Fool's Quest (50 page)

“And now I'm in charge,” I told him.

The silence that fell was not a good one. It simmered with anger. I spoke into it.

“King Dutiful gave you to me to keep or discard. Right now, I have a use for your swords. If you want to continue to be members of any guard company, form up on the practice grounds. Report to Captain Foxglove. Respect her. She'll be selecting which of you we keep. Now. Anyone who chooses not to form up is dismissed from the Buckkeep Guard. Forever.”

I stood still one breath longer. Then I walked unhurriedly toward the door, every sense prickling in case someone attacked me from behind. As I stepped back into the snowy street, I heard one of the women say, “That was the Witted Bastard, that was. What he did was mild compared with what he could've done. You're lucky he didn't turn into a wolf and rip your throats out.”

I smiled as I drew my left glove on, mounted the horse, and rode away. Inside the weighted gauntlet, my right fist still ached, but not as much as it would have if my fist had been bare. Chade had taught me always to protect my knuckles.

Go now,
my heart urged me.
Prepare,
said my head.

For a change, I took the wiser advice.

I did not think about what I was doing as I carefully measured the elfbark and made my tea. It was not the Outislander stuff, but the weaker herb we harvested in the Six Duchies. And this was freshly harvested by me, from an elf tree near the old well outside the walls. Winter-harvested, so I was making it strong. But not too strong, or I'd disappear from the coterie's awareness entirely. Strong enough that I could stop thinking about my walls constantly. Strong enough to deaden my Skill but leave my Wit completely unaffected.

I drank it and went up to visit the Fool. I found him stretched out on the floor flat on his back. “I'm fine,” he said before I could express alarm. As I watched, he lifted both his feet off the floor and, legs straight, raised them as high as he could. It was not high. I winced for him as he held them, breathing stiffly. I did not speak to him until he lowered his feet to the floor again.

“I'm feeling restless. I think I'm going to go for a long ride. Want to come with me?”

He turned his head toward me. “Not yet. But thank you for thinking I might. I'm feeling stronger. And … braver. The dreams help.”

“Dreams?”

“I have dragon dreams, Fitz. I battle for a mate I desire. And I win.” A very strange smile suffused his face. “I win,” he said again, softly. He lifted his feet off the floor. He held them off the floor, toes pointed. They began to tremble and he lowered them again. He bent his knees and tried to curl to meet them. Limbering himself. Even I was more flexible than that. But he would fight his way back. I heard him groan.

“Don't push yourself too hard.”

He lowered his feet. “I must. When I think it is too hard, I think of our daughter. And I find determination.”

I had been moving about my task. Those words halted me in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked me.

“Chade's shelf of herbs and elixirs is a bit untidy. I need to remind Ash to be more careful.” A very unfair lie. I was able to find everything I needed immediately. Distract him. “I'm glad of your dreams. I just wanted you to know that you might not see me tonight.”

The smile twisted. “Even if you were here, I wouldn't see you,” he reminded me.

I groaned, he laughed at me, and I left.

My saddle-pack was not heavy. Carris seed and elfbark weigh little. Some carryme, willowbark, valerian. I prayed Bee would not need it. I chose a warmer cloak. I exchanged the weighted gloves for warmer ones. A good wool scarf around my throat. The change of clothing for Bee. Only the most basic supplies. Done.

I shut my door and turned as Lant reached the top of the stairs and bolted toward me. Damn my luck.

“Fitz!” he cried and halted a few steps from me, clutching at his half-healed wound.

“Catch your breath,” I suggested to him. In a lower voice, I added, “And speak softly.”

He was panting. “Yes,” he agreed. He put his hand out and leaned his weight on the wall. “I went to Chade. There were two healers in his room. He told me to come to you.”

I had no time to be oblique. I spoke quietly. “We've had word of where we might find the mercenaries who took Shine and Bee. The Ringhill Guard will ambush and surround them. Tomorrow at first light my guard rides out to Salter's Deep. They will probably miss the Ringhill Guard recapturing them, but at least they can be there to lend some comfort.”

“Shine,” he said and a conflict of emotions trampled his face. “I thought … But of course that is her name. And of course I want to ride with you.”

“Lord Chade thought you might. But are you sure you're ready for a long ride like that? If you cannot keep up—”

“You'll leave me. I know. Of course you must! No, I'll be ready to ride with you at first light.”

“Fine. I'll see you then. I've things to prepare.” I walked away, hoping he would cling to the wall a bit longer. Instead he gave a groan and a grunt as he stood almost straight and then followed me. He walked beside me in silence for a time. Just as it began to grow awkward, he spoke.

“I didn't know she was my sister.”

Sweet Eda, please don't let him confide in me!
“Neither did I, Lant. I had not even realized you were my cousin.”

“Cousin,” he said softly as if that had never occurred to him. Then he said slowly, “It will be awkward for us when first we meet again …”

The least of my worries. “I will speak to her first, if there is privacy to do so. But if not, you will have to handle it discreetly. Especially if there are others within earshot.”

“I have no wish to hurt her.”

I sighed. “Lant, I know this is foremost in your thoughts. But in mine is the fear that she may already be grievously hurt. Or that the Ringhill Guard will not prevail, or that the mercenaries will either harm, kill, or use their captives as bargaining chips. Those are the things I must give my thoughts to.”

As I spoke his face grew paler. So gently reared was this young man. I knew with sudden certainty that I should not let him go with me into any kind of an armed encounter, let alone what might be the end of a pitched battle between the Ringhill Guard and the Chalcedean mercenaries. I needed all my attention on Bee, not worrying that I might have to protect Lant. I stopped walking and he was grateful. “Are you sure you are well enough recovered from your injuries to ride with us? Or swing a sword?”

“I must go,” he said. He knew my thoughts. Pride stiffened his spine. “I must go, and if I fail, then you must leave me. But I must try. I didn't protect Shun—I mean,
Shine
—at Withywoods. I cannot fail her now.”

I gritted my teeth together and nodded. He hadn't even mentioned Bee. My anger was pointless: He was blind where my child was concerned. I reminded myself that he was Chade's son and Nettle thought well of him. I forced myself to recall how stupid Hap had been at his age. Then I admitted to myself that I'd been even more obstinate and foolish than either of them. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Lant. Perhaps for her sake, and yours, you should not be there. Go to the healer and get a fresh dressing on that shoulder. Rest. Look after Chade for me.”

I patted his shoulder and walked away. As I went, I heard him say to the air, “Because that is what you would do? I doubt it.”

The Rousters had assembled in the practice yard. It was on my way to the stables. When I went to meet them, Foxglove walked at my side. Sergeant Goodhand hadn't come. I doubted we'd see him again. Twenty-one of the Rousters had seen fit to form up. I recognized some of them from the Withywoods contingent; others were new to me. I introduced Foxglove as their new commander, and summoned the three most senior in their ranks to come forward. Their length of service had possibly contributed to their battered appearance, but the missing teeth and crumpled ears spoke to me more of brawling than combat. It did not matter. They were what I had. Foxglove took their names and assigned them rank. None of them looked pleased but they did not argue with her. They followed her as she walked down the line of Rousters and immediately dismissed four of them. I did not challenge her decision.

After that, I let Foxglove give them their orders. They were to be mounted and ready at dawn, with four days' dry rations. They were to be sober enough to ride and dressed for winter travel, with weapons for close-quarters combat. At that, I saw interest kindle in their eyes, but we gave them no more information. I delivered my own message to them. “King Dutiful gave you into my hands. Those of you who acquit yourselves well in the next ten days will remain as part of my guard, but not in the Rouster colors. The Rousters are to be disbanded. Those of you who prove cowardly, lazy, or simply stupid will be dismissed. That's all I have to say to you.” Foxglove released them and we watched them slouch away.

“They hate you right now,” she observed.

“I don't care.”

“You'll care if you get an arrow in the back.”

A sour smile twisted my mouth. “You think I'd be leading the charge?” I considered my next words carefully. “Leave at dawn. I'll catch up with you. And don't put anyone wearing my Bastard's badge in the way of an arrow in the back. Let the Rousters go in first.”

“The Charging Bucks Guard will be ready,” she promised, and I nodded at her correction. She squinted at me, the lines in her brow getting deeper. “What are you planning, Fitz?”

“I'm planning to take my daughter back.”

I turned and left her scowling after me.

In the stables, I saddled the roan. I secured my saddle-pack. I found I was humming, exhilarated. So good to be doing something, to have stopped waiting. I filled a grain bag for the roan and added it to my supplies. I was just finishing when Perseverance came around the corner.

“I'm supposed to do that for you!” he exclaimed indignantly.

I smiled at him. “Would you like it if another man saddled your horse for you?”

His indignation deepened. “Of course not!”

“There you have it,” I said, and laughed. He looked startled. I suppose he'd never heard me laugh before.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Going out for a long ride. I grew up here, but it has been a long time since I rode through these hills. I might be late coming back. There's an inn down near the river that I used to frequent when I was a young man. I've a mind to dine there tonight.”

“With a battle-axe?”

“Oh. That. I'm dropping it off for Foxglove with a smith she likes. She wants a longer haft put on it.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. I lifted one brow at him. He quailed.

“Very well, sir. Do you wish me to ride along?”

“No, no. There's no need for that.”

In a much softer voice he asked me, “Has there been any news of Bee, sir? Lady Bee?”

I took a breath. Not a lie. “We've had all manner of folk out looking.” He nodded then opened the stall door for me, and I led the roan out. Excitement shivered over her as if she shook a fly from her withers.

Me, too,
I told her.
Me, too.

The roan was a pleasure to bestride.

I did not leave the stables at a gallop, though I had that desire in my heart. No. I rode like a man on a pleasant and casual errand, a bemused look on my face. I nodded graciously to the guards who bade Prince FitzChivalry a good day as he rode out of the gates. I took the road that led away from Buckkeep Town toward the River Road. Even there, I set an easy pace. I could feel my horse's impatience. She sensed my desire for speed and was very willing to deliver it to me.

Soon,
I promised her.

We will run and then we will fight! As one!

My heart smote me. Unfaithful.

Unfaithful to whom?

Horse. I am sorry. I did not mean to start this. This is not a good bond for me.

I am not “horse.” I am Fleeter.

I held stillness. She did not.

I have waited for you for a long time. Five humans have claimed to own me, but none did. And all of them, I think, knew that. Why else would they sell me for money, as perfect a mount as I am? They could not buy my heart and so they sold me again and again. And then you saw me and in that moment, you knew I was for you. In two strides you claimed me and we both know that was right and is right. Do not say to me that you can undo what is done.

I guarded my thoughts. I did not want this attachment. There could not be this attachment. I groped within me for my wolf, for Nighteyes, but nothing stirred. I sat on her back as still as if I were a sack of grain. I thought of everything else. How far I would travel before I pushed her into a gallop. I reviewed my mental map of where I would leave the king's highway and go cross-country to Salter's Deep. I'd memorized that bit of the map and hoped it was accurate. I was fairly certain the roan could handle a long cross-country gallop. If I was wrong—

I can. For a time, I was used as a hunter's mount.

I began a meticulous catalog of the weapons I had selected. I had tried to provide for every exigency. Sword and knife. A dust poison that could be flung. One suitable for poisoning food if the opportunity presented itself. Six tiny darts tipped with a very potent poison. A sling. I wondered if I could hit anything with it; I hadn't practiced in years.

I am your best weapon. The man who trained me was like you. He refused me. I was young then, and did not know there were three other horses he spent just as much time with. They were all stallions. His friends mocked him for training me, saying I would never learn the kicks and jumps. That only stallions know how to fight. He proved them wrong. And he collected the wagers and before the summer was over, he sold me.

How does a horse know of such things as wagers?
The thought escaped me before I could quell it.

She tossed her head, taking a bit more of the reins. I gave it to her.
What do you think stable boys do when they are waiting for their orders? They roll bones and shout and pass coins. And that was what I was to the man who trained me to fight. Bones to roll.

I felt a pang of sympathy for her.
Horse, we can be—

Fleeter. I am not “horse” nor “roan.” I am Fleeter.

Fleeter.
I accepted the name reluctantly, felt the binding go tighter as I did so.
We can be friendly with each other. But I am not seeking—

What is your name?

I breathed out slowly.

I feel the shape of it in how you think. Must I guess it?

I heard the sound of galloping hoofbeats behind us. Horses. More than two.
Move to the side of the road and be unworthy of notice.
Even before I tugged the reins, Fleeter had moved to the side of the road and slowed. She was too swiftly becoming attuned to me. Setting her aside from me was like trying to be rid of a feather with honey-sticky fingers.

So you are Changer?

No. This can't be allowed.
I blocked myself from her.

I thought the riders would be messengers or lads out for a gallop. When I glanced back furtively and saw Perseverance bearing down on me, leading a saddled and riderless horse, my heart sank. Priss. Bee's horse. I did not recognize the second rider until they drew closer. Then I was shocked and almost angry to see Lant. As he reined in his mount beside me, he was pale, his face drawn with pain. Could there possibly be any more problems for me today? “You should be recovering, not taking a horse for a gallop,” I greeted him. I tried to keep my words bland before Perseverance.

Lant's expression went sour. “And should not you be at Buckkeep, preparing to ride out tomorrow with your guard?”

There were a hundred possible lies to answer that question. The most believable would be to say that I was limbering my horse and myself for tomorrow's long ride.

“I'm going after my daughter,” I said. “Now.”

He stared at me, then gave a tight nod. “And Lady Shine,” he added.

I looked at Perseverance. He met my glare calmly. “Lady Bee will wish to ride her own horse home.”

Fleeter resumed her pace, and the others fell in on either side of us. I itched to ask but waited.

Lant gave in first. “I went to visit Lord Chade, to let him know I'd be leaving tomorrow morning. It is my habit to visit him at least once every day, even when he is incapable of reasoned conversation, and I did not wish him to think that I was abandoning that courtesy. Today, he was rational for a short time. He asked me to recount our conversation. When I did, he told me I'd best make my way to the stables right away if I was to catch up with you.”

“And I thought for a bit when he told me to saddle his horse,” Perseverance added calmly. “And then I followed.”

I held my words behind my teeth. I did not want either of them with me. I had no idea what I would find, if indeed I found the raiders at all. I wanted to be free to travel swift and alone, and in the end to be as stealthy or as savage as I judged necessary. I had brought the carris seed for my own use. I did not want to offer it to Lant, injured as he was, and I would never give it to a mere boy like Perseverance. When I had control of my voice, I spoke calmly.

“I told you that if your injuries held you back, I'd go on without you, Lant. That still holds. And Perseverance. You are to return to Buckkeep Castle right now.”

“I understand that,” Lant said, but his words had the sharp edges of humiliation. It was hard for me to care.

“Perseverance?”

“Sir.” He had not changed his horse's pace and he did not look at me.

“Did you hear my order?”

“I did, sir.”

“Then obey.”

He did look at me then. His eyes were very bright and I knew he fought the tears forming in them. “Sir, I cannot. I made a promise to Steward Revel. He found out I was teaching Lady Bee to ride. He was not sure he approved, but after I promised him I'd see she came to no harm on a horse, he said he did not think he had to report what we were doing. And when our lessons with Scribe Lant were to begin, he summoned me again, and said I must always be ready to defend her, in the schoolroom or indeed anywhere in Withywoods. And I promised him again. Defend her I did. Even though she and I had had a bit of a tiff a few days earlier. It's as if I swore my loyalty to her first, before I swore to you. So I think only she can tell me to abandon her.”

“That's the most convoluted logic I have ever heard.” It wasn't. The Fool could do much better than that to get his own way.

Perseverance said nothing. I thought of ordering him even more sternly to return. And if he still refused, what then? Kick him? Poke him with my sword? The boy was more than stubborn. He was intent on becoming a man. Soon enough, Fleeter and I would outdistance both of them. And then he could be helpful to Lant in returning to Buckkeep. A fine prince I was. I could not get even a stable boy to obey me. I tried to summon the will to insist.

My Wit made me aware of her a heartbeat before her weight hit my shoulder. I flinched at that landing, and Fleeter flicked an ear back in a query.

“Fitz—Chivalry,” the crow announced. She set her feet more firmly in the fabric of my coat and used her beak to push the flap of my collar out of her way.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded of her, not really expecting an answer.

“It spoke!” Perseverance exclaimed.

“It's a crow!” Lant exclaimed as if perhaps we had not noticed. Breathlessly he asked, “Is she your Wit-beast?”

“No. She's not my Old Blood companion.” I had never demanded the current usage of anyone and I did not have time to wonder why I did so now, for Per immediately pleaded, “Would she come to me, do you think? She is such a beauty.”

Motley leaned forward and pecked my cheek lightly. “Nice boy!” she squawked.

Eyes wide, Per extended his forearm hopefully to her, as if she were a falcon. She hopped from my shoulder to the offered perch with the barest lift of her wings.

“Aren't you fine?” Per breathed as he drew his arm in to admire her.

“Fine,” she agreed in mutual admiration, and I suddenly dared to hope she'd found a more permanent home than the Fool or I could offer her.

“Would you like the care of her? She's got a few white feathers and because of them the other crows mob her. You'll have to ink them black for her if they start to fade.”

“Truly?” Per looked as if I'd conferred an honor on him. “The poor thing! What's her name? How did you come to have her?”

“We call her Motley. Her owner died and a mutual friend asked if I could look after her for a time.”

“Motley. Well. Aren't you fine? Would you ride on my shoulder, do you think?”

The bird's bright gaze met mine for an instant, almost as if she begged pardon or asked permission. Then as Perseverance slowly lowered his wrist, she climbed up his arm until she sat on his shoulder. Per shot me a grin and then, as he recalled our mission, it faded. “Sir? What are we riding into? Has Bee been found? Is she well?” He tipped his head toward the axe that rode across my back. “It doesn't need a new handle, does it?”

“No. It doesn't. And I don't know what we're riding into, or what condition Bee is in. Which is why I don't think either of you should be accompanying me.” The words felt like stones as they fell from my lips.

Lant spoke up suddenly from my other side. “Well, whatever you do know, I'd like to know as well. Did you receive more tidings since we last spoke? I've only Lord Chade's directive that I follow you.”

I spoke more to the boy than to him. “We've had reports of her captors riding toward the coast. The ship they hoped to escape on has been seized. We believe we know the path they intend, and the king's forces are on their way to cut them off. We may discover her captors before they do. Or after. In either case, I know I must be there.” I recounted the details tersely. Then we all rode silently for a time.