Fool's Quest (30 page)

“When they were leaving? No, sir. I saw Bee because she looked right at me. I think she saw me looking at her. But she didn't give me away …” A moment later, he continued, “There were other people in the sleigh. A pale man was driving it, and a round-faced woman was sitting in the back holding Bee on her lap like she was a baby. And there was a man, I think, but with a boy's face …” His words ran down. Both Chade and I were silent, waiting. Expressions slowly moved across his face. We waited.

“They were all dressed in pale colors. Even Bee was wrapped in something white. But I saw the edge of something. Something red. Like the dress the lady was wearing earlier.”

Chade dragged in a ragged breath, a sound of dread, or hope. “You saw her earlier?” he pressed the boy.

He gave a single nod. “Bee and I were hiding behind the hedge. The raiders had herded all our folk out of the manor and into the courtyard in front of the house. Bee hid the children in the wall, but when she went to follow them after we hid the tracks, they'd shut the door. So she went with me. And we hid behind the hedge and went to see what was happening. The soldiers were shouting at everyone, telling them to sit down, even though they were in house-clothes and the wind was blowing and the snow was falling on them. When we saw them like that, I thought Scribe Lant was dead. He was facedown in the snow, and it was red all around him. And Lady Shun was there with the others, in a torn red dress, with two of the housemaids. Caution and Scurry.”

I saw those words hit Chade. A torn dress. Deny what it might mean but the knowledge would still burrow into him like a worm. Her dress torn, and then she was carted away like plunder. At the very least, there had been violence. Rape was likely. Damage done. He swallowed audibly. “Are you certain?”

Perseverance paused before he answered. “I saw something red on the sleigh. That's all I can be certain about.”

Thick entered without knocking, with FitzVigilant behind him. “I don't like this place,” he announced to us. “They all sing the same song,
No, no, no, don't think about it, don't think about it.
”

“Who does?” I asked him, startled.

He stared at me as if I were the half-wit. “Everyone!” He flung his arms wide. Then he looked around the room and pointed at Perseverance. “Everyone except him. He makes no song. Chade says,
Don't make your music loud. Keep your music inside a box.
But they are not keeping their song in a box and it makes me sad.”

My gaze met Chade's. We shared the same suspicion. “Let me listen for a moment,” I said to Thick.

“For a moment?” Thick exclaimed, outraged. “You listened and listened. When I got here, you were listening to it so much you couldn't hear me and I couldn't feel you. And you are doing it again, right now.”

I touched my fingers to my lips. He scowled at me, but was still. I listened, not with my ears but with my Skill. I heard Thick's music, the constant Skill-sending that was so much a part of him that I now blocked it without even thinking about it. I closed my eyes and sank deeper into the Skill-current. And there I found it, the roaring whisper of a hundred minds reminding each other not to think about it, not to remember who had died, not to remember the screams or the flames or the blood on the snow. I pressed on the whispers and behind them I could glimpse what they hid from themselves. I retreated. I opened my eyes and found Chade watching me.

“He's correct,” Chade confirmed quietly.

I nodded.

The Skill is popularly believed to be the magic of the royal Farseer line. And perhaps it is true that in our bloodlines it runs stronger and more potent. But when a summoning goes out that will reach only those who already possess the Skill to a useful degree, it is answered as often by a shoemaker or a fisherman as it is by a duke's son. I had long suspected that all people possessed at least a rudimentary level of this magic. Molly was unSkilled, yet how often had I seen her rise and go to Bee's crib moments before the child woke. The man who “had a bad feeling” at the moment that his soldier son was wounded or the woman who opened the door before her suitor could knock all seemed to be utilizing the Skill, even if they were unaware of it. Now the unspoken agreement that no one would remember the terrible events that had happened at Withywoods hummed like a hive of angry bees once I let myself be aware of it. All the folk of Withywoods, shepherds, arbor- and orchard-folk and house-servants, breathed the same forgetfulness. The fury simmered with their ardent desire that no one come to Withywoods, that no one wake them to what had befallen them. It flooded me with their lost hopes and dreams.

“They have to be made to remember,” Chade said softly. “It is our only hope for recovering our daughters.”

“They don't want to,” I protested.

“Yah,” Thick agreed morosely. “Someone told them not to, and then made it seem like a good idea. They don't want to remember. They all keep telling each other,
Don't remember, don't remember.
”

Once aware of it, I could not clear it from my senses. It was a ringing in my ears.

“How do we stop it? If we stop it, will they remember? If they remember, can they live with it?”

“I'm living with it,” Perseverance said softly. “I'm living with it alone.” He crossed his arms on his chest. “My ma is strong. I'm her third son and the only one that lived. She wouldn't want to have turned me away from her door. She wouldn't want to forget my da and my granddad.” Hope and tears stood in his eyes.

What would deaden the Skill and still that forgetful song for them? I knew. I knew from years of indulging in the herb. “I have elfbark. Or had it. With some other herbs in my private study. I doubt it was taken.”

“What are you doing with elfbark?” Chade was aghast.

I stared at him. “Me? What are you doing with elfbark? And not just Six Duchies elfbark, but that Outislander strain they used on me on Aslevjal? Delvenbark. I saw it on your shelf.”

He stared at me. “Tools of the trade,” he said quietly. “Elliania's father obtained it for me. Some things I have and hope never to use.”

“Exactly.” I turned back to Perseverance. “Find Bulen. Tell him to go to your mother's cottage and ask her to come here to the house. To this study. I'll fetch the herb. After Bulen is on his way, go to the kitchen and tell them I need a teapot, cups, and a kettle of boiling water.”

“Sir,” he said. He halted by the door and turned back to me. “Sir, it won't hurt her, will it?”

“Elfbark is an herb that has been used for a long time. In Chalced they feed it to their slaves. It gives them a jolt of strength and endurance, but with it comes a bleak spirit. The Chalcedeans claim they can get more work out of their slaves and few have the will to attempt to escape or rise against their masters. It can deaden a severe headache. And Lord Chade and I together discovered that it can dampen a person's ability to use the Skill. The variety from the Out Islands can completely close a person's mind to Skill-communication. I do not have that kind. But it may be that what I have will be strong enough to free your mother from the Skill-suggestion that she forget about you and your father. I cannot promise you, but it may.”

FitzVigilant stepped forward suddenly. “Try it on me first. See what it does.”

“Perseverance, go on your errands,” I said firmly. The boy left. Chade and I were left alone with Lant and Thick.

I studied Lant. His resemblance to Chade and his other Farseer forebears was not nearly as clear as Shun's, but now that I knew of it, it was impossible for me not to see. He also looked terrible. His eyes were sunken but bright with a wound fever, his lips chapped. He moved like a decrepit old man. Not that long ago, he had been given a severe beating in Buckkeep Town. For his own safety, Chade had sent him to me, ostensibly to be my scribe and tutor my daughter. Haven with me had won him a sword-thrust in the shoulder and considerable blood loss. And a memory wiped as bland as blowing snow.

“What do you think?” I asked Chade.

“It may lessen his pain, if nothing else. And I do not think his spirit could sink lower than it is. If he is willing, we should let him try it.”

Thick had been drifting about my study, picking up the few curios I had on display, then lifting the curtain to peer out at the snowy grounds. He found a chair, perched on it, and suddenly said, “Nettle can send you the Aslevjal bark. She says she has a journeyman who could bring it through the stones.”

“You can Skill to Nettle?” I was astounded. The keening of the multitude kept me from hearing Chade's Skill at all, and we were in the same room.

“Yah. She wanted me to tell her if Bee was okay, and Lant. I told her Bee is stolen and Lant is crazy. She is sad and scared and angry. She wants to help.”

Not how I would have chosen to convey those tidings, but Nettle and Thick had their own relationship. They spoke plainly to each other.

“Tell her yes, please. Tell her to ask Lady Rosemary to pack some of each blend of elfbark, and to send them through with her messenger. Tell her we will send a guide and a mount for her courier to the stone on Gallows Hill.” Chade turned to Lant. “Go to the Rousters' captain, and ask that he dispatch a man with a mount to Gallows Hill outside Oaksbywater.”

Lant looked directly at him. “Are you sending me out of the room so you can discuss me with Fitz?”

“I am,” Chade replied pleasantly. “Now go.”

When the door had closed behind him, I said evenly, “He has his mother's forthright way.”

“Huntswoman Laurel. Yes. He has. It was one of the things I loved about her.” He watched me as he said it, challenging me to be surprised.

I was, a little, but I covered it. “If he is yours, why is he not FitzFallstar? Or simply a Fallstar?”

“He should have been Lantern Fallstar. When we discovered Laurel was with child, I was willing to wed. She was not.”

I glanced at Thick. He appeared uninterested in what we were saying. I lowered my voice. “Why?”

There was pain in the lines at the corners of Chade's mouth and in his eyes. “The obvious reason. She had come to know me too well, and knowing me could not love me. She chose to leave court and go to where she could give birth quietly and out of sight of all.” He made a small sound. “That hurt the worst of all, Fitz. That she did not want anyone to know the child was mine.” He shook his head. “I could not stop her. I made sure she had funds. She had an excellent midwife. But she did not survive his birth for long. The midwife called it a childbed fever. I had left Buckkeep as soon as the messenger bird reached me that the boy was born. I still hoped to persuade her to try having a life with me. But by the time I reached her, she was dead.”

He fell silent. I wondered why he was telling me, and why he was telling me now, but did not ask either question. I got up and put more wood on the fire. “Are there gingercakes in your kitchen?” Thick asked me.

“I don't know but there is bound to be something sweet there. Why don't you go and ask for something nice? Bring some back for Lord Chade and me, too.”

“Yah,” he promised, and left with alacrity.

Chade spoke as soon as the door had closed around him. “Lant was a healthy, wailing boy. The midwife had found a wet nurse for him as soon as Laurel began to fail. I gave a great deal of thought to his future, and then I approached Lord Vigilant. He was a man in a great deal of trouble. Debts and stupidity will do that to a man. In exchange for his claiming the boy and raising him as a nobleman, I paid off his debts and found him a clever steward to keep him out of trouble. He had an excellent holding; all it required to prosper was good management. I visited my son as often as I could, and saw that he was taught to ride, to read, swordplay, and archery. All a young aristocrat should master.

“I thought it an ideal arrangement for all of us. Lord Vigilant lived well on a now-prosperous estate, my son was safe and well taught. But I did not allow for that man's stupidity. I'd made him too attractive. A stupid man with a well-run estate and money to spare. That bitch plucked him like low-hanging fruit. She never even pretended to like the boy, and as soon as her son was born, she proceeded to drive Lant out of the nest. By then, he was old enough for me to have him at Buckkeep Castle as a page. And an apprentice. I did hope he would follow in my footsteps.” He shook his head. “As you saw, he had not the temperament for it. Still, he would have been safe if that woman had not seen him as a threat to her sons' inheritance. She saw him well liked at court and could not stand it. And she made her move.”

He fell silent. There was more to that tale and I knew it. I could have asked after her health, or the well-being of her sons. I chose not to as I did not want to know. I could accept what Chade would do for his family; doubtless, to avenge his son, he had done the sort of thing that had guaranteed that Laurel could never love him.

“And Shine was bad judgment.” It shocked me to hear him admit that. Perhaps he'd longed to tell someone. I kept silent and let no sign of judgment show on my face.

“A festival. A flirtatious, pretty woman. Wine and song and carris seed cakes. My daughter has been told one version of the incident of her conception. The truth is quite another. Her mother was neither that young nor that innocent. We danced together, we drank together, we spent time at the gaming tables. We took my winnings and went down to Buckkeep Town and spent them on trinkets and trifles for her. We drank some more. For one evening, Fitz, I was the young man I might have been, and we finished the evening in a cheap inn room under the rafters with the noise of revelry coming up through the floor and the sounds of another couple coming through the walls. For me, it was wine and impulse. I am not so sure she did not have more in mind.

“A month and a half later she came to me to tell me she would bear my child. Fitz, I tried to be honorable. But she was a stupid, vain woman, pretty as a picture and vapid as a moth. I could not hold a conversation with her. Ignorance I could have forgiven. We both know it's a temporary state. But her level of greed and self-indulgence appalled me. My excess on the night of Shine's conception was festival, wine, and carris seed. But for Shine's mother, it was how she always was! I knew if I wed her and brought her to court, she would quickly bring scandal down on me and her child. It would only be a matter of time until Shine was used against me. Her parents swiftly saw that. They did not want us to wed, but they did want the child, to hold her over my head and extort money for her. I had to pay to see her, Fitz. They did not make it easy. I could not oversee her upbringing as I had with Lant. I sent tutors, and her mother sent them away as ‘unsuitable.' I sent money for tutors; I've no idea what they spent it on. Her education has been sadly neglected. And when the grandparents finally died, her mother snatched her up, thinking to wring yet more money from me. They held Shine as their hostage. When I heard that the brutish lout her mother had married had begun to mistreat Shine, I stole her. And saw that her stepfather got what he deserved for looking at my daughter in that way.” He paused. I didn't ask. His face sagged with sadness and weariness. He spoke more slowly.