Fool's Fate (14 page)

    “Fitz,” Chade said, and I started at his voice, my thoughts having carried me so far afield. “Don't worry so. If Web meant to do us harm, there'd be little advantage in tipping his hand. He's going with us on the Prince's quest, so we can keep an eye on him. And talk to him. You, especially, should seek him out. Pretend you wish to learn more of the Wit. That will win him over to you.”

    I sighed softly. I was sick of deception. I said as much to Chade. He snorted callously.

    “You were born for deception, Fitz. Born for it. Just as I was, just as all bastards are. We're tricky things, sons but not heirs, royal but not princes. I would have thought that by now you would have accepted that.”

    I only said, “I'll try to get to know Web better on the voyage and see what he's about.”

    Chade nodded sagely. “A ship's a good place to do that. Little for men to do but talk on a voyage. And if he proves to be a danger to us...well.”

    He didn't have to say that many mishaps could befall a man at sea. I wished he had said nothing at all. But he was talking on.

    “Did you put it into Starling's head to go with us? For she asked. Gave the Queen a long-winded speech about how a minstrel should go to bring home a clean telling of the Prince's adventure.”

    “Not I. Did the Queen give her permission?”

    “I refused it, saying that all the places on the Prince's ship were already spoken for, and that the minstrel Cockle had already claimed a spot. Why? Do you think she'd be useful?”

    “No. I fear this may be like the last quest I went on; the less truth that comes home with us, the better.” I was relieved that Chade had refused Starling, and yet some sneaking part of me was mildly disappointed. That feeling shamed me too much to examine it closely.

    The next day, I managed to see Hap. It was only a brief visit, and we talked while he worked. One of the journeymen was doing an inlay project, and had asked Hap to do the sanding of the pieced bits. It looked deadly dull to me, but Hap seemed absorbed in the work when I approached him. He smiled wearily when I greeted him, and gravely accepted the small gifts and mementos I'd brought him. When I asked how he was, he didn't pretend to misunderstand. “Svanja and I are still together, her parents still don't know, and I'm still juggling that with my duties as an apprentice. But I think I'm managing it. My hope is that if I apply myself here, I can make journeyman quickly. Once I have that status, I think I can present myself to Svanja's father as a likely marriage prospect for his daughter.” He sighed. “I'm so tired of the sneaking about, Tom. I think Svanja relishes it, that it makes it more exciting for her. But for me, well, I like things settled and done right. Once I'm a journeyman, I can make everything as it should be.”

    I bit my tongue before saying that apprenticeships lasted years, not months. We both knew that. What mattered was that Hap was not shirking his training, but delving into it in the hopes of realizing his dreams. What more could I ask of him? So I embraced my son and told him I would be thinking of him. The hug he returned me was fierce. “I won't shame you, Tom. I promise I won't shame you.”

    With the rest of the guardsmen, I loaded my sea chest onto a wagon and followed it down to the docks. Buckkeep Town was decked for Spring Fest. Flowers garlanded door lintels and banners fluttered. The doors to taverns and common houses stood open, with song and the smell of holiday food wafting from them. Some of the men grumbled about missing the holiday but the first day of spring was a fortuitous day for beginning a journey.

    Tomorrow morning, we'd make a show of escorting the Prince aboard. Today we boarded the Maiden's Chance and jostled companionably for space on the lower deck allotted to us. Our area was dark, airless, and thick with the stink of men in close quarters and the bilge below us. I hit my head twice on the low joists, and after that walked hunched. We would be crowded cheek by jowl, with little privacy and no quiet. The smoke-darkened timbers seemed to breathe out a miasma of oppressiveness. The water lapped loudly against the outside of the hull as if to remind me that only a plank of wood stood between the cold, wet sea and me.

    I stowed my gear quickly, already anxious to be out of there. I little cared where my trunk was lashed down; I resolved to spend as much time above deck in the open air as I could. About half the guard were veterans of this sort of journey. They made much of the fact that we had an area separate from the working sailors, whom they despised as drunks, thieves, and brawlers. Personally, I suspected the seamen regarded the guardsmen in much the same light.

    I settled my belongings quickly and headed up to the deck. I could not linger there, for it was crowded with sailors and passengers, all with some task in mind that involved pushing past me. Crates were being lifted from the docks and swung overhead before being guided down through the hatches and stowed belowdecks. The sailors who weren't shouting at each other were swearing loudly about the landsmen in their way.

    Once on the docks again, I breathed a sigh of relief. All too soon, I'd be trapped aboard that ship with no opportunity to escape. But as I came down the gangway, my relief evaporated. On the dock stood the Fool as Lord Golden, fuming. A retinue of servants bearing boxes, crates, bags, and packages of all descriptions stood behind him. Blocking him was a harassed scribe with a scroll. He was shaking his head, his eyes nearly shut, as Lord Golden harangued him.

    “Well, obviously there has been a mistake! What seems to elude you is that the error is not mine. For months, it has been settled that I am to accompany the Prince on his quest! Who better can advise him than a man like me who has traveled far and experienced many cultures? So take yourself out of my way! I myself shall select a suitable cabin, as you insist that none has been allotted to me, and move my comforts into it while you trot about and discover who is responsible for this gross error.”

    The scribe had never paused in his head-shaking and when he spoke, I was certain he was repeating words he'd already uttered. “Lord Golden, I humbly regret any error that has been made. My list came directly from Lord Chade's hands, and my instructions were most explicit. Only those listed here are to be settled aboard the Prince's ship. Nor am I allowed to leave my post here, to run and ask if some mistake has been made. My orders are quite clear on that.” As if hoping to be rid of Golden, he added, “Perhaps you have been assigned to one of the accompanying vessels.”

    Lord Golden gave an exasperated sigh. As he turned to his servant, his eyes seemed to skate past me, but for the tiniest instant, our gazes met. “Put that down!” he commanded the man, and the servant lowered a box to the ground with relief. Lord Golden promptly sat down on it. As he crossed his green-hosed legs, he gestured imperiously at all of his other servants. “All of you! Set your burdens down where you are.”

    “But...you're blocking the...Please, Lord Golden...”

    He ignored the scribe's anguish. “Here I shall remain until this matter is resolved,” he announced in a wounded voice. He crossed his arms on his chest. Lifting his chin, Lord Golden gazed out over the waters as if nothing else in the world concerned him at all.

    The scribe darted a look past him. His servants and equipment formed an effective blockade of the dock. Other passengers were beginning to clog the docks behind him, and longshoremen with barrows and tubs of supplies were gathering, too. The scribe took a breath and tried to summon authority. “Sir, you will have to remove yourself and your belongings until this is resolved.”

    “I shall not. So I suggest you send a runner to Lord Chade and have him give you the authority to let me board. For nothing less will satisfy me.”

    My heart sank. I knew that Lord Golden's remark was intended more for me than for the scribe. He had seen me. He expected I would hasten back to Buckkeep Castle and drop a word in Chade's ear that would bring a speedy solution to his quandary. He did not yet suspect that his difficulty was of my making, and that even if I regretted it, Chade would stand firm. As I turned away from the milling spectacle he was creating, I saw him give me the ghost of a wink. No doubt he thought that Lord Golden's grand departure from Buckkeep Town would become one of the town's legends.

    I wanted to see no more of it. As I trudged up the steep streets that led back to the castle, I told myself there was no reason to agonize. Lord Golden would sit there until evicted from the spot. No worse than that. And when we sailed tomorrow without him, well, he'd remain safely in Buckkeep whilst the rest of us went off to whatever discomfort and boredom the journey could offer us. No worse than that.

    Nonetheless, the rest of the day dragged for me. After days of last-minute rushing, I found my final hours empty. There was nothing left to do. My space in the guard barracks was empty of all save the clothing and weapon I would wear on the morrow. The Prince's Guard would go forth handsomely. Leggings, shirt, and overtunic were all of Buckkeep blue. The Farseer buck was embroidered on the breast. My new boots had been made to my feet and didn't pinch. I'd already greased them well against wet. Although it was spring, the cloaks we'd been given were of thick wool against the expected cold of the Out Islands. The Fool's gift sword laid out atop my colors seemed like a rebuke. I left it there, safe as anything was safe in a barracks where a man's honor was most of what he possessed in the world.

    In my tower workroom, it was much the same. If Chade had noticed that Chivalry's sword now hung over the mantelpiece, he'd chosen not to comment on it. I moved ineffectually around the room, putting away the things that Chade had left scattered from his packing. The charts of the Out Islands and all other writings that Chade thought might be needed had already been packed. For lack of anything else to do, I lay on the bed and teased the ferret. But soon even Gilly tired of that. He went off to hunt rats. I took myself off to the steams, scrubbed myself raw, and then shaved twice. Afterward, I went to my barracks and got into the narrow bed there. The rest of the long room was quiet and nearly deserted. Only a few old hands had chosen an early bed as I had. The others were out and about Buckkeep Town, bidding the taverns and whores farewell. I pulled the blankets around me and stared up at the shadowed ceiling.

    I wondered how hard the Fool would try to follow us. Chade had assured me that he wouldn't be able to get passage out of Buckkeep Town. He'd have to travel to a different port, and pay a lot of money to persuade a ship's captain to sail after us. Lord Golden wouldn't have that money. After his recent escapades, I doubted he'd find any friends willing to loan him any. He'd be stuck.

    And furious with me, I decided. He had a keen mind. He'd soon deduce who had been behind his abandonment. He would know that I had chosen his life over what he perceived as his destiny. He'd feel no gratitude. His Catalyst was supposed to aid him in changing the course of the world, not thwart him.

    I closed my eyes and sighed. It took me several tries to compose myself. When finally I floated just beneath the surface of sleep, I reached out for Nettle. This time, she was sitting in an oak tree, wearing a gown of butterfly wings. I looked up at her from the knoll beneath the tree. I was the man-wolf, as I always was in her dreams. “All those dead butterflies,” I said sorrowfully, shaking my head at her.

    “Don't be silly. It's only a dream.” She stood up on the branch and leaped. I reared onto my hind legs and opened my arms to catch her, but the butterflies of her gown all fluttered simultaneously, and she floated, light as thistledown, and landed on her feet beside me. She wore one large yellow butterfly in her hair like a hair ribbon. It slowly fanned its wings. The color of her gown shifted in waves as the butterflies wafted their wings lazily.

    “Ew. Don't all the little legs tickle?”

    “No. It's a dream, remember? You don't have to keep the unpleasant parts.”

    “You never have nightmares, do you?” I asked in admiration.

    “I think that I used to, when I was very small. But I don't anymore. Why would anyone stay in a dream that didn't please her?”

    “Not all of us can control our dreams the way you can, child. You should count it as a blessing.”

    “Do you have nightmares?”

    “Sometimes. Don't you recall where you found me last time, crossing that talus slope?”

    “Oh. Yes, I remember that. But I thought it was something you liked to do. Some men like doing dangerous things, you know.”

    “Perhaps. But some of us have had our fill of that, and would avoid nightmares if we could.”

    She nodded slowly. “My mother has terrible nightmares sometimes. Even when I go into them and tell her to come out, she won't. She either won't or can't see me. And my father...I know he has bad dreams, because sometimes he shouts aloud. But I can't find my way into his dreams at all.” She stopped for a moment's thought. “I think that's why he started drinking again. When he's drunk, he passes out instead of falling asleep. Do you think he could be hiding from his nightmares?”

    “I don't know,” I said, and wished she had not told me such things. “I bring you news that may ease both of them, however. Swift is on his way back home.”

    She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. “Oh, thank you, Shadow Wolf. I knew you could help me.”

    I tried to be stern. “I wouldn't have to help you if you'd used common sense. Swift is far too young to be out and about on his own. You shouldn't have helped him run away.”

    “I know that, now. But I didn't then. Why can't real life be like dreams? In a dream, if something starts to go wrong, you can simply change it.” She lifted her hands to her shoulders and smoothed them down the front of her gown. Suddenly, she was wearing a dress of poppy petals. “See? No tickly legs now. You just have to tell the parts you don't like to go away.”

    “Like you sent away the dragon?”

    “The dragon?”

    “You know who I mean. Tintaglia. She appears small at first, as a lizard or a bee, and then becomes larger until you vanquish her.”