Fool's Fate (30 page)

    That was made even clearer to me in the manner in which we disembarked. Peottre went first, and as he stepped onto the dock, he made a grave obeisance to the women gathered to greet him. There were men there as well, but they stood behind the women, and it was only after Peottre had been warmly received by the older women of his clan that he walked past them to the men to exchange greetings. Few of them, I noted, were of warrior age, and those who were bore the disabling scars of that trade. There were a few oldsters, and a milling group of boys in their early teens. I frowned to myself, and then tried to pass my thought to Chade. Either their men don't see fit to greet us, or they are concealed from us somewhere.

    His returned thought was thin as a thread of smoke. Or they were decimated in the Red Ship War. Some clans took heavy losses.

    I could sense that he strained to reach me and let the contact lapse. He had other things on his mind just now. It was more my Wit than my Skill that picked up the Prince's restlessness and disappointment. The reason for that was plain. Elliania was not among those who had come to meet us. Don't let it bother you, I counseled him. We don't know enough of their customs in this regard to know what her absence means. Don't assume it is a slight.

    Bother me? I'd hardly noticed. This is about the alliance, Fitz, not about some girl and her ploys. The sharpness of his retort betrayed his lie. I sighed to myself. Fifteen. All I could do was thank Eda that I'd never have to be that age again.

    Peottre must have advised Chade of their custom in this regard, for he and all our party remained standing on the deck until a young woman in her early twenties lifted her clear voice and invited the Son of the Buck Clan of the Farseer Holdings to descend from the ship with his folk.

    “That's our signal,” Web said quietly. “Swift will have Thick ready to leave. Shall we go?”

    I nodded, and then asked, as if I had a right to, “What does Risk show you? Does she see armed men anywhere about?”

    He smiled a tight smile. “If she had, don't you think I would have told you? My neck would be in as much danger as yours. No, all she sees is what we ourselves have noted. A quiet orderly settlement in the peace of the early day. And a very fruitful valley, just beyond those hills.”

    So we joined the others and trooped off the boat to stand a respectful distance behind our prince as he was welcomed to Elliania Blackwater's mothershouse and holdings. The words of the greeting were simple, and in their simplicity I heard ritual. By this act of greeting and granting permission to come ashore, the women asserted both their ownership over the land and their authority over any people who set foot in Wuislington. Despite this, I was still surprised when a similar ritual of welcoming was offered to the Boar Clan members who disembarked behind us. As they replied to the welcome, I heard what had eluded me before. In accepting the welcome, they also pledged on the honor of their mothershouse that each man would be responsible for the good conduct of all the others. The penalty for violating the hospitality was not specifically spoken. A moment later, the sense of such a ritual came to me. In a nation of sea raiders, there must be some safeguard that made their own homes inviolable to other raiders in their absence. I suspected some ancient alliance of the women of the various clans was at work here, and wondered what punishment a man's own mothershouse would mete out to him for transgressing the welcome of another clan's.

    Greetings finished, the women of the Narwhal mothershouse led the Prince and his party away. His guard followed them, and then came Web, Swift, and I with Thick. The lad walked before us while Web and I supported Thick. Behind us came the Boar crew, talking of beer and women and making jests about the four of us. Above us, Risk wheeled in the clear blue sky. Beach gravel crunched under our feet on the well-tended road.

    I had expected Wuislington to be larger and closer to the water. As the Boar sailors, impatient with our plodding progress, passed us, Web engaged one in conversation. The man was plainly eager to hasten on with his fellows, and just as obviously reluctant to be seen in the company of the half-wit and his keepers. So his response was brief but courteous, as Web always seemed to bring out courtesy in those he spoke to. He explained that the harbor was good but not excellent. There was little current to worry about, but when the prevailing winds blew they were strong and cold enough “to scour the flesh from a man's bones!” Wuislington was built in a sheltered dip of the land, just beyond the next rise, where the wind blew over it rather than through it.

    So we found it to be. The town was cupped in a sheltering palm of land. We followed the road down into it, and the day seemed to grow stiller and warmer as we descended. The town below us was well planned. The wood-and-stone mothershouse was the largest structure, towering as stronghouse over the simpler cottages and huts of the town. An immense painted narwhal decorated the slated roof of the house. Behind the mothershouse was a cultivated green that reminded me of the Women's Gardens at Buckkeep Castle. The streets of the town were laid out in concentric rings around it, with most of the markets and tradesmen's homes at the section nearest to the sea road. All this we saw before our closeness to it hid it from us.

    The Prince's party had long vanished from our sight, but Riddle came back to us, puffing slightly from trotting. “I'm to show you to your lodging,” he explained.

    “We won't be housed with the Prince, then?” I asked uneasily.

    “They'll be housed as guests in the mothershouse, along with his minstrel and companions. There is special housing for warriors of visiting clans, outside the stronghouse. Men of other clans may be guests there during the day, but warriors are not permitted to spend the night within the stronghouse. The Prince's Guard will be housed away from him. We don't like it, but Lord Chade has told Captain Longwick to accept it. And a cottage has been arranged for Thick. The Prince orders that you take lodging with him.” Riddle looked uncomfortable. In a quieter voice, as if offering apology, he added, “I'll make sure your sea chest is brought there. And his things, as well.”

    “Thanks.”

    I didn't have to ask. Thick's difference made him unacceptable as a guest in the mothershouse. Well, at least they had been wise enough not to put us in with the guards. Nonetheless, it was becoming taxing to me to share Thick's outcast status. Little as I liked the intrigues of the Farseer Court, when I was too far removed from Dutiful and Chade, I felt ill at ease. I knew we were in danger here, but the greatest danger is always the one we are ignorant of. I wanted to hear what Chade heard, to know moment by moment how our negotiation was unfolding. Yet Chade could not demand that we be housed closer to the Prince, and someone had to remain with Thick. I was the logical choice. It all made sense, which didn't decrease the frustration I felt.

    They did not insult us. The one-room stone cottage was clean, even though it smelled of disuse. Obviously it had not been inhabited for some months, yet there was wood in the hod and pots for cooking. The water cask was brimming with cold fresh water. There was a table and chairs, and a bed with two blankets on it in the corner. Sunlight lay across the floor in a fall from the single window. I'd stayed in worse places.

    Thick said little as we settled him onto the bed. He was wheezing from the walk and his cheeks were red, but it was not the flush of health but the mark of a sick man who had overexerted himself. I pulled the shoes from his feet and then tucked the blankets around him. I suspected that the nights would be chilly here even in summer, and wondered if the two coverings would be enough to keep him comfortable.

    “Do you need any help here?” Web asked me. Swift stood impatiently by the door, looking toward the mothershouse, two streets away.

    “Not from you, but I'll need Swift for a time.” I had expected the look of dismay the boy gave me. It didn't dampen my resolve. I took coin from my purse. “Go to the market. I have no idea what you'll find there. Be very polite, but get us something to eat. Meat and vegetables for a soup. Fresh bread if they have it. Fruit. Cheese, fish. Whatever this will buy.”

    By his face, he was torn between nervousness and a boy's eagerness to explore a new place. I set the money on his palm and hoped the Outislanders would accept Six Duchies coins.

    “Then,” I added, and saw him wince. “Go back to the ship. Riddle will see to our chests, but I want you to get extra bedding from the bunks there. Enough to make up pallets for you and me, as well as extra blankets for Thick.”

    “But I'm to stay in the mothershouse, with the Prince and Web and all...” His voice dribbled away in disappointment as I shook my head.

    “I'll need you here, Swift.”

    He glanced at Web as if seeking his support. The Witmaster's face remained calm and neutral. “Are you sure there is no way I can be of assistance?” he asked me again.

    “Actually.” And I was suddenly almost frozen by how difficult it was to ask. “If you wouldn't mind coming back later, I'd enjoy a few hours to myself. Unless the Prince needs you elsewhere.”

    “I will do that. Thank you for asking.” His second comment was genuine, not an idle courtesy. I let a moment pass in silence as I handled his words. He praised me for finally being able to ask a favor of him. When I met his eyes, I realized how long that silence had been but his face was as calm and patient as ever. Again I had that feeling he was stalking me, not as a hunter stalks prey but as a trainer befriends a wary animal.

    “Thank you,” I managed.

    “And perhaps I'll accompany Swift to the market, for I am as curious to see this town as he is. I promise we won't dawdle, however. Do you think a sweet pastry might tempt Thick to eat, if we chanced upon a bakery?”

    “Yes.” Thick's voice was wavering as he replied, but I took heart from this show of interest. “And cheese,” he added hopefully.

    “Pastries and cheese should probably be what you look for first,” I amended. I turned to Thick with a smile but his eyes wandered away from me. I was still unforgiven. I knew I'd have to do it at least two more times, for our journey back to Zylig and then for the ship that would take us to Aslevjal. I could not make myself face the thought of the eventual journey home. It seemed hopelessly far away now.

    Web and Swift left, the boy chattering happily and the man responding as eagerly. In truth, I was relieved to see them go together. A boy in a strange town might easily give unintentional offense or be in danger. Nonetheless, I felt abandoned as I watched them walk away.

    I backed away from the gulf of self-pity that beckoned me by putting my mind on the folks I cared about. I tried not to wonder what had befallen Hap or the Fool since I had left Buckkeep Town. Hap was a sensible lad. I had to trust him. And the Fool had managed his own life, or lives, for many years with no help from me. Yet it still made me uncomfortable to know that somewhere back in the Six Duchies, he was probably furious at me. I caught myself tracing the silvery fingerprints his Skill-touch had left on my wrist. I had no sense of him, but nonetheless put both my hands behind my back. I wondered again what he had said to Burrich, or if he had seen him at all.

    Useless thoughts, but there was little else to occupy me. Thick watched me as I drifted idly around the small cottage. I offered him a dipper of cold water from the cask, but he refused it. I drank, tasting the difference of this island in its water. It tasted mossy and sweet. Probably pond water, I thought. I decided to build a small fire on the hearth in case Web and Swift brought back uncooked meat.

    Time passed very slowly. Riddle and another guardsman came with our trunks from the ship. I took brewing herbs from my trunk. I filled the heavy kettle and set it on the hearth to heat, more to be doing something than because I wanted a cup of tea. I mixed the herbs to be sweet and calming, chamomile and fennel and raspberry root. Thick watched me suspiciously when I poured the hot water, but I didn't offer him the first cup. Instead I put a chair by the window where I could look out over the sheep on the grassy hillside above the town. I drank my tea and tried to find the satisfaction I had once taken in peace and solitude.

    When I offered Thick the second cup, he accepted it. Perhaps my drinking the first one had reassured him that I didn't intend to drug or poison him, I thought wearily. Web and Swift returned, their arms full of bundles and the lad's cheeks pink from the walk and fresh air. Thick slowly levered himself to an upright position to eye what they had brought. “Did you find a strawberry tart and yellow cheese?” he asked hopefully.

    “Well, no, but look what we did find,” Web invited him as he unloaded his trove onto the table. “Sticks of smoked red fish, both salty and sweet. Little rolls of bread, with seeds sprinkled on top. And here's a grass basket full of berries for you. I've never seen any like this. The women called them mouseberries, for the mice stuff their tunnels full of them to dry for the winter. They're a bit sour, but we did find some goat cheese to go with them. These funny orange roots they said to roast in the coals and then eat the insides with salt. And lastly, these, which aren't as hot as when we bought them but still smell good to me.”

    The last items were pasties about the size of a man's fist. Web carried them in a sack of twisted and woven grass lined with wide fronds of seaweed. As he set them out on the table, I smelled fish. The pasties were stuffed with chunks of white fish in rich and greasy gravy. It heartened me when Thick tottered out of his bed to come to the table for one. He ate one hurriedly, pausing only when his coughing fits forced him to, and a second one more slowly, with another cup of tea to wash it down. He coughed so heavily and for so long after his tea that I feared he was choking, but at last he took a deeper breath and looked round at us with watery eyes. “I'm so tired,” he said in a trembling voice, and no sooner did Swift help him back to bed than he nodded off to sleep.