by neetha Napew
“And well you should, if what I have read in the Skill scrolls you brought back is an indicator. But more of that later. Tell the rest.”
And so I did, of leaving and claiming the scrolls and disposing of the woman’s body. Chade was fascinated by the Elderling magic of lights and warmth, and asked many questions about the cubes of memory stone that I could not answer. I saw him already itching to attempt the trip and explore for himself that magically charged realm. I went on to Prilkop’s farewell, and then to my endless passage through the pillars. When I spoke of the being who had rescued me, Dutiful sat up very straight. “Like the ones from our time on the Others beach.”
“Like and not like. I think there, our minds were in their world. In the pillars, my body was there, as well. Since I’ve returned, I’ve felt . . . strange. More alive in some ways. More connected, to even the tiniest bits of this world. And yet more alone, also.” And then I fell silent. There seemed nothing to add to my account. I glanced at Nettle. She met my gaze with a neutral little look that said I meant nothing to her and never had.
Chade seemed to feel he had enough to ponder, for he pushed back from the table like a man who has finished a substantial meal. “Well. A tale that will take some thought to sort out, and enough lessons for now. All of us have tasks to get to with Harvest Fest just around the corner. There will be a gathering tonight, in the Great Hall, with music and jugglers and dancing and tales. Many of our Outislander friends will be there, as well as all our dukes. I shall see the rest of you there tonight, I am sure.”
When they continued to sit and look at him, he added heavily, “And I would speak privately with Fitz now.”
Thick stood up. So did Nettle. “After I speak privately with Fitz,” Dutiful announced calmly.
Thick looked perplexed, but immediately added, “Me, too.”
“Not I,” Nettle said coolly as she walked toward the door. “I can’t imagine anything I’d ever want to say to him.”
Thick stood rooted in place, his eyes darting from Nettle to Dutiful. He was obviously torn. I managed to dredge up a smile for him. “You and I will have lots of time later, Thick. I promise.”
“Ya,” he agreed abruptly, and managed to catch the door before it had completely closed behind Nettle. He followed her out. Dutiful gave Chade a glance and the councilor retreated to stand by the window looking out over the sea. Plainly it was not what Dutiful wanted. Just as plainly, the power struggle between councilor and prince continued. I looked at Dutiful. He sat down in the chair next to me and drew it closer. He spoke softly and I expected to hear of his concerns with the Narcheska and his betrothal. “I’ve talked with her a lot about you. She’s angry with you right now, but I think if you’ll give her time, she can calm down enough to listen to you.”
It took me a moment. “Nettle?”
“Of course.”
“You talked about me a lot with her?” Better and better, I thought sourly to myself. Dutiful sensed my dismay.
“I had to,” he said defensively. “She was saying things like, ‘He abandoned my mother when she was pregnant, and never came to see me at all.’ I couldn’t let her just say things like that, let alone believe them. So I’ve told her the truth, as you told it to me.”
“Fitz?” He spoke a few moments later.
“Oh. Sorry. Thank you.” I couldn’t even recall what I had been thinking.
“You’ll like her brothers. I do. Chivalry’s a bit full of himself, but I think it’s a bluff to make up for how frightened he is of all the changes. Nimble is nothing like Swift. I’ve never met two twins less alike. Steady lives up to his name, while Just chatters like a magpie. And Hearth, he’s the youngest, all he does is run and giggle and try to get his brothers and Nettle to wrestle with him. He’s not afraid of anyone or anything.”
“They’re all here for Harvest Fest.”
“At the Queen’s invitation. Because Swift will be recognized and Burrich honored.”
“Of course.” I looked at the table between my hands. Did I fit anywhere in any of this?
“Well, I suppose that’s all I wanted to say. I’m glad you’re better. And I think Nettle will come about, if you give her time. She feels tricked. I warned you she would. Oddly enough, I think that what made her angriest was that you disappeared like that. She took it personally, somehow. But I think she’ll reconsider her opinion of you, if you give her time.”
“I don’t think I’ve much choice in it.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do. But I didn’t want you to think it was hopeless and give up and go off somewhere to avoid seeing her. Your place is at Buckkeep now. So is hers.”
“Thank you.”
He glanced aside from me. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to have her here at court. She’s so outspoken and blunt. I never was friends with a girl like I can be with her. I suppose it’s because we’re cousins.”
I nodded, unsure how true it was, but glad of it all the same. If she had the Prince’s friendship, she had a powerful protector at court.
“I have to go. I’ve missed my last two fittings for my Harvest Festival clothing. I swear, they take it out on Thick, poking him with pins ‘by accident’ if I’m not there to defend him. So I’d best be there.”
I nodded to that as well and then somehow he was up and out the door and the room was silent without my much noticing how it had happened. Chade set a cup of brandy down before me with a firm tap on the table. I looked at it and then up at him. “You may need it,” he observed mildly. Then he revealed, “The Fool was here, two weeks ago. I’d give a lot to know how he comes and goes from here so unseen, but he managed. I heard a tap at the door of my private sitting room, late at night. And when I opened it, there he was. Changed of course, as you said. Brown as an appleseed, all over. He looked weary and half-sick, but I think that could have been his journey through the pillar. He did not speak of the Black Man, or indeed of anything except you. He obviously expected to find you here. That frightened me.”
I set the empty brandy glass down on the table. Without asking, Chade refilled it for me. “When I told him we hadn’t seen you, he looked stricken. I told him how thoroughly we’d searched, and that my private premise had been that you’d gone off with him. He asked if we’d used the Skill; I told him that of course we had, but that it had yielded no trace of you. He gave me the name of an inn where he’d be staying for a week, and asked me to send a runner immediately if any news of you came in. At the end of the week, he came back to me again. He looked as if he had aged a decade. He told me he had made inquiries of his own about you, with no positive results. Then he said he had to depart, but that he wished to leave something with me for you. Neither of us expected you’d return to claim it.”
I didn’t have to ask for it. He set down a sealed scroll, no bigger than a child’s closed fist, and a small bag made from Elderling fabric. I recognized it as coming from the coppery robe. I looked at them, but made no move to touch either of them while Chade was watching me. “Did he say anything? As a message for me, I mean.”
“I think that is what those things are.”
I nodded.
“Hap came to see you while you were in the infirmary. Did you know?”
“No. I didn’t. How did he know I was there?”
“I believe he spends a great deal of time at that minstrel tavern these days. When we were searching for you, we put the word out through the minstrels, of course. We were desperate to hear any rumor of you, so he knew that we expected Tom Badgerlock to be at Buckkeep and he wasn’t. Then, when you were found, of course the minstrels heard of that, too. So he knew through them. You should see him soon and put his mind at rest.”
“He visits the minstrel tavern often?”
“So I’ve heard.”
I didn’t ask from whom, or why the Queen’s councilor would be kept informed of the habits of a woodworker’s apprentice. I merely said, “Thank you for watching over him.”
“I told you I wou
ld. Not that I’ve done well at it. Fitz, I am sorry to tell you this. I don’t know the details, but I understand he got in a bit of trouble in town and has lost his apprenticeship. He has been staying among the minstrel folk.”
I shook my head at that, sick at heart. I should have done better by him. Time, definitely, to take the young man in hand. I decided I’d seek out Starling for gossip on where to find my boy. I felt guilty and remiss that I had not sought him out before this.
“Any other news that I should know?”
“Lady Patience whacked me quite soundly with her fan when she discovered that you had been in the infirmary for some days and no one had informed her.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “In public?”
“No. She has gained some discretion in her old age. She summoned me to a private meeting in her chambers. Lacey was waiting for me. I went in, Lacey offered me a cup of tea, and Patience came in and whacked me with her fan.” He rubbed his head above his ear and added ruefully, “You might have told me she knew you were alive and disguised as a guardsman. Something that she finds offensive in the extreme, by the by.”
“I didn’t have a chance. So. Is she angry with me?”
“Of course. But not as angry as she is with me. She called me an ‘old spider’ and threatened to horsewhip me if I didn’t stop interfering with her son. How did she establish a connection between you and me?”
I shook my head slowly. “She’s always known more than she lets on.”
“Indeed. That was the case even when your father was alive.”
“I will go and see Patience also. Well, it seems that my life is as much a tangle as ever. How go things in the greater schemes of Buckkeep?”
“Your plans have succeeded well enough. Those dukes who did not travel to the Out Islands on Prince Dutiful’s first sortie are glad to have a chance at making trade agreements with the kaempra who have been arriving. Some think there may be enough profit in it to persuade the Hetgurd to put an end to all raids. I do not know if they can wield that authority, but if all the dukes say, firmly, that trading agreements are contingent on an end to all raiding, it may cease. There has even, you may be surprised to hear, been talk of some marriage offers between Six Duchies nobility and the Out Island clans. So far, it has been all kaempras offering to join our ‘mothershouses’ and we have had to caution our nobility that the Outislander notion of marriage is sometimes not so permanent as our own. But some may work out. Several of our higher nobles have younger sons they might offer to Outislander clans.”
He leaned back in his chair and poured brandy for himself. “It might even be a lasting peace, Fitz. Peace with the Outislanders in my lifetime. Truth to say, I never thought I’d see it.” He sipped from his cup and added, “Though I’ll not count my chickens before they are hatched. We’ve still a ways to go. I’d like to see Dutiful hailed as King-in-Waiting before the winter is over, but that may take a bit of doing. The lad is still impulsive and impetuous. I’ve cautioned him, over and over, that the crown sits on the King’s head, not his heart. Nor considerably lower. He needs to show his dukes a man’s measured thought, a king’s considered opinions, not a boy’s passions. Both Tilth and Farrow have said they’d rather see him wed first or with a few more years to steady him before they recognize him as King-in-Waiting.”
I pushed my brandy cup toward him and he filled it as well. “You say nothing of the dragons. There have been no problems, then?”
He gave a wry smile. “I think our Six Duchies folk are a bit disappointed that they have not seen so much as a scale of them. They would have relished having Icefyre come crashing through our gates to present his head to our queen. Or they think they would. As for me, I am well contented with that situation. Dragons at a distance are amazing and noble creatures of legend. My closer experience of them makes me suspect they’d burp nobly after consuming me.”
“Do you think they went back to Bingtown, then?”
“Most emphatically not. We had a messenger from the Traders last week, seeking word of Tintaglia. From the scroll, I could not tell if they were worried for her well-being, or frantic at having become the sole providers for several earth-bound dragons. I was going to tell them we had no idea of what had become of them after Icefyre made his appearance at the Narwhal mothershouse. Then Nettle spoke up. She said that Tintaglia and Icefyre were feeding and mating and completely engrossed in those two activities. She could not say where; her contact with Tintaglia is intermittent, and a dragon’s idea of geography is quite different from ours. But they were feeding on sea bears. So I think that would put them to the north of us. We may yet see something of them if they decide to fly back to Bingtown.”
“I’ve a feeling we’ve not heard the last of them. But what about closer to home? Have we resolved anything with our Old Blood?”
“Old Blood has shed much blood while we were gone. It has rocked several of our duchies to discover that Old Blood may run stronger in the nobility than was previously admitted. There was even a rumor about Celerity of Bearns, that perhaps she and her hawk saw with the same eyes. Shocking. These revelations come out when vendettas run hot, and one set of murders lead to another. Kettricken has been hard-pressed to keep order. But the gist of it is that Old Blood seems to have thoroughly cleaned their own house of ‘the Piebald blight.’ Web was horrified at the news he received when he arrived home. He has pressed, more than ever, for Old Blood to make itself known and respectable. In some ways, the bloodletting has been a setback for him. Ironically, he has proposed to create a township for Old Blood, where they may demonstrate their diligence and civility. What once they opposed for fear it would lead to slaughter, they now propose as a way to demonstrate their harmlessness. When unprovoked. The Queen is considering it. Location would require much negotiation. Many fear the Wit more than ever these days.”
“Well, not everything can go smoothly, I suppose. At least it may be more out in the open, now.” I sat a moment, wondering. Celerity of Bearns, Witted? I did not think so. But looking back, I could not be certain.
“And Lord FitzChivalry Farseer? Will he come out into the sunlight at last?”
“What, only Lord? I thought I was to be King?” And then I laughed, for never had I seen Chade struck dumb before. “No,” I decided. “No, I think we will let Lord FitzChivalry Farseer rest in peace. Those important to me know. That was all I ever cared about.”
Chade nodded thoughtfully. “I could wish you a minstrel’s happy ending to your tale, ‘much love and many children,’ but I do not think it will come to be.”
“It never came true for you, either.”
He looked at me and then looked aside. “I had you,” he said. “But for you, perhaps I would have died an ‘old spider’ hiding in the walls. Did you never think of that?”
“No. I hadn’t.”
“I’ve things to do,” he said abruptly. Then, as he stood, he rested a hand on my shoulder and asked, “Will you be all right now?”
“As well as can be expected,” I said.
“I’ll leave you, then.” He looked down and added, “Will you try to be more careful? It was not easy for me, those days when you went missing. I thought you had fled Buckkeep and the duties of your blood, and then when the Fool came through, I believed you were dead somewhere. Again.”
“I’ll be just as careful with myself as you are with yourself,” I promised him. He lifted one brow at me and then nodded.
I sat for some time after he was gone looking at the package and the scroll. I opened the scroll first. I recognized the Fool’s careful hand. I read it through twice. It was a poem about dancing, and a farewell. I could tell he had written it before he discovered my absence. So. He had not changed his mind. He and Prilkop had paused here only to say good-bye to me, not because he’d had a change of heart.
The package was lumpy and rather heavy. When I untied the slithery fabric, a piece of memory stone the size of my fist rolled out on the table. The Fool’s Skilled fingers had
carved it, I was sure. I poked at it cautiously but felt only stone. I lifted it up to look at it. It had three faces, each blending into the next. Nighteyes was there, and me, and the Fool. Nighteyes looked out at me, ears up and muzzle down. The next facet showed me as a young man, unscarred, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Had I ever truly been that young? And the Fool had carved himself as a fool, in a tailed cap with one long forefinger lifted to shush his pursed lips and his brows arched high in some jest.
It was only when I cupped the carving in my hand that it woke for me and revealed the memories the Fool had imbued in it. Three simple moments it recalled. If my fingers spanned the wolf and myself, then I saw Nighteyes and I curled together in sleep in my bed in the cabin. Nighteyes sprawled sleeping on the Fool’s hearth in the Mountains when I touched both Fool and Nighteyes. The last was confusing at first. My fingers rested on the Fool and myself. I blinked at the memory presented to me. I stared at it for some time before recognizing it as another of the Fool’s memories. It was what I looked like when he pressed his brow to mine and looked into my eyes. I set it down on the table and the Fool’s mocking smile looked up at me. I smiled back at him and impulsively touched a finger to his brow. I heard his voice then, almost as if he were in the room. “I have never been wise.” I shook my head over that. His last message to me and it had to be one of his riddles.
I took my treasures and crawled back behind the hearth and set the panel back in place. I went to my workroom and hid them there. Gilly appeared, with many questions about the lack of sausages. I promised him I’d look into it. He told me I should, and bit a finger firmly as a reminder.