“No. Thank you. Sir.” He was curtly furious with me. So, let him be. He led all three horses off to the shelter.
Lant came slowly into the cabin. I stepped back to make way for him. He moved stiffly, his face red and white with cold and pain. He wouldn’t look at me as he came in and took my chair by the fire. Riddle offered him his cup of tea, and Lant took it without a word. “You would have been wiser to turn back,” I told him.
“Probably,” he said shortly. “But Chade’s regard means a great deal to me.”
There was nothing to say to that. When Per came in, stamping the snow from his boots as he entered, Riddle surrendered the other chair to him. The crow came with him. She lifted from his shoulder and landed on the table, fluffed her feathers and then smoothed them, and kept silent. I refilled my mug with tea and when I offered it, Per took it from me, muttering his thanks to the floor.
“Water!” Motley demanded. “Food. Food, food, food!”
Riddle and I had brought food, of sorts. I’d believed I was provisioning only myself. Lant had brought nothing, probably assuming that we’d be stopping at villages or inns along the way. The boy had brought grain for the horses. “My da always said see to your horse first, as he can carry you but you can’t carry him. And not to be too proud to cook up some grain for yourself if you have to. Because if it’s not clean enough for you to eat, you shouldn’t be feeding it to your horse.” This Per announced as he set a small sack of oats on the table after I had put out dried meat and a few withered apples. Burrich would have liked you and your father, I thought.
Riddle shook his head at my meager offering. From his saddlebags, he produced a loaf of dark, sweet bread, a generous chunk of cheese, a nice slab of ham, and a sack of dried plums. It would have been ample for the two of us, and was adequate for all four of us to make a meal. Motley was happy with the scraps. I made a fresh pot of tea, and as Lant and Per sat slackly before the fire, I went out for more wood and built the fire up well for the night.
They were all yawning when I returned. “Have we a plan for the morrow?” Riddle asked me wearily.
“Up early. Ride. Find Bee and Shine. Kill the men who took them. Bring the girls home.”
“That’s a plan?” Lant asked incredulously.
“Based on what I know, that’s the best I can do,” I told him. Riddle nodded agreement and smothered a tremendous yawn. Per was already nodding before the fire. I took the half-full mug of tea from his lax hands. “Go to bed,” I suggested to him. “Remember that tomorrow is another day.” He managed a yawn before he rose and stumbled toward the sleeping platform. He was asleep with his boots on almost as soon as he lay down.
“How’s the wound, Lant?” I asked him.
“Aches,” he muttered. “Everything aches still. I was tired when I began today. Now I’ve got nothing left.”
“Not your fault,” I told him. “You’re still healing. If Chade were himself, he’d have realized that he shouldn’t send you. No reason to be ashamed. You need this rest and you should take it.”
I wondered why I was attempting to comfort him and then put my finger on it. Guilt. He felt guilty for not defending Shine when she was taken, and guiltier now that he could barely participate in a mission to rescue her. And tomorrow, I knew, he would feel even worse. I watched him as he rose from his chair. He staggered two steps sideways and then trudged to the bed. He lay down, wrapped his cloak more closely around himself, and was still.
“Fitz?” Riddle asked thickly.
“I’m sorry,” I lied as he stood. I caught him as he sagged and eased him down onto the floor. Taking him by the shoulders, I dragged him closer to the fire. I snapped his cloak out and spread it over him. He was fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Take care of Lant and the boy,” I told him. “That’s the best way to help me. What I may have to do, I think I’ll do best alone. Don’t feel bad about this. I’ve always been a treacherous bastard. And you know that.”
“Fiiiizs,” he managed, and then his eyes closed. I sighed heavily.
“Oh, Fitz,” the crow said in a voice oddly like the Fool’s. It felt like a rebuke.
“I do what I have to do,” I told her. “I’m not taking you with me, either.”
I put a piece of wood in the fire.
I lay down beside Riddle, my back against his, covered us both with my cloak, and closed my eyes. I did not allow myself to fall asleep. I did not have that luxury. I let myself rest for as long as it took my propped log to burn through in the fireplace.
When I heard it fall, I arose. I sprinkled seed on another piece of bread and went out to the stable. I moved softly, waking Fleeter with my thoughts as much as with my touch.