Fool's Quest - Страница 139

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He dragged in a long breath. “Like the morning after a night of drinking bad ale.”

I turned and glared at Perseverance. “How did you do that?”

He looked surprised I would ask. “I hid under the cloak near the stone. You know how it conceals things that are beneath it. Then, at the last moment, I jumped up and caught hold of you. And here I am.” He stood straight suddenly and met my gaze. He seemed totally unaffected by the passage. He draped the butterfly cloak around his shoulders. “I followed to serve you as I vowed to do. To avenge my Lady Bee, whose colors I wear.”

I wanted to stamp and shout, to call them every demeaning and damning term I knew. They looked at me like puppies and suddenly I could not muster the energy. The cold that squeezed me was not a cold that had patience with human frailty. I looked down at both of them. “Lant. Get up. There’s a tent in that bag. Make camp over there, under those trees where the snow is shallower. I’m going to get a fire going.”

They stared at me, then exchanged astonished glances. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lant stand. He stumbled two steps sideways and then reached up to hold his head in his hands. The Skill-portal journey had not been easy for him. His own fault. My anger at how they had complicated my life drowned any sympathy I might have felt. Perseverance, wrapped in layers of butterfly wings, looked less affected. I walked away from them, pulling my clothing closer. I’d worn the gaudy Farseer cloak over the plain one and was suddenly glad to have it. I found a dead and hanging branch, shook it cautiously to rid it and the branches right above it of loose snow, and then began to break pieces off of it. I returned to find them struggling to erect the small tent I’d been reluctant to bring. Now I was glad of it. I ignored their efforts as I scraped clear an area of the cobbles of the old market and set about my fire-making. I was rusty at this skill, light-headed from our passage, and the longer I struggled, the colder and stiffer my hands became. I panted and sniffled as I worked, for the cold does that to a man. I felt my lips dry and tried to remember not to lick them, as I knew they would immediately crack. Night was coming on and the cold was squeezing me harder. Patience was hard to find. I should have brought a fire-pot.

A spark caught and lingered, and then another, and finally a tiny trickle of smoke rose from my tinder. “Go get wood,” I told the two watching me struggle. “There’s a hatchet in my pack. Don’t dump it out on the snow, reach inside to find it.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Perseverance said huffily.

“You’ve not proved that today,” I told him, and he went.

Lant lingered a moment longer. “I told my father you’d refused me. He told me it wasn’t your decision to make. That I should find a way. So I did.”

That sounded like Chade. “We’ll need a lot of wood to last through the night, and the light is nearly gone,” I pointed out. Lant stamped away.

I fed the tiny fire twigs and then snapped off bits of the branch and then finally dared add some actual wood to it. I looked around at the gathering gloom. Motley had taken up a post in a bare-limbed tree and was watching me. I decided we would have a large fire tonight. Perseverance returned dragging a substantial branch. I broke some of the smaller limbs from it and then set him to chopping the rest. The fire was lending some warmth by the time Lant returned. He’d found a storm-broken evergreen, and the resinous branches caught quickly and burned hot. I could tell he did not feel well. He kept pinching his lips together as if he feared he’d be sick, and more than once he reached up to press the heels of his hands to his temples. I didn’t care how he felt. “We still need more wood,” I told them.

For a time we all came and went, bringing whatever storm-dropped wood we could find. When we had a substantial reserve, we crouched around the fire, warming ourselves. “You first,” I said to Lant. “What supplies did you bring?”

I watched him try to order his thoughts. “Warm clothes. Some dried meat and fruit. Bread, honey, some bacon, cheese. A blanket rolled small. A knife and a cook-pot. A bowl and a cup and spoon. Coin for inns. My sword.” He looked around us at the forest. “I thought there might be inns.”

“There aren’t,” I told him. I looked at Perseverance. “And you?”

The boy had the brilliant Elderling cloak hooded up over his head. It was too large for him. He peered at me from the recesses. “I’m dressed warm. I brought food, mostly grain for porridge. Some smoked dried meat. A cook-pot for it, and a spoon. A cup. My knife. A sling. Not a lot.”

“A bedroll?”

“I’ve got her cloak, sir, the butterfly cloak. It’s surprisingly warm.”

I looked at him. His cheeks were pink and the tip of his nose was red, but he looked comfortable crouched by the fire. I pondered for a time. I didn’t like my decision. “We’ll camp here for three days. Then I’ll take you back.” And I’d have to wait at least another three days before I dared another journey through the pillar. Setback after setback.

“No,” said Lant.

“Won’t go,” Perseverance replied. He didn’t look at me. Instead he went to his pack that he’d set inside the tent and came back with a pot. He moved away from the trodden area to pack it full of clean snow. He brought it back and set it by the fire. “We’ll have porridge for dinner,” he announced. He looked at Lant. “I could add some of your dried fruit if you want.”

Lant was warming his hands. “It’s in my pack. Fetch it for me and I’ll find the apples for you.”

“No.” I said. They both stared at me. I pointed at my cousin. “Fetch it yourself, Lant. Perseverance is my man, not yours. For the next three days, you’ll do everything for yourself. Then we’ll see if you don’t want to go back to Buckkeep.”

He glared at me. Then, without a word, he rose and stalked off to the tent. He returned with his pack, opened it, and took out a packet of dried apples. I had to admire his self-control. He didn’t take his temper out on the boy, but only selected a handful of dried slices and gave them to the lad. Perseverance thanked him.

I inspected their work on the tent. It had been intended only for me, and to be comfortably large for one man. Three were going to be more than snug. The tent was canvas, sewn like a big pocket that could be staked down and the top lifted with a line to a tree. I tightened several of the lines and tapped down one peg more securely. I hadn’t wanted to bring it but I knew we’d all be glad of it tonight. I’d planned to abandon it as soon as I could.

The cold was not as daunting now that I knew I had a warm fire to return to. I walked slowly around the circular clearing that had once been a marketplace. I tried to imagine Elderlings converging here to trade goods and exchange news. I looked up at the pillar that had ejected us. It was a darker shape against a dark sky. I recalled the first time I had seen this place. Kettricken, the Fool, the old woman, Kettle, Starling, and I had come here on our long quest to find King Verity and persuade him to return to his throne and his embattled kingdom. The Fool had climbed the pillar, and when I looked up at him there, he had been someone else: another jester or songster, from another time. And Starling had slapped me, hard, to wake me from that vision. Later, the Fool and I had gone hunting with Nighteyes. And ended up in a water fight in a creek. Boys. We’d been such boys, but I’d believed myself a man. So many years ago. How my world had changed since then. How we had changed.

I glanced back at Per and Lant. Per was crouched over his little pot, adding another handful of snow. The apples and the oats waited beside him. He was explaining to Lant that it would take a lot of melted snow to make a pot of water, and then it must boil before he added the oats or the apples. I felt a burst of disgust that Lant did not know such simple things as how to cook porridge over a fire in winter. Then it came to me that his life would never have taught him such skills, any more than mine had taught me the rules of the various gambling games that pleased the nobles of Buckkeep. I wasn’t being fair to expect those things of him. But life wasn’t fair. Life does not wait for any of us to grow up. Perhaps if it had been summer, they’d have been throwing water at each other.

I looked at Lant and tried to see him dispassionately. He had grit. He’d ridden after me with that half-healed stab wound. Even now, I saw his hand stray to his healed ribs and gently rub them. I knew the ache of old injuries in the cold. He’d known I would not welcome him, and yet he’d followed me. I still didn’t understand why. Lant said something in a low voice, Per chuckled, and the crow copied him with her cawing laugh. Nothing could have made me smile tonight. I felt envy for their youth, and a spark of warmth for both of them. They’d made such a mistake today. And they’d have to pay the toll for it.

So I let them struggle. The water finally boiled, the oats and apples eventually cooked. We each had a small portion and then waited while Per cooked more. Lant looked a bit better after he had eaten. I gave the crow a stingy portion of bread. I filled my own little pot with snowmelt and made tea for us. We each had a cup and drank it slowly. I gave Per the first watch, with strict instructions that he was to keep the fire well fed. I no longer had a wolf to protect me through the night. This place and its memories were cutting my heart with loneliness and I longed for the Fool as he had been, for Nighteyes at my side. I could almost recall how the fur on the back of my wolf’s neck would have felt, tipped with cold and then warm near his skin. I reached for him but found only silence.

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