Fool's Quest (73 page)

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Authors: Robin Hobb

Tags: #Action & Adventure, #Adult, #Dragons, #Epic, #Fantasy, #Fiction, #Magic, #Science Fiction

BOOK: Fool's Quest
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Integrity's color was very high. “Mother, I vow …”

“Integrity! Vow not.” Dutiful shot me a desperate look. “It puts my lady very much in mind of the time when little Kossi was stolen. And at night, she has evil dreams of when she was tormented and forced to offer herself as bait to lure us into the Pale Woman's trap.”

Oh. Never had I seen it that way, or considered what memories my own tragedy must wake in her. I dropped to my knees in front of Elliania and looked up into her face. Tears were streaming and by the look of her eyes, not for the first time this day. “My queen. Please. Dry your tears and have faith in me. I promise you that I go, and soon, to discover where these snakes nest. Let Integrity remain here, at your side. If I have need of him, I will send word to Nettle to summon him, and then he can come, bringing whatever force you deem necessary, following a way I will clearly chart for them. But for now, Queen Elliania, let me go alone and secretly.”

It was not an easy posture to hold, on my aching knees, my head craned down and my face twisted up to look into hers. She bit her lip, and then gave a minuscule nod.

“Alone?” I had not realized Riddle was in the room until he spoke.

“Alone,” I affirmed.

“What of me?”

Nettle opened her mouth but I was faster. “You already know the answer to that. If you do not stay, I cannot go. Nettle is heavy with child. Your place is here, guarding that which is precious to both of us.”

He bowed his head to that. “Still. You should not go alone,” he said quietly.

“He won't be alone,” Lant interjected. “I'm going with him.”

I turned to face him but spoke to the whole room. “Lord Chade already suggested I take FitzVigilant. And I deeply appreciate his offer. But as I must make the first step of my journey via the Skill-stones, I fear I must go alone, even if it were not my preference.”

Lant set his jaw and gave me a baleful stare. I opened my hands helplessly and shrugged.

“And what of the Fool?” Dutiful demanded abruptly.

I hadn't wanted to discuss that. “He must remain here, and for the same reasons. I have not had the heart to tell him so, but I will. I travel by the pillars, and that will be risky enough for me to do alone. Last time I attempted to bring the Fool through a stone I drained Riddle's strength to take him with me.” I turned my head, speaking to all of them. “It's very simple. I intend to go alone and swiftly. I will find the way to Clerres. I will study its weaknesses. And then I will send for who and what I need.” I forced a smile to my face. “Not even I would be so foolish as to imagine I could carry out a solo attack against a city.”

For a moment, a silence fell, and I wondered how many of them did imagine I would be that foolish. Then the objections erupted.

“But, FitzChivalry—”

“Fitz, you will need—”

“What is your plan?” Kettricken spoke from her post near the window. Her low voice cut through the others and silence fell.

“It's not much of a plan.” I clambered to my feet. My knees made small noises. My body healed swiftly but it still objected to some things. “I've gathered some tools and supplies. I've consulted with the Fool about my journey. And I am ready to leave. Tomorrow.”

Kettricken was shaking her head slowly. I turned to look at Dutiful. “No,” he said succinctly. “You can't do it that way, Fitz. There has to be a farewell dinner, and you must ride out of Buckkeep like a prince, not slink off like a—”

He fumbled for words. “Lone wolf,” Nettle supplied in a low voice.

“Exactly,” Dutiful concurred. “You have been reintroduced to the court. You can't simply vanish.”

Dismay rose in me like a tide. “Must all know what I go to do?”

There was a moment of quiet. Dutiful spoke slowly. “There have been rumors. Rumors from Withywoods, gossip among the guard companies. Bodies found. Evidently the pale folk would rather kill themselves than be captured or face hardship surviving alone. They leapt from the sea cliffs. They were seen doing so, and later the remains washed ashore. So there have been questions. And fears. We have to offer some answers.”

Chade would have been proud of me. The perfect deception came immediately to mind. “Let us announce that I am going to ask counsel of the Elderlings, as to what I should do against such an enemy. And that is why I depart by the Skill-stone and alone.”

“The True Elderlings,” Kettricken supplied.

“True Elderlings?”

“Some of the correspondence we have received from Bingtown asserts that the Traders who settled in Kelsingra with their hatched dragons are insisting that they are now Elderlings. A claim I find both preposterous and offensive.” She had seen Verity absorbed into his stone dragon, but some part of her believed in the old legends of the wise Elderlings forever feasting in their halls of stone, their dragons sleeping but ready to wake to the call of the Six Duchies. That same legend had lured Verity to the Mountains in search of the Elderlings, the legendary allies of the Six Duchies.

“I think that will be a very acceptable tale,” I suggested and looked round at my family. They were all nodding except Riddle. He had that weary expression that I had often worn when Chade would announce one of his masquerades.

“Give me five days to make all ready,” Dutiful suggested.

“I should like to leave in two,” I said quietly. One would have been better.

“Three, then,” he compromised.

I still had a difficulty. “I must entrust the Fool to your safekeeping. He will not be pleased about this, for he believes he must go with me. He thinks he can make the journey, despite blindness and his frail health. But I do not think I can care for him and still travel by the stones as swiftly as I need to.”

Kettricken had come to stand beside me. She set her hand on my arm. “Leave our old friend in my hands, Fitz. I will see that he is neither neglected nor overwhelmed. It would be my pleasure to do so.”

“I will send word to my brothers and Hap, to let them know you are departing,” Nettle offered. She shook her head. “I do not think they will have time to journey here and wish you farewell.”

“Thank you,” I told her, and wondered why such niceties never occurred to me. Then I knew. Farewells were always hard for me. And I'd left the most difficult one for last. The Fool was not going to be pleased with my plan.

It was difficult for me to extract myself from that gathering. Suggestions and ideas and warnings from those who loved me battered me until almost the dinner hour. As we left the chamber, I informed them that I had had to visit the Fool again. Kettricken nodded grimly. Riddle, ever pragmatic, said he would see that food and wine were sent up to Mage Gray's rooms.

I dragged my feet through the halls of Buckkeep, inventing and discarding a hundred ways of telling him that I was leaving him behind. I stood for a long time outside his door. At last I decided there was no good way to give him the news. Once more, I considered a coward's way out: I simply would not tell him. I would just go.

But I was certain that Ash would be a party to the announcement of my departure, and what he knew, the Fool would know. I lifted my hand and knocked and waited. Spark opened the door to me. She smiled to see me, and I decided that perhaps they had made up their quarrel. “It's Prince FitzChivalry, sir. Shall I admit him?” she called merrily over her shoulder.

“Of course!” He sounded hearty. I peered past Spark to see Lord Gray sitting at his table. Motley was there, among an assortment of small items. I guessed at the game they'd been playing. I was glad at how quickly he'd recovered his spirits and miserable that I would soon destroy his cheerfulness. But I had no choice.

No sooner was the door closed behind me than he demanded, “How soon do we leave?”

Just say it. “I leave in three days.”

“I'll be ready.”

“I can't take you with me.”

He cocked his head at me. Shock was replaced with a desperate smile. “And yet well you know you cannot find the way there without me.”

“I can.” I stepped around Spark and moved toward the table. I drew out the other chair and sat down opposite him. He opened his mouth. “No,” I said firmly. “Hear me out. I can't take you, Fool. I make the first part of my journey by the stones, using the same ones that Bee did. I dare not try to take you through with me—”

“I dare!” he declared over the top of my words, but I kept speaking.

“You are still healing. It's not just your body that needs time, as well we both know. It's best you take that time here at Buckkeep, where you are warm, safe, and fed, among friends. It's my hope that as your health improves, the King's Own Coterie can attempt a fuller Skill-healing, perhaps even restore your vision. I know it must sound harsh to you, but if I try to take you with me, it will slow me down and may well kill you.”

The crow and the serving girl regarded me with hard, bright eyes. The Fool was breathing hard through his nose, as if he'd just climbed a towerful of stairs. His hands gripped the edge of the table. “You mean it,” he said in a shaking voice. “You're leaving me here. I hear it in your voice.”

I drew a deep breath. “If I could, Fool, I would—”

“But you can. You can! Take the risk! Take all the risks! So we die in a stone, or on a ship, or at Clerres. So we die, and it ends. We die together.”

“Fool, I—”

“She wasn't only your child! She was the hope of the world. And she was mine, and I only ever touched her for one brief moment! Why can you imagine I'd hesitate to risk my life for the chance to avenge her? To bring all Clerres crashing down around their ears! What, do you imagine I'll sit here and drink tea and chat with Kettricken while you go off without me? Fitz! Fitz! You can't do this to me! You can't!”

His voice had risen and he shouted the last words at me, as if shouting would somehow change the logic of my decision. When he paused to draw breath, we all heard the knocking at the door. The cadence indicated it had been going on for some time.

“Take care of that!” the Fool snapped at Spark.

With a pale face and folded lips, she did as she was ordered. The Fool sat across from me, his chest heaving. I sat still and silent, not listening to the words at the door. Spark closed it and came to the table bearing a tray. “Someone sent food for this room.”

“I thought we might discuss this over dinner. I'd hoped to learn more that might help me.”

Spark set the tray down between us with a sharp clack. The savory fragrance of seared meat seemed to come from some other world where such pleasures mattered.

Watching the Fool's anger build was almost terrifying. It seemed to come up from somewhere deep in his chest. I saw his chest swell and his shoulders bunch. His hands clenched and the tendons in his throat stood out. I knew what he was going to do an instant before he did it, but I made no move as he seized the sides of the tray of food and wine and upended it toward me. The gravy was hot and a wineglass bounced from my brow before dumping its contents in my lap. It fell to the floor with a soft chime of impact and then rolled in a half-circle.

Spark gasped. The crow uttered a harsh “ha, ha, ha!” before opening her wings and hopping from the table to the floor. Without hesitation, she began to sort through the food. I lifted my eyes from her to the Fool's frozen countenance. “More that might help you? More that might help you to leave me behind here? You will hear nothing more from me. Get out.
Get out!

I rose. There had been linen napkins with the tray of food. I took one and wiped most of the food from my chest and lap. I folded the mess into it and set it quietly on the table. I spoke. I knew I should not, I knew it, and yet the words came out of my mouth. “And this is yet another reason I cannot take you with me. You have lost all control of yourself, Fool. I came to tell you that I'm going alone. I did that. Good night.”

And I left him there, with the crow eating and Spark weeping noisily enough for all of us.

The next few days passed in a whirl. Two seamstresses came to my room early the next morning and measured me thoroughly for “traveling clothes.” I told them to leave off any decorative buttons. A day later they delivered to my room sturdy shirts and trousers in subtle browns and a tightly woven cloak lined with fur. The lightweight leather armor came separately and was of a quality I had never experienced. The high-collared vest would protect my chest, belly, and throat. There were greaves and vambraces, also brown and unmarked by any insignia. I was pleased that Dutiful had known I would need to travel quietly and unremarked. But then came another delivery, of a lovely Buck-blue cloak and blue-dyed leather gloves lined with lamb's wool, and a doublet embroidered all over with bucks and narwhals. I began to guess that there was more than one kind heart supplying me for my journey.

My worn pack was replaced by one of weatherproofed canvas with sturdy straps. The first things I put into it were Bee's books and Molly's candles. Those would go with me to the ends of the earth.

The word had gone out that I would be leaving, and the farewell notes, invitations, and gifts were overwhelming. And yet all must be acknowledged and politely refused. Every loose thread snipped or tied. Ash came to my room, grim-faced and silent, and every day presented me with all these missives sorted into tidy piles.

And I returned to the Fool's room and failed at reasoning with him. I endured the Fool's constant imprecations and pleas that I reconsider. I continued to see him and he continued to batter me with anger, sorrow, sarcasm, and silence. I held firm. “You will never penetrate those walls without me. I am your only hope of gaining entry,” he told me more than once. The more I refused to discuss it, the more he talked only about it. It did not stop my daily visits but I counted down to the last one.

Two days before my departure, Kettricken summoned me to her audience chamber. That day no one else was waiting, having been warned she was busy for the whole day. I was admitted immediately and found her busy with pen and paper. A scroll rack had been brought in, and it held perhaps a score of scrolls. She was kneeling on a cushion, pen in hand, head bent over a vellum.

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