Fool's Fate (10 page)

    I heard a sob escape Thick. He alone, perhaps, had sensed what had transpired. A prickling shiver ran over my body. I could not see anything. Then I realized my eyes were tightly clenched shut, my body huddled in a ball. Knowing those things, it still took me a time to persuade myself I could change them. Just as I opened my eyes, the Fool's thought uncurled in my mind like a leaf opening to sunlight.

    And I set no limits on that love.

    “It's too much,” I said brokenly. “No one can give that much. No one.”

    “Here's brandy,” Dutiful said close by me. It was Chade who hauled me into a sitting position and put the cup to my lips. I gulped it as if it were water, then wheezed with the shock. When I managed to turn my head, the Fool was the only one still sitting in his chair at the table. His hands were gloved again, and the look he gave me was opaque. Thick crouched in a corner of the room, hugging himself and shivering. His Skill-music was his mother's song, a desperate attempt to comfort himself.

    “What happened?” Chade demanded in a fierce voice. I still leaned against his chest, and I could feel the anger emanating from him like heat. I knew he directed his accusatory glare at the Fool, but I answered anyway.

    “It was too intense. We formed a Skill-link that was so complete, I couldn't find myself. As if we'd become one being.” I called it the Skill yet I was not sure that was a proper name for it. As well call a spark the sun. I took a deeper breath. “It scared me. So I broke free of it. I wasn't expecting anything like that.” And those words were spoken as much to the Fool as to the others. I saw him hear them, but I think he took a different message from them than what I had intended.

    “And it affected you not at all?” Chade demanded of him.

    Dutiful helped me to my feet. I needed his aid. I sank down into a chair almost immediately. Yet it was not weariness I felt, but a loose energy. I could have scaled Buckkeep's highest tower, if I could have recalled how to make my knees bend.

    “It affected me,” the Fool said quietly. “But in a different way.” He met my eyes and said, “It didn't frighten me.”

    “Shall we try it again?” Dutiful proposed innocently, and “No!” Chade, the Fool, and I all replied with varying degrees of emphasis.

    “No,” the Fool repeated more quietly in the tiny silence that followed. “For myself, I've learned enough today.”

    “Perhaps we all have,” Chade concurred gruffly. He cleared his throat and went on. “It's time we dispersed to our own tasks anyway.”

    “We've still plenty of time,” Dutiful protested.

    “Ordinarily, yes, that would be so,” Chade agreed. “But the days run away from us now. You've much to do to prepare for our journey, Dutiful. Rehearse your speech thanking the Outislanders for their welcome again. Remember, the ch is sounded toward the back of the throat.”

    “I've read it a hundred times now,” Dutiful groaned.

    “And when the time comes, the words must seem to come from your heart, not from a scroll.”

    Dutiful nodded grudgingly to this. He gave one longing look at the bright and breezy day outside the window.

    “Off you both go, then,” Chade told him, and it was suddenly clear he was dismissing both Thick and Dutiful.

    Disappointment crossed the Prince's face. He turned to Lord Golden. “When we are at sea, and have more time and fewer tasks, I'd like to hear of your time with my father. If you wouldn't mind. I know that you cared for him when he...at the end of his days.”

    “I did,” the Fool replied gently. “And I'd be glad to share my memories of those days with you.”

    “Thank you,” Dutiful replied. He went to the corner, and gently chivied Thick along, asking him what on earth had frightened him, for no one had been hurt. I was grateful that Thick had no intelligible answer to that.

    They were nearly at the door when I recalled my earlier resolution. “Prince Dutiful, would you come to my workroom this evening? I've something for you.”

    He raised an eyebrow, but when I said no more, he replied, “I'll find time. I'll see you then.”

    Dutiful left with Thick trudging at his heels. But at the door, Thick turned and gave the Fool an oddly appraising look before he transferred his gaze to me. I wondered uneasily how much he had sensed of what had passed between the Fool and me. Then Thick was gone, shutting the door rather too firmly behind himself.

    For a moment, I feared that Chade would demand to know more of what had happened. But before he could speak, the Fool said, “Prince Dutiful must not kill Icefyre. That is the most important thing that I must tell you, Chade. At all costs, the dragon's life must be preserved.”

    Chade had crossed to the bottles of spirits. He selected one, poured from it silently, and then turned back to us. “As the creature is frozen in a glacier, don't you think it might be a bit late to worry about preserving his life?” He sipped from his glass. “Or do you truly think that any beast could survive that long, bereft of warmth, water, and food?”

    The Fool lifted his shoulders and shook his head. “What do any of us know of dragons? How long had the stone dragons slept before Fitz woke them? If they share any of their natures with true dragons, then perhaps some spark of life still glows within Icefyre.”

    “What do you know of Icefyre?” Chade demanded suspiciously. He came back to the table and sat down. I remained standing, watching the two of them.

    “I know no more of him than you do, Chade.”

    “Then why forbid us the taking of his head, when you know the Narcheska has demanded this as a condition of the marriage? Or do you think the world would be set into a better path if our two realms remained at each other's throats for another century or two?”

    I winced at his sarcasm. Never would I have mocked the Fool's stated goal to change the world. It shocked me that Chade did, and made me realize the depth of his antagonism.

    “I've no love of strife, Chade Fallstar,” the Fool replied softly. “Yet even a war amongst men is not the worst thing that can occur. Better war than that we do deeper, graver damage to our world itself. Especially when we have the briefest grasp at a chance to repair an almost irreparable wrong.”

    “Which is?”

    “If Icefyre lives...and I concede it would be surpassing strange if he did...but if there is some spark of life in him yet, we must abandon all other quests to free him from the ice and restore him to full life.”

    “Why?”

    “You haven't told him?” He swung an accusing gaze to me. I didn't meet it and he didn't wait for me to reply. “Tintaglia, the Bingtown dragon, is the sole adult female dragon in the world. With every passing year, it becomes more apparent that the young ones which emerged from their cases will remain stunted and weak, unable to hunt or fly. Dragons mate in flight. If the hatchlings never fly, they can never mate. Dragons will die out in the world. And this time, it will be forever. Unless there remains one fully formed male dragon. One who could rise to mate Tintaglia and sire a new generation of dragons.”

    I had told Chade all those things. Did he ask his question to test the Fool's frankness?

    “You are telling me,” Chade enunciated carefully, “that we must put peace between the Out Islands and the Six Duchies at risk for the sake of reviving dragons. And this will benefit us how?”

    “It won't,” the Fool admitted. “On the contrary. It will present many drawbacks for men. And many adjustments. Dragons are an arrogant and aggressive species. They ignore boundaries and have no concept of 'ownership.' If a hungry dragon sees a cow in a pen, he'll eat it. To them, it's simple. The world provides and you take what you need from it.”

    Chade smiled archly. “Then perhaps I should do the same, on behalf of humanity. The world has provided us a time free of dragons. I think I shall take it.”

    I watched the Fool. He was not upset by Chade's words. For the space of two breaths he held his peace. Then he said, “As you will, sir. But when the time comes, that decision may not be yours. It may be mine. Or Fitz's.” As Chade's eyes blazed with anger, he added, “And not only the world but humanity itself does need dragons.”

    “And why is that?” Chade demanded disdainfully.

    “To keep the balance,” the Fool replied. He glanced over at me, and then past me, out of the window, and his eyes went far and pensive. “Humanity fears no rivals. You have forgotten what it was to share the world with creatures as arrogantly superior as yourselves. You think to arrange the world to your liking. So you map the land and draw lines across it, claiming ownership simply because you can draw a picture of it. The plants that grow and the beasts that rove, you mark as your own, claiming not only what lives today, but what might grow tomorrow, to do with as you please. Then, in your conceit and aggression, you wage wars and slay one another over the lines you have imagined on the world's face.”

    “And I suppose dragons are better than we are because they don't do such things, because they simply take whatever they see. Free spirits, nature's creatures, possessing all the moral loftiness that comes from not being able to think.”

    The Fool shook his head, smiling. “No. Dragons are no better than humans. They are little different at all from men. They will hold up a mirror to humanity's selfishness. They will remind you that all your talk of owning this and claiming that is no more than the snarling of a chained dog or a sparrow's challenge song. The reality of those claims lasts but for the instant of its sounding. Name it as you will, claim it as you will, the world does not belong to men. Men belong to the world. You will not own the earth that eventually your body will become, nor will it recall the name it once answered to.”

    Chade did not reply immediately. I thought he was stunned by the Fool's words, his view of reality reordered by them. But then he snorted disdainfully. “Pish. What you say only makes it plainer to me that no good will be worked for anyone by resurrecting this dragon.” He rubbed his eyes wearily. “Oh, why do we bother with this fatuous debate? None of us know what we will find when we get there. It's all philosophical ramblings and nursery tales at this point. When I confront it, then I will think about what is best to do. There. Does that satisfy you?”

    “I scarcely believe that my satisfaction matters to you.” And as he spoke those odd words, the Fool sent a sidelong glance my way. But it was not a look to catch my eye, but rather one that pointed me out to Chade.

    “You're right,” Chade agreed smoothly. “It is not your satisfaction but Fitz's agreement that matters to me. Yet I know that if this decision falls to him alone, he would give your satisfaction much weight, even, perhaps, at the risk of Farseer fortunes.” My old master gave me a speculative look, as if I were a spavined horse that might or might not last through another battle. The smile he gave me was almost desperate. “Yet I hope he will hear my concerns, as well.” His gaze met mine. “When we confront it, then we will decide. Until then, the choice remains open. Is that acceptable?”

    “Almost,” the Fool replied. His voice was cool as he proposed, “Give us your promise, as a Farseer, that when the time comes, Fitz may do as his judgment bids him.”

    “My promise as a Farseer!” Chade was incensed.

    “Exactly,” the Fool replied calmly. “Unless your words are just an empty sop thrown to keep Fitz on the path to doing your will.” He leaned back in his chair, his wrists and hands lax on the arms of it, perfectly at ease. For a moment, I recognized that slender man in black with his shining hair bound back. This was the boy the Fool had been, grown to a man. Then he turned his head to regard Chade more directly, and the familiarity was gone. His face was a sculpted silhouette of determination. I had never seen anyone challenge Chade so confidently.

    I was shocked at the words Chade spoke then. His smile was very strange as his eyes went from me to the Fool and back again. It was my gaze he met as he said, “I give my word as a Farseer. I will not ask him to do anything against his will. There. Are you content, man?”

    The Fool nodded slowly. “Oh, yes. I am content. For the decision will come to him, and that I see as clearly as anything that remains to me to see.” He nodded to himself. “There are still things we must discuss, you and I, but once we are on board ship and under way, there will be time for that. But the day rushes on without us, and I still have much to do to prepare for my departure. Good day, Lord Fallstar.”

    A very slight smile hung about his mouth. His glance went from me to Chade. And then he made a most curious gesture. Sweeping his arms wide, he made a graceful bow to Chade, as if they had afforded one another some great courtesy. When he straightened he spoke to me. His tone was warmer. “It was good to have a few moments with you today, Fitz. I've missed you.” Then he gave a sudden small sigh, as if he had recalled an unpleasant duty. I suspected that his predicted death had just pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. His smile faded. “Gentlemen, you will excuse me,” he murmured. And he departed, exiting through the cramped panel concealed in the side of the hearth as gracefully as a lord departing a banquet.

    I sat staring after him. Our recent Skill-encounter rattled in my mind with his strange words and stranger gestures. He had clashed with Chade over something, and triumphed. Yet I was not quite sure what, if anything, had just been settled between them.

    My old mentor spoke as if he could hear my thoughts. “He challenges me for your loyalty! How dare he? Me, who practically raised you! How can he think there would be any chance of us disagreeing, when we both know how much rests upon the successful completion of this quest? My word as a Farseer, indeed! And what does he think you are, when all is said and done?”

    He turned and put the question to me as if he expected an unthinking assent from me. “Perhaps,” I said quietly, “he believes that he is the White Prophet and I am his Catalyst.” Then I took a stronger breath and spoke a question of my own. “How can the two of you quarrel over my loyalty, as if I had no thought of my own to give to any decision I might make?” I gave a snort of disgust. “I would not think a horse or a dog as mindless a game piece as you both seem to think I am.”