Fool's Fate (105 page)

    She slapped the table in front of her, then exclaimed in pain at her stinging fingers. “I didn't want a moral lecture, I wanted an accounting. With no excuses!”

    “I've never forgotten the apples you threw to me through the bars of my cell. You and Lacey were incredibly brave to come to me in the dungeons, and to take my part when few others dared to.”

    “Stop it!” she hissed indignantly as her eyes filled with tears again. “Is this how you get your pleasure these days? Making old ladies weep over you?”

    “I don't mean to.”

    “Then tell me what happened to you. From the last time I saw you.”

    “My lady, I would love to. And I will, I promise. But when I encountered you, I was on a pressing errand of my own. One that I should complete before I lose the daylight. Let me go, and I promise that I'll be back tomorrow, to give a full accounting.”

    “No. Of course not. What errand?”

    “You recall my friend the Fool? He has fallen ill. I need to take him some herbs to ease him, and food and wine.”

    “That pasty-faced lad? He was never a healthy child. Ate too much fish, if you ask me. That will do that to you.”

    “I'll tell him. But I need to go see him.”

    “When did you last see him?”

    “Yesterday.”

    “Well, it has been sixteen long years since you've seen me. He can wait his turn.”

    “But he is not well.”

    She clashed her teacup as she set it down on the saucer. “Neither am I!” she exclaimed, and fresh tears began to well.

    Lacey came to pat her shoulders. Over Patience's head, she said to me, “She is not always rational. Especially when she is tired. We only arrived this morning. I told her that she should rest, but she wanted a bit of air in the gardens.”

    “And what, pray, is irrational about that?” Patience demanded.

    “Nothing,” I said hastily. “Nothing at all. Come. I've an idea. Lie down on your bed, and I shall sit beside you where you are comfortable, and begin my tale. And if you drowse off, I shall quietly take my leave, and come back to continue it tomorrow. For sixteen years cannot be told in an hour, or even in a day.”

    “It will take sixteen years to tell sixteen years,” Patience told me sternly. “Help me up, then. I'm stiff from traveling, you know.”

    I gave her my arm and she leaned on it as I escorted her to her bed. She groaned as she sat down on it, and as the feather bed gave beneath her, she muttered, “Much too soft. I'll never be able to sleep on this. Do they think I'm a hen, setting in a nest?” Then, as she lay back and I helped her lift her feet onto the bed she said, “You've quite ruined my surprise, you know. Here I was, all set to summon a grandchild to me and reveal to her that she was well-born of noble blood, and pass on to her keepsakes of her father. Oh, help me take my shoes off. When did my feet get so far away from my hands?”

    “You don't have your shoes on. I think you left your slippers in the garden.”

    “And whose fault is that? Startling us that way. It's a wonder I didn't forget my head down there.”

    I nodded, noting but not commenting that her stockings didn't match. Patience had never cared much for detail. “What sort of keepsakes?” I asked.

    “It scarcely matters now. As you are alive, I intend to keep them.”

    “What were they?” I asked, intensely curious.

    “Oh. A painting you gave me, don't you know? And, when you were dead, I took a lock of your hair. I've worn it in a locket ever since.” While I was speechless, she leaned up on an elbow. “Lacey, come have a lie-down for a bit. You know I don't like you to be too far away if I need you. Your hearing isn't what it used to be.” To me, she confided, “They've given her a narrow little bed in a closet of a room. Fine if your maid is a slip of a girl, but hardly appropriate for a mature woman. Lacey!”

    “I'm right here, dearie. You needn't shout.” The old serving woman came round to the other side of the bed. She looked a bit uncomfortable at the prospect of lying down in front of me, as if I might think it improper that she should share a lady's bed. It made perfect sense to me. “I am tired,” she admitted as she sat down. She had brought a shawl, and she spread it over Patience's legs.

    I brought a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down backward on it. “Where should I begin?” I asked her.

    “Begin by sitting on that chair properly!” And after I had corrected that, she said, “Don't tell me what that vile pretender did to you to kill you. I saw enough of it on your body and I could not bear it then. Tell me, instead, how you survived.”

    I thought briefly, considering. “You know I am Witted.”

    “I thought you might be,” she conceded. She yawned. “And?”

    And so I launched into my tale. I told her of seeking refuge in my wolf, and how Burrich and Chade had called me back to my body. I told her of my slow recovery, and of Chade's visit. I thought she had drowsed off then, but when I tried to rise, her eyes flew open. “Sit down!” she commanded me, and when I had done so, she took my hand, is if to keep me from creeping away. “I'm listening. Go on.”

    I told her of Burrich leaving, and of the Forged Ones. I explained to her how Burrich had come to believe I had died there, and returned to Molly to protect her and the child she carried. I told her of my long journey from Buck to Tradeford, and of Regal's King's Circle there. She opened one eye. “It's all a garden, now. I've plants and trees and flowers from all over the Six Duchies and beyond. Monkey-tail vine from Jamaillia, and blue-needle bush from the Spice Isles. And a lovely herb-knot in the very middle of where it used to be. You'd like it, Tom. You will like it, when you come to live with me.”

    “I'm sure I'll like it,” I said, scrupulously avoiding the topic of where I might or might not live. “Shall I go on, or do you want to nap now?” A gentle snore buzzed from Lacey's side of the bed.

    “Go on. I'm not the least bit sleepy. Go on.”

    But in the midst of my telling her how I had attempted to kill Regal, she dozed off. I sat still a time longer, waiting until her grip slackened on my hand and I could slip clear of her.

    I walked silently to the door. As I lifted the latch, Lacey raised up on one elbow. There was nothing wrong with her hearing, and I suspected that despite her crooked fingers, one would still find a blade up her sleeve. So I nodded to her and left Patience sleeping as I slipped from the room.

    I went down to the guardroom and ate heartily. There is nothing like a steady diet of salt fish to make one appreciate bread and butter and cold roast fowl. My enjoyment of the meal was somewhat dampened by the knowledge that evening was drawing on. Guardsmen seemed always hungry, and no one made any comment when I carried off half a loaf of bread and a goodly wedge of cheese with me. From my meal, I went immediately to a storeroom where I helped myself to a carry basket and two sausages. I added the loaf and cheese to the basket. I took my trove up to Chade's tower room. Thick had been there. He had done a cursory dusting of the table and mantel and set out a bowl of fruit. A little fire burned on the hearth. There was a small supply of firewood in the hod, a bundle of tapers on the table, and water in the barrel. I shook my head in wonder at the man. After all he had been through, he was home for one day and still remembered his old duties. I put half a dozen yellow and purple plums into my carry basket and nested a bottle of Chade's wine between the bread and cheese. I was folding feverfew and dried willow bark into a twist of paper when I felt Chade nudge at my mind.

    What?

    I need to speak to the Queen, Fitz.

    Cannot you use Thick instead? I was just on my way to the Skill-pillars.

    This will not take long.

    I will have to find a way to arrange quiet time with Queen Kettricken.

    I have already contacted her, through Thick. The message she sent back was, yes, immediately. If you go to her private sitting room, she will come to you shortly.

    Very well.

    You seem cross.

    I am worried about the Fool. I have some things here I'd like to take back to him. Fresh fruit and herbs for fever.

    I understand, Fitz. But this should not take long. Then, you can sleep the night through, and go in the morning.

    Very well. I released our contact. Very well. And what else could I have said? He was right. Many of the thoughts Dutiful had conveyed to his mother would have been difficult for Thick to grasp, let alone pass on. I tried not to resent the time it stole from me. The Fool would be fine, I told myself. He had been through the changes before, and who better than the Black Man to tend him? He had even told me that he needed time apart from me, time to think. Time to think without watching the face of someone who had witnessed what had befallen you. Besides, it was better that I serve this duty than Nettle, I told myself sternly. She needed to be home, with her family, and doubtless her family needed her there. I found a clean piece of cloth and covered the bread. I went down the long dim stairs to wait upon the Queen. It did not take a short time. Chade and Dutiful were quarreling, and Chade had attempted to steal a march upon the Prince by contacting the Queen first. He and the Prince were to board the ship to sail home tomorrow afternoon. The Narcheska was to have come with them, but earlier in the day, she had gone to Dutiful and begged that she might have three more months in the company of her family before she left them to come to Buckkeep. The Prince had granted it to her, privately, without consulting Chade.

    Very privately, Chade seethed, and I wondered if he intended that I pass on to the Queen that the asking of the boon and the granting of it had occurred in a setting of an intimacy of which the councilor did not approve.

    “Very discreetly was this matter discussed between the Prince and the Narcheska,” was what I told her.

    “I see,” she replied, and I wondered if she did.

    As of yet, there has been no public announcement. It is not too late for us to retract this permission. I fear it will throw all our plans awry if the girl is allowed to stay here. For one thing, it will mean that when she arrives, if she keeps her promise to arrive at all, it will be in the storms of winter rather than in time for the nuptials to be celebrated with the autumn harvest. The Prince will be returning to his nobles without a bride, indeed, with nothing visible to show for the time and expense of this expedition. If, as we have hoped, you planned to press for the Dukes to declare him King-in-Waiting, this will be a lackluster event to base it on. Tales of dragons rescued and dragon heads on hearthstones will mean little to nobles who have seen not so much as a scale of a dragon, let alone the bride and alliance won by such valor. And I fear the longer the Narcheska lingers among her women here, the harder they will make it for her to depart from them. Their reluctance to give her up has grown hourly. They mourn her as one going to her death, as vanishing from their world forever.

    When these thoughts had been delivered to the Queen, she suggested to Chade, “Perhaps, then, it would be wiser to give her more time to bid her people farewell. Please add many assurances that visitors will always be welcome, and that she will periodically return to visit there, as well. Have you extended welcome to any of her clan who wish to accompany her, not just to witness the wedding, but to stay on that she need not feel so alone here?”

    As I passed her words on to Chade, I was reminded starkly of how alone Kettricken had been when she journeyed from the mountains, without so much as a personal maid to accompany her. Did she recall her early days of being alone in a foreign court where no one spoke her mother tongue or recognized her customs?

    It is a part of the difficulty. As I understand it, a woman's bond to her land is sacred. The women in line to rule their mothershouses seldom leave their homeland at all. They live on it, die on it, and go back into it. All that goes into a woman or comes forth from her is expected to stay on her own lands. So, no women of power will travel with her when she comes to Buckkeep. Peottre will accompany her, and perhaps a couple of her male cousins. Arkon Bloodblade will come, and a goodly number of leaders from other clans will come, to confirm the trade alliances they have formed with our visiting nobles. But she will not have an entourage of servants and ladies.

    “I see,” Kettricken replied slowly. We were alone in her sitting room. She had poured wine for us, and the glasses rested, neglected, on the low table. The room had been restored since last I saw it. As ever, Kettricken sought her peace in simplicity. A single flower floated in a low pottery dish and the candles were shielded to a gentle glow. The candles released a calming perfume into the air, but Kettricken was tense as a treed cat. She saw me looking at her hands clenched on the edge of the table and carefully relaxed them. “Does Chade hear all that I say to you?” she asked me softly.

    “No. He is not with me that way, not riding with me as Verity used to do. That takes a great deal of concentration. And demands a total loss of privacy of thought. I have not invited him to do that. So, he hears only what you tell me to say to him.”

    Her shoulders lowered a trifle as she relaxed. “Sometimes my councilor and I are at odds. When we spoke through Nettle...well. It was difficult, for Chade and I were both being so circumspect, taking care not to involve her in matters far beyond her ability or need to understand. But now you are here.” She lifted her head slightly. Almost, she smiled. “I take strength from you, FitzChivalry. In an odd way, when you Skill for me, you serve me as a Queen's Man.” She drew herself up straight. “Tell Chade that in this matter, the Prince's word to his affianced one will not be compromised. If he feels winter is not an auspicious time for this wedding, then let us offer to postpone it until spring, when the crossing will doubtless be safer and more pleasant for the Narcheska. In the matter of the Prince being hailed as King-in-Waiting, well, that has always been up to his dukes. If he must bring home a woman as trophy for them to find him worthy of the title, then the title means little to me. He will, eventually, reign over them. It is my opinion that his kindness and consideration to his future bride may well strengthen this alliance rather than be seen as weakness.” She paused, as if thinking, pinching her lips firmly together. Then, “Tell him that, please.” She took up her wineglass and sipped from it.