My wolf taught me as much as I ever taught him. But strive as he might, he never completely succeeded in teaching me to exist in the now as he did. When we spent quiet snowy nights sprawled on the hearth before a comfortable fire, the wolf had no need of conversation or a scroll to read. He simply enjoyed the comfort of warmth and resting. When I would rise to pace the small room, or pull a burnt stick from the embers to scratch idly on the hearthstones or take up paper and pen, he would lift his head, sigh, and then put it back down and resume his enjoyment of the evening.
When we hunted together, I would move nearly as silently as he did, watching, always watching for the flick of an ear or the shift of a hoof, that tiny motion that would betray a deer standing poised in the brush, waiting for us to pass by. I would flatter myself that I was completely in the now, tuned exclusively to the hunt. And so intent would I be on that watch that I would startle when, with a pounce and a shake, Nighteyes would kill a crouched rabbit or huddled grouse that I had walked right past. I always envied him that. He was open to all the information that the world offered him, a scent, a sound, a tiny movement or just the brush of life against his Wit-sense. I never achieved his ability to open himself to everything, to be aware of all that was happening, all at once.
Journal entry, unsigned
I hadn’t taken more than a step before Riddle was up and beside me. He caught at my arm. His mouth was a flat line as I turned to him. He spoke quietly, almost without inflection, as if he himself had no idea how to feel about his words. ‘I need to say this before we go fetch Bee. Fitz, it isn’t working. In fact, it’s exactly what Nettle feared. You’re a good man. And my friend. I hope you can remember that I’m your friend as I say this. You’re not a good … you aren’t able to be a good father. I have to take her back to Buckkeep with me. I promised Nettle that I would see how things were going for both of you. She didn’t trust herself to decide; she was afraid she’d be too critical.’
I pushed down my sudden flare of anger. ‘Riddle. Not now. And not here.’ Later, I’d think about his words and what they meant. I shrugged free of his hand on my arm. ‘I need to find Bee. She’s been gone too long.’
He caught at my sleeve and I had to turn back to him. ‘Exactly. But until I pointed it out, you hadn’t noticed that. The second time today that she’s been put into danger.’
Shun had a fox’s ears. She was eavesdropping. Behind us, she made a small sound between disgust and amusement and spoke for me to hear. ‘And he says you are not fit to teach his daughter,’ she observed to FitzVigilant snidely. I nearly turned to her but the wolf in my heart leapt to the forefront. Find the cub. Nothing else matters.
Riddle had also heard her. He dropped his grip on my sleeve and started toward the door. I was two steps behind him. All manner of thoughts raced through my mind. Oaksbywater was not a large town, but all sorts of folk would be converging on it for Winterfest. All sorts of people, bent on having a good time. And for some of them, a good time could involve hurting my little girl. I barked my hip on a table’s edge and two men shouted as their beer leapt over the rims of their mugs. Then Shun was stupid enough to seize my sleeve. She had come after me and Lant trailed her. ‘Riddle can find Bee. Holder Badgerlock, we need to settle this once and for all.’
I ripped my sleeve from her grip so abruptly that she cried out and clutched her hand to her chest. ‘Did he hurt you?’ FitzVigilant exclaimed in horror.
Riddle had reached the door and was waiting for two very large patrons to come in before he could go out. He leaned to look around them. Then, ‘NO! Stop! Put her down!’ Riddle roared the words as he slammed through the two men trying to come into the tavern and out of the door. I lunged away from Shun and crossed the crowded tavern in a stumbling run. The door stood wide open and I bolted through it. I gazed wildly around the busy commons. Where had Riddle gone, what had he seen? Folk were treading calmly through the snow, a dog sat scratching itself, and the driver of the emptied wagon in front of the inn chirruped to his team. Past the wagon I caught a glimpse of Riddle, running through startled idlers toward a ragged beggar who had lifted my small daughter in his crooked, dirty hands and held her tight to his breast. His mouth was by her ear. Trapped against him, she was not struggling. Instead, she was very, very still, her feet dangling, her face looking up into his, her lax hands open and held wide as if begging something from the sky.
I passed Riddle and somehow my knife was in my hands. I heard a sound, a roaring like a beast and a roaring in my ears. Then my arm was around the beggar’s throat, pulling his face away from my daughter’s, and as I bent his head back with the crook of my elbow, I plunged my knife into his side, once, twice, three times at least. He screamed as he let go of her, and I dragged him back with me, away from my child in her grey-and-red shawl, fallen like a torn rose in the snow.
Riddle was there in an instant, wise enough to snatch my daughter from the snowy ground and fall back with her. His right arm held her to his heart while his left had his own knife at the ready. He looked all around, seeking some other foe or target. Then he glanced down at her, took two steps back and shouted, ‘She’s fine, Tom. A bit stunned but fine. No blood!’
Only then did I become aware of people shouting. Some were fleeing the violence, others converging in a circle around us as eager as crows at a killing. I still held the beggar in my arms. I looked down into the face of the man I had killed. His eyes were open, greyed-over and blind. Row of scars lined his face in lovingly inflicted lines. His mouth was crooked. The hand that clutched still at my strangling arm was a bird’s claw of crookedly healed fingers.
‘Fitz,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve killed me. But I understand. I deserve it. I deserved worse.’
His breath was foul and his eyes like dirty windows. But his voice had not changed. The world rocked under my feet. I stumbled back, and sat down hard in the snow, the Fool in my arms. I realized where I was, under the oak, in the bloody snow where the dog had bled. Now the Fool bled. I felt the warm blood from his wounds soaking my thighs. I dropped my knife and pressed my hand to the punctures I had made. ‘Fool,’ I croaked, but I had no breath to make words.
He moved one hand, blindly groping, asking with infinite hope, ‘Where did he go?’
‘I’m right here. Right here. And I’m sorry. Oh, Fool, don’t die. Not in my arms. I could not live with that. Don’t die, Fool, not at my hands!’
‘He was here. My son.’
‘No, only me. Just me. Beloved. Don’t die. Please don’t die.’
‘Did I dream?’ Tears spilled slowly from his blind eyes. They were thick and yellow. The breath of his whisper was foul. ‘Can I die into that dream? Please?’
‘No. Don’t die. Not by my hand. Not in my arms.’ I begged. I was curled forward over him, nearly as blind as he was as I fought the blackness at the edges of my vision. This was too terrible to live through. How could this be? How could this be? My body longed for unconsciousness, and my mind knew I had but a knife’s edge of a chance. I could not survive this if he did not.
He spoke again, and blood was on his tongue and lips as he formed the words. ‘Dying in your arms … is still dying.’ He breathed two breaths. ‘And I cannot. Must not.’ The blood crested his lips and began to trickle over his chin. ‘Much as I’ve wished to. If you will. If you can. Keep me alive, Fitz. Whatever the cost to us. To you. Please. I need to live.’
A Skill-healing, even in the best of circumstances, is a difficult thing. It’s usually accomplished by a circle of Skill-users, a coterie, who are familiar with one another and are capable of loaning one another strength. The knowledge of how a man’s body is put together is essential to it, for in severe instances, one must decide what injuries are most deadly and deal with those first. Ideally, before the healing is attempted, all will have been done to accomplish an ordinary healing, wounds cleansed and bound, with a patient who is rested and well-fed. Ideally. I knelt in the snow, the Fool in my lap, surrounded by chattering onlookers, while Riddle held my terrified daughter in my arms. I lifted my eyes to Riddle and spoke clearly. ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve hurt an old friend who meant my child no harm. Care for Bee and keep these others back. I wish to say a prayer to Eda.’
It was a believable excuse, and there were enough followers of Eda present that they could persuade the others to give me quiet and space. No one had shouted for the city guard: it was entirely possible that few realized I’d actually stabbed the beggar. Riddle’s astonished gaze reproached me, but for a wonder, he obeyed, and I suddenly knew just how deep our friendship actually went. He called out loudly for people to give me space, and then turning, I saw him shout and beckon FitzVigilant to his side. Shun was following the scribe, walking like a cat in wet snow. I saw him speaking earnestly to both of them, taking command, and knew he would handle it all.
I closed my eyes and bent my head as if in prayer.
I plunged into the Fool’s body. We no longer had a Skill-link; for an instant, his boundaries opposed me. I summoned Skill-strength I scarcely knew I possessed and breached his defences. He made a low sound, of objection or pain. I ignored it. This was a body I knew intimately, having once worn it. It was like and unlike a man’s, with differences that were both subtle and crucial. To close the wounds I had caused and stem that bleeding was not a complicated feat, and I made it my first task. Undo the damage I had done to him. It took focus, and my willing his body to make that healing a priority worth burning his scanty reserves. So I stopped his bleeding, and felt him dwindle and weaken as his body accelerated that healing. For while the Skill is a powerful magic, it does not do the healing. The body does, under the Skill’s direction, and there is always a cost to the body’s reserves.
Almost immediately I saw my mistake. I moved through his body with his blood, finding old damage and bad repairs and places where his body had trapped poisons and sealed them off in a vain effort to control their spread. One of my knife plunges had pierced such a toxic pocket, and now it leaked blackness into his blood, and his pumping heart was carrying the poison all through his body. The wrongness was spreading; I felt his body’s weary physical alarm, and then a peculiar resignation began to spread through him. It was not his mind but his body that knew his life was at an end. A strange pleasure began to spread through him, a final comforting that the flesh offered the mind. It was soon to be over; why spend your last moments in alarm? Almost that lure of peace drew me in.
‘Fool. Please!’ I quietly begged him to rally. I opened my own eyes to look into his face. For a long moment, the world spun around us. I could not focus; the healing had taken more from me than I had realized at the moment.
I drew a shuddering breath and widened my eyes. It had never been easy to meet his eyes when they were colourless. Even as they had acquired tint and had moved from a pale yellow to gold, it had been hard to read what was behind that gaze. Now his eyes were occluded, greyed in what I suspected had been a deliberate blinding. I could not see into his heart any more than he could see out of them. I had only his voice to go by. It was breathy and full of resignation.
‘Well. A bit longer we shall have together. But at the last, we fail, my Catalyst. None have tried harder than we did.’ His tongue, bloodied still, moved over his chapped and peeling lips. He took breath and smiled with scarlet teeth. ‘Nor paid a higher price for that failure. Enjoy what good is left in your life, old friend. Evil times will soon be upon you. It was good to be near you. A last time.’
‘You can’t die. Not like this.’
A thin smile curved his lips. ‘Can’t die? No, Fitzy, I can’t live. Would that I could, but I can’t.’ His eyelids, as dark as if they had been bruised, closed uselessly over his clouded eyes. I lifted my gaze. Time had passed. How much, I could not tell, but the light had changed. Some of the village folk had fallen back into a wondering circle, but as many had decided there was little to see, the beginnings of Winterfest beckoned and they had gone on their way. Riddle still stood there, a dazed Bee in his arms, flanked by Shun and FitzVigilant. Shun huddled shivering in her wraps, her face a mask of righteous anger. FitzVigilant looked completely confused. I looked directly at Riddle and spoke heedless of who might hear or wonder.
‘I must take him to Buckkeep Castle. To the Skill-coterie for healing. Through the pillars. Will you help me?’
Riddle looked down at Bee in his arms and then back at me. ‘She’s fine,’ he said, and I heard his rebuke that I had not even asked about that. But surely, if she were not, he would have told me that instantly? I felt a twinge of anger at him that faded immediately. I didn’t have the right to be angry at him, nor the time to be anything but desperate. I stared at him. He shook his head, denying me, but said, ‘I’ll help you however I can. As always I have.’
I gathered my feet under me and stood with little effort. The Fool weighed nothing, nothing at all. He had always been slight and limber but now he was skeletal and bound with scars and rags. The gawkers were staring at me intensely. I could not afford to care about that. I advanced toward Riddle. He stood his ground but both Shun and FitzVigilant retreated from what they thought was the body of a smelly old beggar.
I darted my eyes at FitzVigilant. ‘Get our team and wagon. Bring it here.’
Shun began with, ‘But what about the green—?’
I just looked at her and she closed her lips. ‘Go!’ I reminded FitzVigilant, and he went. When he was two steps away, Shun decided to go with him. Good.
‘Bee. Bee, look at me. Please.’
She had had her face buried in Riddle’s neck. Now she slowly lifted it and stared at me. Blue eyes of ice in a pale face; the red in her shawl was a shocking contrast. ‘Bee, this man didn’t mean to frighten you. I told you about him once. Remember? He’s an old friend of mine, someone I have not seen in many years. Riddle knew him as Lord Golden. I knew him as the Fool when we were children together. One thing I am certain of: he would never, ever hurt a child. I know you were frightened, but he meant you no harm.’
‘I wasn’t frightened,’ she said softly. ‘Not until you killed him.’
‘He’s not dead, Bee.’ I hoped I sounded comforting. ‘But he is hurt, and badly. I need to take him to Buckkeep Castle right away. I think he can be healed there.’
I heard the creak and rumble of the wagon, and the remaining gawkers made way for it. There were going to be some strange stories told that night in the tavern. No help for that. I carried the Fool to the tail of the wagon. Shun was already ensconced in the corner of the bed closest to the seat. ‘Bring some of those robes and make a pallet for him.’
She stared at me, unmoving.
FitzVigilant set the brake, wrapped the reins, turned and stepped over the back of the seat into the bed of the wagon. He gathered an armful of the unused wraps and tossed them toward me. Riddle had come to stand beside me. He set Bee down in the wagon bed, wrapped her warmly, and then arranged the other blankets. I set the Fool down as carefully as I could. He made a gasping sound. ‘We’re taking you to get help. Just keep breathing.’ I kept my hand on his chest as I spoke, reaching for him, trying to hold his life in his body. As always I could not sense him with my Wit, and the Skill-bond he had put on me was something he had taken back decades ago. But there was something there still, something that linked us, and I tried desperately to feed strength to him. I clambered awkwardly into the wagon bed, never breaking my touch on him. With my free hand, I reached out and pulled Bee toward me so that she leaned against me. ‘Riddle, you drive. The stones on Gallows Hill.’
‘I know them,’ he said briefly. He walked away, a thousand conversations in his silence. He clambered up to the seat and FitzVigilant conceded it to him, climbing into the back of the wagon to sit with Shun. They were both regarding me as if I had loaded a rabid dog into the wagon with them. I didn’t care. The wagon started with a lurch, and I didn’t look back at the people who stared after us. I closed my eyes and reached out for Nettle. There was no time for subtlety.
I have Lord Golden. He is grievously injured and I will need the help of the coterie to keep him alive. I’m bringing him to Buckkeep Castle through the Judgement Stone. Riddle says he will try to help me.
A long silence. Had she not sensed me? Then she responded, Are you Skill-linked to Lord Golden, then?
We were, once. And I have to try this, no matter how foolish.
Not foolish. Dangerous. How can you bring someone through a pillar if he has no Skill or link to you? You’ll be risking Riddle as well as yourself!
I have a bond with him, Nettle. I don’t understand it completely. I was able to reach into him and heal him. I think I have a strong enough connection to be able to bring him through a pillar. Riddle has no Skill, but he is able to travel with you or Chade. I would not ask this if his life were not at stake. So please, summon the others and have them ready?
Today? Tonight? But there is an important dinner this evening, with delegates from Bingtown, Jamaillia and Kelsingra. It is to celebrate the approach of Winterfest, but also to negotiate new trading terms and—
Nettle. I don’t want this. I NEED this. Please.
There was a pause that lasted an eternity. Then she said, I will gather as many Skilled ones who can help with a healing then.
Thank you. Thank you. I am in your debt. We’re coming now. Meet us at the Witness Stones. Send a wagon or sled.
What about Bee? Who will look after her?
Who would look after her? A downward lurch in my heart. I would have to depend on the two people I had just proclaimed unsuitable to be near her. Two people who were insulted, offended and in Shun’s case, without the morality to realize none of that was Bee’s fault. I knew less of FitzVigilant. Chade seemed to set great store by him, as did Riddle. And Nettle. I’d have to give their judgment more weight than my own and hope he was a big enough man not to take out his grudge against me on my child.
FitzVigilant will take her back to Withywoods. Don’t worry, it will be all right. Please. Oh, how I hoped it would be all right. Fence that thought well with a tight Skill-wall! Send a cart and team to meet us at the Witness Stones, I repeated. Tell them my life depends on it. An exaggeration, but not much of one. Chade, at least, would understand. And Dutiful. I pulled my mind free of hers and put up my walls. I didn’t want to Skill right now. I wanted no distractions at all from keeping the Fool alive. I looked down at Bee and felt disloyal. This was supposed to have been our day together; well, it had been doomed from the start. She leaned on me, and I moved her shawl, tucking it more closely around her. We hadn’t bought half the things I’d intended to get for her. Well, when I got back, I’d make it up to her. I’d make a raid on the markets at Buckkeep Town and bring her back an armful of pretty things to make up for it. The Fool and I would return together, and it would be a Winterfest to remember for all of us.
The Fool groaned again and I turned back to him. I leaned down and spoke softly. ‘We’re going through a Skill-pillar, Fool. I’m taking you back to Buckkeep Castle for the coterie to heal. But it will be easier for me to take you through if we are Skill-linked. S …’
I took his hand in mine. Years ago, in the course of tending King Verity, the Fool had accidentally brushed his fingers against Verity’s Skill-laden hands. The silver Skill had burned and soaked into his fingertips. His touch on my wrist had once left marks, silvery fingerprints, and a link between us. He had taken them back, right before I made my fateful trip through the Skill-pillars and back to Buckkeep. I intended to renew that link now, press his fingers to my wrist once more and gain, I planned, enough of a Skill-link to take him through the standing stones with Riddle and me.
But when I turned his hand to look at his fingers, horror and sickness rose in me. Where once silver had outlined the delicate whorls of his fingertips, gnarled scar tissue now deadened the ends of his fingers. His nails remained as thick and yellowed nubs, but the soft pads of his fingers were gone, replaced with thick, dead flesh. ‘Who did all this to you? And why? Where have you been, Fool, and how could you let this happen to yourself?’ And then, the ultimate question that had haunted me for years and now sounded louder than ever in my heart. ‘Why didn’t you send for me, send me a message, reach out somehow? I would have come. No matter what, I would have come.’
I scarcely expected an answer. He might not be losing blood, but the poisons I had released into his body were spreading. I’d stolen strength from him to seal the cuts I’d made. Whatever reserves he had left, he had best marshal against the poisons within. But he stirred slightly and then spoke.
‘Those who had loved me … tried to destroy me.’ He moved his blind eyes as if he tried to look into mine. ‘And you succeeded where they had failed. But I understand, Fitz. I understand. I deserved it.’
He fell silent. His words made no sense to me. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you. I mistook you … I thought you meant her harm! Fool, I am sorry. So sorry! But who tormented you, who broke you?’ I pondered what little I knew. ‘The school that raised you … they did this to you?’
I watched the slight rise and fall of his chest, and rebuked myself for asking him a question. ‘You don’t have to answer. Not now. Wait until we’ve healed you.’ If we could. My hand was on his ragged shirt. I felt ribs beneath it, ribs knotted with old breaks badly healed. How could he be alive? How could he have come so far, blind and alone and crippled? Seeking his son? I should have tried much, much harder to find the boy, if the Fool’s need for him was so great. If only I’d known, had some inkling of how desperate a state he was in. I’d failed him. For now. But I’d help him. I would.
‘Shame.’ The single word rode an exhaled breath.
I bowed my head, thinking he’d read my thoughts and rebuked me. He spoke again, very softly. ‘Why I didn’t call on you for help. At first. Ashamed. Too shamed to ask for help. After all I did. To you. How often I plunged you into pain.’ His grey tongue tried to moisten his peeling lips. I opened my mouth to speak but he tightened his grip on my hand. He was gathering strength. I kept silent.
‘How often did I watch the trap close around you? Did it truly have to be so awful for you? Did I try hard enough to find another path through time? Or did I just use you?’
He ran out of breath. I was silent. He’d used me. He’d admitted it to me, more than once. Could he have changed the path of my life? I knew that often enough a word or two from him had made me reconsider my actions. I remembered well how he had cautioned me about Galen and even suggested that I turn aside from my Skill-training. What if I had? There would never have been that beating that near blinded me and left me with years of pounding headaches. But when would I have learned the Skill? Did he know such things? Did he know where every untaken path in my life would have led?
He gave a little gasp. ‘When my turn for torture came, for pain. How could I call for you to save me from when I had not rescued you or turned you aside from it?’ That speech was shattered by a series of coughs as feeble as if a bird choked. I lifted my hand from his chest. I could not bear to feel how he struggled to get his breath.
‘You … never need to feel that way, Fool. Never. I never saw it that way.’
On an indrawn gasp. ‘I did. In the end.’ Another gasp. ‘When I learned for myself what I’d asked of you. How a minute of designed pain becomes an eternity.’ He coughed again.
I bent my face close to his and spoke very softly. ‘It was long ago. And it’s far too late for you to apologize, for any forgiveness was given years ago. Not that I thought there was something I needed to forgive. Now stop talking. Conserve your strength. You’ll need it for our journey.’
Did he have enough stamina to survive a trip through a Skill-pillar? Could I take him through, unlinked to me by the Skill? But I had been able to reach into his body. Surely that meant something, that there was still some tie between us. Useless to wonder. I knew he would not survive unless I got him to Buckkeep that night. And so I would take the chance. We’d go through the pillar together, and if—
Bee spoke on my other side. Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘You’re going away?’
‘For a little while. To take my friend to a healer.’ What if I didn’t come back? What if neither of us survived, what would happen to her then? I couldn’t think about that, and I couldn’t not think about it. I still knew I must try. I felt no compunction at risking my life for the Fool. But her future? I lifted my voice slightly. ‘Shun and FitzVigilant will take you back to Withywoods and look after you until I come home.’
Her silence was eloquent. I took her little hand in mine and said quietly, ‘I promise I will come back as soon as ever I can.’ Liar. Liar. Liar. A promise I had no right to make when I did not know if I would survive the trip.
‘It would be very useful for Lady Shun and me to know exactly what is going on. Who is this beggar, why did you attack him, where are we going now, and why are you leaving Bee in our care with absolutely no warning or preparation?’ FitzVigilant didn’t try to suppress the edge of anger in his voice.
I supposed he had a right to his annoyance. I tried to temper my reply with patience, not to provoke him to any greater anger than he was already feeling. I had to leave my daughter in his care. At his mercy. It took me a moment to sort what I would share. ‘He’s an old friend. I mistook his actions, didn’t recognize him, and attacked him. He needs healing, far more healing than we can do at Withywoods. I’m sure you’ve heard of the magic of the Skill. We intend to use the Skill to travel through a stone pillar to Buckkeep Castle. There, my old friend can get the healing he needs. I must go with him. I hope I will not be gone more than a day or two.’
Neither one of them said anything. I chewed my pride and swallowed it. I would have to ask this of him, at least. I looked at my Bee. For her, I would do anything. I spoke more softly. ‘In the tavern, I told you that I doubted your abilities, not only to teach but to protect my child. Fate has given you a chance to prove me wrong. Do this, and do it well, and I will reconsider my opinion of you. I expect you to step up and assume the responsibility I’m giving you. Watch over my child.’ I hoped he would find the meaning in my words that I dared not say aloud. Guard her with your life.
Shun spoke abruptly, with the confidence born of supreme ignorance. ‘The Skill-magic only belongs to the royal Farseer line. How can you possibly use—’
‘Be silent.’ Riddle spoke the command in a tone I’d never heard him use. I doubt that Shun had ever had anyone speak to her so, but for a miracle, she did as she was told. With a wriggle like a nesting hen, she settled back in the robes next to FitzVigilant. I watched them exchange a look of shared outrage at how they were being treated. The team plodded on. The snow on the road was deepening, clinging to the wheels. For a moment, I sensed how the horses strained, smelled their sweat in the cold air. I restrained my Wit and cleared my throat. I squeezed her hand softly.
‘Bee is a capable child. I trust that you will recognize that she needs very little supervision in her daily tasks. Her lessons will go on, as I assume they will for all the children of the estate. In my absence, let her set her own routine. If she requires help from either of you, I am sure she will seek you out. If she does not, then you need not be concerned for her. She has her maid Careful and Revel, in addition to you. Will you be comfortable with that, Bee?’
My little daughter gave me a rare direct look. ‘Yes. Thank you, Papa, for trusting me to mind myself. I will do my best to be responsible.’ Her mouth was set in a solemn line. She squeezed my hand in response. We were both putting a brave face on the situation.
‘I know you will.’
‘Nearly there,’ Riddle called back to me. ‘Will they be ready?’
‘Yes.’ I hoped Nettle had taken my message seriously. No. I knew she would. I had not bothered to mask my emotions. She would have sensed my desperation. They would be waiting for us.
Again I saw Lady Shun and FitzVigilant exchange a look of mutual offence at being excluded from our cryptic exchange. I cared not at all. The track up to Gallows Hill was not well tended. The wagon jounced and slid in the ruts and I gritted my teeth at the pain it must cause the Fool. As soon as the horses halted, I was out of the wagon. I staggered sideways, the world spun and then I found my balance. I leaned on the wagon and pointed up at FitzVigilant. ‘Take Bee home. And I am counting on you that she will be safe and content in my absence. Are we clear?’ Even as he nodded, I knew this was not the best way to handle the man, let alone Shun. They would both be resentful and confused. It could not be helped. There was no time to do better.
I took both Bee’s hands in mine. With her sitting on the open tail of the wagon, we were nearly on a level. She looked up at me, her fair skin whiter in contrast to the grey-and-red shawl that now covered most of her golden hair. I spoke softly, only to her. ‘Listen to me. Mind FitzVigilant, and if you have any needs, make them known to him, or Lady Shun, or Revel. I am sorry, so sorry, that our day was disrupted. When I return, I promise that we will have a whole day, all to ourselves, and that things will come out well. Can you trust me for that?’
She looked up at me. Her gaze now was tranquil and accepting, almost lethargic. ‘I think I will go first to Steward Revel. He knows me best. And I know that you will try your best to keep your promise,’ she said softly. ‘I see that.’
‘I’m glad that you do.’ I kissed her on top of her head. ‘Be brave,’ I whispered.
Riddle was clambering down from the wagon seat. ‘Where are you going?’ Shun demanded of him.
‘I’m going with Fitz,’ he told her. ‘Through the stone and back to Buckkeep. We are trusting Lady Nettle’s small sister into your care.’ I more felt than saw how he turned his eyes on FitzVigilant. I was staring at my child, wondering how I could risk this and how I could not. ‘Lant, we’ve known each other a long time. I know the man you are capable of being. Never have I trusted you with more than I am entrusting you with now. Watch over Bee with kindness. Nettle and I will hold you responsible for her well-being.’ He spoke softly but there were teeth in his words. If FitzVigilant replied, I did not hear it.
I let go of Bee and turned to the Fool. It was as if I saw him for the first time. If not for our moment of violent intimacy, if he had not spoken as I plunged the knife into him, I never would have known him. Only his voice has identified him to me. The rags he wore were beyond dirty: they stank and dangled in hanks of rotting fabric. From his knees down, they hung in wet brown tatters. His long, narrow feet were bound in rags. All his grace and elegance were gone. The scarred skin of his face was drawn tight over his bones. He was staring sightlessly up at the overcast sky, still and resigned to whatever might befall him now.
‘I’m going to pick you up,’ I warned him. He made the slightest nod. I tucked one of the blankets around him as if I were bundling up a child. I slid my arms under him and lifted. The motion released a fresh waft of stench. I held him carefully and looked at Riddle. ‘How do we do this?’
He was already moving toward the stone. He glanced at me over his shoulder. ‘If you don’t know, how do you suppose that I do?’ His grin was both resigned and scared. He’d do this. He’d risk his life at my request. He’d lend me his strength to attempt something that might kill all of us. I didn’t deserve such a friend. Carrying the Fool, I followed him up the snowy track toward the standing stone.
I glanced back once at the wagon. No one had moved. The driver’s seat was empty. All three were watching us climb the last bit of rocky hill to the Judgment Stone. I pitched my voice lower. ‘How did you and Chade do it, when he brought you through the stones with him?’
‘He took my arm. I thought of Nettle. When he stepped into the stone, I followed. I could feel him drawing on me. It was like, well, like someone chilled cuddling up to you in a bed. Taking your warmth. And then we stepped out. It was a lot less difficult than walking him down this hill in that snowstorm, and finding our way to the inn. That was where he really needed my strength. Not passing through the stones.’ He tipped his head to indicate the Fool. ‘That’s really Lord Golden?’
‘Yes.’
He looked at him dubiously. ‘How can you tell?’
‘I know.’
He let it be, but then asked, ‘How will you take him through the stone? Are you linked to him?’
‘I was, long ago. I hope it will still be enough.’ I shook my head. ‘I have to try.’
Riddle’s steps had slowed. ‘So much of you I don’t know, even after all the years. Even after all Nettle has told me.’ The snow had stopped, and the light was fading from the day. ‘We could all get lost, couldn’t we? You and I, we’ve never tried this before. And you’re hoping to bring him through with us. All three of us could—’
‘We could all get lost.’ I had to finish the statement for him, admitting what we both knew. The enormity of what I had asked him settled on me. It was too much. I had no right. My friend, but I now knew beyond any wondering that he was far more than a friend to Nettle. Had I the right to gamble his life? No. ‘Riddle. You don’t have to do this. I can try it on my own. You could take Bee back to Withywoods and watch over her for me. I’ll send a bird as soon as we’re safely at Buckkeep Castle.’
Riddle folded his arms over his chest and hugged himself as if he were cold. Or holding his fears in tight. His dark eyes met mine directly. No pretence. No indecision. ‘No. I’m going with you. I saw your face, back there. I saw how you staggered when you got off the wagon. I think you’ve spent most of your strength in trying to heal him. You need strength, I’ve got it. Nettle said I could easily have been a King’s Man, if I wanted.’
‘You chose a queen instead,’ I said quietly, and he smiled, agreeing without a word.
We found ourselves facing the standing stone. I looked up at the glyph that would take us to the Witness Stones, not far from Buckkeep Castle. I felt the terror rise in me. I stood, holding the Fool’s body to my chest, feeling the fear and the dragging weariness. Had I already spent the strength I would need for this? I looked down at his ravaged face. He was still, and slowly that same stillness filled me. I looked back once over my shoulder at Bee. She watched me motionlessly. I nodded to her. She lifted her little hand in a vague wave of farewell.
As if he knew my thoughts, Riddle took my arm. I took a long moment to be aware of him. My old friend. Better than I deserved, these friends. I moved my thoughts like a weaver’s shuttle, moving from the Fool to Riddle to myself and over again. I recalled our friendships, the terrible places we had been, and how we had survived them. ‘Are you ready?’ I asked him.
‘I’m with you,’ he said. And I could feel that was true. It was as Chade had described it, a sort of harness to which I could cling. Rather like holding to a powerful horse while crossing a deep, cold river.
I clutched the Fool to my chest and we stepped forward into stony darkness.