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, 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. “Yah,” 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 Shun 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?”