THERE IS A game played among the Mountain folk. It is a complex game to learn, and a difficult one to master. It features a combination of cards and rune chips. There are seventeen cards, usually about the size of a man's hand and made from any light-colored wood. Each of these cards features an emblem from Mountain lore, such as the Old Weaver-Man or She Who Tracks. The renderings of these highly stylized images are usually done in paint over a burnt outline. The thirty-one rune chips are made from a gray stone peculiar to the Mountains, and are incised with glyphs for Stone, Water, Pasture, and the like. The cards and stones are dealt out to the players, usually three, until no more remain. Both cards and runes have traditional weights that are varied when they are played in combination. It is reputed to be a very old game.
We walked the rest of the way to the tent in silence. What she had told me was so immense I could not think of anything to say. It would have been stupid to voice the hundreds of questions that sprang up in me. She had the answers, and she would choose when to give them to me. I knew that now. Nighteyes came back to me silently and swiftly. He slunk close to my heels.
She killed within her pack?
So it seems.
It happens. It is not good, but it happens. Tell her that. Not just now.
No one said much as we came into the tent. No one wanted to ask. So I quietly said, "We killed the guards and drove off the horses and threw their supplies off the cliff."
Starling only stared at us, without comprehension. Her eyes were wide and dark, birdlike. Kettricken poured mugs of tea for us and quietly added the stores of food we had brought to our own dwindling supplies. "The Fool is a bit better," she offered by way of conversation.
I looked at him sleeping in his blankets and doubted it. His eyes had a sunken look. Sweat had plastered his fine hair to his skull and his restless sleep had stood it up in tufts. But when I set my hand to his face, it was almost cool to the touch. I snugged the blanket closer around him. "Did he eat anything?" I asked Kettricken.
"He drank some soup. I think he'll be all right, Fitz. He was sick once before, for a day or so in Blue Lake. It was the same, fever and weakness. He said then that it might not be a sickness, but only a change his kind go through."
"He said somewhat the same to me yesterday," I agreed. She put a bowl of warm soup in my hands. For an instant it smelled good. Then it smelled like the remains of the soup the panicked guards had spilled on the snowy road. I clenched my jaws.
"Did you see the coterie members at all?" Kettricken asked me.
I shook my head, then forced myself to speak. "No. But there was a big horse there, and the clothing in his bags would have fit Burl. In another there were blue garments such as Carrod favors. And austere things for Will."
I said their names awkwardly, in a way fearing to name them, lest I summon them. In another way, I was naming those I had killed. Skilled or not, the Mountains would make an end of them. Yet I took no pride in what I had done, nor would I completely believe it until I saw their bones. All I knew for now was that it was not likely they would attack me this night. For an instant I imagined them returning to the pillar, expecting to find food and fire and shelter awaiting them. They would find cold and dark. They would not see the blood on the snow.
I realized the soup was getting cold. I forced myself to eat it, mouthfuls that I simply swallowed, not wishing to taste. Tallow had played the pennywhistle. I had a sudden memory of him sitting on the back steps outside the scullery, playing for a couple of kitchen maids. I shut my eyes, wishing vainly that I could recall something evil about him. I suspected his only crime had been serving the wrong master.
"Fitz." Kettle instantly poked me.
"I wasn't wandering," I complained.
"You would have, soon. Fear has been your ally this day. It has kept you focused. But you must sleep sometime tonight, and when you do, you must have your mind well warded. When they get back to the pillar, they will recognize your handiwork and come hunting you. Do you not think so?"
I knew it was so, but it was still unsettling to hear it spoken aloud. I wished Kettricken and Starling were not listening and watching us.
"So. We shall have a bit of our game again, shall we?" Kettle cajoled.
We played four chance games. I won twice. Then she set up a game with almost entirely white pieces, and gave me one black stone with which to win. I tried to focus my mind on the game, knowing it had worked before, but I was simply too tired. I found myself thinking that it had been over a year since I had left Buckkeep as a corpse. Over a year since I had slept in a real bed I called my own. Over a year since meals had been reliable. Over a year since I had held Molly in my arms, over a year since she had bid me leave her alone forever.
"Fitz. Don't."
I lifted my eyes from the game cloth to find Kettle watching me closely.
"You can't indulge that. You have to be strong."
"I am too tired to be strong."
"Your enemies were careless today. They did not expect you to discover them. They won't be careless again."
"I hope they'll be dead," I said with a cheer I did not feel.
"Not that easily," Kettle replied, unknowing of how her words chilled me. "You said it was warmer down in the city. Once they see they've no supplies, they'll go back to the city. They have water there, and I'm sure they took at least some supplies for the day. I don't think we can disregard them yet– Do you?"
"I suppose not."
Nighteyes sat up beside me with an anxious whine. I quelled my own despair and then quieted him with a touch. "I just wish," I said quietly, "that I could simply sleep for a time. Alone in my mind, dreaming my own dreams, without fearing where I'll go or who might attack me. Without fearing that my hunger for the Skill will overcome me. Just simple sleep." I spoke to her directly, knowing now she understood well what I meant.
"I can't give you that," Kettle told me calmly. "All I can give you is the game. Trust it. It's been used by generations of Skill users to keep such dangers at bay."
And so I bent to the board once more, and fixed the game in my mind, and when I lay down by the Fool that night, I kept it before my eyes.
I hovered that night, like a nectar bird, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. I could reach a place just short of sleep and keep myself there by contemplating Kettle's game. More than once, I drifted back to wakefulness. I would become cognizant of the dim light from the brazier and the sleeping forms beside me. Several times I reached out to check the Fool; each time his skin seemed cooler and his own sleep deeper. Kettricken, Starling, and Kettle rotated through watches that night. I noticed that the wolf shared Kettricken's. They still did not trust me to remain wary through one, and I was selfishly grateful for that.
Just short of dawn, I stirred once more to find all still quiet. I checked the Fool, and then lay back and closed my eyes; hoping to find a few more moments of rest. Instead, in horrific detail, I beheld a great eye, as if the closing of my own eyes had opened this one. I struggled to open my own eyes again, I floundered desperately toward wakefulness, but I was held. There was a terrible pull on my mind, like the sucking pull of an undertow on a swimmer. I resisted with all my will. I could feel wakefulness just above me, like I bubble I could break into, if only I could touch it. But I could not. I struggled, grimacing my face, trying to pull my wayward eyes open.
The eye watched me. One single immense dark eye. Not Will's. Regal's. He stared at me, and I knew he took delight in my struggles. It seemed effortless for him to hold me there, like a fly under a glass bowl. Yet even in my panic, I knew that if he could have done more than hold me, he would. He had got past my walls, but had not the power to do more than threaten me. That was still enough to make my heart pound with terror.
"Bastard, " he said fondly. The word broke over my mind like a cold ocean wave. I was drenched in its threat. "Bastard, I know about the child. And your woman. Molly. Tit for tat, Bastard. " He paused and his amusement grew as my terror swelled. "Now, there's a thought. Has she pretty tits, Bastard? Would I find her amusing?"
"NO!"
I wrenched clear of him, sensing for an instant Carrod, Burl, and Will as well. I flung myself free.
I came awake abruptly. I scrabbled from my bedding and fled outside, bootless and uncloaked. Nighteyes followed at my heels, snarling in every direction. The sky was black and scattered with stars. The air was cold. I drew breath after shuddering breath of it, trying to still the sick fear in me. "What is it?" Starling demanded fearfully. She was on watch outside the tent.
I just shook my head at her, unable to voice the horror of it. After a time, I turned and went back inside. Sweat was coursing down my body as if I had been poisoned. I sat down in my muddle of blankets. I could not stop panting. The more I tried to still my panic, the greater it became. I know about the child. And your woman. Those words echoed and echoed through me. Kettle stirred in her bedding, then rose and came across the tent to sit behind me. She set her hands on my shoulders. "They broke through to you, did they?"
I nodded, tried to swallow with a dry throat.
She reached for a waterskin and handed it to me. I took a drink, almost choked, and then managed another swallow. "Think about the game," she urged me. "Clear your mind of everything but the game."
"The game!" I cried out savagely, jerking both the Fool and Kettricken awake. "The game? Regal knows about Molly and Nettle. He threatens them. And I am powerless! Helpless." I felt the panic building in me again, the unfocused fury. The wolf whined, then growled deep in his throat.
"Can't you Skill to them, warn them somehow?" Kettricken asked.
"No!" Kettle cut in. "He should not even think of them."
Kettricken gave me a look that mingled apology and righteousness. "I fear Chade and I were correct. The princess will be safer in the Mountain Kingdom. Do not forget that his task was to fetch her. Take heart. Perhaps even now Nettle is with him, on her way to safety, out of Regal's reach."
Kettle called my gaze away from the Queen. "Fitz. Focus on the game. Only on the game. His threats could be a ploy, to trick you into betraying them. Don't talk about them. Don't think about them. Here. Look here." Her trembling old hands moved my blanket away and spread out the gamecloth. She spilled stones into her hand, and plucked out white ones to re-create the problem. "Solve this. Focus on this, and this only."
It was next to impossible. I looked at the white stones and thought it all a stupid task. What players could be so clumsy and shortsighted as to let the game degrade into such a clutter of white stones? It was not a problem worth solving. But neither could I lie down and sleep. I scarcely dared blink lest I see that eye again. Had it been Regal's whole countenance or both his eyes it would not perhaps have seemed so awful. But the disembodied eye seemed all-seeing and constant, inescapable. I stared at the game pieces until the white stones seemed to float above the junctures of the lines. One black stone, to bring a winning pattern out of this chaos. One black stone. I held it in my hand, rubbing it with my thumb.
All the next day, as we followed the road down the mountain's flank, I held the stone in my bare hand. My other arm was about the Fool's waist, his arm around my neck. These two things kept my mind focused.
The Fool seemed somewhat better. His body was no longer feverish, but he seemed unable to stomach food or even tea. Kettle forced water on him until he simply sat and refused it, shaking his head wordlessly. He seemed as indisposed to talk as I was. Starling and Kettle with her staff led our weary little procession. The Fool and I followed the jeppas, while Kettricken with her bow strung kept our rear guarded. The wolf prowled restlessly up and down the line, now ranging ahead, now loping up our back trail.
Nighteyes and I had gone back to a sort of wordless bond. He understood that I did not wish to think at all, and did his best not to distract me. It was still unnerving to sense him trying to use the Wit to communicate with Kettricken. No sign of anyone behind us, he would tell her as he trotted past on one of his endless trips. Then he would go ranging far ahead of the jeppas and Starling, only to come back to Kettricken and assure her in passing that all was clear ahead of us. I tried to tell myself that she merely had faith that Nighteyes would let me know if he found anything amiss on his scouting trips. But I suspected she was becoming more and more attuned to him.
The road led us very swiftly downward. As we descended the land changed. By late afternoon, the slope above the road was gentling and we began to pass twisted trees and mossy boulders. Snow faded and became patchy on the hillside while the road was dry and black. Dry tufts of grass showed green at their bases just off the shoulder of the road. It was hard to make the hungry jeppas keep moving. I made a vague Wit-effort to let them know that there would be better browsing ahead, but I doubt that I had enough familiarity with them to make any lasting impression on them. I tried to limit my thoughts to the fact that firewood would be more plentiful tonight, and to gratitude that the lower the road carried us the warmer grew the day.
At one time, the Fool made a gesture to a low growing plant that had tiny white buds on it. "It would be spring in Buckkeep by now," he said in a low voice, and then added quickly, "I'm sorry. Pay no attention to me, I'm sorry."
"Are you feeling any better?" I asked him, resolutely thrusting spring flowers and bees and Molly's candles out of my mind.
"A little." His voice shook and he took a quick breath. "I wish we could walk more slowly."
"We'll camp soon," I told him, knowing that we could not slow our pace now. I felt a growing urgency and had developed the notion it came from Verity. I pushed that name, too, from my mind. Even walking down the wide road in daylight, I feared that Regal's eye was only a blink away and that if I glimpsed it they would once more hold me under their power. For an instant I hoped Carrod and Will and Burl were cold and hungry, but then realized I could not safely think of them, either.
"You were sick like this before," I observed to the Fool, mostly to think of something else.
"Yes. In Blue Lake. My lady queen spent the food money on a room that I might be in out of the rain." He turned his head to stare at me. "Do you think that might have caused it?"
"Caused what?"
"Her child to be stillborn …"
His voice dwindled off. I tried to think of words. "I don't think it was any one thing, Fool. She simply suffered too many misfortunes while she was carrying the babe."
"Burrich should have gone with her and left me. He would have taken better care of her. I wasn't thinking clearly at the time …."
"Then I'd be dead," I pointed out. "Among other things. Fool, there is no sense in trying to play that game with the past. Here is where we are today, and we can only make our moves from here."
And in that instant, I suddenly perceived the solution to Kettle's game problem. It was so instantly clear that I wondered how I could not have seen it. Then I knew. Each time I had studied the board, I wondered how it could have got into such a sorry condition. All I had seen were the senseless moves that had preceded mine. But those moves had no longer mattered, once I held the black stone in my hand. A half-smile crooked my lips. My thumb rubbed the black stone.
"Where we are today," the Fool echoed, and I felt his mood shadow mine.
"Kettricken said that you might not truly be ill. That it might be … peculiar to your kind." I was uncomfortable coming even that close to a question regarding this.
"It could be. I suppose. Look." He drew off his mitten, then reached up, and dragged his nails down his cheek. Dry white trails followed them. He rubbed at it and the skin powdered away beneath his hands. On the back of his hand, the skin was peeling as if it had been blistered.
"It's like a sunburn peeling away. Do you think it's the weather you've been in?"
"That, too, is possible. Save that if it is like last time, I shall itch and peel over every bit of my body. And gain a bit more color in the process. Are my eyes changing?"
I obliged him by meeting his gaze. Familiar as I was with him, it was still not an easy task. Had those colorless orbs darkened a trifle more? "Perhaps they are a bit darker. No more than ale held up to the light. What will happen to you? Will you continue to have fevers and gain color?"
"Perhaps. I don't know," he admitted after a few moments had passed.
"How could you not know?" I demanded. "What were your elders like?"
"Like you, foolish boy. Human. Somewhere back in my bloodline, there was a White. In me, as rarely happens, that ancient blood is given form again. But I am no more White than I am human. Did you think that one such as I was common to my people'? I have told you. I am an anomaly, even among those who share my mixed lineage. Did you think White Prophets were born every generation? We would not be taken so seriously if we were. No. Within my lifetime, I am the only White Prophet."
"But could not your teachers, with all those records you said they kept, tell you anything of what to expect?"
He smiled, but bitterness was in his voice. "My teachers were too certain that they knew what to expect. They planned to pace my learning, to reveal what they thought I should know when they thought I should know it. When my prophecies were different from what they had planned, they were not pleased with me. They tried to interpret my own words for me! There have been other White Prophets, you see. But when I tried to make them see that I was the White Prophet, they could not accept it. Writing after writing they showed to me, to try to convince me of my effrontery in insisting on such a thing. But the more I read, the more my certainty grew. I tried to tell them my time was nearly upon me.
All they could counsel was that I should wait and study more to be certain. We were not on the best terms when I left. I imagine they were quite startled to find I was gone so young from them, even though I had prophesied it for years." He gave me a strangely apologetic smile. "Perhaps if I had stayed to complete my schooling, we would know better how to save the world."
I felt a sudden sinking in the pit of my stomach. So much had I come to rely on a belief that the Fool, at least, knew what we were about. "How much do you truly know of what is to come?"
He took a deep breath, then sighed it out. "Only that we do it together, Fitzy-fitz. Only that we do it together."
"I thought you had studied all those writings and prophecies …."
"I did. And when I was younger, I dreamed many dreams, and even had visions. But it is as I have told you before; nothing is a precise fit. Look you, Fitz. If I showed you wool and a loom and a set of shears, would you look at it and say, Oh, that is the coat I will someday wear? But once you have the coat on, it is easy to look back and say, Oh, those things foretold this coat."
"What is the good of it, then?" I demanded in disgust.
"The good of it?" he echoed. "Ah. I have never quite thought of it in those terms before. The good of it."
We walked for a time in silence. I could see what an effort it was for him to keep to the pace, and wished vainly there had been a way to keep one of the horses and get it past the slide area.
"Can you read weather sign, Fitz? Or animal tracks?"
"Some, for weather. I am better at animal tracks."
"But in either one, are you always sure you are right?"
"Never. You don't really know until the next day dawns, or you bring the beast to bay."
"So it is with my reading of the future. I never know … Please, let us stop, even if for only a bit. I need to get my breath, and take a sip of water."
I obliged him reluctantly. There was a mossy boulder just off the road, and he seated himself there. Not too far from the road were evergreens of a type I did not know. It rested my eyes to look on trees again. I left the road to sit beside him, and was instantly aware of a difference. As subtle as bees' humming was the working of the road, but when it suddenly ceased, I felt it. I yawned to pop my ears, and suddenly felt more clearheaded.
"Years ago I had a vision," the Fool observed. He drank a bit more water, then passed the skin to me. "I saw a black buck rising from a bed of shining black stone. When first I saw the black walls of Buckkeep rising over the waters, I said to myself, Ah, that is what that meant! Now I see a young bastard whose sigil is a buck walking on a road wrought from black stone. Maybe that is what the dream signified. I don't know. But my dream was duly recorded, and someday, in years to come, wise men will agree as to what it signified. Probably after both you and I are long dead."
I asked a question that had long prickled me. "Kettle says there is a prophecy about my child … the child of the Catalyst …."
"That there is," the Fool confirmed calmly.
"Then you think Molly and I are doomed to lose Nettle to the throne of the Six Duchies?"
"Nettle. You know, I like her name. Very much, I do."
"You did not answer my question, Fool."
"Ask me again in twenty years. These things are so much easier when one looks back." The sideways glance he gave me told me he would say no more on that topic. I tried a new tack.
"So you came, all that way, so that the Six Duchies would not fall to the Red-Ships."
He gave me an odd look, then grinned as if astonished. "Is that how you see it? That we do all this to save your Six Duchies?" When I nodded, he shook his head. "Fitz, Fitz. I came to save the world. The Six Duchies falling to the Red-Ships is but the first pebble in the avalanche." He took another deep breath. "I know the Red-Ships seem disaster enough to you, but the misery they make to your folk is no more than a pimple on the world's buttocks. Were that all, were it simply one set of barbarians seizing land from another, it would be no more than the ordinary working of the world. No. They are the first stain of poison spreading in a stream. Fitz, do I dare tell you this? If we fail, the spread is fast. Forging takes root as a custom, nay, as an amusement for the high ones. Look at Regal and his `King's Justice.' He has succumbed to it already. He pleasures his body with drugs and deadens his soul with his savage amusements. Aye, and spreads the disease to those around him, until they take no satisfaction in a contest of skill that draws no blood, until games are only amusing if lives are wagered on the outcome. The very coinage of life becomes debased. Slavery spreads, for if it is accepted to take a man's life for amusement, then how much wiser to take it for profit?"
His voice had grown in strength and passion as he spoke. Now he caught his breath suddenly and leaned forward over his knees. I set a hand on his shoulder, but he only shook his head.
After a moment, he straightened. "I declare, talking to you is more wearying than hiking. Take me at my word, Fitz. As bad as the Red-Ships are, they are amateurs and experimenters. I have seen visions of what the world becomes in the cycle when they prosper. I vow it shall not be this cycle."
He heaved himself to his feet with a sigh and crooked out his arm. I took it and we resumed our walking. He had given me much to think about, and I spoke little. I took advantage of the gentling countryside to walk alongside the road rather than upon it. The Fool did not complain of the uneven ground.
As the road plunged ever deeper into the valley, the day warmed and the foliage increased. By evening, the terrain had mellowed so much that we were able to pitch the tent, not only off the road, but quite a distance from the road. Before bedtime, I showed Kettle my solution to her game, and she nodded as if well pleased. She immediately began to set out a new puzzle. I stopped her.
"I do not think I will need that tonight. I am looking forward to truly sleeping."
"Are you? Then you shouldn't look forward to waking up again."
I looked shocked.
She resumed setting out her pieces. "You are one against three, and those three a coterie," she observed more gently. "And possibly those three are four. If Regal's brothers could Skill, he most likely has some ability. With the aid of the others, he could learn to lend his strength to them." She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice, although the others were all busy with camp chores. "You know it is possible to kill with the Skill. Would he wish to do less than that to you?"
"But if I sleep off the road," I began.
"The force of the road is like the wind that blows alike on all. The ill wishes of a coterie are like an arrow that targets only you. Besides, there is no way you can sleep and not worry about the woman and the child. And every time you think of them, it is possible the coterie sees them through your eyes. You must crowd them out of your mind."
I bent my head over the gamecloth.
I awoke the next morning to the pattering of rain on the tent skins. I lay for a time listening to it, grateful that it was not snow but dreading a day of walking in rain. I sensed the others waking up around me with a keenness I had not had in days. I felt almost as if I had rested. Across the tent, Starling observed sleepily, "We walked from winter to spring yesterday."
Next to me the Fool shifted, scratched and muttered, "Typical minstrel. Exaggerate everything."
"I see you are feeling better," Starling retorted.
Nighteyes thrust his head into the tent, a bloody rabbit dangling in his jaws. The hunting is better, too.
The Fool sat up in his blankets. "Is he offering to share that?"
My kill is your kill, little brother.
Somehow it stung to hear him call the Fool "brother." Especially when you've already eaten two this morning? I asked him sarcastically.
No one forced you to lie in bed all dawn.
I was silent a moment. I have not been much companion to you lately, I apologized.
I understand. It is no longer just we two. Now we are pack.
You are right, I told him humbly. But this evening, I intend to hunt with you.
The Scentless One may come too, if he wishes. He could be a good hunter, did he try, for his scent could never give him away.
"He not only offers to share meat, he invites you to hunt with us this evening."
I had expected the Fool to decline. Even at Buck he had never shown any inclination toward hunting. Instead he inclined his head gravely toward Nighteyes and told him, "I would be honored. "
We struck camp speedily and were soon on our way. As before I walked beside the road rather than upon it, and felt clearer-headed for it. The Fool had eaten voraciously at breakfast and now seemed almost his old self. He walked upon the road, but within hailing distance, and kept up a merry chattering to me all day. Nighteyes ranged ahead and behind as always, frequently at a gallop. All of us seemed infected with the relief of warmer weather. The light rain soon gave way to a streaky sunlight, and the earth steamed fragrantly. Only my constant ache over Molly's safety and a nagging fear that at any time Will and his cohorts might attack my mind kept it from being a lovely day. Kettle had warned me about letting my mind dwell on either problem, lest I attract the coterie's attention. So I carried my fear inside me like a cold black stone, resolutely telling myself there was absolutely nothing I could do.
Odd thoughts popped into my head all day. I could not see a flower bud without wondering if Molly would have used it for scent or color in her work. I found myself wondering if Burrich was as good with a wood axe as he was with a battle-axe, and if it would be enough to save them. If Regal knew of them, he would send soldiers after them. Could he know of them without knowing exactly where they were?
"Stop that!" Kettle reprimanded me sharply, with a light rap of her walking stick. I jolted back to full awareness. The Fool glanced over at us curiously.
"Stop what?" I demanded.
"Thinking those thoughts. You know what I mean. Were you thinking of anything else, I would not have been able to walk up behind you. Find your discipline."
I did, and reluctantly dredged up the game problem from the night before to concentrate on.
"That's better," Kettle told me in quiet approval.
"What are you doing back here?" I asked suddenly. "I thought you and Starling were leading the jeppas."
"We've come to a fork in the road. And another pillar. Before we proceed, we want the Queen to see it."
The Fool and I hastened ahead, leaving Kettle to go back and tell Kettricken of the juncture. We found Starling sitting on some ornamental stonework at the side of the road while the jeppas browsed greedily. The juncture of the road was marked by a great paved circle, surrounded by open grassy meadow, with another monolith at its center. I would have expected it to be crowned with moss and scarred by lichen. Instead the black stone was smooth and clean save for dust deposited by wind and rain. I stood staring up at the stone, studying the glyphs while the Fool wandered about. I was wondering if any of the markings on this one matched the markings I had copied to the map when the Fool exclaimed, "There was a village here, once!" He gestured wide with his hands.
I glanced up, and saw what he meant. There were indentations in the meadows where stunted grass cloaked old, paved walkways. A wide, straight way that might have been a street once ran through the meadow and off beneath the trees. Moss– and vine-shrouded upthrusts were all that remained of cottage and shop walls that had lined it. Trees grew where once hearths had burned and folk had dined. The Fool found a large block of stone and climbed upon it to spy in all directions. "It might have been a sizable town, at one time."
It made sense. If this road had been the highway for commerce that I had seen in my Skill-seeing, then it was only natural that a town or market would spring up at every crossroads. I could imagine it on a bright spring day, when farmers brought fresh eggs and new spring greens to town and weavers hung out their new goods to tempt the buyers and …
For half an instant, the circle about the pillar thronged with folk. The vision began and ended at the pavement stones. Only within the virtue of the black stone did the people laugh and gesture and barter with one another. A girl crowned with a twist of green vine came through the crowd, glancing back over her shoulder at someone. I swear she-caught my eye and winked at me. I thought I heard my name called and turned my head. Upon a dais stood a figure dressed in a flowing garment that shimmered with the glint of gold thread. She wore a gilded wooden crown decorated with cunningly carved and painted rooster heads and tail feathers. Her scepter was no more than a feather duster but she gestured with it royally as she issued some decree. In the circle about me, folk roared with laughter. I could only stare at her ice white skin and colorless eyes. She looked right at me.
Starling slapped me, hard. My head snapped on my neck with the force of her blow. I looked at her in astonishment, blood pooling in my mouth where my teeth had cut my cheek. She lifted her clenched fist again, and I realized she had not slapped me. I stepped back hastily, catching her wrist as her fist went by. "Stop it!" I cried angrily.
"You … stop it!" she panted. "And make her stop it, too!" She gestured angrily to where the Fool perched still upon his stone, frozen in artful mime of a statue. He did not breathe nor blink. But as I watched he slowly toppled over, falling like a stone.
I expected him to change it to a handspring in midfall, to come flashing to his feet as he so often had when he amused King Shrewd's court. Instead he measured his length in the meadow grass and lay still.
For a moment I stood stunned. Then I raced to his side. I seized the Fool under the arms and dragged him away from both the black circle and the black stone he had climbed upon. Some instinct made me take him into shade and lean him back against the trunk of alive oak. "Get water!" I snapped at Starling, and her scolding and fluttering ceased. She ran back to the loaded jeppas and got a waterskin.
I put my fingers alongside his throat and found his life pulsing steadily there. His eyes were only half-closed and he lay like a man stunned. I called his name and patted at his cheek until Starling returned with the water. I unstoppered the skin and let a cold stream of it spatter down over his face. For a time there was no response. Then he gasped, snorted out water, and sat up abruptly. His eyes were blank. Then his gaze met mine and he grinned wildly. "Such a folk and such a day! It was the announcing of Realder's dragon, and he had promised he would fly me …" He frowned suddenly and looked about in confusion. "It fades, like a dream it fades, leaving less than its shadow behind …"
Kettle and Kettricken were suddenly with us as well. Starling tattled out all that had happened while I helped the Fool to drink some water. When she was finished, Kettricken looked grave, but it was Kettle who lashed out at us. "The White Prophet and the Catalyst!" she cried in disgust. "Rather name them as they are, the Fool and the Idiot. Of all the careless, foolish things to do! He has no training at all, how is he to protect himself from the coterie?"
"Do you know what happened?" I demanded, cutting into her tirade.
"I … well, of course not. But I can surmise. The stone he clambered on must be a Skill-stone, the same stuff as the road and the pillars. And somehow this time the road seized you both with its power instead of just you."
"Did you know it could happen?" I didn't wait for her reply. "Why didn't you warn us?"
"I didn't know!" she retorted, and then added guiltily, "I only suspected, and I never thought either of you would be so foolish as to …"
"Never mind!" the Fool cut in. Abruptly he laughed and stood up, pushing away my arm. "Oh, this! This is such as I have not felt in years, not since I was a child. The certainty, the power of it. Kettle! Would you hear a White Prophet speak? Then hearken to this, and be glad as I am glad. We are not only where we must be, we are when we must be. All junctures coincide, we draw closer and closer to the center of the web. You and I." He clasped my head suddenly between his two hands and placed his brow against mine. "We are even who we must be!" He freed me suddenly and spun away. He launched the handspring I had expected earlier, came to his feet, curtsied deeply and laughed aloud again, exultantly. We all gawked at him.
"You are in great danger!" Kettle told him severely.
"I know," he replied, almost sincerely, and then added, "As I said. Exactly where we need to be." He paused, then asked me suddenly, "Did you see my crown? Wasn't it magnificent? I wonder if I shall be able to carve it from memory?"
"I saw the rooster crown," I said slowly. "But what to make of any of this, I do not know."
"You don't?" He cocked his head at me, then smiled pityingly. "Oh, Fitzy-fitz, I would explain it if I could. It is not that I wish to keep secrets, but these secrets defy telling in mere words. They are more than half a feeling, a grasping of rightness. Can you trust me in this?"
"You are alive again," I said wonderingly. I had not seen such light in his eyes since the days when he had made King Shrewd bellow with laughter.
"Yes," he said gently. "And when we have finished, I promise that you will be, also."
The three women stood glaring and excluded. When I looked at the outrage on Starling's face, the rebuke in Kettle's and the exasperation in Kettricken's, I suddenly had to grin. Behind me the Fool chuckled. And try as we might, we could not explain to their satisfaction exactly what had happened. Nevertheless, we wasted quite some time in attempting it.
Kettricken took out both maps and consulted them. Kettle insisted on accompanying me when I took my map back to the central pillar to compare the glyphs on it to the ones on the map. They shared a number of marks in common, but the only one that Kettricken recognized was the one she had named before. Stone. When I reluctantly offered to see if this pillar might not transport me as the other one had, Kettricken adamantly refused. I am ashamed to admit I was greatly relieved. "We began together, and I intend that we shall finish together," she said darkly. I knew she suspected that the Fool and I were keeping something from her.
"What do you propose then?" I asked her humbly.
"What I first suggested. We will follow that old road that goes off through the trees. It appears to match what is marked here. It cannot take us more than two marches to reach the end of it. Especially if we start now."
And with no more announcement than that, she got up and clicked to the jeppas. The leader came immediately and the rest obediently fell into line behind her. I watched her long even strides as she led them off down the shady road.
"Well, get along, both of you!" Kettle snapped at the Fool and me. She shook her walking stick and I almost suspected she wished she could prod us along like errant sheep. But the Fool and I both fell obediently into line behind the jeppas, leaving Starling and Kettle to follow us.
That night the Fool and I left the tent's shelter and went with Nighteyes. Both Kettle and Kettricken had been dubious as to the wisdom of this, but I had assured them I would act with all caution. The Fool had promised not to let me out of his sight. Kettle rolled her eyes at this, but said nothing. Plainly we were both still suspected of being idiots, but they let us leave anyway. Starling was sulkily silent, but as we had not had words, I assumed her pique had some other source. As we left the fireside, Kettricken said quietly, "Watch over them, wolf," and Nighteyes replied with a wave of his tail.
Nighteyes led us swiftly away from the grassy road and up into the wooded hills. The road had been leading us steadily downward into more sheltered country. The woods that we moved through were open groves of oaks with wide meadows between. I saw sign of wild boars but was relieved when we did not encounter any. Instead, the wolf ran down and killed two rabbits that he graciously allowed me to carry for him. As we were returning to the camp by a roundabout path we came on a stream. The water was icy and sweet and cress grew thick along one bank. The Fool and I tickled for fish until our hands and arms were numb with the cold water. As I hauled out a final fish, its lashing tail splashed the enthusiastic wolf. He leaped back from it then snapped at me in rebuke. The Fool playfully scooped up another handful and flung it at him. Nighteyes leaped, jaws wide to meet it. Moments later, all three of us were involved in a water battle, but I was the only one who landed bodily in the stream when the wolf sprang on me. Both Fool and wolf were laughing heartily as I staggered out, soaked and chilled. I found myself laughing also. I could not recall the last time I had simply laughed aloud about so simple a thing. We returned to camp late, but with fresh meat, fish, and watercress to share.
There was a small, welcoming fire burning outside the tent. Kettle and Starling had already made porridge for our meal, but Kettle volunteered to cook again for the sake of the fresh food. While she was preparing it, Starling stared at me until I demanded, "What?"
"How did you all get so wet?" she asked.
"Oh. By the stream where we got the fish. Nighteyes pushed me in." I gave him a passing nudge with my knee as I headed toward the tent. He made a mock snap at my leg.
"And the Fool fell in as well?"
"We were throwing water at one another," I admitted wryly. I grinned at her, but she did not smile. Instead she gave a small snort as if disdainful. I shrugged and went into the tent. Kettricken glanced up at me from her map, but said nothing. I rucked through my pack and found clothes that were dry if not clean. Her back was turned so I changed hastily. We had grown accustomed to granting one another the privacy of ignoring such things.
"FitzChivalry," she said suddenly in a voice that commanded my attention.
I dragged my shirt down over my head and buttoned it. "Yes, my queen?" I came to kneel beside her, thinking she wanted to consult on the map. Instead, she set it aside and turned to me. Her blue eyes met mine squarely.
"We are a small company, all dependent on one another," she abruptly told me. "Any kind of strife within our group serves the purpose of our enemy."
I waited, but she said no more. "I do not understand why you tell me this," I said humbly at last.
She sighed and shook her head. "I feared as much. And perhaps I do more harm than good to speak of it at all. Starling is tormented by your attentions to the Fool."
I was speechless. Kettricken speared me with a blue glance, then looked aside from me again. "She believes the Fool is a woman and that you kept a tryst with her tonight. It chagrins her that you disdain her so completely."
I found my tongue. "My lady queen, I do not disdain Mistress Starling." My outrage had rendered me formal. "In truth, she is the one who has avoided my company and put a distance between us since finding that I am Witted and sustain a bond with the wolf. Respecting her wishes, I have not pressed my friendship upon her. As to what she says of the Fool, surely you must find it as ludicrous as I do."
"Should I?" Kettricken asked me softly. "All I can truthfully say I know of it is that he is not a man like other men."
"I cannot disagree with that," I said quietly. "He is unique among all the people I have ever known."
"Cannot you show some kindness to her, FitzChivalry?" Kettricken burst out suddenly. "I do not ask that you court her, only that you do not let her be rent with jealousy."
I folded my lips, forced my feelings to find courteous answer. "My queen, I will offer her, as I ever have, my friendship. She has given me small sign of late of even wanting that, let alone more. But as to that topic, I do not disdain her nor any other woman. My heart is given already. It is no more right to say that I disdain Starling than it is to say that you disdain me because your heart is filled with my Lord Verity."
Kettricken shot me an oddly startled look. For a moment she seemed flustered. Then she looked down at the map she still gripped. "It is as I feared. I have only made it worse by speaking to you. I am so tired, Fitz. Despair drags at my heart always. To have Starling moody is like sand against raw flesh to me. I but sought to put things right between you. I beg your pardon if I have intruded. But you are a comely youth still, and it will not be the last time you have such cares."
"Comely?" I laughed aloud, both incredulous and bitter. "With this scarred face and battered body? It haunts my nightmares that when next Molly sees me, she shall turn aside from me in horror. Comely." I turned aside from her, my throat suddenly too tight to speak. It was not that I mourned my appearance so much as I dreaded that Molly must look someday on my scars.
"Fitz," Kettricken said quietly. Her voice was suddenly that of a friend, not the Queen. "I speak to you as a woman, to tell you that although you bear scars, you are far from the grotesque you seem to believe yourself. You are, still, a comely youth, in ways that have nothing to do with your face. And were my heart not full with my Lord Verity, I would not disdain you." She reached out a hand and ran cool fingers down the old split down my cheek, as if her touch could erase it. My heart turned over in me, an echo of Verity's embedded passion for her amplified by my gratitude that she would say such a thing to me.
"You well deserve my lord's love," I told her artlessly from a full heart.
"Oh, do not look at me with his eyes," she said dolefully. She rose suddenly, clasping the map to her breast like a shield, and left the tent.