‘Oh, go to bed,’ Chade rebuked me. ‘At least you can rest. Tonight the Prince and I shall reach far and see if we cannot persuade Nettle to aid us. I will admit that I long to know what is passing in the Six Duchies these days. If the Piebalds have stirred to action there, it might tell us that they play a double game.’
‘Perhaps,’ Dutiful agreed with a yawn, and I suddenly pitied him. I was going to honest sleep. He had a night’s work ahead of him. Yet, as I bade them good night and left their tent, I sensed that he regarded Nettle as a challenge he anticipated as well as dreaded. I set aside worrying about that as I left the tent. It was pointless. I was out of that game for now. Perhaps for always. I felt the earth lurch under me as I considered that thought, and then forced myself to go on. Would it be so terrible to go through the rest of my life unSkilled? Could not I think of it as being free of the Skill?
I made a brief stop at the guardsmen’s tent. Longwick kept a weary watch at the opening. He nodded at me silently as I slipped inside amongst the heavily sleeping men-at-arms and then out again. He did not ask what I was about. Chade’s man. Chade’s men, I corrected myself, looking around at the sleeping forms. Every guardsman on this island with us had been hand-picked by him, for both discretion and loyalty. How ruthlessly would they obey his commands?
I was still pondering that when I paused outside the Fool’s tent. I listened for a moment to the sweep of the wind that stirred flurries of ice crystals in a storm at ankle height. Every now and then a gust would propel a stinging onslaught into my face. But wind and rustling ice was all I heard. Within the Fool’s tent, all was silent, but the bright figures on the outside of the thin, tight fabric glowed with the life of the tiny fire within. ‘May I come in?’ I asked quietly.
‘A moment,’ he replied as softly. I heard the rustle of fabric, almost indistinguishable from the wind, and after a brief wait, he untied the door-flap and admitted me. Clinging frost came with me. It could not be helped, yet the Fool still winced as I brushed it from my clothes. I took the bundled Elderling robe from inside my coat. ‘Here. I brought it back.’
He was reclining on his pallet, the covers already drawn up around him. The tiny kettle crouched hopefully over the candlefire. He lifted his brows and smiled. ‘But I thought you looked so fetching in it. Are you sure you won’t keep it?’
I sighed. His fey levity was too much at odds with all else I felt that evening. ‘Chade and Dutiful are going to try to reach Nettle tonight. With the Skill. They fear that the dragon is stealing Thick’s mind, and hope that Nettle can distract Thick from Icefyre.’
‘And you choose not to help them?’
‘I cannot. I cannot find a single shred of the Skill inside me. I only know that Thick is troubled because of the way he hums. Always before, he Skilled out his music. Why does he hum and mutter now? It’s a change, and I don’t like changes, especially changes I don’t understand.’
‘Life is change,’ the Fool observed placidly. ‘And death is an even greater change. I think we must resign ourselves to change, Fitz.’
‘I’m tired of resigning myself to things. My entire life has been one long resignation.’ I dropped the robe on his pallet and then sat down heavily on the end of it, forcing him to draw his feet up out of the way. I pulled my mittens off and held my hands out to his feeble fire, trying to warm myself.
‘Ah, Catalyst, can it be that you do not see all the changes you have made? Some by your resignation and acceptance of circumstance, some by your wild struggles. You can say that you hate change, but you are change.’
‘Oh, please.’ I folded my arms upon my drawn-up knees and dropped my head onto them. ‘Don’t talk about that tonight. Talk about anything else but that. Please. I can’t think about choices and changes tonight.’
‘Very well.’ His voice was gentle. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘Anything. Something about you. How did you get here, after we left you behind at Buckkeep Town?’
‘I told you. I flew.’
I lifted my head from my arms to regard him sourly. He was smiling a small challenge at me. It was the Fool’s old smile, the one that promised he was telling the truth when he was obviously lying. ‘No. You did not.’ I spoke firmly.
‘Very well. If you say so.’
‘Kettricken must have helped you find passage, against Chade’s advice. And you came here on a ship with a bird’s name.’ I was guessing wildly, knowing that there would be some small kernel of truth at the bottom of his wild tale.
‘Actually, Kettricken counselled me to stay in Buckkeep, in our very brief meeting. I think it taxed her will to say no more to me than that. It was sheer good fortune for me that I encountered Burrich arriving at Buckkeep Castle as I left it. But, as I have agreed to tell this tale, let me tell it in order. Let us go back to the moment at which I last saw you. When I thought that you were hastening to my aid.’
I winced, but he went on evenly, ‘The Harbourmaster summoned the City Guard, who were very efficient at removing Lord Golden and his belongings. As you probably have suspected, they detained me until after the ships had sailed. Then I was dismissed, with many apologies and assurances that it had all been a terrible error. But word of the incident spread. By the time Lord Golden returned to his lodgings with his baggage, his creditors had descended, convinced that he had intended to flee the city without paying them. As indeed, he had. They were happy to confiscate most of his baggage and gear, all save one pack, containing the absolute minimum essentials for his survival, which he’d had the forethought to leave in his Buckkeep chambers.’
The little copper kettle was puffing steam. He lifted it from the small flame and poured water into a gaily-decorated teapot.
I had to smile. I gestured about the tent. ‘The bare essentials.’
He arched one golden brow. ‘For civilized adventuring, yes.’ He put the lid on the teapot. It was shaped like a rose. ‘And why should one attempt to get by with less? Now. Where was I? Ah, yes. Lord Golden, stripped of his possessions and glamour, was no longer Lord Golden, but only a fleeing debtor. Those who thought they knew him best were astonished at the way he lithely spidered down the outside of his lodgings, to land lightly on his feet and run off into the alleys. I vanished.’
He made me wait. He rubbed one eye and smiled at me thoughtfully. I bit the inside of my cheek until he finally gave in and went on.