Fool's Quest (66 page)

His grip on the knife loosened. “You aren't irritated with me? Annoyed at my weakness?”

I was startled. “Of course not!”

“You went away so abruptly. When you didn't come to tell me yourself, I thought … I thought you had wearied of having me depend on you for everything.”

“No. That was not it at all. I thought I had a chance to rescue Bee. And I had to take it immediately. If only I had acted a day earlier …”

“Don't. You'll drive yourself mad.” He shook his head. “She can't just be gone, Fitz. She can't!”

She could, and we both knew it. I veered my thoughts away from that path. “What would make you feel safer?”

“You do. Being here.” With an almost convulsive gesture, he abruptly clacked the knife down on a table. “There.”

“I cannot be here all the time, but I will see that I am here often. What else?”

“Is Ash armed? Has he been taught to fight?”

“I don't know. But those are things I can remedy. He is to be your serving man now, I understand. I can teach him to be your door soldier as well.”

“That would be … reassuring.”

“What else?”

“Fitz, I need to see. More than anything else, I need to be able to see! Can you use the Skill to restore my sight?”

“I can't. Not now, I fear. Fool, I took elfbark. You know that. You were there when I first reported to Dutiful.”

“But the effects will pass, won't they? As they did on Aslevjal?”

“I think so. I already told you that.” Not the time to tell him what such a healing might cost me. “You've improved remarkably since Ash gave you the dragon's blood. Perhaps your vision will come back on its own. How is the pain?”

“Much less. I can still feel my body … changing. It's healing but the repairs are changes as much as restoration. Ash has told me that my eyes look different. And my skin.”

“You look more Elderling,” I said honestly. “It's not unattractive.”

His expression brightened with surprise. He lifted his hands to his face and touched the smoothed skin then. “Vanity,” he rebuked himself, and I think we were both surprised when we laughed.

“This is what I would like you to do,” I proposed. “I would like you to eat, and rest, and continue to get better. And when you feel you are ready, and only then, I assure you, I'd like to see you moving about Buckkeep Castle. Discovering pleasure in life again. Eating good food, listening to music. Going outside even.”

“No.” He spoke softly but forcefully.

I softened my tone. “When you are ready, I said. And with me at your side—”

“No,” he said more harshly. He pulled himself up straight. When he spoke, his voice was judgmental, almost cold. “No, Fitz. Do not coddle me. They took our child. And they destroyed her. And I cower and weep at the change of a room. I have no courage, but it does not matter. Being blind does not matter. I came here sightless, and if I must go sightless to kill them, then I must. Fitz. We must go to Clerres and we must kill them all.” He set his hands flat and calm on the table before him.

I clenched my teeth. “Yes,” I promised him in a low voice. I found I was as calm as he was. “Yes. I will kill them. For all of us.” I leaned closer and tapped the table as I walked my hand toward him. I took his thin hand in mine. He flinched but did not jerk away. “But I would not go to that task with a dull blade. It makes no sense to take to that task a man who is still recovering from grievous injuries. So hearken to me. We prepare. I have things to do, and so do you. Find your health and your courage will come back to you. Begin to move about Buckkeep Castle. Think who you will be. Lord Golden again?”

A faint smile hovered. “I wonder if his creditors are still as angry as they were when I fled.”

“I've no idea. Shall I find out?”

“No. No, I think I shall have to invent a new role for myself.” He paused. “Oh, Fitz. What of Chade? What has befallen him, and what will you do without him? I know you had counted on his help. In truth, I had counted on his help in this.”

“I hope he will recover, and that we will not have to do without him.” I tried to speak heartily and with optimism. The dismay on the Fool's face only deepened.

“I wish I could go and visit him.”

I was surprised. “You can. You should. Perhaps tomorrow, we can go together.”

He shook his head wildly. His pale hair had grown a bit longer but did not have enough substance to lie down, and the slight motion made it wave about. “No. I can't. Fitz, I can't.” He took a deep breath. He stared at me, misery written on his face. Reluctantly he added, “And so I must. I know I must begin. Soon.”

I replied slowly, “Indeed, you must.” I waited calmly.

“Tomorrow,” he said at last. “Tomorrow we will go together to visit Chade.” He took a deep breath. “And now I am off to bed.”

“No,” I said pleasantly. “It isn't night and as I've nothing to do right now, I'm determined that you will stay awake and talk with me.” I walked over to the curtained and shuttered windows. I drew back the drapery and then opened wide the old-fashioned internal shutters. Winter daylight streamed in through the thick, whorled glass. “It's a wild day out there. Storm over the water is blowing the spray and every wave is tipped with white.”

He rose and took slow, careful steps, his hand groping the air before him. He felt for me, then linked his arm through mine and stared out sightlessly. “I can see light. And I feel the chill off the glass. I remember this view.” He suddenly smiled. “The wall is sheer below this window, is it not?”

“It is. Unclimbable.” I stood there until he suddenly sighed and I felt some of the tension leave him. An idea came to me. “Do you remember my foster son, Hap?”

“I never knew him well, but I recall him.”

“He has come to Buckkeep. To mourn Bee. I have not had much time with him, indeed I've scarcely spoken to him. I've a mind to ask him to sing for me tonight. Some of the old songs and some of Bee's favorites.”

“Music can be very easing to pain.”

“I'm going to ask him to come here.”

His arm tightened on mine. After a moment, he said faintly, “Very well.”

“And perhaps Kettricken would join us.”

He inhaled unevenly. “I suppose that might be pleasant.” His hand gripped a fold of my sleeve and held it tight.

“I am sure it will be.”

And the lift of heart I felt surprised me. Patience had once counseled me that the best way to stop pitying myself was to do something for someone else. Perhaps I had accidentally discovered what I would do with my life for at least a short time: bring the Fool out of his terror-stricken state and back to a life in which he had some small pleasures. If I could accomplish that, it might ease my conscience a bit when it came time for me to go. So I spent an hour with him planning for the evening's gathering. Ash was happy to be sent off to the kitchen to request refreshments, and then to seek out Hap and convey my request. An additional errand sent him down to the old stables to find Perseverance and bring the crow up to the Fool's rooms. When I finally left the Fool's room, I encountered the two boys coming up the stairs, the crow riding on Per's arm as if she were a hawk, and the lads deep in conversation. I decided that introducing Per into Ash's small circle of friends would do all of them good.

I moved slowly down the corridor toward my new room. Hap would meet me there. I felt a sharp stab of remorse. What was wrong with me? Arranging a party in the Fool's room just days after Bee was lost. My mourning came back like the rising wind that comes before a squall and swept through me, freezing my heart. I mourned but it was the uncertain mourning of one with no proof of death. She had been gone since Winterfest. Lost to me for much longer than a few days.

I searched my heart. Did I truly believe she was dead? She was gone, as Verity was gone from Kettricken. Unreachable and unseen. Somewhere out in the Skill-current that I could no longer navigate, threads of her might linger. I wondered if she would connect somehow with Verity; if her grandfather King Shrewd would know those threads as kin.

A pretty fancy, I chided myself. A childish comfort to offer myself. It had been so hard to believe in Molly's death. Time would erase my doubts. Bee was gone. The rest of the day passed in drops of time. Hap came to me, and wept into his hands, and showed me the gift he'd been carrying for Bee since the end of summer. It was a doll with a wrinkled apple head and twiggy little hands. I thought it both grotesque and oddly charming with its crooked smile and seashell eyes. He gave it to me and I set it on the stand by my bed. I wondered if I could sleep with it watching me.

That night, in the Fool's room, he sang the songs Bee had loved best, the old songs, the counting songs, the silly songs that had made her laugh with delight. The crow bobbed her head in time and once shouted, “Again, again!” Kettricken sat beside the Fool and held his bony hand. We had ginger cakes and elderberry wine. A bit too much wine perhaps. Hap congratulated me on becoming a prince instead of a Witted Bastard, and I congratulated him on being a famous minstrel instead of an odd-eyed Red-Ship bastard. At the time it seemed terribly funny to us two, but Ash stared at us in horror and Perseverance, who had somehow been invited, looked insulted on my behalf.

I slept that night. The next morning I breakfasted with the Fool, and then received an invitation to game with Integrity and Prosper. I did not wish to go but they would not let me refuse. I knew they meant well and hoped to distract me from my grief. I dressed in fussy clothing. I wore no hidden knives and carried no poison. I rolled dice made of jade and hematite and lost badly in games of chance that I'd never learned. My bets were made with small silver coins instead of the copper ones that crossed tables in the taverns of my youth. That evening I returned to visit the Fool, to find Hap already there entertaining Ash and Per with some very silly songs. I sat and listened with a pleasant expression on my face.

Decisions. No. A decision. The Fool had been right. If I did not choose what to do with what remained of my life, someone else would. I felt like ore, pounded to powder, heated until I'd melted and poured away. And now I was hardening into something I'd never been before. My awareness of what I would be came to me slowly, like numbness wearing off after a heavy blow. Inexorably. In my sleepless nights, my plans took shape. I knew what I would have to do, and in my cold evaluation, I knew I would have to do it alone.

Before I began, I would have to finish, I told myself. Late one night, I found myself smiling sourly as I recalled how the Fool had finished his role as Lord Golden. His plan to exit had not gone exactly as he'd imagined. He'd had to make a headlong flight from his creditors. Mine, I resolved, would be a gentler fading. A kinder vanishing than his had been.

Gradually I blundered into a peculiar normality. I looked at each person I would leave behind and considered well what each needed, as well as how I must prepare for my undertaking. I kept my word to the Fool: I took Ash down to the practice grounds and gave him over to Foxglove. When she demanded a training partner of a suitable size for him, I gave her Perseverance, and she started both of them with wooden swords. Foxglove penetrated Ash's disguise far more swiftly than I had. The second day she had the lads she drew me aside and obliquely asked me if I had noticed anything “odd” about Ash. I replied that I knew how to mind my own business, and that made her smile and nod. If she varied Ash's training at all, I did not notice.

I gave my guard over to Foxglove's keeping. The few remaining Rousters accepted her hammering discipline and began to be useful. She demanded they surrender their Rouster colors and integrate with my guard. Privately, I asked her to make them available for any special duty that Lord Chade might require of them. With his network of spies and errand runners tattering away, I wondered if he might not require a guard of his own, something the old assassin had never supplied to himself. She nodded gravely and I left it in her very capable hands.

The next time Prosper and Integrity invited me to game, I countered with an invitation to the practice yards, and there I took my cousins' measures. They were not the pampered castle cats that some might have thought them, and it was there, wooden blade against wooden blade, that I began to know them as men and kin. They were good men. Prosper had a sweetheart and looked forward to her being announced as his intended. Integrity did not bear the weight of the crown of the king-in-waiting, and had a dozen ladies vying to ride and game and drink with him. I gave to them as much as I could of what Verity had supplied to me. I became the man older than their father, telling them the stories of their grandfather that I thought they should hear.

I allowed myself my own farewells. Winter at Buckkeep Castle took me back to the days of my childhood. It was true that if I had wanted, I could have joined the lords and ladies elegantly attired and perfumed, rolling dice or playing other games of chance. There were singers from Jamaillia and poets from the Spice Islands. But still, in front of the Great Hearth, huntsmen fletched arrows and women brought their spinning or embroidery. There the working folk of the castle listened to the younger generation of minstrels or watched apprentices endlessly rehearse their puppetry while doing their tasks by firelight. When I was a lad, even a bastard had been welcomed there.

I took comfort there, coming and going quietly, enjoying the music, the awkward courtships among the younger staff, the pranks of the boys and girls, and the soft firelight and slower pace. More than once I saw Ash there and Perseverance, and twice I saw Spark, watching Ash's friend from a distance with a pensive look on her face.

Chade remained genially vague. He took his meals in his room. He was welcoming when I called on him but never addressed me in a way that indicated he clearly recalled who I was and what we had been to each other. He always had an attendant. Often it was Steady or Shine. Sometimes it was a pretty Skill-apprentice named Welcome. He delighted in her attention and she seemed fond of him. I walked in once to find her combing out his white hair and singing a song about seven foxes. The few times I contrived to be alone with him by asking her to run some small errand, she went quickly and returned before I had more than the briefest opportunity to try to jostle some true response from Chade.