Master and Fool (88 page)

While he was
writing the dough had formed a fat globe beneath the cloth. Jack blotted and
folded the letter, then slipped it into his tunic before cutting the dough into
loaves.

Now that the
letter was finished, he felt clear-headed. He would leave the lodge today,
leave his friends and his life here, and try to find himself anew. Writing the
letter had been the right thing to do: it was an explanation, an apology, and a
farewell.

Jack shaped the
loaves, placed them on the floured paddle, and then transferred them to the
oven. Just as he fixed the oven door in place, he heard the sound of horses
trotting up the path. A few seconds later Nabber burst into the kitchen.

"Hey, Jack.
How are you, my old friend?"

"Nabber!"
Jack was genuinely surprised. It had been many weeks since he had last seen the
young pocket. "I hadn't expected to see you all the way out here. Are Tawl
and Melli with you?"

"Tawl
is." Nabber strolled over to the table where Jack was preparing the bread
and began prodding at various things he found there. "We're on our way
south-heading back to Rom. Thought we'd just stop by and say farewell." It
was a day for parting, then. Jack glanced toward the doorframe where his pack
lay ready for the taking. "So what business do you have in Rorn?"

Nabber ran his
forger through the layer of flour on the table top. "Well, I can't speak
for Tawl, but personally I'm hoping to move up in the world. Last time I was in
Rorn I got a very interesting offer. Very interesting, indeed. The Old Man said
he might have a place for me in his organization. You know, helping with his
personal finances and so on." Nabber waited a moment to give Jack time to
look suitably impressed. "'Course I'd appreciate it if you kept it to
yourself."

"Of
course."

"Jack!"
Tawl stepped through the door. Crossing the room in two mighty strides, he
caught Jack in a huge bear hug. "It's good to see you, friend."

Jack looked into
the knight's face. All the hardness and strain that had once been there had now
disappeared completely. It was as if he had been made anew. "It's good to
see you, too," he said, meaning it more than he could ever hope to convey.

The two men stood
and looked at each other for a moment. Jack got the feeling Tawl was appraising
him, looking for damage ... or signs of repair. After a moment he nodded,
seeming satisfied with what he saw. "Has Nabber told you where we're
headed?"

"Where but
not why."

Tawl grinned like
a naughty choirboy. "I think it's high time someone finally put the
archbishop of Rom in his place." Jack smiled, catching his mood. "And
what place is that?"

"I'm not
fussy-the gutters or the streets, either will do." Grabbing a wedge of
cheese from the table, Tawl began to chew on it. Jack noticed that he had an
extra circle on his forearm: three of them now, the third one red around the
edges, newly branded. The white scar that had once cut through the circles had
disappeared completely. "Seriously, I'm leading a party of knights down to
Rom. Nabber here knows a thing or two about the archbishop, that will-how
should I put it?-help hasten His Eminence's departure."

Nabber was on his
way out of the back door. "You'd better not tell anyone it was me who
snitched on him, Tawl. Lose my reputation, I would." With that, Nabber
strolled out in the courtyard and into the fields beyond.

Jack watched him
go. "What will happen to Melli while you're away?" he said, turning
to Tawl after a few minutes. Tawl raked his fingers through his hair. "You
know how strong-willed she is, Jack. She practically forced me into taking the
leadership--even rescinded my oath." Tawl shook his head, smiling softly.
"She's right though; getting rid of Tyren is only half the job. There's a
lot of work to be done at Valdis, things that I think I can help with, changes
I'd like to make. At one time men used to be proud to call themselves knights:
I'd like to see that day again."

"I think you
can make it happen."

"I hope
so." Tawl's voice was soft. "I really hope I can."

"So, you and
Melli . . . " Jack's words trailed off as he realized he couldn't think of
a polite way of putting things. "Won't get married." The grin had
returned to Tawl's face. "Well, I wouldn't say no for definite, Jack.
After all, I did say I wanted to make changes." His blue eyes twinkled
brighter than Jack had ever seen them.

"You
mean-"

"Yes. I
always thought it was a senseless rule that knights couldn't marry. Give me a
couple of years and I'm sure I'll bring others around to my way of thinking."

"I'm sure you
will." Both men laughed. Tawl's excitement was infectious.

"So you're
leaving, too?" Tawl nodded toward Jack's pack.

"Yes. I'm
heading to Annis. There's a man I know there--Stillfox, his name is. He started
to teach me things, only I ran off before he could finish. Now I think it's
time I went back and learnt something."

"Will you
come back here when you're done?"

Jack shook his
head. "I don't know. I think I might do some traveling first. See some
places, head west to Silbur, then south to Isro."

Tawl turned his
face to the window. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough. "We'll be
a long time parted." Jack felt a sharp ache in his heart. He and Tawl were
connected in so many ways: through prophecies, dreams, and shared adventures.
And blood. Jack remembered the first time they met in Cravin's wine cellar.
They were joined by blood, too.

It was hard to
believe the time had come for them to part. He owed Tawl so much. The knight
had saved his life, not once but twice, and ultimately led him to the truth. He
was always there when he was needed.

Jack took a quick
breath and asked Tawl what had been on his mind for many weeks now: "What
made you come for me that night in the palace?"

Tawl continued to
stare out of the window. His answer came quickly, as if his thoughts had been following
the same path. "I'm not really sure, Jack. After I killed Tyren I lay in
the tent for hours sleeping, daydreaming, thinking of my family. Somehow my
thoughts drifted to you, and there was something-"Tawl shrugged. "I
didn't feel any grief, just a sort of niggling emptiness. The next thing I
knew, I was in the middle of the camp arranging a raid into the palace. It all
happened so fast; my clothes were covered in Tyren's blood, so someone gave me
the knights' colors to wear, many of Maybor's men were injured, so a couple of
knights volunteered to come along. An hour later we were in the heart of the
palace."

"I wasn't
sure you were alive though, not until we saw a girl in a green dress wandering
around the passageways. We took the gag off her and she said a tall,
brown-haired man had tied her up. After that there was no stopping us."
Tawl made a deprecating gesture with his hand.

"You got
there just in time." Jack's memories of the night were patchy, but the
sight of Tawl coming toward him as he fell was something he'd remember for the
rest of his life. So much fire and brightness and pain, and in the middle of
everything came Tawl.

Tawl's blue eyes
met his. "I was blessed that night, Jack. We all were."

The truth of the
knight's words stopped all talk for a while, and Jack returned to his baking
while Tawl stared out of the window to the green and flowering meadow beyond.
When finally he spoke again, the subject, although different, was in essence
the same. "Grift found Bodger wandering the streets a couple of weeks
back. He'd been locked in a dungeon for Borc knows how long, and when the fire
in the palace started, the jailer had no choice but to let the prisoners out.
In the confusion Bodger managed to run away."

So many of them
had been blessed that night. So many separate miracles had taken place within
the whole. Jack closed his eyes a moment, overwhelmed with the closeness of it
all. Although he was feeling more awed than happy, he smiled and said, "So
Bodger and Grift are back together again, then?"

"Much to the
horror of the entire female population of Bren," said Tawl, laughing
gently. As he spoke, Tawl beckoned to Nabber through the open window. Turning
back to Jack, he said, "We've got to be going now. We've a long day's ride
ahead of us." Again came the searching look of minutes earlier, only this
time there was sadness at the heart of the scrutiny. "If you are in
trouble, send a message and I will come. If you are weary of being alone, seek
me out, and we will journey together once more."

Jack couldn't
reply. He couldn't trust himself to speak. A minute later, Nabber appeared at
the window. His sharp young eyes immediately took in the nature of the silence
that lay between them, and he set about lightening it as only he could.
"Once this journey's over," he said, "I swear on Swift's
mother's grave that there's no way I'm getting on a horse ever again. Why
anyone would choose to ride when they could be sailing on the high seas, I'll
never know." Jack find Tawl looked at each other an instant longer, and
then laughed with simple joy.

"Well,"
said Tawl laying his hand on Jack's shoulder, "it's time we were off. Take
care, my friend. My thoughts will always be with you."

"And mine
with you." Jack wanted to say more, wanted to thank Tawl for everything he
had done and all he had just offered, but something in the knight's face
stopped him. There would never be any need for thanks between them.

Jack walked around
to the front of the lodge to watch them go. Tawl looked exactly as Jack had
always imagined knights to look: fair, powerful, self-assured. Raising his
newly marked forearm in parting, Tawl turned his horse and rode away.

Jack swallowed
hard, torn between sadness and joy. He watched the two riders disappear into
the deep green shadows of the distant pines. His eyes strained to catch every
possible detail he could, saving them as precious memories in his heart. When
finally there was nothing more to see, Jack began the short walk back to the
lodge.

The smell of
baking bread filled the kitchen. Jack took the loaves from the oven and set
them to cool on the table. He sat and watched the steam rise from the crusts
for a few moments and then, suddenly overcome with a deep need to be gone, he
made his way to the door. He'd leave this batch for the caretaker.

Hoisting his pack
over his shoulder, he made his way out into the noonday sun. He didn't feel
much like riding, so he led his horse along the path and into the grassland
beyond. The breeze from the mountains was soft and fragrant and fresh. Insects
buzzed, small birds called from bushes, and a solitary hawk circled high
overhead. The sun was warm on Jack's neck and the side of his face, the grass
crackled beneath his feet. The letter to Tarissa pushed gently against his
heart as he followed Tawl's path to the pines. By the time he reached the tree
line, the shade had shifted from west to east, and although his horse was
inclined to follow the eastern trail left by Nabber and Tawl's horses, Jack
guided the gelding due south. He felt like traveling alone for a while.

The End