Fool's Quest (49 page)

“You are right,” I admitted. I didn't look at him.

“Fitz. Must I remind you that I am your king?” Dutiful spoke the words gravely.

I met his eyes and spoke truthfully. “I am ever aware of that, my king.”

I had been outnumbered. Outmaneuvered. They'd withheld information from me. Worse, logic and rationality were on their side. They'd told no one who did not need to know. Their plan was good. I knew that they were right, if one considered only logic and rationality. Yet in my father's heart, I knew they were wrong. It felt awful to stand before them and be lectured by my king and my daughter, to be told that the plan was already made and that my only real option was to fall in with it. I felt suddenly old, and stupid, and useless. The bruises I'd taken in my efforts to once more feel like a warrior, my muscles that screamed at me when I moved, all confirmed my incompetence. My softness. My age. I'd lost my daughter and Shine both by my failed ability to think three steps ahead. I could look back and see a dozen simple things I could have done that would have prevented the kidnapping. For days, I had been burning inside to make it right, to correct my mistakes and go forward and never, never again allow my little girl to fall into such danger.

And today, with the possibility of action dangled like fresh meat before me, I was instead told that others would rescue her and return her to me. Someone else would pick her up and hold her tight and tell her she was safe. Days later, she'd be returned to me, like a lost purse. I could sit home by the fire and wait for her. Or ride out with my guard to meet her rescuers.

I left them there on the tower top, dismissed to inform my small troop of new recruits and salvaged oldsters that we would be riding out on the morrow. I was allowed to tell them that we might actually encounter an enemy, but Dutiful and Elliania, Kettricken, and Nettle had decided that it would be best if alarm was kept at a low level in Buck Duchy until the matter had been settled. The Ringhill Guard was well trained and very experienced at dealing with the robber bands that sometimes plagued the king's highway. They were the best men for the job. And if any escaped them, my guard would shortly arrive to tidy up any loose ends. The Chalcedeans would have to yield or fall as the jaws of the split force closed around them.

And my Bee would be caught there with them, in the teeth of those jaws.

I went to Chade. Had there ever been a time when I did not flee to him for advice? I tapped on his door, received no answer, and slipped quietly inside. To my disappointment, Steady was there, seated in a chair by the fireside, whittling at something and throwing the bits into the fire as he worked. He did not seem surprised to see me. Nettle had probably warned him I might be coming. “He's asleep,” he said before I could ask.

“Has anyone told him that we think we know where Bee and Shine are? That we are going to try to recover them?”

He frowned. He was a member of the King's Own Coterie. My news was no surprise to him, but perhaps he was surprised to discover that I now knew of it. He spoke softly. “I was told that all of it was to be kept secret. Surprising them is of the essence. As for Lord Chade, I am not sure he could mind his tongue. I do not think we should raise either hope or anxiety in him. We are trying to keep him peaceful and calm. Letting him gather himself.”

I shook my head and did not lower my voice. “Do you truly think he can feel any peace while his daughter is in the hands of Chalcedean mercenaries? When all is quiet around me, my fears for your small sister still run rampant in my mind. I have not known a moment of peace since I knew she was taken.”

Steady stared at me, stricken. From his bed, Chade gave the groan of an old man waking. I went to him and took his hand. He stirred very slightly. After a moment, he rolled his head toward me. His eyes were half-open.

“We've had news, Chade. The kidnappers were spotted. We believe they are on their way to Salter's Deep. Dutiful has dispatched troops and we'll seize the ship that is waiting for them, and then close in on them from behind.”

Chade blinked slowly. I felt a brush of Skill against my mind, softer than a butterfly's wing.
Go now.
“Lant,” he said, his voice a bit rusty. “Take Lant. He feels so guilty. That they took her. Left him alive.” He paused and swallowed. “Save his pride. It's taken a beating.”

“I'll share the news,” I promised. For a moment, our gazes held. His look mirrored what I felt. He lay there, an old, aching man in his bed, while his daughter was in danger. And no one had even told him that she might be rescued, lest such news alarm him. Or prompt him to rash action. “I have to go,” I apologized but he knew it was a promise. “I need to give orders for my guard to prepare for tomorrow.”

For a moment, his gaze brightened. “Roust them out,” he told me. One of his eyelids sagged shut, then he opened both eyes wide. “We're not done yet, boy. You and I, we're not done yet.”

Then his eyes closed, he heaved a great sigh, and his breathing became regular again. I lingered a bit longer, his hand in mine. I glanced at Steady. “I doubt he's a threat to our secrecy.” Then I tucked his hand back under his covers and left the room quietly.

I had not seen much of Lant since he had returned from Buckkeep. He had not really crossed my mind at all. And when he did, he left an unpleasant scent in my thoughts. He was a stony reminder of all the ways I had failed. I hadn't protected him, or Shine, or my little girl. And in a dark corner of my heart, despite knowing he could not have done so, anger burned in me that he had not given up his own life before allowing Bee to be taken.

A page passed me, carrying someone's laundry. “Lass, I've a task for you, when you've finished that one.”

She very nearly rolled her eyes, and then recognized me. “Of course, Prince FitzChivalry.” It's difficult to bob a curtsy with both arms full of laundry, but she managed.

“Thank you. Find Lord FitzVigilant. Tell him I've urgent news to share with him. And remind him to visit Lord Chade today.”

“Of course, my prince.”

My prince. I wasn't anyone's prince today. I was a father.

I went directly to the practice grounds. I found Foxglove sitting on a bench outside the weapons sheds, rubbing liniment into her hand and wrist. She'd changed since I'd made her the captain of my guard. Her graying hair was severely braided into a warrior's tail and her garb more leather than fabric now. She rubbed the ointment into her ropy, veiny wrist and hand. I cleared my throat and she looked up at me. Before she could rise, I sat down on the bench beside her. “I have to ask you to have my guard ready to ride beside me at dawn,” I said.

Her eyes flew wide. I held up a hand. As quickly and simply as I could, I told her all. She was my captain, my right hand. It would not have been right to ask her to ride blindly beside me. I doubted we were going into a confrontation. We'd simply be there in time to take charge of Bee after she had been rescued. But if by any chance we did have to cross swords with anyone, I wanted her to know why. And to know what was at stake.

She was the perfect second-in-command. She listened to me and accepted what I told her. Then she glanced at her boots and said, “Were it my operation, I would not go about it that way.”

“I'm listening.”

“Stealth. Get up on them while they are resting or asleep. Find out where the captives are and worry first about protecting them. Or employ simple bargaining. They're mercenaries. Mercenaries can be bought. Whatever they're being paid, we offer them more and safe passage. Later, after the girls are safe, we can decide if we are bound by our words. We can always poison the stores on board that ship and then let them go their merry way.”

I stared at her dumbly for a moment. Then I said in honest admiration, “I like how you think.”

She gave a brief snort of laughter. “Do you? I'm a bit surprised. I know when you asked me to take this duty that you meant it as an honor to me. And as a way to keep yourself from being bothered with it. But I've seen war and I've seen peace and I know well that there is never truly one or the other. And being ready for war is better than being ready for peace, if peace is what you truly hope for. So. I've only had them a few days, but I started with quality, and I've seen a lot of improvements since then. Still, if we are riding into real fighting, then the first thing I'll tell you is, we don't have enough soldiers and what we do have are not ready. They'll die.”

She spoke as if she were talking about seeds that would fail to sprout, not as if she were speaking of her grandchildren.

“I can get more,” I said unwillingly. “King Dutiful put the fate of the Rousters into my hands. If there's anyone there worth having, you can take them.”

She made a face. “As men, they're worth nothing. As swords, we'll take them all. They won't respect me, and in all honesty I'm not sure I can win their respect without killing one of them. I've never killed anyone wearing the blue, and I don't want to start at this stage in my life.”

I stood up. I knew what she was asking me. I didn't wait for her to put it in words. “I'll put them on notice to be ready to ride tomorrow. And I'll see that they respect us.”

She gave a tight nod.

The delay chafed. I'd already delegated my task from Chade. This was one I had to do myself.
So do it swiftly, even if it has to be done dirty. Get clear of it and go. Failure to do it might result in losses for my guard. Do it.
I owed this to Foxglove.

A pang of guilt. Dutiful was my king. Did not I owe him obedience? The prince did, I decided. Bee's father did not.

As I walked away from her, I wondered if I were truly up to this anymore. Foxglove's puppies were still battering me when I took up an axe, and I was just holding my own with a sword. Sixty years sat on my shoulders. I was many years out of practice at real fighting. All the discouragement I had felt earlier in the day came to whisper in my ears. Maybe Dutiful and Nettle were right to tell me that the best I could do was to comfort my child. I knew how far it was to Salter's Deep. One man alone on a good horse, pushing himself and his animal and going cross-country instead of by the roads, could make it there in a day and a half. The younger Fitz would have been in the saddle as soon as he heard the name of the place.

And I, I calculated men and odds and knew with an old man's experience that I'd likely be dead before I got near Bee. She would watch me die and then who would there be for her?
Don't be stupid,
I counseled myself. At the head of my guard, leaving at dawn tomorrow, there was still a chance that we would be in time to at least lend our strength to the Ringhill Guard. Dutiful was giving me that.

Wisdom tasted as bad as rancid meat. I'd need the Rousters. I didn't want them, but Foxglove would need them. I made a brief stop in my room and then went in search of them.

I did not find them on the practice yards or in the steams or even in the guards' mess. I hated the wasted time so much that I took a horse from the stables and rode down the hill. I did not have to go all the way to Buckkeep Town. On the edge of the sprawling growth from the town, I entered the tavern called the Lusty Buck, just past the blackened ruins of the Bawdy Trout. It was exactly the sort of place I had expected it to be. The door did not fit tight in the jamb; a door can only be knocked off its hinges so many times before it always hangs askew. Inside, the candles were few and dark corners many. The air was ripe with cheap, coarse Smoke and the vinegary smell of spilled wine never completely mopped up. A woman smiled wearily at me as I came in; one of her eyes was swollen near shut and I could feel only pity for her. I wondered if debt had put her here. I shook my head at her and stood just within the door, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness.

The Rousters were scattered round the room. They were a small troop, and the losses Chade and I had inflicted on them had reduced them even more. There were perhaps twenty-seven troops in the dark-blue livery. There were a few sodden regulars mixed in with them, a handful of soldiers from other guard companies, and a scattering of weary whores, but the Rousters dominated with their dark jerkins and darker expressions. One or two had turned to look at me as I ran my eyes over them, trying to appraise them.

“Rousters. To me!”

The command should at least have brought them to their feet. Heads turned toward me and many who stared were blearily the worse for drink. Only a few lurched unsteadily upright. I suspected they had been here since they'd stabled their horses on their return from Withywoods. I didn't repeat my order. Instead I asked of the air, “Who's in charge, Rousters? I know some of your officers went down near Oaksbywater. Where is Sergeant Goodhand?”

I had expected one of the older guards to stand. Instead it was a youngster with a patchy beard who spoke without rising. The heels of his boots rested on the corner of his table. “I'm here.”

I waited for someone to laugh or contradict him. No one did. Very well. “Sergeant Goodhand, muster your troop and bring them up to the practice fields. I need to speak to them.” I turned to go.

“Not today,” he told my back. “We're just home from a long ride. And we're in mourning. Maybe a couple days from now.”

That brought a mutter of suppressed laughter.

There were a hundred ways to deal with that level of insubordination. I sorted through all of them as I turned and made my unhurried way through the tables to him, stripping my left glove from my hand as I came. I smiled at him, sharing his amusement. He did not move.

“Ah. I think I've heard of you,” I said as I slowly walked toward him. “My stable boy. Perseverance. I believe you backhanded him when he came to the defense of Thick. The king's companion.”

He gave a single guffaw. “The king's half-wit!”

“That's the one.” I did not lose my smile but I suddenly moved faster. I reached him as he was just moving his feet from the table to the floor. He was sneering at me as I hit him so hard I felt his cheekbones crunch under my fist. He'd already been off balance. As he teetered in his chair, I kicked the legs out from under it. He went all the way to the floor. I added a solid boot to his midsection where his ribs did not protect him. He curled up tightly.