Fool's Fate Part 16

He Skilled a disgusted groan at me, but did as I asked. And when the pony bolted, I sprang up and raced after it full speed, deliberately more chasing him than attempting to catch the creature. Together we flushed a woman, clad all in moss green and brown from her hiding place. She fled with no pretense of doing anything else, and I recognized not only how she moved but the very faint scent of her that I caught. Much as I longed to chase after her, I did not. Instead I Skilled what I now knew to both Chade and Dutiful.

That was Henja! The Narcheska's servant from Buckkeep. She's here on the island, spying on us.

Neither replied to me save with a wave of dread.

I was deliberately awkward at catching the pony. Finally Peottre came to help me. "We gave that old woman quite a fright!" I observed to him as I herded the pony toward him.

He seized the recalcitrant little animal by the forelock and looked up at the sky. He never met my gaze. "It grows dark. We are fortunate the Prince did not take a worse fall and severely injure himself." Then, to our wards, "We should go back now. The ponies are tired of jumping and night draws on."

I wondered if he had tried to warn me of a worse danger to the Prince than falling from a pony's back. I took him around again. "Do you think that poor old woman is all right? Should we look for her? She seemed quite frightened. I wonder what she was doing behind those boulders."

Face and voice impa.s.sive, he replied, "She was probably just gathering kindling. Or herbs or roots. I do not think we need bother about her." He lifted his voice. "Elliania! The time for fun is over. We should return to the mothershouse."

I saw Elliania's face when you made Henja run. The Narcheska was startled. And now she is frightened.

The brusque nod she gave to Peottre's words confirmed the Prince's opinion. She slid immediately from her pony's back, and then lifted the hackamore from his head, turning him loose on the hillside. Peottre did the same for the beast the Prince had been riding, and suddenly I found myself walking back to the mothershouse alongside them. Elliania and Dutiful led the way, and the silence between them contrasted sadly with their earlier merriment. My heart was heavy for him. He was learning to love this Outislander girl, but every time they drew closer to one another, the d.a.m.ned politics of throne and power wedged them apart. I felt a sudden rush of anger, and spoke rashly.

"That was Henja, wasn't it? That woman hiding in the bushes. She was the Narcheska's servant in Buckkeep Castle, if I recall correctly."

I give the man credit for his composure. Although he could not look at me, his voice was calm. "I doubt it. She left our service before we departed Buckkeep. We both believed she might be happier in the Six Duchies, and thus were glad to release her."

"Perhaps she returned to Wuislington on her own. Perhaps she became homesick."

"This is not her home; she is not of our mothershouse," Peottre announced firmly.

"How odd." I was determined to be relentless. As a mere guardsman, I would not be expected to possess tact, only curiosity. "I thought that in this country, the mother's family was all-important; anyone attending the Narcheska would be of her mother's line."

"Ordinarily, yes." Peottre's voice was growing stiffer. "No woman of the family could be spared at the time we sailed. So we hired her."

"I see." I shrugged. "I have wondered, why do not Elliania's mother and sisters attend her now? Are they dead?"

He shuddered as if I'd stuck a dart in him. "No. They aren't." Bitterness came into his voice. "Her two older brothers are. They died in Kebal Rawbread's war. Her mother and her younger sister live but they are . . . detained elsewhere, on an important matter. If they could be here with her now, they would."

"Oh, I'm sure of that," I replied blandly. I was convinced of the truth of every word he had uttered, and just as certain that I did not have the entire truth.

Late that night, while Thick slept heavily, I Skilled as much to Chade. I tried to keep my thoughts to the old man private and separate from my Skill-link to the Prince. I could sense his restless sleep. The undercurrent of the boy's frustration and impatience set my nerves on edge. I tried to set his emotions aside as I communicated to Chade all that had pa.s.sed between Peottre and me. Chade was annoyed with my bluntness with Peottre even as he was avidly interested in the man's responses. There are designs within designs here, like one of the Fool's wooden puzzle b.a.l.l.s. I am convinced that he and the Narcheska have an agenda of their own, and that not all in her mothershouse know of it. Some do. Almata for example. And the Narcheska's great-grandmother has been told, but I do not think she can hold the significance in her mind. Lestra and her mother interest me. Lestra stands to become narcheska when Elliania goes off to Buckkeep to wed Dutiful. Yet, she seems to vie with Elliania for Dutiful's attention, and I suspect her mother encourages it. Does she grasp that eventually becoming Queen of the Six Duchies might be a loftier ambition than stealing the narcheska t.i.tle from Elliania? I do not think Lestra and her mother attach any importance to Elliania's demand for the dragon's head. I think that Lestra's ambitions should give both Elliania and Peottre concern, yet they seem to remain aloof, their thoughts elsewhere. Elliania only drives Lestra off when the challenge becomes too blatant to ignore. There are designs within designs here, like one of the Fool's wooden puzzle b.a.l.l.s. I am convinced that he and the Narcheska have an agenda of their own, and that not all in her mothershouse know of it. Some do. Almata for example. And the Narcheska's great-grandmother has been told, but I do not think she can hold the significance in her mind. Lestra and her mother interest me. Lestra stands to become narcheska when Elliania goes off to Buckkeep to wed Dutiful. Yet, she seems to vie with Elliania for Dutiful's attention, and I suspect her mother encourages it. Does she grasp that eventually becoming Queen of the Six Duchies might be a loftier ambition than stealing the narcheska t.i.tle from Elliania? I do not think Lestra and her mother attach any importance to Elliania's demand for the dragon's head. I think that Lestra's ambitions should give both Elliania and Peottre concern, yet they seem to remain aloof, their thoughts elsewhere. Elliania only drives Lestra off when the challenge becomes too blatant to ignore.

Like their fistfight on the night of the wedding?

Betrothal, Fitz. Betrothal. We do not recognize that ceremony as a true wedding. The Prince must be wed at home, in Buckkeep, and the marriage must be consummated. But no, not just that confrontation. Lestra has made several attempts at him since then, usually when the Narcheska is not about.

Does Elliania know?

How could she?

He might tell her, I speculated. I wonder what would happen if she knew? I wonder what would happen if she knew?

I have no desire to find out. The situation is quite complicated enough as it is. Perhaps this is just a rivalry between girl cousins. I wish I understood Henja's role in all this. Is she just some dotty old woman? Or more? Are you quite sure it was she?

Quite. It had not been just my eyes that confirmed it, but I would not tell Chade I had scented her, and that enough of the wolf remained in me to be certain of that sense. It had not been just my eyes that confirmed it, but I would not tell Chade I had scented her, and that enough of the wolf remained in me to be certain of that sense.

Our conversation had wearied Chade and I let him go to his rest. I checked to be sure the cottage door was latched, and then regretfully closed the window shutters, as well. I did not like sleeping in such a tightly closed place. I always slept best when I could feel air moving freely on my face, but after my sighting of Henja that day, I would not give anyone the opportunity to have a clear shot at me.

Such was my frame of mind as I settled myself for sleep, and the next morning, I tried to use it to account for my nightmares. Yet it was not fair to call my dreams that. There was nothing of terror in them, only uneasiness, and a vividness that was not Skill-walking, but something else. I dreamed of the Fool as he had been once, not as Lord Golden but as a pale, frail lad with colorless eyes. In that guise, he bestrode the stone dragon behind Girl-on-a-Dragon, and together they rose into the blue skies. But then suddenly he became Lord Golden, and as he rode behind the carved and soulless girl that was a part of the dragon sculpture that he had called back to wakefulness and life, a black-and-white cloak fluttered out on the wind behind him. His hair was pulled back sleek and tight from his face and bound back like a warrior's tail. His expression was so set and stern that he looked as soulless as the Girl whose slender waist he clasped. His hands were bare, I saw in surprise, for it had been a very long time since I had seen him do anything ungloved. Higher they rose into the sky, and higher still, and then suddenly he lifted his hand and pointed, and the Girl kneed the dragon to fly in the direction of that slender, pointing finger. Then clouds cloaked them as if mist enfolded them. I stirred from sleep to find my own fingers set to my wrist in the pale prints he had once left there. I s.h.i.+fted in my bedding but could not seem to come back to full wakefulness. Pulling my blanket more tightly around me, I surrendered to sleep again.

And then I did Skill-walk in my dreams, to a most disturbing scene. Nettle sat and chatted with Tintaglia on a gra.s.sy hillside. I knew it was a dream of Nettle's making, for never had flowers blossomed so brightly, nor bloomed so evenly throughout the gra.s.s. It reminded me of a carefully worked tapestry. The dragon was the size of a horse, and crouched in a way that was not quite threatening. I stepped into the dream. Nettle's back was very straight and her voice nearly brittle as she demanded of the dragon, "And what has any of that to do with me?"

And in a silent aside to me, Why did you delay? Didn't you feel me summoning you? Why did you delay? Didn't you feel me summoning you?

"I can hear that, you know," Tintaglia pointed out calmly. "And he did not hear you summoning him because I did not wish him to. So, you see, you are quite alone, if I decide you are." The dragon suddenly turned her cold gaze on me. Beauty had fled her reptile eyes, leaving them spinning gems of fury. "A fact that does not escape you, either, I a.s.sume."

"What do you want?" I demanded of her.

"You know what I want. I want to know what you know of a black dragon. Is he real? Does another dragon, grown and whole, still exist in the world?"

"I don't know," I answered her truthfully. I could feel her mind plucking at mine, trying to get past the words I gave her to see if I was hiding anything. It was like having cold rat feet run over you in a prison cell at night. Then she seized that memory and tried to turn it against me. I slammed my walls tighter. Unfortunately that meant that Nettle was also outside them. They both became like shadows dimly cast on a wavering curtain.

Tintaglia spoke, and her voice reached me like a whisper of doom. "Accept that your kind will serve mine. It is the natural order of things. Serve me in this and I will see that you and yours prosper. Defy me, and you and yours will be swept aside." Suddenly the image of the dragon loomed large and towered over Nettle. "Or devoured," she offered knowingly.

Dread p.r.i.c.kled at me. On some fundamental level, the dragon a.s.sociated me with Nettle. Was it simply that she had always reached me through my daughter, or did she sense our kins.h.i.+p? Did it matter? My daughter was in danger, and it was my fault. Again. And I had no idea how to protect her.

It did not matter. A moment ago the flower-studded meadow had reminded me of a tapestry. Then Nettle abruptly stood up, bent and seized her dream, then shook it as if she sought to shake dust from a rug. The dragon's presence was flung from it and went spinning off into nothingness, dwindling as it went. In that nothingness, Nettle stood and wadded up her dream and tucked it into her ap.r.o.n pocket. I no longer knew where or what I was in her dream, but she sent the words to me. You'll have to learn to stand up to her and drive her off, not just curl up in a ball and hide. Remember, Shadow Wolf, that you are a wolf. Not a mouse. Or so I thought. You'll have to learn to stand up to her and drive her off, not just curl up in a ball and hide. Remember, Shadow Wolf, that you are a wolf. Not a mouse. Or so I thought. She began to fade. She began to fade.

Wait! The Prince Skilled with desperate determination. In some way I did not understand, he caught at her and detained her. The Prince Skilled with desperate determination. In some way I did not understand, he caught at her and detained her. Who are you? Who are you?

Nettle's shock went through me like a wave. She struggled a moment, but when his grip held, she demanded, Who am I? Who are you, who dare to intrude here so rudely? Let go of me. Who am I? Who are you, who dare to intrude here so rudely? Let go of me.

Dutiful did not react well to her rebuke. Who am I? I am the Prince of all the Six Duchies. I go wherever I will. Who am I? I am the Prince of all the Six Duchies. I go wherever I will.

For a moment, she was stunned to silence. Then, You are the Prince? You are the Prince? Her disbelief was as evident as her scorn. Her disbelief was as evident as her scorn.

Yes, I am. And now you will stop wasting my time and tell me who you are! I winced at the snap of command in his voice. A terrible silent void stretched all around me. Then Nettle reacted as I had known she would. I winced at the snap of command in his voice. A terrible silent void stretched all around me. Then Nettle reacted as I had known she would.

Oh. Well, of course I will, since you ask me so nicely. Prince Mannerless, I am Queen I-Doubt-It-Very-Much of the Seven Dungheaps. And perhaps you go "wherever you will," but when the where belongs to me, I will that you do not ever go there. Changer, you should cultivate nicer friends.

I saw what she had done. In the pause, she had seen exactly how he had fastened himself to her. And now, effortlessly, she shook herself free of him. And vanished.

I jolted awake with her disdain rattling against me like flung pebbles. Torn between awe for my daughter and dread for the dragon, I tried to recover myself. I needed to think what I could do. Instead, Chade pushed his way into my mind.

We need to talk. Privately. His Skill trembled with excitement.

Privately? Are you sure you know what the word means? Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to spy on me? Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to spy on me?

Not privately. Dutiful was furious with both of us as he broke in on our Skilling. Dutiful was furious with both of us as he broke in on our Skilling. Who is she? How long has this been going on? I demand to know. How dare you train another Skilled one and keep her existence concealed from me! Who is she? How long has this been going on? I demand to know. How dare you train another Skilled one and keep her existence concealed from me!

Go back to sleep! Thick's ponderous Skilling was between a moan and a command. Thick's ponderous Skilling was between a moan and a command. Go back to sleep and stop shouting. It was only Nettle and her dragon. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep and stop shouting. It was only Nettle and her dragon. Go back to sleep.

Everyone knows of her except me? This is intolerable. Dutiful's Skilling held fury and frustration, and that terrible sense of betrayal when one discovers one has been excluded from a secret. Dutiful's Skilling held fury and frustration, and that terrible sense of betrayal when one discovers one has been excluded from a secret. I demand to know who she is. Right now. I demand to know who she is. Right now.

I fenced my thoughts tightly and prayed, even though I knew it would avail me nothing.

Chade? The Prince drove him out of his silence. The Prince drove him out of his silence.

I do not know, my lord. The old man lied gracefully and without remorse. I both d.a.m.ned and admired him. The old man lied gracefully and without remorse. I both d.a.m.ned and admired him.

FitzChivalry.

There is a power to the naming of a man by his true name. I shuddered at the impact, and then swiftly begged, Do not call me by that name. Not here, not now, lest the dragon be listening. Do not call me by that name. Not here, not now, lest the dragon be listening. It was not the dragon I feared, but my daughter. Too many bits of my secrets were falling into her hands. It was not the dragon I feared, but my daughter. Too many bits of my secrets were falling into her hands.

Tell me, Tom.

Not this way. If we must speak of this, let us speak voice to ear only. Near me in the dark, Thick pulled his blankets up over his head, groaning.

Meet me now. The Prince's voice was grim. The Prince's voice was grim.

This isn't wise, Chade counseled us both. Chade counseled us both. Let it wait until morning, my prince. There is no sense in inviting questions by summoning a man-at-arms to you in the middle of the night. Let it wait until morning, my prince. There is no sense in inviting questions by summoning a man-at-arms to you in the middle of the night.

No. Now. What was truly unwise was for both of you to deceive me about this Nettle person. I will know now what is going on behind my back and why. It was almost as if I were in the mothershouse by the bed-benches. I could feel how his anger chased the chill from his bared chest as he threw his covers aside, sense how furiously he thrust his feet into his shoes. It was almost as if I were in the mothershouse by the bed-benches. I could feel how his anger chased the chill from his bared chest as he threw his covers aside, sense how furiously he thrust his feet into his shoes.

Give me time to dress then, Chade conceded wearily. Chade conceded wearily.

No. Stay where you are, Councilor Chade. You say you know nothing? Then there is no sense in your bothering to come. I'll meet Fitz . . . Tom alone for this.

His anger roared like a fire now, and yet he still had refrained from saying my name. In some corner of my mind, I admired his restraint. But the greater part of my thoughts was taken up with a dilemma. This was my prince that was angry with me, and to his way of thinking, he was justified. How would I react to his questions? Who was I to him tonight? Friend, mentor, uncle, or subject? I became aware that Thick was sitting up on his blankets, watching me dress.

"I'll only be gone a short time. You'll be fine here alone," I rea.s.sured him even as I wondered if that was so.

I don't want to leave Thick alone here, I Skilled to the Prince, hoping this excuse would spare me. I Skilled to the Prince, hoping this excuse would spare me.

Then bring him. The Prince bit off his succinct order. The Prince bit off his succinct order.

"Do you want to come?"

"I heard him," Thick replied wearily. He heaved a huge sigh. "You're always making me go places I don't want to go," he complained as he rummaged for clothing in the dark.

I felt a year had pa.s.sed before he was dressed. He huffily refused any offer of a.s.sistance from me. Together we finally left the cottage and wound our way through the village. The odd twilight that pa.s.ses for night in that part of the world lent its gray aspect to the world. It was oddly restful to my eyes and I finally identified the sensations. These dimmed colors reminded me of how Nighteyes had perceived the world on the evenings and dawns when we had hunted together. It was a gentle light, and undistracted by color, the eye was free to pick up the small movements of game. I walked light as the wind, but Thick shuffled disconsolately along beside me. Every now and then, he coughed. I reminded myself that he was still not completely well and tried to find patience with his slow pace.

Little bats flickered through the air over the town. I caught the furtive glide of a robber-rat as it slunk from a rain barrel to a doorstep. I wondered if it was the same one that Swift had tried to befriend, then put it out of my mind. We were drawing closer to the mothershouse. The courtyard was deserted. They posted no guard here, though they kept a lookout over the coast and harbor. Evidently they feared no attacks from within their own folk. I wondered then if Peottre had told me all he knew of Henja. Certainly he and the Narcheska seemed wary of the woman and he had said she was an outsider. Why, then, did he not post a guard against her?

I led Thick away from the main door. We approached the mothershouse from behind, past the stone walls and hedges that confined the sheep. Around the corner of a shed, the Prince was waiting for us near some bushes beside the privies. He s.h.i.+fted restlessly as he watched us approach, and I sensed his impatience. I lifted a silent hand to gesture to him to join us in the concealment of the hedge. Then: Don't come to me. Stand still. No, hide. Or go away.

I halted, confused by the Prince's sudden command. And then I saw what had rattled him. Elliania wore a cloak over her nightgown as she leaned out from the door and glanced around. I barely had time to put a hand on Thick's chest and urge him back out of sight behind the hedge line. The little man angrily slapped my hand from his chest. "I heard him," he complained to me as I shushed him in vain.

We have to be very quiet, Thick. The Prince doesn't want Elliania to know we are here.

Why not?

He just doesn't, that's all. We need to hide here and be very quiet. I crouched down on the earth behind the hedge and patted the ground by me invitingly. Thick, hunched in the grayness, scowled down at me. I longed simply to take him home but I was sure Elliania would hear his shuffling tread if we tried to leave. It was better to wait. Surely she wouldn't be long. She probably only needed to use the backhouse. I peered around the trunks of the hedge through a gap in the branches. I crouched down on the earth behind the hedge and patted the ground by me invitingly. Thick, hunched in the grayness, scowled down at me. I longed simply to take him home but I was sure Elliania would hear his shuffling tread if we tried to leave. It was better to wait. Surely she wouldn't be long. She probably only needed to use the backhouse. I peered around the trunks of the hedge through a gap in the branches. Come join us here before she sees you, Come join us here before she sees you, I Skill-suggested to the Prince. I Skill-suggested to the Prince.

No. She's seen me. Go away. I'll talk to you later. Then, disbelieving, I felt him raise his Skill-walls against me. He had grown stronger. It was by the Wit that I sensed him, poised and quivering in her steady-eyed regard as she came to him in the dusky light of a sun that sc.r.a.ped along the edge of the horizon, refusing to set. Then, disbelieving, I felt him raise his Skill-walls against me. He had grown stronger. It was by the Wit that I sensed him, poised and quivering in her steady-eyed regard as she came to him in the dusky light of a sun that sc.r.a.ped along the edge of the horizon, refusing to set.

I felt a lurch of dismay as I saw how swiftly she went to him and how close she stood to him in the dimness. This was not the first time these two had met clandestinely. I wanted to turn my eyes away and yet I stared avidly, peering at them through the bushes. Her words barely reached me. "I heard the door open and close, and when I looked out the window, I saw you waiting here."

"I couldn't sleep." He reached out as if to take her hands, but then dropped his hands back to his sides. I felt more than saw the sharp glance he sent in my direction.

Go away. I'll speak to you tomorrow. His Skill-sending to me was tight and small. I doubted that even Thick was aware of it. Royal command was in his tone. He expected me to obey him. His Skill-sending to me was tight and small. I doubted that even Thick was aware of it. Royal command was in his tone. He expected me to obey him.

I can't. You know this is dangerous. Send her back to her room, Dutiful.

I had no sense that he had received my thought. He had closed himself off to focus only on the girl. Behind me, Thick stood up, yawning and gaping. "I'm going back," he announced sleepily.

Sshh. No. We have to stay here and be very quiet. Don't talk out loud. I peered at the young couple anxiously, but if Elliania had heard Thick, she gave no sign. I wondered uneasily where Peottre was, and what he would do to Dutiful if he found them together like this. I peered at the young couple anxiously, but if Elliania had heard Thick, she gave no sign. I wondered uneasily where Peottre was, and what he would do to Dutiful if he found them together like this.

Thick sighed heavily. He crouched back down, and then sat flat on the ground. This is stupid. I want to go back to bed. This is stupid. I want to go back to bed.

Elliania glanced down at Dutiful's hands at his side, and then, c.o.c.king her head, looked up at his face. "So. Who are you waiting for?" Her eyes narrowed. "Lestra? Did she invite you to meet her here?"

A very odd smile appeared on Dutiful's face. Was he pleased that he had p.r.i.c.ked her to jealousy? He spoke more softly than she did, but I could watch his lips form the words. "Lestra? Why would I wait by moonlight for Lestra?"

"There is no moon tonight," Elliania pointed out sharply. "And as for why Lestra, why, because she would willingly give you her body to use as you wished. More for the sake of spiting me than because she found you handsome."

He crossed his arms on his chest. I wondered if he did so to hold in his satisfaction or to keep from taking her in his arms. She was slender as a willow, and her night braids fell to her hips. I could almost smell the warmth of her rising up to him. "So. Do you think she finds me handsome?"

"Who knows? She likes odd things. She has a cat with a crooked tail and too many toes. She thinks it's pretty." She shrugged. "But she would tell you that you were handsome, simply to win you."

"Would she? But perhaps I don't want Lestra to win me. She is pretty, but perhaps I don't want Lestra at all," he suggested to her.

All the night held its breath as she looked up at him. I saw the rise and fall of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she took a deeper breath, daring herself. "Then what do you want?" she asked, soft as a breeze.

He didn't try to take her in his arms. I think she would have resisted that. Instead, he freed one hand from his crossed arms and, with the tip of one finger, lifted her chin. He leaned forward, bending down to take the kiss he stole from her. Stole? But she did not flee. Instead, she rose on her toes as only their mouths touched in the soft dimness.

I felt a lecherous old man, sprawled in the darkness of the hedge, spying on them. I knew he plunged himself into danger, that they both took foolish chances, but my heart leaped at the thought that my lad might know love as well as an arranged marriage. When their kiss finally broke, I hoped he would send her back to her bedchamber. I wanted him to have this moment, but I also knew that I'd have to intervene if it looked like their experiment was going to venture past a kiss. I cringed at the thought, but steeled myself to the necessity of it.

With dread, I heard her breathless question. "A kiss. That was all you wanted?"

"It is all I'll take now," he countered. His chest was rising and falling as if he'd run a race. "I'll wait until I've earned more to take more."

An uncertain smile crossed her face. "You need not earn it if I choose to give myself to you."

"But . . . you said you would not be my wife until I brought you the dragon's head."

"In my land, a woman gives herself where she will. It is different from being married. Or a wife, as you call it. Once a girl is a woman, she can take whatever man she wishes into her bedskins. It does not mean she is wed to each of them." She glanced aside and added carefully, "You would be my first. Some consider that more special than to be vowed to one another. It would not make me your wife, of course. I will not be wife or wedded to you until you have brought the dragon's head here, to my mothershouse."

"I would like you to be my first, as well," Dutiful said carefully. Then, as if uttering the words were as difficult as dragging a tree up by the roots, he added, "But not now. Not until I've done what I've said I'd do."

She was shocked, but not that he would keep his promise. "Your first? Truly? You've known no woman yet?"

It took him a long moment to admit it. "It is the custom of my land, though not all follow it. To wait until we are wed." He spoke stiffly, as if fearing she would mock him for his chast.i.ty.