Fool's Quest (60 page)

“They may be bodies in the forest. Or hiding from us as they did before. They have not left us a trail we can follow.”

He was right. Reality and the bleakness of elfbark welled up in me like blood in Ellik's wound. “I'm so powerless.” The words burst from me. “Riddle, I had to come here and try to find her. Since Winterfest, she has been gone and I've been able to do nothing. Nothing! And now I've even less of a trail to follow.” Agony and anger were one force in me. I wanted to smash everything in the room but most of all, I wanted to destroy myself for how impotent I was. I had cut my hair to my scalp when Molly died, a symbolic destruction and punishment of myself because I had failed to save her. Now I wanted to slash my face, to batter my skull against the wall, to fling myself from the window. I hated myself for my total failure. I was a thing that was so useless as to be evil. I was an assassin and capable of torture, a man bereft of goodness. But even my wickedness was impotent. It had gained me nothing.

“I do not like the expression on your face,” Riddle said softly. “Fitz, you cannot hold yourself responsible. This was a thing that happened to you, not a thing you did.” His voice was sympathetic.

“It was a thing I did not do. A neglected duty,” I said quietly. I turned back to the window and looked down. A drop but not a big enough one. The impulse would not work.

Riddle knew me too well. “And then if we did find her, that would be the first piece of news she'd have about you.”

Slowly I turned away from the easy exit. “Tomorrow we leave for Buckkeep.”

Riddle nodded slowly.

Mornings come, whether we want them or not. I dragged my body from my bed and trusted that my herb-addled mind would catch up with me. Breakfast was interminable and full of pleasant conversations I could scarcely follow. Someone had recognized Ellik as Chancellor Ellik of Chalced, and for some reason it was very exciting that a Buck stable boy had made an end of the old man. Spurman assured me twice that he'd sent word on to Buckkeep Castle concerning exactly who had attempted this peculiar invasion of Buck. My weary mind offered me no response for him, so I simply nodded.

And finally, finally, we departed Ringhill Keep. I rode at the front of my guard, with Riddle beside me. Perseverance trailed behind us, still leading Bee's horse, Priss. He looked battered and wan. Lant rode beside him. Riddle leaned over and said quietly that the boy had had his first night drinking with men the evening before, and been feted as a hero for his “first kill.” He tipped his head toward Lant. “Lucky for the lad, Lant intervened right after he puked the first time. He forbade any more liquor and sent him off to bed. But I expect he has a bit of a head today.”

I rode Fleeter. The horse seemed to have recovered from my abuse of her, but exhibited a wariness in contrast with her former eagerness to please me. I let her feel that I regretted how roughly I had used her, but did not try to intrude into her thoughts.

Foxglove came behind us at the head of our troops. She was displeased with the Rousters and cool toward me. I could tell that her efforts to integrate them with my guard were not going smoothly. Yesterday her control of them had been tenuous at best. Today as they formed up with my guard, they still remained as a separate rank at the rear of the formation. I suspected that she was unhappy with me for saddling her with such troublemakers. We had not ridden far before Lant edged his mount closer to mine. He spoke while looking straight ahead. “You humiliated me. You left me drugged and sleeping as if I were a child.”

You are.
I shook my head. “Lant, I left you sleeping as if you were a badly injured man who should not have been sent out on such a mission. That was true of Perseverance as well.” I fabricated some balm for him. “I could scarcely have left the boy there alone. How is your wound?”

My diversion of the conversation baffled him for an instant. “It's healing,” he said gruffly.

“Good. It needs time. Lant, I have a suggestion. It's a strong suggestion. When we return to Buckkeep Castle, report to Captain Foxglove. Let her direct you in your swordplay, going gently until your muscles are rebuilt. I do not propose that you become a soldier or a member of my guard.” How to phrase the next part. Become a man? No. I fumbled for words.

“So they can mock me for my lack of skills? So I could fail again for you?”

How had he ever become such a bubbling pudding of self-centeredness? Here was another repair task I did not want. “Lant. Muscles in your chest were cut. They need to heal and then grow strong. Let Foxglove help you with that. That's all I was suggesting.”

He was quiet for a time. Then he said, “My father is going to be very disappointed.”

“In both of us,” I pointed out.

He sat back in his saddle. I think he took peculiar comfort from my words.

The day passed in a way that would have been pleasant at another time. The weather stayed mild for winter. Fleeter recovered enough of her spirits to want to be out in front of the other horses and I was happy to let her be. Motley flew ahead of us, circled back to ride on Per for a time, and then flew ahead again. She seemed just a pet crow today, cawing wordlessly as she flew overhead. Once, when she was perched on Per's shoulder I asked her, “How many words do you know?”

She cocked her head at me and asked, “How many words do you know?”

Per almost smiled as she said, “She sounded just like you.”

The well-kept roads avoided the hills and wound through several small towns. In each settlement, we paused to ask for tidings of Bee or Shine, and to tell each innkeeper that there was a large reward for two lost girls. No one had news for us.

That night we found lodging at an inn. Riddle, Foxglove, Lant, and I had rooms above the kitchens, and they were warm. My guard and Perseverance had a loft over the stables; the Rousters would sleep in the common room. I enjoyed a well-prepared meal and a mug of ale, and an early bed in a clean room, followed by a late-night fistfight when my Rousters did not go to bed but quarreled among themselves. The ruckus woke me; I pulled on trousers and dashed down the steps two at a time. By the time Riddle arrived, I had a black eye and two men on the floor and a third cornered. We exiled all three to the inn's stables for the night and promised the innkeeper that damages would be paid for. As we climbed back up the stairs, Riddle observed, “Usually princes don't do that sort of thing.”

“I'm not prospering in this role, am I? All the times when I wondered what it would be like to be legitimate and recognized as a Farseer at Buckkeep Castle? I'm finding it more of a liability than a privilege.”

“You'll get used to it,” he promised me doubtfully.

In the morning I had two fewer Rousters following me. Well, that was two fewer of them for Foxglove to deal with. They'd taken their horses and left their guard tunics. I counted it a small loss. Foxglove had slept through the row in the tavern and I said nothing of it to her. I was sure that word would reach her soon enough.

The day was overcast with snow clouds and a light breeze that woke sporadically to lift ice crystals against our faces. Riddle and I rode side by side, in a silence full of foreboding. I think we both dreaded our return to the castle. We had resumed our formation of the day before, with Lant and Perseverance riding side by side behind Riddle and me. I heard several snatches of conversation and deduced that their recent battle experience had given them something in common. The boy still led Priss. Her empty saddle was a fresh heartbreak every time I looked at it.

I felt I was going home with my tail between my legs. And somewhere, somewhere was my Bee and I was no closer to knowing where. The morning passed with little talk between Riddle and me. Sometimes the crow flew overhead and in front of us, then back as if to be sure we were following her. I had grown so accustomed to her that I hardly noticed her. More often she rode on Per's shoulder, though once I was a bit surprised to see her on Lant's.

We crested a gentle rise in the road and saw a rider on a brown horse, trailed by a saddled white horse, on the road ahead of us. I studied them for a moment as they came toward us. The rider was stocky and wore his hood well pulled forward. They were moving at a dogged trot but even at the distance I could tell that the brown horse was being pushed hard and was at the end of his endurance. His head jounced too hard with every step. He tried to slow and his rider kicked him hard. Then Riddle said, “White horse,” at the same time I said, “White coat.”

I called back to Foxglove. “Halt the guard. If I lift my hand, bring them at a gallop. If not, keep your distance.” She nodded, accepting the command but unhappy at not joining us, as both Riddle I urged our horses to a trot. Lant followed and I knew Perseverance would copy him. I wished they hadn't. I kept my eyes on the rider. At first he showed no sign he was aware of us. The white fur coat convinced me that this was one of the Servants who had escaped the slaughter. As we got closer, he seemed to rouse himself out of a daze. He looked up at us, screamed, and kicked the brown horse he rode frantically, even as he tried to wheel it about. It turned to the rider's command and broke into a trot, but we were already in motion and before the trot became a canter we were on either side of him. Riddle leaned forward and grabbed the reins, turning the horse sharply as the rider continued to scream and kick it. I knew that scream.

“Shine! Shine, stop! You're safe! Shine, it's me, Fitz—Badgerlock! And Riddle. We're here to find you and take you home. You're safe! Shine. Where's Bee? Was she with you?”

The saddled white horse had jigged aside from us. It was evidently only following the brown because it had no idea what else to do. Riddle pulled his horse in, dismounted hastily, and approached Shine. She kicked at him, shrieked again, and then fell off her horse and into his arms. I dismounted, took her reins, and stood stupidly as he patted her back and told her she was all right, she was safe, she was safe now.

Her wailing slowly faded to deep sobs and then to breathless, shaking weeping. “Bee? Shine, where's Bee? Shine, look at me. Do you know where Bee is?”

To Riddle's gentle questions, she only shook her head wildly and sobbed louder. A terrible certainty was building in me. The white horse came closer. I ignored it until it stood near enough that with a calm step I could take the end of the dangling reins. Two horses. Two saddles. One rider. No Bee. The saddle on the brown horse was definitely Chalcedean-made. The one on the white horse was like nothing I'd ever seen before. High in the front and low in the back. It looked uncomfortable to me.

Bee, where are you? Did you ride on this horse?

“Tom Badgerlock.”

I turned in surprise. Her voice was thick from weeping. She'd pushed back her hood. Her hair was matted and hung in wads about her face. She'd lost weight, and the boniness of her face made her look more like Chade. Her lips were rough and her cheeks chapped red. She was still breathing hard but she had stepped clear of Riddle. The white fur coat she wore was enormous, hanging in folds around her. Her hands clutched her forearms and she hugged her body tight as if she might fall into pieces. She faced me and looked directly into my eyes. This was a different woman from the one who had demanded that all life must stop until we had purchased green stockings for her.

“Bee,” she said. “They took Bee.”

“I know,” I said. I tried to keep my voice calm and even. “They took you and they took Bee. But you're safe now.” I drew a breath. “Bee. Do you know where Bee is now?”

“They took her,” she said again. “They took her into a stone with them.”

I stood as if turned to ice. I tried to make my mouth form words. “What do you mean?” I managed at last, but I knew what she meant. As impossible as it seemed, there was only one explanation.

“Like you did,” she said. “They went into a stone, like you did. And they took Bee with them.”

I felt the world halt around me. My ears rang. “What stone? Where?” I could not find enough air in my lungs to make my questions more than a whisper.

Shine blinked. She spoke quietly, in a puzzled voice. “He tricked us. The Chalcedean who seemed kind. He found us and he took us back to Dwalia. And Vindeliar and a few of the others. They were hiding because Chalcedeans were near. Almost as soon as she saw us, she made us all hold hands.” She scowled suddenly. “As if it were a game. A children's game. Soula held my hand too tight, digging her nails in. The bitch …”

Her voice ran down. I held my breath.
Let her talk. Ask no questions.
I could see how fragile she was, how tenuous her focus on us. She reached toward Riddle suddenly with a shaking hand and her voice went breathy. “Dwalia took out a scroll. And a glove, a very thin glove with silver on the fingertips. But it wasn't pretty. She put it on. And she touched the stone and—”

“Shun! Sweet Eda be praised! It's you! Shun!”

Foxglove had halted my guard a respectful distance away and the Rousters had bunched behind them. Lant and Perseverance had ridden forward to see why they had halted, and now he flung himself from his horse and raced toward her.

“Lant!” she cried, and then she shrieked, “Lant! Lant!” She flung herself into his arms and I did not want to see the terrible race of emotions that went across his features. I hoped no one else could know what they meant. He held her, but not as she clung to him. He held her as a thing lost to him, while she wrapped herself in his arms as if she had finally and safely reached home.

“I thought you were dead! I saw them kill you. And then they kidnapped me!” Her dull calm was gone. Safe in his embrace, her hysteria was rising.

“Shine. What stone? Where?” Riddle demanded. He seized her by the shoulders and turned her back to face him. She tried to hold on to Lant's shirt but at Riddle's warning glance, he surrendered her and stepped back. Did he look relieved to have her taken from his embrace? She looked confused and panicky, but Riddle put his fingers on her chin and turned her face to his. “Shine. Look at me. We may be able to get Bee back right now. What stone did they enter? How long ago?”

She stared at him, blinking once as if she was trying to put her memory in order. I knew that feeling. Her crying had been too intense for tears. Her nose was running and her cheeks and nose were bright red. She finally spoke. “Last night. Dwalia led them. They all held hands. I was at the end, with Kerf. And Soula. At the last moment Bee leaned down and bit his wrist. He was so surprised he let go of me. But Bee didn't let go of him. She dragged him into the stone. He went in screaming.” Her voice lifted on her last sentence, as if that gave her satisfaction. She turned back toward Lant, obviously baffled at how he had released her.

Riddle tugged her back to face him.

I tried to keep my voice level and calm. “Shine. You have to guide us back to that stone. Now. I must go after Bee.”

She moved her gaze slowly from Riddle's face to mine. Her eyes grew flinty and her voice childish. “You left us through a stone. And then
they
came. You shouldn't have left us.”

“I know that and I'm so sorry. But you are safe now. And we need to find Bee so she will be safe, too.” I spoke very simply, as if she were a child. I recalled that fragmented thoughtfulness that follows torture or extreme hardship. Shouting at her would do me no good.

She leaned toward me and whispered, “No. We have to get far, far away. They may come back out of the stone. And there were still some soldiers roaming the forest there. I left the fire burning to lure them and I took the horse and left as quietly as I could. I wish the white horse hadn't followed me. So easy to see her in the night. I would have killed her to keep her from following if I'd had a knife. But I had nothing. Nothing at all. And it got too dark for me to find my way. So I found a thick grove of trees and hid there until daylight.” She drew a breath. “I rode through the forest until I found a road. We galloped and galloped until the stupid horse wouldn't gallop anymore. And then I found you.”

“You have to guide us back to the stone. See all the guards we have with us? They'll protect you this time.”

She lifted her eyes and looked at the waiting troops. Then she narrowed her expression. “I don't think I could find that place again. Even if I wanted to. Please. We have to get far, far away from here.”

“We will,” Riddle assured her. “But first we have to go back for Bee.”

She stared at him, taking deeper and deeper breaths until I feared she would break out into a shriek. “You don't understand. I can't go back there!” Her eyes grew very round and black. “After Bee dragged Kerf in. We, we were … There were more Chalcedeans nearby. Dwalia had said so. But they went into the stone and left us, Soula and me. And Soula, she started screaming and hitting me, and trying to follow them into the stone. I had to make her be quiet. And … she was part of them, the ones that had ruined our home and dragged us away. So I … I killed her. I think.”

“You had to kill her,” I said. I could not let her dwell on that. “You had to kill her, and your father will be so proud that you did. It was the right choice. Shine. What stone?” My heart was racing. Nettle and Dutiful had told me there were no records of Skill-portals in this area. Had they lied to me? I felt a flash of anger, followed by the fear that the stone was unknown because it was defective.

But my effort to reassure her and focus her mind failed badly.

She turned her head slowly to me. “My father?” she asked dully.

“Our father.” Lant's voice broke on the word and I wanted to strike him.
Not now, not now.
But he spoke on. “Lord Chade is your father.”

She blinked at him. The look on her face reminded me of a foundering animal. She would go down soon and with her my chance to find Bee. She spoke slowly. “Lord Chade is your father, you mean. You told me your secret … the night before …”

Her eyes widened.
No, don't let her thoughts go back to the night she was raped and kidnapped.
I tried to keep my voice calm. “I must know where the stone is, Shine!”

Lant held up a shaking hand. “Let me speak. Let it be said before your guard gets here. Let me tell her and have it over it with! I can bear this no longer.” He looked at her, his face full of tragedy. “Shun—Shine. You are my sister. Shine Fallstar. Lord Chade is father to us both.”

She stared, her gaze going from me to Riddle and then to Lant. “It's a poor jest,” she said brokenly. Her bottom lip quivered. “If you love me at all, you will take me away from here, as fast and as far as we may go.”

Lant gave me an agonized look.

Sometimes it is better to rip off the bandaging quickly. “Of course he loves you,” I reassured her. “He
is
your brother. He would never let you come to harm.”

She snapped her head around to stare at me. “My brother?”

Riddle was staring at us, aghast. Some secrets could not be preserved safely, not without risking terrible consequences. I spoke softly. “Lord Chade is father to you both.” I took a breath and tried to speak kindly. “And now you must guide us back to the stone. Where Bee disappeared.”

She gaped at me. Then her head swiveled again and she looked at her brother. What did she see there? The same resemblances I had seen once I had known to look for them? “Lant,” she said in a fading voice, as if she called to him from across a great distance. And then she went boneless, sliding to the road in a heap. The heavy fur coat collapsed around her and, lying there, she suddenly reminded me of a very thin winter-killed deer. Riddle dropped to his knee beside her and put fingers at the side of her throat. He looked up at me. “It's been too much for her. She's done, for now. And we can't wait for her to come to her senses. We'll have to follow her tracks back. Summon Foxglove to take her?”

Lant made a sound of remorse and pain. I took his upper arm before he could fall to his knees beside her. I spoke close by his ear. “Not your fault. And it would be best if you let someone else tend to her for a time when she comes round. She will need time, just as you did.” He tried to twist free of me, but I kept my grip, set my thumb in a certain spot, and pushed it between his arm muscles in a way that would definitely be uncomfortable. As I hoped he would, he went from morose to angry in less than a heartbeat. Riddle was already gathering up Shine. I lifted my free hand and gestured to Foxglove and the troops.

“Let go of me!” Lant demanded in a low voice. At least he had the presence of mind to be somewhat subtle.

I smiled and spoke softly, gesturing as if speaking of concern for Shine. I gradually eased the pressure on his arm as I did so. “When you can control yourself, I'll stop controlling you. There are too many people watching for you to indulge your emotions right now, or to have any heartfelt conversations with Shine about who your father is and what it means to her. So you will mount up and ride beside Riddle and me, you will help us follow her tracks back to that stone, and we will leave her care to Foxglove and my guard. Understand?”

He did not like it. I did not care how he felt. I watched his face and saw the moment when he recognized that logic was on my side. He ceased struggling and I left him standing with the horses while I went to speak to Foxglove and Riddle. Shine might have been awake but she was not stirring. Her eyes were slits and she made no comment as I asked Foxglove to create a travois for her to ride on. Foxglove nodded grimly and began to order some to find sturdy branches and others to gather firewood and create a fire so that Shine might have hot food and drink before she was moved, and I conceded that. I took Lant, Riddle, and my few remaining Rousters and began to ride slowly back down the road in the direction from which Shine had come. I chose not to notice that Perseverance trailed behind us, Motley on his shoulder. The boy had witnessed Lant's revelation. I'd deal with it later. This section of the king's highway traversed a forested area with some farms and smallholdings. The short winter day would soon fade. I wondered how far she had galloped the brown and how tired he had been to start with. I wanted to hurry. I could not afford to miss the trail.

I broke the Rousters into pairs and sent them ahead of us at a gallop with directions that at every crossroads, two should peel off from the main body and ride down each tributary. If any pair saw anything to indicate that two horses had emerged from the forest onto the road, one should halt near the disturbed snow and the other was to ride back to me immediately. They rode off at a breakneck gallop, perhaps hoping to redeem themselves.

For a time Lant, Riddle, and I rode in silence at a more measured pace, scrutinizing the road to either side. Perseverance, still leading Bee's horse, had fallen in behind us. I studied the snowy ground to the left side of the trampled road while Riddle watched the right. I thought about Bee. Last night, she had been riding on a horse with Shine. She'd bitten someone, and somehow that had helped free Shine. Why hadn't she been able to free herself? Again she was snatched away from me, vanished, perhaps through a Skill-pillar. Sadness and despair deepened in me, enhanced by the lingering effects of the elfbark. We watched not just for Shine's tracks but for anything that might indicate sleighs or a mounted troop of men had passed. Any sign of my little girl. After a time, Riddle observed aloud, “I wouldn't be human if I didn't ask.”

I knew his question. “It's true. Chade is their father.”

“I knew that about Lant, but not the girl. Why did he keep Shine secret?”

“Well, because he is Chade. He never told me that Lant was his son until a few days ago. Though I suppose I should have known it by looking at him.”

Riddle nodded to that. “I think more people at Buckkeep know than Chade suspects. It was fairly obvious in how he treated Lant from the beginning. So why keep Shine a secret?”

I was silent for a pause. Lant asked acidly, “Do you want me to ride ahead so you can gossip about my parentage and my half-sister in privacy?”

I stared at him. “Lant. Riddle is married to my daughter, Skillmistress Nettle. Your cousin. So I think that makes him family.”

Riddle fought the grin on his face. “And actually I'm discussing your father, not you. Chade! I am scandalized!” The grin spread despite his best efforts.