image of a woman. We stared down at the proud face. The artist had given her black eyes and let the dark gold shine through for the tone of her skin. Her hair was painted black with a standing blue ornament crowning it. The draped garments bared one of her breasts. Bare feet of dark gold peeped from beneath the hem.

  “She's beautiful,” I said. He made no reply.

  The Prince was engrossed by her. He turned the figurine over in his hand and traced the fall of hair down her back.

  “I don't know what this is made from. It weighs scarcely anything. ”

  We both lifted our heads at the same instant. Perhaps it was our Wit warning us of the presence of another living being, but I do not think so. I had caught the scent of something indescribably foul on the air. Yet even as
I turned my head to seek the source of the stench, I almost became persuaded it was a sweet perfume. Almost.

  Some things one never forgets. The insidious tendriling of mind touch is one of them. Terror spasmed through me and I slammed up the Skillwalls around my mind in a reflex I thought I had forgotten. My reward was that I perceived the full foulness of its stench as I turned to confront a nightmare creature.

  It stood as tall as I did, but that was only the portion of its body that reared upright. I could not decide if it reminded me of a reptile or a sea mammal. The flat flounder eyes on the front of its face looked unnatural in their orientation. The brain bump of its skull seemed tumescently large. Its lower jaw dropped like a trapdoor as it stared at us. Its mouth could have engulfed a rabbit. A stiff, fishy tongue protruded from it briefly. As we stared, it jerked its tongue back in and closed its jaws with a snap.

  To my horror, the transfixed Prince was smiling at the creature in an addled way. He swayed a step closer to it. I set my hand firmly to his shoulder and gripped hard. I set my thumb to his flesh and tried to invoke the earlier Skillbond I had laid on him without breaching my own walls. “Come with me,” I said quietly but firmly. I drew him back toward me, and if he did not actively obey at least he did not resist me.

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  The thing reared up even taller. Sacs at the sides of its throat puffed up as it lifted its flipperlike limbs. It suddenly spread finny hands that were large and wide. Claws like bullfish spines stood out from the ends of the digits. Then it spoke, wheezing and belching the syllables. The shock of its distorted words felt like pebbles pelting against me. “You did not come by the path. How came you?”

  “We came by Ê”

  “Silence!” I warned the Prince and gave him a rough shake. I was backing us away from the creature, but it hummocked its ungainly body over the sand toward us. Where had it come from? I glanced about wildly, fearing to see more of the creatures, but there was only the one. It made a sudden rush forward, interposing its huge body between the tableland and us. I responded by retreating toward the water. It was where I wished to go anyway, the only possible escape that I could imagine. I prayed the tide would bare theSkillpillar.