Fool's Quest - Страница 153

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“You had … they would have been right. In a dragon. They grew as if …” I felt very awkward saying it. I knew I’d seen them earlier, in the green dragon’s open maw. “Sacs,” I said. “For spitting poison, I think. Growing in your throat.”

“What did you do? And how?” Malta was regarding me with wonder. Wonder touched with fear.

Amber spoke over my head. “Prince FitzChivalry has the hereditary magic of the Farseer line. Of the royal blood. He can heal.”

“Sometimes!” I added hastily. “Only sometimes.” I found the brandy. My hand was steady enough to pick it up, and I had some.

“I think,” Reyn spoke slowly, “that I would like for all of us to sit down. I’d like to hear Lady Amber’s tale. To know why you came here. And how.”

She squeezed my shoulders, cautioning me to silence, just as Molly would have if she’d thought I was about to offer too much coin for a market purchase. “It would greatly please me to tell you all,” she said, and I was just as glad to let her. I felt relief when she let go of me and we were seated round the table again. Lant had taken his seat and remained remarkably quiet.

A tale the Fool told him, in the voice of a steady and practical woman. She and I were old friends, she began.

“That I guessed,” Malta said knowingly. “When first I saw him, I felt as if I already knew him.” She smiled at me as if we shared a jest. I smiled back, without understanding.

Amber’s tale skirted and leapt and wove through the truth. She’d come to Buckkeep, and there had a lovely time with all the beautiful money that Jek had sent to her from Bingtown. Too lovely a time, with too much fine brandy (and here she paused to take a sip of golden Sandsedge) and too many games of chance where neither cards nor dice nor scattering pins favored her. She’d lost her fortune and decided to return to her homeland to reunite with her family and to visit friends. Instead she’d encountered old enemies. They’d taken over her ancestral home, and injured her kin. They’d captured her, and tormented her. Blinding her had neither been the least nor the worst of what they did to her. When she could, she escaped them. And fled back to me. To one who could avenge her, and help her free those still kept captive. To FitzChivalry Farseer, a man as adept at killing as he was at healing.

The tale had enraptured all of them, even Lant. It came to me that this contorted version of the truth of the Fool’s tale was more than he’d heard of it before. Phron was now looking at me with a youngster’s wonder. Reyn sat, elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, and his fingers splayed across his mouth. I could not decide what he was thinking, but Malta was nodding to Amber’s words, and accepted her claims for me with no argument. I controlled my face but ruefully wished she were less extravagant in her praise of me.

So I was dismayed by Malta’s words when the Fool paused to sip brandy. “There are other children,” she said. She looked directly at me. “Not many. The children born here in Kelsingra are few, and even fewer survive. If you could do for them what you did for Phron, you could ask of us almost any—”

“Malta, he is a guest—” her husband began, in rebuke, but she interrupted with, “And they are children who suffer daily, and their parents with them. How can I not ask for it?”

“I understand.” I said it swiftly, before the Fool could speak. “But I cannot make any promises. What Amber called a healing is more of … an adjustment. It may not be permanent. I may not be able to help any of the other children.”

“We need—” Amber began but I cut her off recklessly.

“We need nothing in return for helping children. The lives of children are not bargaining chips.”

“We need,” Amber resumed calmly, “not speak of any bargain or desire of ours until after FitzChivalry has done what he can for the children.” She turned her blinded visage toward me. “That goes without saying.”

And yet by saying it, she had reminded them that we could have held that back. I tried to watch Malta’s face without seeming to stare. She was nodding slowly and then exchanged an unreadable glance with Reyn. Phron was still eating. Without thinking, I cautioned him, “Slow down. You will have to give your body time to adapt to the change in your diet.”

He stopped, fork halfway to his mouth. “I have been so hungry for so long,” he explained.

I nodded. “But no matter how long you’ve been hungry, your stomach will only hold so much.”

“Trust me. That’s very true,” Amber confirmed for him ruefully.

I glanced at his parents, suddenly aware that I had spoken to their son as if he were mine. Malta had a look of pleading desperation. Reyn was looking down, as if ashamed to hope.

I made the offer reluctantly. Had not I known what it was to have a child with a baffling difficulty? Had not I felt the pain of a parent who would pay any price to make my child’s life better? “I don’t know that I can help all of them. Or any of them. But I am willing to try,” I said and attempted to keep my trepidation from my voice. It was not just that I was uncertain. It was the disquieting knowledge that my Skill-magic was moving strangely in me. Was it the Skill itself, was it stronger or more focused here in Kelsingra? Or was it me? Was the boundary between me and the Skill-current eroding? I had touched Phron, a boy I’d never met before, and healed him as effortlessly as if I were Thick. No. Not healed, I reminded myself. Adjusted him. With no previous knowledge of how a young Elderling’s body should be. I suddenly wished I had not agreed to try. What if my next effort did not correct but caused an error in a child’s body? What would have become of us if Phron had died choking and gasping at my feet?

“I have not yet finished my tale,” Amber interjected softly. I was startled to the point of staring. The Fool never volunteered information about himself. Was Amber so different a person?

“There is more?” Malta was incredulous.

“It’s quickly told, and perhaps a brief telling is best for you as well as FitzChivalry. The people who held me captive, tormented me, and stole my eyesight knew that I would seek help from my old friend.” She paused, and my belly turned over in me. He wouldn’t. She did. “They lured FitzChivalry away from his home. And then they attacked it with hired Chalcedean troops, led by a man whose name perhaps you may know. He called himself Duke Ellik.”

I actually heard Reyn’s teeth grind. Malta had gone pale under her scarlet scaling. The crimson outline of every scale against her white face was beautiful and frightening. Was Amber unaware of the response she had woken? She spoke on.

“They shattered his doors, burned his barns and stables, killed and raped and looted. And they stole his daughter. A small child of nine years. Her older cousin they took as well. Lady Shine was able to escape, not without harm, but alive. But little Bee, Lord FitzChivalry’s daughter, a child beyond precious to both of us, they destroyed.”

So bald a telling of that tale. I should have been inured to that pain. I should have been past the point where it made me want to rage, to weep, and to strike out at all around me. I found I was gripping the edge of the table, looking down at the edge of it and trying to cling to control as a storm raged within and around me.

“Destroyed.” Queen Malta spoke the word faintly.

“Gone forever,” Amber confirmed.

Reyn refilled my small blue glass with golden Sandsedge brandy and nudged it carefully toward me. It wouldn’t help but I tried to appreciate the gesture. I should not drink it. I’d already had too much, too quickly. I looked into it, swirled it, and my thoughts went to Verity. How often had I seen him make that small gesture? What had he seen there?

Nothing, Fitz. Nothing at all. Drink up your false courage and move forward. It’s the only direction a man can move in.

I lifted my eyes, listening. Imagination. I picked up my brandy and drank it down.

“Children are not bargaining chips,” Reyn confirmed. He looked to his queen. “Yet I am unable to imagine a way to let you understand the depth of our gratitude.” He paused and added uncomfortably, “Or the wild hope I feel for the other children. I know it must seem greedy of us, but if you will, please, let me summon the parents and speak with them tonight. To tell them that possibly you can help. Perhaps, tomorrow …” He let the request trail away.

I was shocked at the surge of anticipation I felt. “I can make no promises,” I cautioned him.

Amber spoke suddenly. “He will need to rest well before he attempts any more. These healings tax him in a way that is difficult to explain.” She paused and then dared to caution Reyn, “And when you speak to the parents, you must be honest, sir. Tell them there is risk as well, and not just that Prince FitzChivalry may not be able to help. Sometimes his healings take a heavy toll on the one he helps. I speak with a personal knowledge of that! Bid them consider well the gamble.”

“There is also General Rapskal. This will not please him.” Malta spoke anxiously.

“Few things do,” Reyn said with a laugh that had no humor in it. “And some few of the dragons may be interested. There are not many here right now. Most are gone to warmer lands, for a season, or a year, or a decade. They do not count time as we do.”

“They do not think of children who may need to be shaped or guided in their changes.” Malta spoke with an edge of bitterness. “Those who have neglected their young Elderlings will express perfunctory regret, of course.”

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