Fool's Quest (31 page)

“I put her somewhere safe and tried to repair some of her lacks. I found a capable bodyguard for her, a woman who could teach her the ways a woman can protect herself. And a few other skills as well.

“But I misjudged her stepfather. Her mother would have swiftly forgotten her: She is as maternal as a snake. But I underestimated the thwarted greed of her husband, and his cleverness. I was certain I had concealed Shine. I still do not know how he found her, but fear I have a rat within my spy-ranks. I did not fully grasp the lengths to which her stepfather would go to repair the blow to his pride, though her mother is not innocent, either. They tried to poison Shine and killed a kitchen boy instead. Did they mean to kill her, or simply make her ill? I don't know. But the dose was enough to kill a small boy. So again, I had to move her, and again I had to show them that I am not someone to trifle with.” He folded his lips tightly. “I have had him watched. He simmers with hate and dreams of vengeance. I intercepted a letter that bragged he would be avenged upon both Shine and me. So you see why I am convinced this is his hand at work again.”

“And I am almost certain it is linked to those who pursue the Fool. But soon we shall know.” I hesitated, then asked, “Chade. Why do you tell me these things only now?”

He gave me a cold stare. “So you will understand the lengths to which I'll go to in order to protect my son and regain my daughter.”

I met his gaze angrily. “Do you think I will do less to bring Bee back?”

He looked at me for what seemed a long time. “Perhaps you will. I know you wonder if it is a kindness to force your folk to remember. I tell you this plainly. Kind or unkind, I will open each of their minds and find what they know, down to the youngest child or oldest gaffer. We have to know every detail of what happened that day. And then we must act on it, without delay. We cannot undo whatever has befallen them. But we can make the culprits pay in pain. And we can bring our daughters home.”

I nodded. I had not let my mind go to those dark places. Bee was young and very small. No one could think her a woman. But for some men, that did not matter. I thought of Elm's tottering gait and was sickened. Must we indeed force the little kitchen girl to remember what had been done to her?

“Go fetch the elfbark,” Chade reminded me. “It will take time to brew.”

I walked through the halls of Withywoods. The Skill-whispering to
forget, forget, it didn't happen, they are not dead or gone, they never were,
was like an icy wind in my face. Away from conversation with others, it sapped my will to do anything save the most rudimentary tasks. I desperately longed to take a nap by a warm fire with a soft blanket, and perhaps a glass of mulled cider to ease me into sleep. Shaking off that impulse was like pulling my sleeve free of plucking ghost-fingers.

The doors of my private study sagged slightly, the elegant wood around the latches splintered. I scowled. It hadn't been locked, simply latched. There had been no need for that destruction, save for the glee of brutes in the grip of battle.

Inside, I looked around as I had not earlier. Dim winter sunlight reached in a single pointing finger where the draperies were not quite closed across the window. It fell in a sword-slash of light across my splintered desk. I walked past the drunken scroll racks that leaned against one another. Verity's blade that had hung so long above the mantel was gone. Of course. Even the most rudimentary man-at-arms would have recognized the quality of that weapon. I fell into a gulch of pain, but quickly I sealed my heart against that loss. Verity's sword was not my child. It was only a thing. I retained the memory of the man and the day he had given it to me. The triptych of Nighteyes, the Fool, and me remained in place on the center of the mantel, apparently untouched. The Fool's gift to me before he left for Clerres, the one that had led to him “betraying” me. I could not bear the Fool's knowing half-smile.

I did not look to see what else was broken or stolen. I went to my desk, pulled the drawer all the way out, and then reached in to take out the box that fit snugly behind it. I opened it. The second compartment held the corked pot of elfbark. I took it out and started to restore the box to its hiding place in the broken desk. Instead, I tucked it under my arm and dropped the drawer to the floor. I found myself not thinking about anything as I walked back to the estate study
. Forget, forget, forget
thrummed the song. I summoned the will to set a Skill-block against it. The moment I had it in place, I felt a wave of panic hit me. Bee had been taken, and I had not a clue where to seek her. The drive to do something, do anything, lashed me like a whip. But this drug in my hand was the most I could do right now, and that shamed me. Almost I fled back to the whispering of
forget, forget.
Like seizing a sharpened blade, I gripped my anger and fear and clutched it hard.
Feel the pain and feed the fury.
What could my fear be to whatever she was enduring?

In the study, a kettle had been hung over the hearth: I heard the seething of boiling water. Perseverance sat dejectedly beside the fire. The tops of his cheeks were red, but his mouth was pinched white with pain. A teapot and cups were set out on a tray. Someone in the kitchen had sent along little cakes with it.
A pleasant touch,
I thought savagely.
Remember a night of terror, and then, oh, do have a sweet cake to go with it.
Chade took the box of herbs from my hands, opened it, and scowled at the contents. I offered no apologies for sometimes indulging myself. He opened the pot of elfbark and shook some into his hand. “It looks old.” He glanced up at me, the displeased teacher.

“It's not exactly fresh,” I admitted. “But it will have to do.”

“It will.” He put a generous measure into the pot and handed it to me. I pulled the kettle back from the flames and tipped boiling water into the teapot. The once-familiar scent of elfbark tea rose to greet me, and with it a hundred memories of how often I had drunk it. There had been a time when the effort to Skill had given me pounding and nauseating headaches, the sort where spots and lines of light would dance before my eyes and every sound was a new jolt of agony. Only when the coterie had accidentally loosed that spectacular healing upon me had I become able to Skill with little to no pain. I'd never known whether to blame my earlier agonies on the beating that Skillmaster Galen had given me, or on the magical block he had put in my mind, one that fogged me and made me believe I had no talent for the Skill and little personal worth to the world. But until that healing, elfbark tea had been my consolation after serious Skill-sessions.

“Let it brew,” Chade advised me, and my mind leapt back to the present. I set the pot down on the tray. At almost the same moment, FitzVigilant returned. “I've sent a man and told him to take an extra mount. I could not give the best directions to Gallows Hill, but I am sure anyone in Oaksbywater can point him on his way.”

“Excellent,” Chade told him and I nodded. I was putting a measure of ground willowbark into one of the cups. I added some valerian. Chade watched me curiously. I flicked a glance at the boy. Chade nodded, and then reached past me to add an additional pinch of valerian. “Your valerian looks stale, too,” he chided me. “You should renew your stock more often.”

I said nothing to that, but nodded as I added hot water to the cup. I knew the old man would not apologize for his earlier remarks; this was his way of trying to put us back to our old foundation. I'd take it. I set the cup on the floor by Perseverance. “Let that brew for a time, and then drink it all. It won't taste good, but it's not about taste.”

“Is that elfbark?” he asked anxiously.

“No. It's willowbark for your fever, and valerian to take some of the pain away. How's your shoulder?”

“It throbs,” he admitted. “All the way to my back and up my neck.”

“The tea will help.”

He looked up at me. “Will that other tea hurt my mother? When she remembers?”

“I expect it will be hard for her. But the choice is to leave her alone for the rest of her life. She wouldn't remember your father dying, but she'd never recall she'd had a son.”

“She'd have my aunt, and my cousins. They live down in Withy.”

“Boy?” It was FitzVigilant, cutting into our conversation. “I'll be drinking it first. We'll see what it does to me. Then you can decide about giving it to your mother.”

Perseverance stared up at him. “Thank you, sir,” he said doubtfully.

Lant spoke to his father. “Is it brewed enough?”

“We'll see,” Chade said quietly. He poured some into a cup, looked at it, smelled it, and then filled the cup the rest of the way. He handed the cup to Lant. “Go slowly with it. Let us know if you sense a difference, or start to remember that night.”

Lant sat down. He looked at the tea in the cup. We were all watching him as he raised it and took a sip. He made a face. “It's a bit too hot. And it tastes bitter.” But almost immediately he took another sip. He lifted his eyes. “Could you not stare?” he said to me. I shifted my eyes. A moment later, he said, “It's so quiet.”

Chade and I exchanged a glance. I stole a look at Lant. He was staring at the liquid in his cup. He took a breath, as if daring himself, and then drained it down. He made a pained face and then sat still, holding the cup. He closed his eyes. His brow wrinkled and then he hunched in on himself. “Oh, sweet Eda,” he groaned. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!”

Chade went to him. He set his hands on Lant's shoulder and, with a tenderness I'd seldom seen in him, leaned down to say softly by his ear, “Let yourself remember. It's the only way you can help her now. Remember it all.”

Lant bowed his face into his hands, and I suddenly saw how young he was. Not even twenty. Raised far more gently than I had been. The beating from his stepmother's thugs might well have been the first real violence he'd experienced in his life. He'd never pulled an oar on a war galley, let alone swung an axe through a man's midsection. Chade had already told me that Lant hadn't been able to kill. And I'd entrusted him with Bee's life. And Shun's.

“Tell me what happened,” Chade said quietly. I leaned back to sit on the edge of my desk and kept perfectly still.

Lant's voice was tight. “Well. We came back here after Badgerlock and the beggar went into the Skill-pillar. Me, and Shun—” His voice broke on her name. “And Bee. We didn't understand any of what had happened in Oaksbywater, not why he killed a dog and then bought its puppies, nor why he stabbed the beggar and then took him by magic to Buckkeep. We, that is, Shun and I, were both rather angry about all of it. First he had said I was not competent to teach Bee and then he had gone off and left her completely in my care. And he had insulted Lady Shun as well!” Lant was suddenly just a youngster, pouring out his wrongs to Chade. The old man shot me a questioning look. I met his stare with a flat gaze of my own.

“Get to the next day,” I suggested.

At my tone, Lant straightened his back. “Yes. Well. As you might imagine, the servants, including Steward Revel, were very confused when the master of the house did not return. Shun and I assured them that we were capable of looking after Withywoods for a few days. Despite how tired we were, Shun and I sat up that night, and she undertook to plan the festivities for Winterfest. We were up very late. And so we did not rise early the next morning. I regret to say that I was late joining my students in the schoolroom. Bee was there, looking tired but otherwise fine. And when we parted that morning, Shun had said that she would speak with the staff about decorating the house and talk to the musicians who had come to see if she could not send for more entertainers.” He looked suddenly at Chade. “You said my sister was taken, earlier.” For two breaths, I watched the knowledge spread through him. “Shun is my sister? Truly? By blood?”

“You are both my offspring, both Fallstars,” Chade assured him.

Could Chade ignore the deep dismay that washed over Lant's features? I wondered what had passed between him and Shun on the evening they had stayed up so late. I decided I never wanted to know.

“Continue,” Chade reminded Lant. The scribe had lifted his hand to cover his mouth. When he took it away, his mouth trembled for a moment before he mastered himself. He tried to sit up straighter, then winced at his wound. Chade looked at me. “Valerian and willowbark,” he requested. I took Lant's cup and made the requested tea while I listened.

“Well, I had just settled my students when we heard noises. I was not alarmed, but puzzled. I thought it might be some sort of altercation among the servants, with pot-throwing. I told my students to stay and study and went into the hallway. I soon realized the sounds were coming from the front entrance, not the kitchens. I heard Revel's voice raised, and I ran toward the commotion. When I got to the hall, I saw Revel there and two of the serving boys. They were trying to hold the doors closed, but someone was pounding on them and shouting. I thought perhaps we had drunken tinkers at the door. Then someone shoved a sword through the crack of the door and caught one of the serving boys in the hand. I shouted at Revel to hold the door while I got help. I went to find a sword, calling to the servants to warn Shun and to arm themselves. I took the old sword that used to be there, over the mantel. And I ran back.” He wet his lips. His gaze went distant and his breathing deepened.

“Fitz,” Chade said quietly. “Perhaps some more elfbark in that mix.”

Before I could move, Perseverance was on his feet. He brought the teapot to Lant, took the cup from his hand, and added the elfbark brew. Lant was sitting very still. Chade still stood behind him. He leaned down and said quietly, “Son, take the cup. And drink it.”

A peculiar pang passed through me. It could not have been jealousy.

Lant did as his father told him. This time, his expression scarcely changed as he set the cup back down. “I've never been a fighter. You know that. You both know that!” His admission sounded more like an accusation. Then his voice dropped. “I'm just not. A friendly bout, with practice blades, on a summer day with a friend and comparing bruises later is one thing. But when I went running back, the door had already given way. I saw Revel stagger past me, holding his gut. And one of the lads was on the floor in a pool of blood. The other youngster was trying to hold them off with his belt-knife. The first man through the door laughed, and cut his head off. And then it was only me in the hall, facing first one, then three, and then at least six of them. I tried to fight. I did. I was shouting for help and I tried to fight, but this wasn't fencing, man against man. There were no rules! I engaged with one man, and a second stepped forward. I managed to hold my own but the entry hall is wide. The invaders just went around us, and I heard them running down the halls behind me. And I heard screams, and things breaking. And the man in front of me suddenly laughed.”