… and worst of all, hemlock is likely to grow next to the useful and pleasant watercress. Mind that the lads and lasses sent to gather watercress are mindful of this.
Carris seed is an evil herb; there is little excuse ever to use it. The practice of sprinkling a bit of it on tops of cakes at festivals is an abomination. The user will experience exhilaration and a sense of physical well-being. While using it, a man or woman may feel the heart beat faster, feel warmth in the cheeks of the face and in the organs of the groin. The urge to dance, to run, to sing loudly or to rut without regard for the consequences becomes strong. The effects of the seed wear off suddenly, and then the user may drop in exhaustion and sleep a full day through. In the next handful of days, the user will be weary, disgruntled and sometimes feel pain in the spine.
Of evil herbs, the next culprit is elfbark. It is, as the name implies, bark scraped from the elf tree. The more potent bark will be on the tips of the newest growth. The elf trees that grow in pleasant valleys produce the mildest bark, while those that grow in more rigorous circumstances, such as on sea cliffs or windswept mountainsides, produce a bark that is more dangerous to the user.
The most common use for elfbark is to make a strong tea of it. This gives the user a burst of stamina and can enable the weary traveller or fieldworker to persevere through the most difficult conditions. But stamina is not spirit. While elfbark may mask the pain of an injury or the aching of weary muscles, it brings with it a heavy heart and a discouraged spirit. Those who use it to extend the hours of their work must have a strong will to continue to pursue their tasks, or an overseer who is merciless.
Twelve Unfortunate Herbs – unsigned scroll
I walked through the halls of Withywoods. The Skill-whispering to forget, forget, it didn’t happen, they are not dead or gone, they never were, was like an icy wind in my face. Away from conversation with others, it sapped my will to do anything save the most rudimentary tasks. I desperately longed to take a nap by a warm fire with a soft blanket, and perhaps a glass of mulled cider to ease me into sleep. Shaking off that impulse was like pulling my sleeve free of plucking ghost-fingers.
The doors of my private study sagged slightly, the elegant wood around the latches splintered. I scowled. It hadn’t been locked, simply latched. There had been no need for that destruction, save for the glee of brutes in the grip of battle.
Inside, I looked around as I had not earlier. Dim winter sunlight reached in a single pointing finger where the draperies were not quite closed across the window. It fell in a sword-slash of light across my splintered desk. I walked past the drunken scroll racks that leaned against one another. Verity’s blade that had hung so long above the mantel was gone. Of course. Even the most rudimentary man-at-arms would have recognized the quality of that weapon. I fell into a gulch of pain, but quickly I sealed my heart against that loss. Verity’s sword was not my child. It was only a thing. I retained the memory of the man and the day he had given it to me. The triptych of Nighteyes, the Fool and me remained in place on the centre of the mantel, apparently untouched. The Fool’s gift to me before he left for Clerres, the one that had led to him ‘betraying’ me. I could not bear the Fool’s knowing half-smile.
I did not look to see what else was broken or stolen. I went to my desk, pulled the drawer all the way out, and then reached in to take out the box that fitted snugly behind it. I opened it. The second compartment held the corked pot of elfbark. I took it out and started to restore the box to its hiding-place in the broken desk. Instead, I tucked it under my arm and dropped the drawer to the floor. I found myself not thinking about anything as I walked back to the estate study. Forget, forget, forget thrummed the song. I summoned the will to set a Skill-block against it. The moment I had it in place, I felt a wave of panic hit me. Bee had been taken, and I had not a clue as to where to seek her. The drive to do something, do anything, lashed me like a whip. But this drug in my hand was the most I could do right now, and that shamed me. Almost I fled back to the whispering of forget, forget. Like seizing a sharpened blade, I gripped my anger and fear and clutched it hard. Feel the pain and feed the fury. What could my fear be to whatever she was enduring?
In the study, a kettle had been hung over the hearth: I heard the seething of boiling water. Perseverance sat dejectedly beside the fire. The tops of his cheeks were red, but his mouth was pinched white with pain. A teapot and cups were set out on a tray. Someone in the kitchen had sent along little cakes with it. A pleasant touch, I thought savagely. Remember a night of terror, and then, oh, do have a sweet cake to go with it. Chade took the box of herbs from my hands, opened it, and scowled at the contents. I offered no apologies for sometimes indulging myself. He opened the pot of elfbark and shook some into his hand. ‘It looks old.’ He glanced up at me, the displeased teacher.
‘It’s not exactly fresh,’ I admitted. ‘But it will have to do.’
‘It will.’ He put a generous measure into the pot and handed it to me. I pulled the kettle back from the flames and tipped boiling water into the teapot. The once-familiar scent of elfbark tea rose to greet me, and with it a hundred memories of how often I had drunk it. There had been a time when the effort to Skill had cost me pounding and nauseating headaches, the sort where spots and lines of light would dance before my eyes and every sound was a new jolt of agony. Only when the coterie had accidentally loosed that spectacular healing upon me had I become able to Skill with little to no pain. I’d never known whether to blame my earlier agonies on the beating that Skillmaster Galen had given me, or on the magical block he had put in my mind, one that fogged me and made me believe I had no talent for the Skill and little personal worth to the world. But until that healing, elfbark tea had been my consolation after serious Skill-sessions.
‘Let it brew,’ Chade advised me and my mind leapt back to the present. I set the pot down on the tray. At almost the same moment, FitzVigilant returned. ‘I’ve sent a man on his way, and told him to take an extra mount. I could not give the best directions to the Gallows Hill, but I am sure anyone in Oaksbywater can point him on his way.’
‘Excellent,’ Chade told him and I nodded. I was putting a measure of ground willowbark into one of the cups. I added some valerian. Chade watched me curiously. I flicked a glance at the boy. He nodded, and then reached past me to add an additional pinch of valerian. ‘Your valerian looks stale, too,’ he chided me. ‘You should renew your stock more often.’
I said nothing to that, but nodded as I added hot water to the cup. I knew the old man would not apologize for his earlier remarks; this was his way of trying to put us back to our old foundation. I’d take it. I set the cup on the floor by Perseverance. ‘Let that brew for a time, and then drink it all. It won’t taste good, but it’s not about taste.’
‘Is that elfbark?’ he asked anxiously.
‘No. It’s willowbark for your fever, and valerian to take some of the pain away. How’s your shoulder?’
‘It throbs,’ he admitted. ‘All the way to my back and up my neck.’
‘The tea will help.’
He looked up at me. ‘Will that other tea hurt my mother? When she remembers?’
‘I expect it will be hard for her. But the choice is to leave her alone for the rest of her life. She wouldn’t remember your father dying, but she’d never recall she’d had a son.’
‘She’d have my aunt, and my cousins. They live down in Withy.’
‘Boy?’ It was FitzVigilant, cutting into our conversation. ‘I’ll be drinking it first. We’ll see what it does to me. Then you can decide about giving it to your mother.’
Perseverance stared up at him. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said doubtfully.
Lant spoke to his father. ‘Is it brewed enough?’
‘We’ll see,’ Chade said quietly. He poured some into a cup, looked at it, smelled it, and then filled the cup the rest of the way. He handed the cup to Lant. ‘Go slowly with it. Let us know if you sense a difference, or start to remember that night.’
Lant sat down. He looked at the tea in the cup. We were all watching him as he raised it and took a sip. He made a face. ‘It’s a bit too hot. And it tastes bitter.’ But almost immediately he took another sip. He lifted his eyes. ‘Could you not stare?’ he said to me. I shifted my eyes. A moment later, he said, ‘It’s so quiet.’
Chade and I exchanged a glance. I stole a look at Lant. He was staring at the liquid in his cup. He took a breath, as if daring himself, and then drained it down. He made a pained face and then sat still, holding the cup. He closed his eyes. His brow wrinkled and then he hunched in on himself. ‘Oh, sweet Eda,’ he groaned. ‘Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!’
Chade went to him. He set his hands on Lant’s shoulder and with a tenderness I’d seldom seen in him, leaned down to say softly by his ear, ‘Let yourself remember. It’s the only way you can help her now. Remember it all.’
Lant bowed his face into his hands, and I suddenly saw how young he was. Not even twenty. Raised far more gently than I had been. The beating from his stepmother’s thugs might well have been the first real violence he’d experienced in his life. He’d never pulled an oar on a war galley, let alone swung an axe through a man’s midsection. Chade had already told me that Lant hadn’t been able to kill. And I’d entrusted him with Bee’s life. And Shun’s.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Chade said quietly. I leaned back to sit on the edge of my desk and kept perfectly still.
Lant’s voice was tight. ‘Well. We came back here after Badgerlock and the beggar went into the Skill-pillar. I, and Shun—’ His voice broken on her name. ‘And Bee. We didn’t understand any of what had happened in Oaksbywater, not why he killed a dog and then bought its puppies, nor why he stabbed the beggar and then took him by magic to Buckkeep. We, that is, Shun and I, were both rather angry about all of it. First he had said I was not competent to teach Bee and then he had gone off and left her completely in my care. And he had insulted Lady Shun as well!’ Lant was suddenly just a youngster, pouring out his wrongs to Chade. The old man shot me a questioning look. I met his stare with a flat gaze of my own.
‘Get to the next day,’ I suggested.
At my tone, Lant straightened his back. ‘Yes. Well. As you might imagine, the servants including Steward Revel were very confused when the master of the house did not return. Shun and I assured them that we were very capable of looking after Withywoods for a few days. Despite how tired we were, Shun and I sat up that night, and she undertook to plan the festivities for Winterfest. We were up very late. And so we did not rise early the next morning. I regret to say that I was late joining my students in the schoolroom. Bee was there, looking tired but otherwise fine. And when we parted that morning, Shun had said that she would be speaking with the staff about decorating the house and talking to the musicians who had come and seeing if she could not send for more entertainers.’ He looked suddenly at Chade. ‘You said my sister was taken, earlier.’ For two breaths, I watched the knowledge spread through him. ‘Shun is my sister? Truly? By blood?’
‘You are both my offspring, both Fallstars,’ Chade assured him.
Could Chade ignore the deep dismay that washed over Lant’s features? I wondered what had passed between him and Shun on the evening they had stayed up so late. I decided I never wanted to know.
‘Continue,’ Chade reminded Lant. The scribe had lifted his hand to cover his mouth. When he took it away, his mouth trembled for a moment before he mastered himself. He tried to sit up straighter, then winced at his wound. Chade looked at me. ‘Valerian and willowbark,’ he requested. I took Lant’s cup and made the requested tea while I listened.
‘Well, I had just settled my students when we heard noises. I was not alarmed, but puzzled. I thought it might be some sort of altercation among the servants, with pot throwing. I told my students to stay and study and went into the hallway. I soon realized the sounds were coming from the front entrance, not the kitchens. I heard Revel’s voice raised, and I ran toward the commotion. When I got to the hall, I saw Revel there and two of the serving-boys. They were trying to hold the doors closed, but someone was pounding on them and shouting. I thought perhaps we had drunken tinkers at the door. Then someone shoved a sword through the crack of the door and caught one of the serving-boys in the hand. I shouted at Revel to hold the door while I got help. I went to find a sword, calling to the servants to warn Shun and to arm themselves. I took the old sword that used to be there, over the mantel. And I ran back.’ He wet his lips. His gaze went distant and his breathing deepened.
‘Fitz,’ Chade said quietly. ‘Perhaps some more elfbark in that mix.’
Before I could move, Perseverance was on his feet. He brought the teapot to Lant, took the cup from his hand and added the elfbark brew. Lant was sitting very still. Chade still stood behind him. He leaned down and said quietly, ‘Son, take the cup. And drink it.’
A peculiar pang passed through me. It could not have been jealousy.
Lant did as his father told him. This time, his expression scarcely changed as he set the cup back down. ‘I’ve never been a fighter. You know that. You both know that!’ His admission sounded more like an accusation. Then his voice dropped. ‘I’m just not. A friendly bout, with practice blades, on a summer day with a friend and comparing bruises later is one thing. But when I went running back, the door had already given way. I saw Revel stagger past me, holding his gut. And one of the lads was on the floor in a pool of blood. The other youngster was trying to hold them off with his belt-knife. The first man through the door laughed, and cut his head off. And then it was only me in the hall, facing first one, then three, and then at least six of them. I tried to fight. I did. I was shouting for help and I tried to fight, but this wasn’t fencing, man against man. There were no rules! I engaged with one man, and a second stepped forward. I managed to hold my own but the entry hall is wide. The invaders just went around us, and I heard them running down the halls behind me. And I heard screams, and things breaking. And the man in front of me suddenly laughed.’
He looked down suddenly.
I hazarded a guess. ‘A man behind you attacked you? He knocked you unconscious?’
‘No. No one touched me. I dropped my sword to the ground. And the two men I’d been fighting just stood and laughed at me. One gave me a hard push as I walked by him, and I didn’t care. And I walked outside and stood in the snow in front of the manor. And I still don’t know why.’
Skill-suggestion? Chade’s thought brushed lightly against mine.
I nodded, unwilling to make the effort to do more. To Skill to him, I’d have to drop my walls and let in that fog of forget, forget, forget. I would not forget. ‘Don’t worry about what you don’t know,’ I suggested gently. ‘It’s obvious magic was at work. You had no way to resist it. Just tell us what you do know.’
‘Yes,’ he said unwillingly. But he was shaking his head ‘no’.
‘Do you want more of the elfbark?’ Chade asked.
‘No. I remember what happened that day, and on the days since. I don’t understand it, but I recall it. I’m just ashamed to speak it aloud.’
‘Lant, Fitz and I have both known our share of defeats. We’ve been burned, poisoned, beaten. And yes, we’ve been buffeted by Skill and made fools of and done things we’re ashamed to admit. No matter what you did or didn’t do, we won’t think less of you. Your hands were bound, even if there was no rope you could see. If we are to rescue your sister and little Bee you have to set your pride aside and just tell us what you know.’
Chade’s voice was comforting. A father’s voice. Something cynical inside me wondered if he would have been that forgiving of me but I quenched it.
It took Lant a little time. He rocked in his chair once or twice, cleared his throat, and then said nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was higher and tighter. ‘I stood with the others out in the snow. People walked out of the manor and came and stood near me. There were a few men on horseback but I didn’t feel that they were keeping me there. I was afraid of them but mostly I was afraid to do anything except stay there with the others. No. Not afraid, not even reluctant. It just seemed that what I was doing was the only possible thing I could do. Everyone was there, milling about. Lots of people were weeping and agitated, but no one was talking to anyone else. No one resisted. Even the injured just stood and bled.’ He paused again, his mind going back.
Bulen tapped on the door. ‘Sir? I am so sorry to disappoint you. I have been down to the cottages where the stableworkers live. No one there has any recollection of a lad named Perseverance or admits to being his family.’
I felt like a ninny. I looked at the boy. His eyes were dark with sorrow. He spoke softly. ‘It’s the third cottage. There is a hedge witch charm over the door for good luck. And my grandfather made a doorknocker out of a carthorse’s shoe. My mother’s name is Diligent.’
Bulen was nodding. I amended his orders. ‘Do not make mention of her son at all. Tell her we wish to speak to her to see if she will take on some extra tasks in the kitchen.’
‘Oh, she’d like that,’ Perseverance said quietly. ‘She’s always after Da to build her an oven behind the cottage so she could bake whenever she wanted.’
‘Very well, sir. And Steward Dixon sends to tell you that the guardsmen are eating everything within sight. As our larders were not well stocked this fall …’
Our larders had been overflowing before the raid. ‘Tell him to send a man and wagon to Withy and stock whatever he thinks we need for now. Next market day, he can make a trip to Oaksbywater. I will settle with the merchants later. They know we are good for it.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Bulen cast a worried look at FitzVigilant. He had only served him for a short time, but there was already a bond between the young men. ‘Is there anything I can bring for Scribe Lant?’
Lant did not even shift his eyes toward Bulen. Chade shook his head silently and the man withdrew. ‘Lant?’ he said softly.
FitzVigilant drew a deep breath and took up his tale as if it were a heavy burden. ‘We were all there. And they brought out Shun and her maid. I remember I noticed that Shun was fighting them, because no one else was. She was kicking and screaming at the man who dragged her. Then from somewhere, she had a knife and she stabbed his hand. She almost broke free. He grabbed her by the shoulder and slapped her so hard that she fell. He still had to throttle the knife out of her hand. He pushed her toward us and walked away. Then she looked all around and when she saw me, she came running to me. She was screaming, “Do something! Why isn’t anyone doing anything?” She threw her arms around me, but I just stood there. Then she asked me, “What’s wrong with you?” And I couldn’t think of anything wrong at all. I said we should just stand with the others. It was what I wanted to do. And she asked, “If it’s what they want to do, why are they moaning?”’ He stopped and swallowed. ‘I listened, then. And they were. Moaning and weeping but in a disconnected way. And I realized I’d been doing it, too.’
Only Shun had fought back. Why? Had the training Chade had provided for her made her bolder than the others? I’d hired no servants for their skill with arms, but I was sure my stable-folk had seen a brawl or three. But no one had fought back. Except Shun. I looked at Chade. He didn’t meet my eyes and I was forced to set the question aside for later.
‘The guards on horseback started shouting at us to “sit down, sit down”. Some yelled in Chalcedean, some in our tongue. I didn’t sit, because I was already too cold and there was snow on the ground. And I felt that as long as I stayed with the others in the carriage turn-around, I was doing what I should be doing. One of the men started making threats. He was looking for someone, a pale boy, and said he would kill us all if we did not turn him over to them. I knew of no such lad, and apparently no one else did. There was Oak, who you had hired as a serving-man. He was blond, but scarcely a boy. But someone said to one of the men that he was the only tow-head working at Withywoods. He was standing not far from me. And the man who was asking rode his horse over to Oak, looked down on him, and then pointed at him. “Him?” he shouted at this other man. He was dressed all in white, and though he looked like a prosperous merchant, his face was a boy’s. He shook his head and the man on the horse was suddenly very angry. “Not him!” he shouted and then he leaned down and slashed Oak’s throat with his sword. And he fell into the snow, with the blood leaping from the wound. He lifted his hand to his throat, as if he could hold it back. But he couldn’t. He looked right at me until he died. Blood steams when the day is that cold. I never knew that. And I just watched.
‘But Shun didn’t. She screamed, and cursed the man on the horse, saying she would kill him. She started to run at him. And I didn’t know why, but I caught hold of her arm and tried to hold her back. I struggled with her. And a man on a horse rode over and kicked me hard in the head, so I let go of her. Then he leaned down and thrust his sword through me. And he laughed as I fell right onto Oak’s body. His blood was still warm. I remember that.’
Oak. A young man hired to help serve the dinners. A smiling young man, unlearned at serving in a house, but always smiling, and so proud of his new livery. Oak, a lifeless body, seeping red into white snow. He had come to us from Withy. Did his parents wonder yet why he had not come home to visit?
There was a noise at the door. It was Thick, coming back with a platter of little raisin cakes. He was smiling as he offered them to us. He looked puzzled when Chade and I and Lant shook our heads. Perseverance took one, but held it in his hand. Thick smiled and sat down on the hearth with the plate on his lap. He made a great show of choosing one. His simple enjoyment of a little cake rang sharply against my heart. Why could not it be my little girl, my Bee, sitting there with a whole plate of cakes to herself and no worries?
Lant had paused, his brow furrowed. He looked up at Chade, as if to find what the old man thought of his words. Chade’s face was expressionless. ‘Go on,’ he said in a voice both quiet and wooden.
‘I don’t remember anything after that. Not until I woke very late at night. I was alone in the carriageway. Oak’s body was gone, and it was fully dark night, except for the light from the stables. They were burning. But no one was paying any attention to the fire. I didn’t think about any of that, then. I didn’t notice Oak’s body was gone or that the stables were burning. I got up. I felt very dizzy and the pain in my arm and shoulder was terrible, and I was so cold I was shaking all over. I staggered inside and went to my room. Bulen was there, and he said he was glad to see me. And I told him I’d been hurt. And he bandaged me and helped me to bed, and said Old Rosie the shepherd’s granny was in the manor doing some healing. And she came and saw to my shoulder.’
‘Bulen didn’t ride to Withy to get a real healer? Or to Oaksbywater?’ Chade was obviously appalled that someone’s granny had tended to his son’s sword wound.
Lant knit his brows. ‘No one wanted to leave the house and grounds. And no one wanted any strangers to come in. We all agreed on that. Just as we agreed that someone must have been drunk and careless to burn the stables. But none of us really cared. I could not recall how I had been injured. Some said there had been a drunken brawl, others that there were injuries from the stable fire. But no one was clear about what had happened. And we didn’t care, really. It wasn’t something to dwell on.’ He looked up at Chade suddenly, a piercing, pleading look. ‘What did they do to me? How did they do that?’
‘We think they imposed a strong Skill-suggestion on you and the others. And then suggested that you keep reinforcing it with one another. You were all to refuse to remember, to not think about it, to be unwelcoming to outsiders and to have no desire to leave the estate. It was the perfect way to cover up what had happened here.’
‘Was it my fault? Was I weak, that they could do that to me?’ There was agony in that question.
‘No.’ Chade was very certain. ‘It was not your fault. A person with great Skill-talent can impose his will on another and make him believe almost anything. It was one of King Verity’s best weapons against the Red Ships during the war.’ More softly he added, ‘I never thought to see it used like this, within Buck’s boundaries. It took tremendous strength and Skill to do this. Who has that sort of knowledge of the magic? And that sort of talent for it?’
‘I could do that,’ Thick announced. ‘I know how to do it, now. Make a music to forget, forget, and make them all sing the same song, over and over. Probably not hard. I just never thought of doing that before. I could do that if you want?’
I don’t think I have ever heard more chilling words. Thick and I were friends now, but in the past, we had had our differences. For the most part, the simple man had a generous heart. But crossed, he had proved he was capable of making me so clumsy that I constantly barked my shins or bumped my head in doorways. His magical strength was far beyond my own. Should he ever decide that I should forget something, would I even know he had done it? I lifted my eyes and met Chade’s gaze. I saw the same thought in his eyes.
‘Didn’t say I would do it,’ Thick reminded us. ‘Just said I could do it.’
‘I think taking someone’s memories is wrong and bad,’ I said. ‘Like taking someone’s coins or their sweets.’
Thick’s tongue had curled over his upper lip. It was his thinking expression. ‘Ya,’ he replied gravely. ‘Probably bad.’
Chade had picked up my teapot and was weighing it thoughtfully in his hand. ‘Thick. Could you make a song that let people remember? Not one that forced people to remember, but one that told them they could remember if they wanted to.’
‘Don’t do it yet!’ I intervened. ‘Think about it, and tell us if you think it can be done. But maybe we shouldn’t do that, either.’
‘Do you think we have enough elfbark to make tea for all of Withywoods? Even if a courier brings my supply also? Fitz, with every minute, every hour, Bee and Shine may be in greater danger. At the very least, they are moving away from us. At worst, well I refuse to consider the worst. But we need to know what happened after Lant was knocked unconscious. We both know that their tracks are totally obscured by now, with all the snow and wind we’ve had. And if the raiders can make Withywoods folk forget what happened here, can they make folk forget they’ve seen them passing? As we’ve had no news of strangers in this part of Buck, I consider that likely. So our only hope is to find out who they were and what their plans were. They came a long way and apparently made very elaborate plans to get something. What?’
‘Who,’ Lant corrected him. ‘They wanted a pale boy.’
‘The Unexpected Son,’ I said quietly. ‘From the White prophecies. Chade, the Fool told me that was why he was tortured. The Servants are looking for the next White Prophet, and they thought the Fool would know where to find him.’
A tap at the door turned my gaze that way. Bulen poked his head in. ‘Sir, I’ve brought her.’
‘Please bring her in,’ I invited him. As Bulen opened the door and the woman entered, Perseverance came to his feet. He stared at her with dog’s eyes. I saw his lip quiver and then he clenched his jaws.
I had possibly met his mother when I first came to Withywoods, but I doubted our paths had crossed much since then. She was a typical Buck woman, with curly black hair bundled into a lace net at the back of her head, and soft brown eyes. She was slender for a woman of her years, and her clothing was well cared for. She bobbed a curtsey to us and politely but eagerly asked about the position in the kitchen. I let Chade reply.
‘This lad who has worked in the stables says you have a reputation as an excellent baker.’
Diligent turned a polite smile on Perseverance but showed no sign of recognition. Chade continued, ‘I understand that you live in the cottages used by the stablehands. We are looking into the stable fire that happened on Winterfest Eve. Lives were lost in that fire, and we are trying to get an accurate accounting of how it may have started. Did you know any of the stablehands?’
Such a direct question. It was as if someone had flapped a black rag behind her eyes. There was a moment when she did not seem to see us or be in the room with us. Then she was back. She shook her head. ‘No, sir, I don’t believe I do.’
‘I see. And I’ve forgotten my manners, asking you here on such a cold day and offering you no comfort. Please. Do sit down. We’ve some cakes here. And may I pour a cup of tea for you? It’s a special brew from Buckkeep Castle itself.’
‘Why thank you, sir. That would be kind.’ Bulen brought her a chair and she sat carefully, arranging her skirts so they fell smoothly. As Chade poured tea and brought it to her, she offered, ‘You know, you might ask Hawthorn at the end of the lane. Her boy works in the stables; they might know.’
Chade brought her the cup himself. ‘It can be a bit strong. Let us know if you’d care for some honey,’ he said as he gave it to her.
She smiled as she accepted the pretty china cup. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and took a sip. She puckered her mouth in surprise at the bitterness, but she smiled. ‘It is a bit strong,’ she said politely.
‘It’s something of a tonic,’ Chade told her. ‘I enjoy the vigour it seems to give me, especially on chill winter days.’ He gave her his most charming smile.
‘Indeed, does it?’ she asked. ‘At my age, I could use a bit of that!’ She smiled back at him and took a second, polite, sip. As she lowered the cup to the saucer, her face changed. The cup chattered on the saucer as her hand began to tremble. Chade rescued it from her failing grip. Her hands rose to cover first her mouth, and then to picket her whole face. She bowed forward from the waist. She began to shake badly and the first sound that came out of her was not a woman weeping but an animal’s low cry of agony.
Perseverance flew across the room. He knelt before her and put his good arm around her. He did not tell her that it would be all right. He said nothing, but put his cheek beside hers. No one in the room spoke as she continued to grieve. After a time, she lifted her head, put her arms around her son and said, ‘I sent you away. How can you ever forgive me? You were all I had left, and I sent you away.’
‘I’m here now. Oh, Ma, I thank Eda you know me.’ He lifted his head and looked at me. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ve got my ma back. Thank you.’
‘What happened to me?’ The query was a shaking moan.
‘A bad magic,’ the stableboy comforted her. ‘The same bad magic that happened to everyone else here. It made everyone forget what happened on Winterfest Eve. Everyone but me.’ He knit his brows. ‘Why not me?’
Chade and I conferred with a look. Neither of us had an answer. Thick spoke in a soft voice. ‘Cause they didn’t have you with the others. When they told them to sing the forgetting song. So they couldn’t make you forget. And you don’t hear the song at all. Not any songs.’ He looked sad for the boy.
Bulen startled us all when he strode forward. I’d almost forgotten he was in the room. Without a word, he lifted the cup from the saucer Chade still held. He drained off the cup of tea, stood like a statue, and then unbidden, sank into a nearby chair. For a time, he simply sat. When he looked up, his face was pale. ‘I was there,’ he said. He rolled a glance at Lant. ‘I saw them kick you in the head, after they stabbed you, and I stood there. I saw that same horseman knock Lady Shun to the ground. He called her filthy names and said if she dared to get up, he would—’ He paused, obviously sickened. ‘He threatened her. Then they herded us into a tighter group, as if we were sheep being bunched. And other people came to join us there, the folk from the cottages. A lot of the children had been hiding somewhere, but they came out in a group. And the soldiers began to shout at us about a pale boy.
‘Then a woman came out of the manor. I’d never seen her before. She was dressed all in white, very warmly. At first she scolded the old man in charge. He was cruel and seemed to care little about what she said. She was angry that people had been killed. The bodies would have to be dealt with, and it would make everything harder to conceal. She said he had done it badly, that it was not the path she had wanted. And he told her to leave him to the business of war, that she had no idea how territory was captured. And that when they had finished, they could set fire to the stables and get rid of the bodies that way. I could tell she was not happy with him.
‘But when she turned to us, she was calm and smiling. She didn’t yell. She spoke so kindly that all I wanted to do was find whatever would please her. She was seeking for a boy or a young man who had come recently to stay with us. She promised they were not there to hurt him, only to take him back to where he belonged. Someone, Tavia I think, shouted that they’d killed the only young man who had recently joined us. But the woman began to walk among us, looking each of us in the face. I think someone was with her …’ Bulen’s voice and expression went bland. I sensed he pushed against a barrier he could not pass. There was yet another layer to all this.
‘You!’ Bulen said suddenly. He pointed a finger at Perseverance. ‘It was you on the brown horse, and Lady Bee on the grey, wasn’t it? Everything changed in the instant. The woman was urging and urging us to think of a boy who had come recently, and then one of the soldiers shouted and pointed, and we all looked. And you were running the horses dead out, and then three of the soldiers wheeled their horses about and went after you. Including that cruel old man. And one was drawing his bow and shooting as he rode. I remember seeing him do that, guiding the horse with his knees.’
‘He got me, too,’ Perseverance said quietly. He lifted his good hand to his bandaged shoulder. His mother gave a gasp and pulled him closer.
‘For a short time, while they were chasing you, there were just a few soldiers guarding us. And I remember that we started talking, asking each other what was going on, how had this happened? It was like waking from sleepwalking …’ His gaze was unfocused. ‘But then we all calmed down. And there were other people there, younger and, well, softer people in the pale clothing. They were walking among us, telling us to be calm, be calm. They looked worried, but were trying to reassure us. But for a time, I think I knew how wrong everything was. I knelt down by Lant because Shun was there, crying over him. And I told her he wasn’t dead. Then the round-faced woman came back and she had Bee with her. But Bee looked as if she were asleep with her eyes open. She was calling to everyone that they had found him, they’d found an unexpected son. I remember now, I thought they meant the stableboy. But she had Bee with her and … someone else. Someone …’
Again he floundered, reaching after something buried beyond his ability to recall it. I heard his words with a rising chill in my heart. They’d captured Bee. And spoken of the Unexpected Son, the child from the White Prophecies. The boy upon whom the fate of the world turned. Once, the Fool had believed that was me. And now he thought it was a son he’d left behind, a child he had fathered without knowing he’d done it. However he meant those peculiar words, I could not imagine why anyone might think it was my daughter. The drive to do something, to do anything, was rising in me, an irrational storm that insisted I could not simply wait and gather information.
Bulen was speaking again. ‘They wrapped her in white robes and put her on their sleigh, as if she were a princess. By then the soldiers were back, circling us. And I couldn’t think of anything else to do but wait and see what would happen. It just seemed the only proper thing to do, was to be in that huddle of people.’
I asked the question. ‘You think they thought Bee was the boy they were looking for? The Unexpected Son?’
Bulen hesitated. ‘So they behaved, sir. After they had her, they stopped seeking for him.’
‘I remember all that,’ Diligent said as I was still trying to picture Bee as a boy. ‘I was in the cottage, putting a mend in Tallerman’s good jacket, and thinking about the fun we’d have at Midwinterfest. He was such a dancer!’ Her voice caught on a sob, but she went on, ‘I was fretting that Perseverance had outgrown his good shirt and wondering if I could let it out any more for one more wearing. Then, suddenly, for no reason I can think of now, I decided I wanted to go up to the manor. I didn’t wait, I left the cottage just as I was and walked up to the manor. Everyone from the cottages was going, just as if it were time for Winterfest, but no one was laughing or talking. We just all wanted to go to the manor. On the way, I walked right past the stables. They were on fire but I didn’t think that was terrible. I didn’t stop or call out to anyone …’ Her voice faltered and I saw her wonder if her husband and father-in-law had still been alive, if she could have had one last word with them.
‘Everyone was already dead, Ma.’ Perseverance spoke the words aloud and the woman gave a sudden sob. She clutched her son as if he were the last bit of floating wreckage in a stormy sea. Her grief strangled her into silence.
Bulen spoke into that gulf. ‘Yes. The cottage folk came, and the children. The children were coming willingly, but some of the soldiers were mocking them. I saw one of the men seize a little kitchen girl …’
The colour left his face and his mouth fell ajar. For a time, none of us spoke. ‘They were brutes,’ Diligent said at last. ‘And we were like sheep. I watched the stables burn, and we heard the screams of the horses left inside. Some of the beasts must have broken loose, for a few fled. I just watched the flames and I didn’t even wonder where my husband was, or my son. It was just a thing that was happening.’
‘Did they take Lady Shun?’ Chade’s voice was heavy with fear. It was unlike him to interrupt anyone giving such a complete telling of events, but I knew he could not stand the suspense. He had to know. I didn’t blame him.
‘Yes. They did.’ Bulen spoke with certainty. ‘It happened later. It was evening. They had placed Bee on the sleigh. I seem to remember the woman urging the soldiers to leave as soon as possible. But the soldiers were looting and feasting on food from the kitchens and … taking the young women. The women were … empty. As if they did not care or notice, and one man complained it was not … satisfactory. The kind woman finally talked them into leaving, but the angry soldier dragged Shun away from the others. She was resisting, when no one else was. He threw her down in the snow. And he, he began to, he intended to rape her.’
Lant made a sound in the back of his throat. I glanced at him. His face was in his hands. Chade was as pale as chalk but silent.
‘She was fighting back, but not with any hope of winning. And I, I was just watching it happen. As you watch snow fall or wind move in the trees. I am so ashamed to say that. Not a man of Withywoods objected or raised a hand to stop him. But suddenly Bee came running and threw herself on the man. He flung her aside, but Bee was shouting that she would die if they hurt Shun. And a whole swarm of the pale people attacked the soldier then and dragged him off Lady Shun.’
‘Then she was not violated?’ Chade barely had breath to push the words out.
Bulen looked at him. He flushed a deep scarlet and lowered his eyes in shame. ‘Then? No. But before then, or after they took her, I cannot say.’ He lifted his gaze and met Chade’s eyes with honest pain. ‘I consider it likely.’
Lant groaned aloud.
Chade rose abruptly. ‘A moment,’ he said in a voice I did not recognize, and hurried out of the room.
‘Lad.’ Bulen spoke quietly. ‘Please forgive me for doubting you.’
Before Perseverance could speak, his mother let out a loud wail. ‘All I had left, and I turned you from my door! What would your father have said to me? Oh, son, son, whatever shall we do now? How shall we earn our bread?’ She clutched at Perseverance and sobbed against him. The boy had gone pale. He gave me a look and then spoke to her bowed head.
‘I’ve sworn myself to Badgerlock, mother. I’ll earn our keep. Only he’s not Badgerlock. Grandfather was right. He is truly FitzChivalry Farseer and he’s accepted me into his service. I will take care of you.’
‘Truly?’ It was Bulen who spoke. ‘He is truly FitzChivalry, the Witted … Farseer?’ He near fell over his tongue dodging the word ‘bastard’.
‘He is,’ Perseverance said proudly before I could think of a sufficient lie.
‘He is,’ Lant echoed. ‘But I thought it was to be kept always a secret.’ He stared at me in consternation.
‘It was an interesting Winterfest at Buckkeep Castle,’ I said, and his eyes grew rounder.
‘Then everyone knows?’
‘Not in full.’ But now they would. The woven lies of decades were suddenly unravelling. How much of the truth could I bear?
Before anyone could speak again, Chade walked back into the room. He looked cadaverous. His voice was hoarse and thick. ‘They seem to have struck first at the stables and then destroyed the messenger birds. We must now speak with anyone who may have survived that first part of the attack.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Eventually we will speak with everyone who endured this. But first we must start at the beginning.’