Thick skidded to a sudden halt and cocked his head as if listening. ‘Skill-scrolls, Chade says, bring the Skill-scrolls.’ He paused, frowning as he paid attention to Chade’s Skilling. ‘But not yet! Don’t go home yet, not until he has a good way to explain it. But soon. Nettle is getting tired of all the messages. You could do it better.’
I had given Chade much to think about, and to my relief, he excused himself from our Skilling to do just that. Dutiful attempted to explain to me how Nettle had persuaded Icefyre to present his head to the Narcheska, but Thick was too excited to permit our conversation. And I sensed restlessness from the Prince that told me that he had better ways to pass his time than lingering with me. I sent him off with a stern warning to be circumspect, which I am sure he ignored.
I came back to full awareness to find the Fool nodding wearily to the Black Man’s long explanation of something. It was the most foreign babbling I had ever heard, with not a single word that I recognized. Thick insisted on reporting how he had spent his time with the Black Man, with many descriptions of food, of Chade being angry and upset, and of a wonderful sliding place he had discovered not far away. I looked at his round face, beaming with contentment. He was a wonderful man. He accepted, with equanimity, that I had returned, that the Fool was no longer dead, and that soon we would be back home without going on a boat. His joy at sliding on snow was equal to his joy at my return. I envied his easy acquiescence to change and the future.
As he prattled, I tried to decipher what the future held for me. We would go back to Buckkeep and I’d have the task of transporting the Skill-library there. Already I dreaded how many trips through the pillars that would entail. Yet that task became simple when I thought of what would follow. I had to introduce myself to Nettle. And reveal to Molly that I lived. Such a wave of longing swept through me at that thought that it near took my breath away. In restoring the full range of my memories of her, the Fool had swept my heart back in time to that moment when I first knew I had lost her. The anguish was as fresh, and my love for her as strong. I dreaded the thought of our first meeting, and all the explaining I must do. I dreaded facing her grief for her husband, but I knew I must. Burrich had cared for my daughter when I had ‘died’. Could I do less for his little sons? And yet, it was not going to be easy. None of it was going to be easy. Yet, with an odd sideways tilt of my heart, I realized I was anticipating it, that I believed that beyond the sorrow we would share at Burrich’s death, there might eventually be something else. I felt shallow and greedy even as I thought of it, but nonetheless, it was there. It seemed years since I had looked ahead and seen opportunities and possibilities. I suddenly knew that I wanted change and life and the dangers of attempting to win Molly’s love again.
Thick shook me by the shoulder. ‘So?’ he asked me delightedly. ‘So, you want to go now?’
‘Yes,’ I found myself saying, and then discovered that I had been smiling and nodding so to his descriptions of sliding on the snow, I’d volunteered to go sliding with him. His delight was too great for me to crush it, and it suddenly came to me that I truly had nothing better to do at the moment. The Fool could do with rest and he seemed to be enjoying his talk with the Black Man. So we bundled up and went outside again. I had planned to slide with him once or twice, just enough to content him, but the slope he had found was as long and sweeping as an otter slide and just as inviting. Thick’s use of it over the last few days had polished it smooth. We slid on our bellies and then together, on top of my cloak, whooping like children, heedless of how wet and cold we got.
It was play, pure and simple. Play that I’d had no time for, that I had dismissed as unnecessary and an interruption to all the practical tasks of a well-ordered life. When had I lost sight of taking simple pleasure for the sake of pleasure? I forgot myself in it and came back to the world with a start when I heard my name being called. I had just come to the end of the slide and as I turned to the Fool’s voice, Thick crashed into me from behind. I went flying and landed, mostly unhurt, with Thick on top of me. We floundered to our feet to find the Fool watching us with amusement and fondness that was hard to look upon. Regret and wistfulness were there also. ‘You should try it,’ I told him, half-embarrassed to be caught cavorting like a boy in the first snow of the year. I stood and helped Thick to his feet. He was grinning despite his tumble.
‘My back,’ the Fool said quietly, and I nodded, feeling suddenly subdued. I knew it was more than his newly-healed back, more than the stiffness of half-healed hurts. His experience had scarred and stiffened more than his body. I wondered how long it would be before his spirit regained its flexibility.
‘You’ll heal,’ I assured us both as I walked up to him. I wished I had been more certain.
‘Prilkop has made food for us,’ he told me. ‘I’ve come to tell you it’s ready. We shouted from the door, but you didn’t hear us.’ He paused. ‘The walk down looked easy. It wasn’t. Now I dread the walk up again.’
‘It’s steep,’ I agreed as we started back. At the mention of food, Thick had broken into a trot and preceded us. ‘Prilkop?’
‘The Black Man’s name.’ The Fool trudged along beside me as we headed back to the steep cliffside trail. He was breathless. ‘It took him a moment or two to recall it. It has been long since he had anyone to speak with, and longer still since he has spoken our native tongue.’
‘You both seemed to be enjoying it,’ I said, and hoped I did not sound jealous.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. He almost smiled. ‘It has been so long since he was home that when I told him my childhood memories, he could only marvel at how many things had changed. We both wonder what things are like there now.’
‘Well, I suppose he could go home now if he wished. I mean, he has no vision to keep him here any more. Does he?’
‘No.’ We walked a bit in silence and then the Fool said quietly, ‘Fitz, home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more.’ He set his hand on my arm and I halted. ‘Let me breathe,’ he begged, and then defeated our pause by speaking. ‘You are the one who should go home,’ he told me earnestly. ‘While you still can. While there are people there who will know you and rejoice in your return. Not just Buckkeep. Molly. And Patience.’
‘I know. I intend to.’ I looked at him puzzled, surprised that he had thought I would not.
His face went almost blank with astonishment. ‘You will? You are?’
‘Of course.’
‘You mean it, don’t you?’ His eyes searched my face. Almost, I saw a shadow of disappointment there. But then he seized one of my hands in both of his and said, ‘I am glad for you, Fitz. Truly glad. You had said you would, but you seemed hesitant. I thought perhaps you would change your mind.’
‘What else would I do?’