Fool's Quest - Страница 52

“Lad, if you’re to serve me, the first thing I require of you is that you behave in a practical way. Didn’t the kitchen lass tell you it was for you? Didn’t you see two cups there, and two plates? You’re hungry, the food is there, and you had no idea when I was coming back. You should have eaten.”

“It didn’t seem polite, sir. My family always ate at table together.” He closed his mouth suddenly, his lips tight. For an instant, I hoped Thick would be able to clear his mother’s mind. Then I wondered if the woman deserved to face all that she had lost. I opened my mouth twice before I spoke.

“I see your point. Let’s sit together and eat, then. We have to be ready to face this day. I’ll need your help to put what remains of our horses back into comfortable situations. Lord Chade and Thick will be arriving later, to help us consider what has happened here.”

“The king’s own advisor?”

I was startled that the boy knew of Chade. “Yes. And Thick will be with him. He’s a sort of advisor, too. Don’t be put off by his appearance and ways. His mind may not work exactly as ours do, but he’s an old friend of mine and has helped me more than once.”

“Of course, sir. Any guest in your house must be treated with respect.”

“Excellent. Now let’s stop talking for a bit and get some food down both of us.”

The boy excelled at that. The haunted look had receded a bit from his eyes, but his cheeks were still flushed with fever from his wound. I excused myself from the table, left him eating, and came back with a generous dose of ground willowbark that I added to the rest of his tea. After he had eaten, I told him to go to the steams. I thought of sending someone to his mother’s house to get clean garments for him, but decided it would only cause more distress for everyone.

A tap at the study door was FitzVigilant. He looked little better than he had the night before. “Did you sleep?” I asked him.

“Nightmares,” he replied brusquely.

I didn’t ask questions. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Somewhat better.” He looked at the floor, and then back up at me. His words came slowly. “I can’t make my days fit together. Not just Winterfest eve. That whole day at Oaksbywater is fragmented. And not just that day but many that came before it. Look at this. I remember buying it. But I don’t recall why.” He held up a bracelet of delicate silver links. “I would never choose anything like this for myself. And I feel ashamed and I don’t know why. I did something terrible, didn’t I?”

Yes. You didn’t protect my daughter. You should have died before you let them take her. “I don’t know, Lant. But when Lord Chade is here with Thick, perhaps we can—”

“Sir!” It was Bulen, bursting into the room. For one crooked moment, I wanted to rebuke Revel for not training him better. But Revel was gone.

“What is it?”

“A troop of soldiers, sir, coming up the carriageway! Twenty or more!”

I was on my feet in the instant. My eyes went to the sword over the mantel. Gone. Looted. No time to care about that. I reached under my desk and jerked free the nasty short sword that I’d long ago fastened to the underside of it. I looked at Lant. “Arm yourself and join me. Now.” I went out the door without looking back to see if he or Bulen was following. I had a target and at that moment I was fully convinced that I could slay twenty men with my anger alone.

But the mounted men advancing up the drive were in the livery of the Buckkeep Rousters. They wore black with only a touch of blue, and had a reputation as dark for recklessness and violence. The leader wore a helm that left only his eyes and a great expanse of beard and mustache exposed. I stood in the open door, panting, my bared sword in my hand, and returned their incredulous looks as they pulled their horses to a halt. Belatedly, it came to me. The troop of guards that Chade had dispatched had finally arrived. The messenger, traveling alone, had braved the snow and storms to reach Withywoods before they had. Their captain’s eyes met mine, evaluating me coldly. His eyes flickered to the burnt stable and then back to me. He knew he was too late and was already assembling reasons for why it was not his fault. This was the guard company Chade had chosen to send to Withywoods? The Rousters? What had he expected them to face? Had the men who had taken Bee actually been targeting Shun? Too many new ideas rattled through my head. Slowly I lowered my sword until it pointed at the ground.

“Captain, I am Holder Badgerlock, master of Withywoods. Welcome. I am aware that Lord Chade sent you to supplement my folk here. I am afraid we were all too late to prevent a disaster.” Such bland and formal words for what had happened here. I’d reverted to my former identity, giving a name they might expect to hear.

“Captain Stout is my name. My lieutenant is Crafty.” He gestured at the younger man beside him. His beard and mustache were patchy but ambitious. “Given the weather, we traveled as swiftly as was possible. It is unfortunate that we were not placed here before you left your home unguarded.”

Not his fault, and he was making sure I knew it. He was right, but it was salt in a fresh wound, and his disrespect was unhidden.

A thin, almost-familiar music crept into my thoughts. I lifted my eyes. Thick? From the ranks of the men, he and Chade emerged. Chade pushed his horse forward to demand, “What tidings? Is she here? What happened?”

“It’s hard to say. There was a raid here, on Winterfest eve. Bee was taken. My stables were torched, and some of my folk killed, but something has clouded the minds of everyone who was here. They recall nothing of it. Except for one stable boy.”

“And Lady Shun?” His question was desperate.

“I’m sorry, Chade. I don’t know. She isn’t here. I don’t know if she was taken or is among the dead.”

His face changed. He aged. I swear the flesh sagged on his skull and his eyes dimmed. “And Lant?” His voice was faint with despair.

“I’m fine, Lord Chade. A bit the worse for a new hole in my shoulder, but I’ll live.”

“Thank Eda for that.” The old man dismounted as Lant handed his sword to Bulen and went forward to meet him. Chade embraced him wordlessly, closing his eyes. I think I saw Lant flinch as Chade’s arms enfolded him, but he made no sound.

“Fitz. Hey!” Thick, looking uncomfortable on a very tall horse. He dismounted awkwardly, sliding on his belly down the horse’s shoulder. His round cheeks were red with cold. His music, the harbinger of his incredible Skill-strength, was a muted anthem today. Nonetheless, as it reached my senses more strongly, I felt a slight lift of my heart. He came to me and stared up at me. He reached up and patted my chest as if to make certain I saw him. “Fitz! Look! We met the soldiers and we rode with them. Like an army coming to your door! I’m cold! I’m hungry! Can we go inside?”

“Of course, all of you, please.” I looked up at the mounted men. “You must be cold and hungry. Um, Bulen, can you find some help to take care of the horses?” I had no idea where we would stable the beasts. And I had given Cook no notice that we might have twenty hungry guardsmen dropping in. Thick reached out and took my hand.

And Bee was stolen!

The knowledge hit me like a blow to the head. What was I doing here? Why hadn’t I already set off in pursuit?

“There you are! Why were you hiding in the fog? Now we can feel each other,” Thick told me companionably. He squeezed my hand and smiled up at me.

The cold shock of reality seizing me was like being flung directly from a fever back to health. Everything that had seemed distant and vaguely sad now assaulted me full-force. My child stolen by folk cruel enough to burn horses alive in my stables. My people dulled down to the sensibilities of sheep. A killing rage rose in me, and Thick took a step back from me. “Stop,” he begged me. “Don’t feel that much!”

As soon as he released my hand, the choking miasma of despair sought to fill me. I looked at the ground. Putting up my Skill-walls at that moment was like attempting to lift the real walls of Withywoods. I felt too much to contain: too much anger, frustration, guilt, and fear. My emotions circled one another like savage dogs, tearing at my soul in passing. Block by block, I built my Skill-walls. When I looked up, Thick was nodding at me, his tongue resting on his lower lip. Lant was speaking softly and quickly to Chade, who held him by the shoulders and stared into his face as he spoke. And the Rousters were looking very unhappy at being here at all. I looked at their captain and used my Skill to push my words as well as my voice.

“You didn’t want to come here. You were fine traveling down the road until you got to the carriage lane that leads here. Then you wanted to go anywhere else. Now that you are here, you feel miserable and unsettled. You see the signs, as I do, that this holding was attacked by armed men. They came and they went, and left the signs of their passage but no memory of it with my folk. There is a spell … an evil magic has been put over Withywoods, specifically to keep away those who could help us.” I took a steadying breath and straightened my back. “Please, if two of your fellows would find stabling for the horses in the sheep pens and give them whatever fodder you can find, I would be grateful. Then come inside, get warm, have food. Then we will discuss how best to follow people who have left no tracks.”

The captain of the guard regarded me with reservation. His lieutenant rolled his eyes and did not bother to conceal his disdain. Chade lifted his voice. “After you have eaten, go out in pairs and ask of the folk round and about. Look for tracks of a party of mounted soldiers. There will be a reward, in gold, for any who bring me back solid information.”