Fool's Quest - Страница 59

A tap at the door turned my gaze that way. Bulen poked his head in. “Sir, I’ve brought her.”

“Please bring her in,” I invited him. As Bulen opened the door and the woman entered, Perseverance came to his feet. He stared at her with dog’s eyes. I saw his lip quiver and then he clenched his jaws.

I had possibly met his mother when I first came to Withywoods, but I doubted our paths had crossed much since then. She was a typical Buck woman, with curly black hair bundled into a lace net at the back of her head and soft brown eyes. She was slender for a woman of her years, and her clothing was well cared for. She bobbed a curtsy to us and politely but eagerly asked about the position in the kitchen. I let Chade reply.

“This lad who has worked in the stables says you have a reputation as an excellent baker.”

Diligent turned a polite smile on Perseverance but showed no sign of recognition. Chade continued, “I understand that you live in the cottages used by the stable hands. We are looking into the stable fire that happened on Winterfest eve. Lives were lost in that fire, and we are trying to get an accurate accounting of how it may have started. Did you know any of the stable hands?”

Such a direct question. It was as if someone had flapped a black rag behind her eyes. There was a moment when she did not seem to see us or be in the room with us. Then she was back. She shook her head. “No, sir, I don’t believe I do.”

“I see. And I’ve forgotten my manners, asking you here on such a cold day and offering you no comfort. Please. Do sit down. We’ve some cakes here. And may I pour a cup of tea for you? It’s a special brew from Buckkeep Castle itself.”

“Why, thank you, sir. That would be kind.” Bulen brought her a chair and she sat carefully, arranging her skirts so they fell smoothly. As Chade poured tea and brought it to her, she offered, “You know, you might ask Hawthorn at the end of the lane. Her boy works in the stables; they might know.”

Chade brought her the cup himself. “It can be a bit strong. Let us know if you’d care for some honey,” he said as he gave it to her.

She smiled as she accepted the pretty china cup. “Thank you,” she said, and took a sip. She puckered her mouth in surprise at the bitterness, but she smiled. “It is a bit strong,” she said politely.

“It’s something of a tonic,” Chade told her. “I enjoy the vigor it seems to give me, especially on chill winter days.” He gave her his most charming smile.

“Indeed, does it?” she asked. “At my age, I could use a bit of that!” She smiled back at him and took a second, polite sip. As she lowered the cup to the saucer, her face changed. The cup chattered on the saucer as her hand began to tremble. Chade rescued it from her failing grip. Her hands rose first to cover her mouth, and then to picket her whole face. She bowed forward from the waist. She began to shake badly and the first sound that came out of her was not a woman weeping but an animal’s low cry of agony.

Perseverance flew across the room. He knelt before her and put his good arm around her. He did not tell her that it would be all right. He said nothing, but put his cheek beside hers. No one in the room spoke as she continued to grieve. After a time, she lifted her head, put her arms around her son, and said, “I sent you away. How can you ever forgive me? You were all I had left, and I sent you away.”

“I’m here now. Oh, Ma, I thank Eda you know me.” He lifted his head and looked at me. “Thank you, sir. I’ve got my ma back. Thank you.”

“What happened to me?” The query was a shaking moan.

“A bad magic,” the stable boy comforted her. “The same bad magic that happened to everyone else here. It made everyone forget what happened on Winterfest eve. Everyone but me.” He knit his brows. “Why not me?”

Chade and I conferred with a look. Neither of us had an answer. Thick spoke in a soft voice. “’Cause they didn’t have you with the others. When they told them to sing the forgetting song. So they couldn’t make you forget. And you don’t hear the song at all. Not any songs.” He looked sad for the boy.

Bulen startled us all when he strode forward. I’d almost forgotten he was in the room. Without a word, he lifted the cup from the saucer Chade still held. He drained off the cup of tea, stood like a statue, and then, unbidden, sank into a nearby chair. For a time, he simply sat. When he looked up, his face was pale. “I was there,” he said. He rolled a glance at Lant. “I saw them kick you in the head, after they stabbed you, and I stood there. I saw that same horseman knock Lady Shun to the ground. He called her filthy names and said if she dared to get up, he would—” He paused, obviously sickened. “He threatened her. Then they herded us into a tighter group, as if we were sheep being bunched. And other people came to join us, the folk from the cottages. A lot of the children had been hiding somewhere, but they came out in a group. And the soldiers began to shout at us about a pale boy.

“Then a woman came out of the manor. I’d never seen her before. She was dressed all in white, very warmly. At first she scolded the old man in charge. He was cruel and seemed to care little about what she said. She was angry that people had been killed. The bodies would have to be dealt with, and it would make everything harder to conceal. She said he had done it badly, that it was not the path she had wanted. And he told her to leave him to the business of war, that she had no idea how territory was captured. And that when they had finished, they could set fire to the stables and get rid of the bodies that way. I could tell she was not happy with him.

“But when she turned to us, she was calm and smiling. She didn’t yell. She spoke so kindly that all I wanted was to find whatever would please her. She was seeking a boy or a young man who had come recently to stay with us. She promised they were not there to hurt him, only to take him back to where he belonged. Someone, Tavia, I think, shouted that they’d killed the only young man who had recently joined us. But the woman began to walk among us, looking each of us in the face. I think someone was with her …” Bulen’s voice and expression went bland. I sensed he pushed against a barrier he could not pass. There was yet another layer to all this.

“You!” Bulen said suddenly. He pointed a finger at Perseverance. “It was you on the brown horse, and Lady Bee on the gray, wasn’t it? Everything changed in the instant. The woman was urging and urging us to think of a boy who had come recently, and then one of the soldiers shouted and pointed, and we all looked. And you were running the horses dead-out, and then three of the soldiers wheeled their horses about and went after you. Including that cruel old man. And one was drawing his bow and shooting as he rode. I remember seeing him do that, guiding the horse with his knees.”

“He got me, too,” Perseverance said quietly. He lifted his good hand to his bandaged shoulder. His mother gave a gasp and pulled him closer.

“For a short time, while they were chasing you, there were just a few soldiers guarding us. And I remember that we started talking, asking one another what was going on, how had this happened? It was like waking from sleepwalking …” His gaze was unfocused. “But then we all calmed down. And there were other people there, younger and, well, softer people in the pale clothing. They were walking among us, telling us to be calm, be calm. They looked worried, but were trying to reassure us. For a time, though, I think I knew how wrong everything was. I knelt down by Lant because Shun was there, crying over him. And I told her he wasn’t dead. Then the round-faced woman came back and she had Bee with her. But Bee looked as if she were asleep with her eyes open. She was calling to everyone that they had found him, they’d found an unexpected son. I remember now, I thought they meant the stable boy. But she had Bee with her and … someone else. Someone …”

Again he floundered, reaching after something buried beyond his ability to recall it. I heard his words with a rising chill in my heart. They’d captured Bee. And spoken of the Unexpected Son, the child from the White Prophecies. The boy upon whom the fate of the world turned. Once, the Fool had believed that was me. And now he thought it was a son he’d left behind, a child he had fathered without knowing he’d done it. However he meant those peculiar words. I could not imagine why anyone might think it was my daughter. The drive to do something, to do anything, was rising in me, an irrational storm that insisted I could not simply wait and gather information.

Bulen was speaking again. “They wrapped her in white robes and put her on their sleigh, as if she were a princess. By then the soldiers were back, circling us. And I couldn’t think of anything else to do but wait and see what would happen. It just seemed the only proper thing to do was to be in that huddle of people.”

I asked the question. “You think they believed Bee was the boy they were looking for? The Unexpected Son?”

Bulen hesitated. “So they behaved, sir. After they had her, they stopped seeking for him.”

“I remember all that,” Diligent said as I was still trying to picture Bee as a boy. “I was in the cottage, putting a mend in Tallerman’s good jacket and thinking about the fun we’d have at Midwinterfest. He was such a dancer!” Her voice caught on a sob, but she went on, “I was fretting that Perseverance had outgrown his good shirt and wondering if I could let it out any more for one more wearing. Then, suddenly, for no reason I can think of now, I decided I wanted to go up to the manor. I didn’t wait, I left the cottage just as I was and walked up to the manor. Everyone from the cottages was going, just as if it were time for Winterfest, but no one was laughing or talking. We just all wanted to go to the manor. On the way, I walked right past the stables. They were on fire but I didn’t think that was terrible. I didn’t stop or call out to anyone …” Her voice faltered and I saw her wonder if her husband and father-in-law had still been alive; if she could have had one last word with them.