Fool's Fate Part 38

I took a deep breath, thought of a lie, and then set it down. Enough lies for one lifetime. "I hope to look on the Pale Woman's body. I hope to find her dead, to know that she died for all she has done to us. And if I find her living, I hope to kill her."

It was a small and simple promise I'd made to myself. I doubted it would be easy to carry out, but it was the only comfort I could find to offer myself.

"You look a different man when you talk like that," Swift said in a hushed voice. He leaned close to me. "When you talk like that, you have a wolf's eyes."

I shook my head and smiled. At least, my teeth showed. "No. No wolf wastes time on vengeance, and that is what this is. Vengeance, pure and simple. When people look most vicious, what you are seeing is not their animal side. It is the savagery that only humans can muster. When you see me loyal to my family, then you see the wolf."

He touched a finger to his dangling earring. He knit his brows and asked, "Do you want me to stay with you? You should not face this alone. And, as you have seen, I did not lie. I am good with a bow."

"You are indeed. But you have other duties, more pressing ones. Burrich has no chance at all if he stays here. Get him onto the s.h.i.+p and back to Zylig. They may have skilled healers there. At the very least, they will have a place that is warm, with decent food and a clean bed for him."

"My father is going to die, FitzChivalry. Let us not pretend otherwise."

Oh, the power that lurks in the naming of names. I let go. "You are right, Swift. But he need not die in the cold, under a piece of flapping canvas. That much we can give him."

Swift scratched his head. "I want to do my father's will in this. I think he would tell me to stay with you. That I cannot be as useful to him as I could be to you."

I thought about it. "Perhaps he would. But I do not think your mother would tell you that. I think you need to be with him. He may rally again, before the end, and what words he may have for you could be precious ones. No, Swift. Go with him. Be with him, for me."

He did not reply, but bowed his head to my words.

Even as we spoke, men were dismantling our camp and loading it aboard the s.h.i.+p. I think it shocked Swift when it was the Outislanders who came for him and Burrich. Bear came, to incline his head gravely to the boy and ask the honor of transporting him and his father aboard the Hetgurd s.h.i.+p. "Demon-slayers," he named both of them, and I think it shocked Swift to realize that he had been left to grieve in isolation out of respect, not out of negligence. The Owl, their bard, sang them aboard the Bear s.h.i.+p, and though he twisted the words in their bard's tongue, still I heard with throat-choking pride of the man who had brought the dragon-demon to its knees and the boy who slew it to set the Pale Woman's hostages free. Web, I noted, rode out in the boat with them, and would be taking s.h.i.+p with Swift. This comforted me. I did not want the lad to be alone among strangers, no matter how they might honor him when Burrich died, and I feared he would not live to see Zylig port.

Then the Prince was at my side, demanding to know which s.h.i.+p I was embarking upon. "You are welcome on either, but it will be close quarters no matter which you choose. They did not expect to carry off this many people. We shall be packed like salt fish in a keg. Chade, in his wisdom, has chosen to separate me from the Narcheska, so I will be on the Bear s.h.i.+p. Chade goes on the Boar s.h.i.+p with Peottre and his women, for he hopes to further advance the final negotiations of our alliance during the voyage."

I had to smile, despite my heavy heart. "Alliance, you still call it? It has begun to look like a wedding to me. And have you given Chade reason to think it best to separate you from Elliania for the voyage to Zylig?"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Not I! It was Elliania who proclaimed she was satisfied as to her challenge to me to be worthy of her, and declared that she now regarded me as her husband. I do not think her mother was entirely pleased, but Peottre declined to oppose her. Chade has tried to explain to Elliania the necessity of my vowing to her in my 'mothershouse,' but she will have none of that. She asked him, 'And what is a man, to oppose a woman's will in this matter?'"

"I would have loved to hear his reply to that," I said.

"He said, 'Truly, lady, I do not know. But my queen's will is that her son shall not bed with you until you have stood before her and her n.o.bles in her house, and proclaimed that you are satisfied he is worthy of you.'"

"And did she accept that?"

"Not graciously." The Prince was obviously flattered by his bride-to-be's eagerness. "But Chade has extracted a promise from me that I will act with restraint. Not that Elliania has made that easy for me. Ah, well. So I sail on the Bear s.h.i.+p and she on the Boar. Chade will be on the Boar, and we think Thick, for the Outislanders have made much of him and his Eda's Hands. So. Which one for you? Come on the Bear. You can be with Burrich and Swift and me."

"Neither s.h.i.+p will I board. But I'm glad to hear you'll be on the Bear s.h.i.+p with Swift. This is a hard time for him. He may bear it better among friends."

"What do you mean, neither?"

Time to announce it. "I'm staying here, Dutiful. I need to go back and try to find the Fool's body."

He blinked, considering it, and then, in an act of understanding that warmed me, simply accepted that I had to do it. "I'll stay with you, of course. And you'll need some men, if you're hoping to tunnel down through the dragon pit."

It touched me that he did not argue the necessity of it, and that he offered to delay his own triumph. "No. You go on. You've a narcheska to claim and an alliance to create. I'll need no one, for I'm hoping to go back in where Riddle and the others came out."

"That's a fool's errand, Fitz. You'll never find it again. I listened to Riddle's answers as closely as you did."

I smiled at his choice of words. "Oh, I think I will. I can be tenacious about things like this. All I ask is that you leave me what food you can spare and any extra warm clothing you have. It may take me some time to accomplish this."

He looked uncertain at those words. "Lord FitzChivalry, forgive me for saying this, but this may be a rash risk of yourself, for no gain. Lord Golden is beyond feeling anything. There is little chance you will find a way back in, let alone find his body. I do not think I am wise to allow this."

I ignored his final statement. "And that is another thing. You will be going back to enough chaos. You scarcely need Lord FitzChivalry's resurrection in the midst of it. I suggest that you meet quietly with your Wit coterie and still all their tongues about me. I've already spoken to Longwick. I don't think I need worry about Riddle. Everyone else is dead."

"But . . . the Outislanders know who you are. They've heard you called by that name."

"And it has no significance for them. They won't recall my true name any more than I can recall Bear's or Eagle's. I'll simply be the crazy one who stayed on the island."

He threw his hands wide in a gesture of despair. "And we are still back to you remaining on this island. For how long? Until you starve? Until you find that your quest is as futile as mine was?"

I pondered it briefly. "Give me a fortnight," I said. "Then arrange for a boat to come back here for me. If I haven't succeeded in a fortnight, I'll give it up and come home."

"I don't like this," he grumbled. I thought he would argue further, but then he countered with "A fortnight. And I won't wait to hear from you, so do not Skill to me to beg for more time. In a fortnight, there will come a boat to this beach to take you off. And regardless of your success or failure, you will meet it and board it. Now, we have to hurry, before they've finished loading everything."

But in the end, that was an idle fear. The crews were actually unloading things from the s.h.i.+ps to make more room for the extra pa.s.sengers. Chade grumbled and swore at my stubbornness, but in the end, he had to give way to me, mostly because I would not change my mind and everyone else was in a great rush to leave on the change of the tide.

It was still surpa.s.sing strange to stand on the sh.o.r.e and watch the s.h.i.+ps borne away on the tide's change. Heaped behind me on the beach was a miscellaneous dump of equipment. I had far too many tents and sleds for one man to use, and an adequate if very uninteresting supply of food. In the time between the s.h.i.+ps' vanis.h.i.+ng and the fall of night, I picked through what they had left me, loading what I thought I'd actually use into my own battered old pack. I put in extra clothing, as much food as I thought I would need, and my feathers from the Others beach. Longwick had left me a very serviceable sword; I think it had been Deft's. I had Longwick's own belt knife. The Fool's tent and bedding I kept, setting it up for my night's shelter, and his cooking supplies, as much because they were his as because they were the lightest to pack. Chade, I found to my amus.e.m.e.nt, had left me a small keg of his blasting powder. As if I'd risk tinkering with that again! My hearing was still not what it should have been. Yet, in the end, I did put a pot of it into my pack.

I built up a good fire for myself that night. Driftwood was not plentiful on the beach, but there was only one of me to warm, so I indulged myself. I had expected to find the peace that isolation usually brought to me. Even when my spirits were darkest, solitude and the natural world had always comforted me. But tonight, I did not feel that. The restless humming of the submerged stone dragon was like a simmering reminder of the Pale Woman's evil. I wished there were a way to still it, to cleanse the evil carving back to honest stone again. I made up a generous pot of hot porridge for myself and recklessly sweetened it with some barley sugar that Dutiful had left for me.

I had just taken my first mouthful when I heard footsteps behind me. I choked and sprang to my feet, drawing my sword. Thick stepped into the circle of my firelight, grinning sheepishly. "I'm hungry."

I swayed with the shock of it. "You can't be here. You're supposed to be on the s.h.i.+p, going back to Zylig."

"No. No boats for me. Can I have some dinner?"

"How did you stay behind? Does Chade know? Does the Prince? Thick, this is impossible! I have things to do, important things to do. I can't look after you right now."

"They don't know yet. And I'll look after myself!" he huffed. I'd hurt his feelings. As if to prove he could, he went to the heap of abandoned cargo and rummaged until he came up with a bowl. I sat, staring at the flames, feeling completely defeated by fate. He came back into my firelight and sat down on a stone across from me. As he dished up more than half the porridge for himself, he added, "It was easy to stay. I just sent with Chade, with Chade with Chade, with Chade at Prince, and at Prince, and with Prince, with Prince with Prince, with Prince at Chade. They believed me and got on the boats." at Chade. They believed me and got on the boats."

"And no one else noticed you were missing?" I asked skeptically.

"Oh. I went don't see me, don't see me don't see me, don't see me at the others. It was easy." He resumed eating with pragmatic enjoyment of the food. He was obviously pleased with how clever he'd been. Between mouthfuls he asked, "How did you trick them into letting you stay?" at the others. It was easy." He resumed eating with pragmatic enjoyment of the food. He was obviously pleased with how clever he'd been. Between mouthfuls he asked, "How did you trick them into letting you stay?"

"I didn't trick them. I stayed because I had a task I had to do. I still do. They'll be back for me in a fortnight." I put my head into my hands. "Thick. You've done me a bad turn. I know you didn't mean to, but it's bad. What am I going to do with you? What did you plan to do when you stayed here?"

He shrugged and spoke through the porridge. "Not get on a boat. That's what I planned. What did you plan to do?"

"I planned to go on a long walk, back to the icy place. And kill the Pale Woman if I could find her. And bring back Lord Golden's body, if I could find it."

"All right. We can do that." He leaned forward and looked into the porridge pot. "Are you going to eat that?"

"It seems not." My appet.i.te had fled, along with all thoughts of peace. I watched him eat. I had two choices. I knew I could not leave him alone on the beach while I went off to hunt the Pale Woman. It would have been like leaving a small child to look after himself. I could remain here with him on the beach for a fortnight until the boat that Dutiful had promised to send back for me arrived. Then I could send Thick off with it, and try to resume my tasks. By then, autumn would be upon this northern island. Falling snow would join the blowing snow to obscure all signs of pa.s.sage. Or I could drag him along with me, proceeding at his plodding, torturous pace, taking him into danger. And taking him, also, into a very private part of my life. I did not want him to be there when I recovered the Fool's body. It was a task I wished and needed to do alone.

Yet there he was. Depending on me. And unwanted, there came to me the memory of Burrich's face when I had first been thrust into his care. So it had been for him. So it was for me now. I watched him sc.r.a.ping the last of the porridge from the kettle and licking the sticky spoon.

"Thick. It's going to be hard. We have to get up early and travel fast. We are going up into the cold again. Without much fire, and with very boring food. Are you sure you want to do this?"

I don't know why I offered him the choice.

He shrugged. "Better than getting on a boat."

"But eventually, you will have to get on a boat. When the boat comes back for me, I'm leaving this island."

"Nah," he said dismissively. "No boats for me. Will we sleep in the pretty tent?"

"We need to let Chade and the Prince know where you are."

He scowled at that, and I thought he might try to use the Skill to defeat me. But in the end, when I reached for them, he was with me, very much enjoying the prank he had played on them. I sensed their exasperation with him and their sympathy for me, but neither offered to turn back the s.h.i.+ps. In truth, they could not. A tale such as they bore would not await the telling. Neither s.h.i.+p could turn back. For either the Prince or the Narcheska to be absent would not be acceptable to the Hetgurd. They must go on. Chade offered grimly to send back a boat for us the moment they docked in Zylig, but I told him to wait, that we would Skill to them when we were ready to leave. Not on a boat, Not on a boat, Thick added emphatically, and none of us had the will to argue with him just then. I was fairly certain that when he saw me leave, he would depart with me. By then, he would probably be very weary and bored with survival here. I could not imagine him desiring to stay on the island alone. Thick added emphatically, and none of us had the will to argue with him just then. I was fairly certain that when he saw me leave, he would depart with me. By then, he would probably be very weary and bored with survival here. I could not imagine him desiring to stay on the island alone.

And as the night wore on, I reflected that perhaps it was better for me that he was there, in some ways. When I bedded down in the Fool's tent that night, Thick seemed an intruder there, as out of place as a cow at a harvest dance. Yet, if he had not been there, I know I would have sunk into a deep melancholy, and dwelt on all I had lost. As it was, he was a distraction and an annoyance, and yet also a companion. In caring for him, I did not have time to examine my pain. Instead, I had to create a pack for him with a share of supplies that I thought he could carry. Into his pack I put mostly warm clothing for him and food, knowing he would not abandon food. But as I prepared for sleep, I already dreaded the morrow and dragging him along with me.

"Are you going to sleep now?" Thick demanded of me as I pulled my blankets up over my head.

"Yes."

"I like this tent. It's pretty."

"Yes."

"It reminds me of the wagon, when I was little. My mother made things pretty, colors and ribbons and beads on things."

I kept silent, hoping he would doze off to sleep.

"Nettle likes pretty things, too."

Nettle. Shame washed through me. I had sent her into danger and nearly lost her. And since that moment, I had made no effort to contact her. The way I had risked her shamed me, and I was shamed that I had not been the one to save her. And even if I'd had the courage to beg her forgiveness, I did not have the courage to tell her that her father was dying. Somehow, it felt like that was my fault. If I had not been here, would Burrich have come? Would he have challenged the dragon? This was the measure of my cowardice. I could go off, sword in hand, hoping to kill the Pale Woman. But I could not face the daughter I had wronged. "Is she all right?" I asked gruffly.

"A little bit. I'm going to show her this tent tonight, all right? She will like this."

"I suppose so." I hesitated, and then ventured one step closer. "Is she still afraid to go to sleep?"

"No. Yes. Well, but not if I'm there. I promised her I wouldn't let her fall in there again. That I'll watch her and keep her safe. I go into sleep first. Then she comes in."

He spoke as if they were meeting in a tavern, as if "sleep" were a room across town, or a different village down the road. When he spoke again, my mind struggled to comprehend what the simple words meant to him. "Well. I have to go to sleep now. Nettle will be waiting for me to come for her."

"Thick. Tell her . . . no. I'm glad. I'm glad you can be there like that."

He leaned up on one stubby elbow to tell me earnestly, "It will be all right, Tom. She'll find her music again. I'll help her." He took a long breath and gave a sleepy sigh. "She has a friend now. Another girl."

"She does?"

"Um. Sydel. She comes from the country and is lonely and cries a lot and doesn't have the right kind of clothes. So she is friends with Nettle."

That told me far more than I'd wanted to know. My daughter was afraid to sleep, unhappy at night, lonely, and befriending a disowned Piebald. I was suddenly certain that Hap was doing just as well as Nettle was. My spirits sank. I tried to be satisfied that Kettricken had removed Sydel from her undeserved isolation. It was hard.

The Fool's tiny oil firepot flickered between us and died away to nothing. Darkness, or what pa.s.ses for darkness in that part of the world on a summer night, cupped our tent under her hand. I lay still, listening to Thick's breathing and the wash of the waves on the beach and the disquieting mutter of the disjointed dragon under the water. I closed my eyes, but I think I was afraid to sleep, fearful both that I'd find Nettle or that I wouldn't. After a time, it seemed to me that sleep truly was a place and I'd forgotten the way there.

Yet, I must have slept eventually, for I awoke to dawn light s.h.i.+ning in through the colors of the Fool's tent. I'd slept far longer than I intended, and Thick slumbered still. I went outside, relieved myself, and brought washwater to heat from the icy stream. Thick did not get up until he smelled the morning's porridge cooking. Then he emerged, stretching cheerfully, to tell me that he and Nettle had hunted b.u.t.terflies all night, and she had made him a hat out of b.u.t.terflies that flew away just before he woke up. The gentle silliness cheered me, even as it made a sharp contrast with my plans.

I tried to hurry Thick along, with small success. He walked idly on the beach while I struck the tent and loaded it onto my back. It took some persuasion to get him to take up his own pack and follow me. Then we set off down the beach in the direction from which Riddle and his fellows had come. I had listened intently to Riddle's tale. I knew they had followed the beach for about two days. I hoped that if I did the same and then watched for where they had climbed down onto the beach, I'd find my way back to the creva.s.se where they had emerged from the Pale Woman's realm.

Yet I had not reckoned with having Thick with me. At first he followed me cheerfully down the beach, investigating tide pools and bits of driftwood and feathers and seaweed as we went. He wet his feet, of course, and grumbled about that, and was soon hungry. I'd thought of that, and had travelers' bread and some salt fish in a pouch. It was not what he had hoped for, but when I made it clear that I was going to continue hiking regardless of what he did, he took it and chewed as we walked.

We did not lack for fresh water. Rivulets of it cut the beach or dampened the stony cliff faces. I kept an eye on the rising tide, for I had no wish to be caught by it on a section of beach where we could not escape it. But the tide did not come up far, and I was even rewarded by footprints above the tideline. These traces of Riddle's pa.s.sage cheered me, and we trudged on.

As night came closer, we picked up the spa.r.s.e bits of driftwood that the beach yielded to us, set up our tent well above the high water line, and built our fire. If I had not had such a heavy heart, it would have been a pleasant evening, for we had a bit of moon and Thick was inspired to take out his whistle and play. It was the first time I'd ever been able to give myself over completely to both his musics, for I was as aware of his Skill-music as I was of the whistle's piping. His Skill-music was made of the ever-present wind and the keening of the seabirds and the shush of waves on the sh.o.r.e. His whistle wove in and out of it like a bright thread in a tapestry. Because I had access to his mind, it was a comprehensible music. Without the Skill, I am sure it would have been annoying, random notes.

We ate a simple meal, a soup made from dried fish with some fresh seaweed added from the beach and travelers' bread. It was filling; that was possibly the kindest thing that could be said for it. Thick ate it, mainly because he was hungry. "Wish we had cakes from the kitchen," he said wistfully while I scrubbed out the pot with sand.

"Well, we won't have anything like that until we travel back to Buck. On the boat."

"No. No boat."

"Thick, there is no other way for us to get there."

"If we just kept walking, we might get there."

"No, Thick. Aslevjal is an island. It has water all around it. We can't get back home by walking. Sooner or later, we have to get on a s.h.i.+p."

"No."

And there it was again. He seemed to grasp so many things, but then we would come to the one that he either refused or could not accept. I gave it up for the night and we went to our blankets. Again, I watched him slip into sleep as effortlessly as a swimmer enters water. I had not had the courage to speak to him about Nettle. I wondered what she thought of my absence, or if she noticed it at all. Then I closed my eyes and sank.

By that second day of hiking, Thick was bored with the routine. Twice he let me get so far ahead of him that I was nearly out of his sight. Each time, he came huffing and hurrying over the wet sand to catch up with me. Each time, he demanded to know why we had to go so fast. I could not think of an answer that satisfied him. In truth, I knew only my own urgency. That this was a thing that must be finished, and that I would know no peace until I did. If I thought of the Fool as dead, if I thought of his body discarded in that icy place, the pain of such an image brought me close to fainting. I knew that I would not truly realize his death until I saw it. It was like looking down at a festering foot and knowing it must come off before the body could begin to heal. I hurried to face the agony.

That night caught us on a narrow beach along a cliff face hung with icicles. Sheeting water ran down the rock face. I judged there was just room to pitch the tent and that we would be fine, as long as no storm rose to drive the tide higher. We set up our tent, using rocks to hold it in the sand, and made our fire and ate our plain provender.

The moon was a little stronger, and we sat for a time under the stars looking out over the water. I found time to wonder how Hap was doing, and if my boy had overcome his dangerous affection for Svanja or succ.u.mbed to it completely. I could only hope he had kept his head and his judgment. I sighed as I worried about that and Thick asked sympathetically, "You got a gut ache?"

"No. Not exactly. Worrying about Hap. My son back in Buckkeep Town."

"Oh." He did not sound very interested. Then, as if this was a thing he had pondered for a long time, he added, "You're always somewhere else. You never do the music where you are."

I looked at him for a moment, and then lowered my perpetual guard against his music. Letting it in was like letting the night into my eyes when twilight came over the land and it was a good time to hunt. I relaxed into the moment, letting the wolf's enjoyment of the now come into me, as I had not for far too long. I had been aware of the water and the light wind. Now I heard the whispering of blowing sand and snow, and deep behind it, the slow groaning creak of the glacier across the land. I could suddenly smell the salt of the ocean and the iodine of the kelp on the beach and the icy breath of old snow.

It was like opening a door to an older place and time. I glanced over at Thick and suddenly saw him as complete and whole in this setting, for he gave himself to it. While he sat here and enjoyed the night, he lacked nothing. I felt a smile bend my mouth. "You would have made a good wolf," I told him.

And when I went to sleep that night, Nettle found me. It took me some time to become aware of her, for she sat at the edge of my dream, letting the wind off the sea ruffle her hair as she stared out of the window of my boyhood bedchamber at Buckkeep. When I finally looked at her, she stepped out of the window and onto my beach, saying only, "Well. Here we both are."

I felt all the apologies and explanations and excuses rise in me, crowding to be the first words out of my mouth. Then she sat down beside me on the sand and looked out over the water. The wind stirred her hair like a wolf's ruff rippling in the breeze. Her stillness was such a contrast to all the jumbled communication inside me that I suddenly felt what a tiresome fellow I was, always filling the air with the rattle of words and anxieties. I found that I was sitting beside her with my tail neatly curled around my forefeet. And I said, "I promised Nighteyes that I would tell you tales of him, and I have not."

Silence spun a web between us and then she said, "I think I would like to hear one tonight."

So I told her about a clumsy, blunt-nosed Cub springing high to land on hapless mice and how we had learned to trust one another and to hunt and think as one. And she listened through the night, and to some tales I told, she c.o.c.ked her head and said, "I think I remember that."

I came awake to dawn seeping in through the bright beasts that cavorted on the tent walls, and for a moment I forgot that I was weighted with sorrow and vengeance. All I saw was a gleaming blue dragon, wings spread wide as he rocked on the wind while below him scarlet and purple serpents arched through the water. Slowly I became aware of Thick snoring and that the waves were very close to the door of our tent. That sound woke alarm in me, and I scuttled to the door to peer out. At first, I was relieved, because the water was retreating. I had slept through the real danger, when the sea had reached within two steps of our door.