Fool's Quest (64 page)

His fingers paused in their dancing. He rubbed the scarred tips of those fingers together and said, “Ah, but once I could.”

“And now neither of us can.”

“But your limitation will pass. Your Skill will return.”

“I believe it will, though even that is not certain. Some of the older scrolls speak of quenching forever the Skill in those who used it for ill purposes. And they used elfbark to do it.”

“How much did you take?”

“Two doses. One of weak elfbark here. And one of delvenbark as I got closer. I believe it will pass. What I cannot predict is how long it will take.”

He was silent for a time. “I had intended that the first part of our journey to Clerres would be made through the stones, as when Prilkop and I traveled there.” He was subdued.

“It seems you have it all planned out.”

The firelight glinted oddly on his skin as he shook his head. “No. I have planned only the possible. The impossible I have yet to map out.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. We will leave from the dungeons of Buckkeep. I have learned from Ash that several times he was ordered to await the return of Lord Chade in a certain corridor. Once he crept forward, peered around a corner, and saw his master emerge from a stone wall. A wall with a rune on it.”

“It goes to Aslevjal.”

The Fool made a sound of exasperation. “You might at least pretend to be surprised.”

It came to me like a curtain parting. He was trying to distract me from my mourning. Trying to lift me from a pain we shared. I tried to find something new to tell him. “It was part of Chade's downfall. His curiosity. He traveled by the stones too often, creeping off to Aslevjal to prowl the corridors there in search of more Skill-knowledge. Nor did he follow the precaution of waiting at least three days between journeys. He would go and return in a single night, and sometimes do so for several nights in succession.”

“No amount of curiosity could lure me back to that place,” he said, and there was a shadow of old dread in his voice. The fire crackled and we both recalled our torments there.

“Yet you would go back there as the first part of your journey to Clerres?”

“I would. Such is my determination. Such is my need.”

I said nothing. The fire spoke in the silence, hissing and popping when it hit a pocket of sap.

“Very well, then,” he said at last. “If you will not plan this with me, then what will you do, Fitz? What are your plans for the rest of your life?” He made a small dismissive sound and asked, “What will you do tomorrow?”

His question was a dash of cold water in my face. What would I do? I had no woman to care for and protect, no child to raise. “I just woke up. I don't even know what I'll do today.”

He frowned. “It's morning? Not late at night?”

“Morning. Dawn.” Another day of Bee being gone. Tonight would be another night of the same. And tomorrow would be another empty dawn. What would I do with my life now? I knew. But it was not a choice I intended to share with anyone.

I became aware of her an instant before the tapestry moved. I was looking at it as the corner lifted and Spark appeared in her tidy dress of Buckkeep blue. She wore a little white cap on her head today, edged with lace and decorated all round with horn buttons steeped blue. A pretty girl who would grow to be a lovely woman.

As Bee never would.

“Excuse me, sir. I went by your room with a breakfast tray and left it there for you. But …”

She hesitated and I knew her difficulty. I hadn't been there and my bed hadn't been slept in.

“I'm here. I'll find my breakfast when I go down. Don't be concerned, Spark.”

“Oh, it wasn't the food, sir. I was given a message by the steward, to be given to you as soon as you were awake.”

“And?”

“The king will be meeting with the Duke of Farrow this morning, in his private chambers. He desires you wait in the antechamber so he can speak with you afterward.”

“Very well. Thank you, Spark.”

“You're very welcome, sir, I'm sure.” She hesitated. She was going to offer me her condolences. I didn't want them. I didn't want to hear anyone say again how sorry they were that Bee was gone. She saw my face and just nodded. To the Fool she said, “Sir, did you want your breakfast now, or in a while?”

The Fool made a sound between amusement and disgust. “Actually, I'm just off to bed. Perhaps later, Spark?”

“Certainly, sir.” She dropped an effortless curtsy, and I thought I glimpsed a brief smile, as if this were a new skill and one that pleased her. Then she whisked herself away.

“Well, Dutiful has saved you for today. But I warn you, Fitz: If you don't decide what you will do with the rest of your life, someone else will decide it for you.”

“Scarcely a new situation for me,” I reminded him. “I'd best go and wait for Dutiful to see me.”

“You'd best head to the steams before you go to meet the king. I actually smelled you before I heard you.”

“Oh.” I scowled as I realized I was still wearing the clothes I'd had on when I left Ringhill Keep. And I'd slept in Kettricken's bed in them.

“One thing still bothers me,” the Fool said suddenly. He had leaned back in his chair, and his fingers were once more dancing between him and the fire's light. The pale fingers gleamed almost golden.

“What's that?”

“Shine told you that Dwalia led them into the Skill-pillar. Not Vindeliar, who I suppose has some measure of Skill or a similar magic. But Dwalia. I knew her. She is a Servant, through and through. Not a drop of White in her, and certainly not Skilled. How did she do it?”

What did it matter? She'd done it. I cast my mind back for the details of Shine's account. “Shine said that Dwalia made them all hold hands. Then she put on a glove before she touched the stone. A very thin glove with silver fingertips …”

We both understood in the same instant. I stared as he turned his scarred fingers toward himself as if he could see the sliced surfaces. “I wondered why they took them,” he observed. “Now we know.”

They had sliced the Skill from his fingertips, sewn it into a glove, and used it to take my child into the stone. I had to gasp to remember how to breathe. I felt a surge of revulsion and then, for a blink, fury cracked through my sorrow.

I had to look aside from him for a time. When I looked back, he was rubbing the tips of his scarred fingers together, as if recalling when they were silvered with magic.

In my room I found my cooling breakfast and clothing laid out for me. I stared at the food with no appetite, then moved it around a bit so it would appear I had eaten some. Even as I did it, I wondered why I bothered. Did I think Spark or Ash would report that I wasn't eating? To whom? Ridiculous.

I went down to the Buckkeep steams, my clean clothing under my arm. The steams were a grand tradition in Buckkeep, a place where roaring flames met icy water. There was a chamber for washing, a chamber for steaming and sweating, and then a place to wash off that sweat and clothe oneself. There was a section for guardsmen and servants. And another set of chambers that I had never visited, for nobility, including the royal family. Today I ventured there.

I was both disturbed and annoyed to find there was an attendant waiting to take my garments, both clean and dirty, to pour warm water over me in the bathing pool and offer me soap and a scrubbing cloth, to douse me again, to rinse me, and then to offer to dash the water onto the red-hot sides of the iron firebox to create steam for me. I greeted his earnest ministrations with silence for the most part. I tried not to be surly and resentful. It was difficult. The steams had once been a place where I could be alone with my thoughts, or enjoy the rough camaraderie of the guardsmen. Gone.

Clean and dry, I assured the man I could clothe myself and waved him out of the small dressing chamber. There was a bench there, and even a looking-glass and brushes. I put myself into reasonable order.

The antechamber of Dutiful's audience chamber was a comfortable room with a fire in the hearth and benches and chairs with cushions. Large paintings of hunting scenes in gilt frames enlivened the stone walls. One could smoke or have a cup of tea. Two servants stood ready to bring whatever the waiting guest might request. I was not the only person waiting for time with Dutiful. One elderly woman in a button-cluttered gown and an elaborate hat was already deep in her cups. A simply clad fellow had spread several scrolls out on a table and was adding notes to them as he waited. Two young nobles were seated at opposite ends of a bench and glaring at each other. A dispute for Dutiful to resolve.

Eventually, the door opened and the Duke of Farrow emerged with his advisor. He was greeted by his two serving men, afforded me a hasty bow, and hurried on his way. I was surprised, as were the others who were waiting, when the page immediately indicated that I should enter. One cleared his throat loudly, but the page ignored him cheerily and escorted me in.

This chamber was elaborately appointed and featured a more martial aspect than the antechamber had. The paintings were of battles and heroes, and the spaces between were occupied by weapons won in conquest. There was a throne for the king situated in the middle of the room, on a dais. At the other end of the room there was an area with a small table and comfortable chairs arranged around it. It was close to a cozy hearth, and light refreshments were set out on the table.

That was not where Dutiful was.

He sat on his throne, robed and crowned, and I could not mistake that my audience was with King Dutiful of the Six Duchies, not my cousin. I advanced slowly into the room. When I glanced back, the page had vanished. But there was no welcoming smile on Dutiful's face to put me at ease, and no casual greeting.

When I reached what I judged was the proper distance, I bowed. “My king.”

“Prince FitzChivalry.” The height of the throne was such that, even seated, Dutiful was looking down at me. I waited. He spoke quietly. “You found Shine Fallstar and brought her home. My mother has taken charge of her. Her restoration to Lord Chade has brought him much comfort and eased his condition. Thank you for that service.”

I bowed my head. “It was part of what I set out to do.”

He replied not to that, but said, “Before you secretly left Buckkeep Castle, the last time we convened to discuss the kidnapping, in Verity's tower, I asked you if you remembered that I was your king.”

I gave a slow nod.

For a time longer, he sat looking at me. Then he slowly shook his head. “Prince FitzChivalry, I speak to you as your monarch. I called you here today to remind you, again, that I am your king. To remind you also that you are Prince FitzChivalry, and fully in the public eye. I regret that in the midst of our grief, this is what we must discuss. But I dare not let you continue as you've begun!” He paused and I saw him strive to retain his composure.

“I repeat what I mentioned yesterday. There is more going on in Buckkeep than our private tragedy. More going on than Lord Chade coming unraveled and you being unpredictable with your Skill. More going on than announcing that Nettle is my cousin, and is married and with child. More than us trying to reconcile Tom Badgerlock and Prince FitzChivalry and dealing with someone trying to kill Lant, and Shine's stepfather attempting to murder Lord Chade. The Six Duchies and the Mountain Kingdom form a very large gaming board, and there are many pieces in motion, always. Beyond our borders, we have Chalced and the Out Islands, Bingtown and Jamaillia. And we have dragons, and each dragon is like dealing with a separate country, when they are interested in negotiating at all.”

His voice had begun to shake. He paused a moment and I sensed that he fought to get his feelings under control. Yet when he spoke again, it was the hurt that came through more than his displeasure with me.

“Always before, I've been able to count on you. To know that you had the best interest of the Six Duchies at heart, and would be honest with me even if it pained me to hear what you had to say. Always I felt I could trust you. At the very least, I knew that you would never do anything to cause me greater difficulties with my reign. I don't forget what you've done for me. How you brought me back from my ill-considered flight to the Old Bloods, and how you accompanied me to free Icefyre and win my queen. I know that you've intervened on my behalf with both my mother and with Lord Chade, to assert that I was to be king in truth as well as in name. I hold this throne in part because of your efforts to see me secure upon it.”

He paused. I was looking at the ground between us. He waited until I lifted my eyes to meet his. “FitzChivalry Farseer, why did you take this action on your own? You could have challenged my plan, given me your reasons. I would have listened, as you have listened to me. Why did you not entrust me with your plans?”

I told him the truth. “I knew you would forbid it. And then I would have to disobey you.”

He sat a little straighter on his throne. “You did disobey me. You know that.”

I did. I felt childish as I tempered it with, “Not directly.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. This does no honor to either of us. Fitz, you have stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight where everything you do will be scrutinized. Because you are so newly restored to us, even your smallest action is of great interest and fuel for gossip. I am not Chade, able to invent an instant veil of lies to drape whatever you do in respectability.” He drew a breath in my silence. “Report. Leave nothing out. Tell me all you did not share with my mother and your daughter. Report to me as if I were Chade.”

I forgot myself. “How is Chade?”

“Somewhat better. You may go from here to his chamber and see for yourself. Later. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer, I am not reporting to you. Give me an account of
all
you did since you decided to leave Buckkeep Castle. Spare me nothing.”

I made my decision quickly. Perhaps it was time my king truly knew me. Perhaps his assassins should not conceal the dirty work they did for the throne. And what I was capable of doing for myself. And so I told him, and left out no detail. I spoke of drugging my companions, and how I had taken both carris seed and elfbark. And then I told him in detail of what I had done to the handsome rapist and to “Duke” Ellik.

He did not interrupt my account. His expression remained impassive. When I finished, he was silent for some time. I tried to be unobtrusive as I shifted my weight. He looked down on me. Did he evaluate me and find me wanting? Did he wish he had never drawn me out of the shadows?

“Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. You were a witness to my trying to run away from who and what I was. You reminded me of my duty and brought me back to it.

“I know you have not always been treated as if you were a prince. You have been given duties ill suited to your bloodlines, trained to tasks that should never have been yours. Or Chade's. I know it was my grandfather's will that put both of you on that path.

“And now it is my will that removes you from it.” He waited while I tried to make sense of his words. “Do you understand me? I see you don't. Very well. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer, you are never again to consider yourself an assassin. Never to be the one to do the so-called quiet work or be the king's justice. My justice will be rendered in daylight, before all. Not by poison or a knife in the dark. Now do you understand me?”

I nodded slowly. My head was spinning. So many times, over decades of my life, I had protested that I did not want to kill anymore. Over and over, I had said that I was no longer an assassin. But now my king snatched the title and those duties away from me, and it felt like a rebuke. I blinked. Not a husband. Scarcely a father. And not an assassin. What was left of me?

Had he sensed my question? “You will behave as befits a prince of the Farseer line. With honor and dignity. With courtesy. You will share the wisdom of your years with my sons and assist in guiding them through their early manhood. If I choose to send you on a diplomatic mission, you will go to negotiate, not poison someone! As Prince FitzChivalry Farseer.”

Each time he said my full name with that title attached to it, I almost felt as if he were reciting a magic spell of binding. As if he would set a boundary around me. I found I was nodding slowly. Was this what the Fool had meant? Someone would find a life for me. And what he was describing was not so terrible. So why did it feel so hollow?

He was still staring at me.

I bowed gravely. “I understand, my king.”

“Say it.” His words were stiff with command.

I drew a breath. The words I spoke seemed almost traitorous. “I am no longer your assassin, King Dutiful. I am to comport myself always as Prince FitzChivalry Farseer.”

“No.” He spoke precisely. “Not ‘comport.'
Be.
You are Prince FitzChivalry Farseer.”

I hesitated. “Lady Rosemary—”

“Is Lady Rosemary.” Finality in that.

Questions darted about in my mind like trapped fish in a barrel.

“Prince FitzChivalry, I will look forward to seeing you at dinner this evening.”

I winced at the thought of plunging back into court life. He said more quietly, “Stand with your family, FitzChivalry. This is something we will bear together.”

That was a dismissal. I bowed again. “My king,” I said, and withdrew.

I was completely distracted as I passed through the antechamber and back into the corridors of Buckkeep Castle. I had no destination in mind when I heard a soft patter of hasty footsteps behind me. I turned to find Spark hurrying to catch up with me. “Sir, please, a moment!” Her cheeks were very pink and I knew a spike of terror. What had happened to the Fool?

But when she caught up to me, her news could not have startled me more. “Sir, I wished to let you know that I've finished moving your things to your new chambers.”

“My new chambers?”

“Rooms more fitting to your, um, new standing, sir.” Spark was plainly as uneasy with this as I was. She dangled a shining brass key attached to a braided silk fob. “You have the Heliotrope apartments now.”

I stared at her.

“I was told that they were once occupied by Lady Patience and her staff.”

Her staff. One serving woman. But the suite was substantially larger than my single bedchamber. Just down the hall from Lord Chade. With no access to the spy-warren. I was staring at Spark still.

“Of course, they've been redone since she lived there. Several times, I imagine. They're very nice, sir. There's a splendid view of the sea and you can look down on the gardens.”

“Yes. I know,” I said faintly.

“And your friend is to occupy the chambers once given to Lord Golden. Familiar rooms for him, though I am not to divulge that to anyone save you. I am to serve him now. As well as you, of course. I'll have a room that is part of his chambers.”

A room I once occupied. I found my voice. “It sounds as if you've had a change in occupation as well.”

She shook her head and a curl escaped from her cap to dance on her brow. “Oh, no, sir, I've been a serving girl since I came to Buckkeep Castle.” She smiled but there was worry in her eyes. We shared that anxiety.