Fool's Errand (65 page)

A thin smile twisted Laudwine’s mouth. “Then our pact is made.” He extended his free hand toward me, as if we would seal the bargain with a touch. He smiled disarmingly at me. “Take your knife from the boy’s throat.”

I gave him a wolf’s smile in return. “I think not, just yet. You have said this Peladine can take him at any time? Perhaps, if she does, you will think you have no need of me. You might kill me, let your sister have the boy, and then present him to Lord Golden, the hostage freed to return to court. No. We will do it my way. Besides, this lad may change his feelings about what we do. The knife helps him remember that my will is what will be.” I wondered if Dutiful would hear my promise enfolded in those words. I kept my eyes fixed on Laudwine and did not vary my tone. “Let me see Lord Golden remounted and set free, with my wolf at his side. Then, when I see how you keep your word, I will surrender us both to your will.”

Feeble, feeble plan. My true strategy went no further than getting them to take us to the Fool and Nighteyes. I continued to hold my smile and gaze on Laudwine but I was aware of the others edging their horses closer. My grip on the knife was steady. At some point, the Prince had reached up to grasp my wrist. I had scarcely been aware of his touch, for although it looked as if he resisted my blade, he did not. In truth, it was almost as if he held the knife steady against his own throat.

“We will do it your way,” Laudwine conceded at last.

It was an awkward business to mount Myblack while keeping my knife a threat to the Prince, but we managed it. Dutiful was almost too cooperative a victim; I feared Laudwine would see. I would have given much, just then, for the Prince to have been trained in Skilling. Our thread of joining was too fine for me to know his thoughts, nor did he know how to focus his mind toward mine. All I could sense was his anxiety and determination. Determination to do what, I could not divine. Myblack was not pleased with the doubled burden she had to carry, and my heart misgave me. Not only did I risk making her injury worse, or permanent, but if it became necessary to flee, she would already be weary and sore. Every hitch of Myblack’s limp was a rebuke to me. But I had no alternatives. We rode, following Laudwine, and his companions closed in around us. They did not look well disposed toward me. I recognized a woman from our brief battle. I did not see either of the men I had fought. The Prince’s former companions showed no evidence of sympathy or friendship for him now. He did not seem to see them, but rode looking forward with the point of my knife pressed high against his ribs.

We turned back and cut across the hillsides, past the barrow and toward the forest. The land we crossed hummocked oddly, and I soon decided that many years ago, a town of some sort had stood here. Meadow and woods had taken the land again, but land that has borne the plow ever after lies flatter. Moss had coated the stony walls that had once divided pastureland, and grass grew atop that, amidst the thistle and bramble that seem to love such stony places. “No one lives forever,” the walls seemed to say. “Four stones stacked atop one another will outlive all your dreams and still stand when your descendants have long forgotten that you lived here.”

Dutiful was silent as we rode. I kept my knife at his ribs. I do believe that if I had felt the woman take over his body, I would have pushed the blade home. His mind seemed far away. I used the time to assess our captors. There were an even dozen, including Laudwine.

We came at last to a cave cut into the side of a hill. Long ago, someone had added stone walls to extend the space. The remnants of a wooden gate hung drunkenly to one side. Sheep, I thought. It would be a good place to hold sheep at night, with the cave for shelter if rain or snow came too strong. Myblack lifted her head and gave a whinny of greeting to Malta and the three other horses tethered there. I made it fifteen of them, a respectable force to take on, even if there had been more than one of me.

I dismounted with the others and pulled the Prince down after me. He staggered as he landed on his feet and I caught him. His lips were moving as if he whispered to himself, but I heard nothing. His eyes seemed glassy and distant. I set the knife firmly to his throat. “If she tries to take him before the others are freed, I’ll still kill him,” I warned them. Laudwine looked surprised by my threat. Then, “Peladine!” he bellowed. In reply, a hunting cat came bounding out of the cave. She fixed me with a hateful stare. Her slow advance toward me was the angry step of a thwarted woman, not a cat’s stalk.

The Prince had dropped his gaze to the cat. He said nothing, but I felt the ragged sigh of his breath as it escaped him. Laudwine advanced to the cat and then went down on one knee to speak quietly to her. “I’ve struck a bargain,” he told her quietly. “If we let his friends go free, he gives us the Prince unscathed. More, he escorts you back to Buckkeep and helps you become accepted there.”

I don’t know if some sign of affirmation passed between them, or if Laudwine simply assumed her consent. When he stood, he spoke more loudly. “Inside. Your companions are there.”

I was horribly reluctant to follow him into that cave. Out in the open, we had some small chance of escape. Inside, we would be cornered. The only thing I could promise myself was that they would not get Dutiful. To cut his throat would be the work of an instant. I was not so certain I could give myself a quick death, let alone Nighteyes or the Fool.

Within the cave, a small fire burned, and my stomach complained at the smell of roasting meat. A camp of sorts had been pitched there, but to my eyes it had the look of a brigands’ den rather than a military encampment. The thought warned me that I should not be entirely confident that Laudwine had control of his people. Because they followed him did not mean they were subject to him. That cheery thought was entertaining me as I searched the shadowy interior of the cave while Laudwine was quietly conferring with the folk he had left on guard there. He had not placed anyone in charge of us. All eyes were on him, and I eased away from the crowd. A few noticed my movement, but no one protested it. Jinna’s charm still rode outside my shirt and I smiled disarmingly. Obviously, I was going deeper into the cave, not trying to escape to the outdoors. It was another indication of how informal Laudwine’s command was. My fear that the Piebalds were some sort of Witted army dissolved into a sickening suspicion that they were actually a Witted mob.

My heart found my friends before my eyes. I saw two huddled shapes on the floor in the back of the cave. I did not ask permission. With my knife at Dutiful’s throat, I walked us to them.

Toward the back of the cave, the ceiling dropped and the rock walls narrowed. In that little space, they slept. Their bed was the Fool’s cloak, or what remained of that fine garment. Nighteyes sprawled on his side, caught in the sleep of exhaustion. The Fool lay beside him, his body curled protectively around the wolf’s. They were both filthy. The Fool had a strip of bandaging tied around his brow. The gold of his skin had gone sallow and one side of his face was marred with bruises. Someone had taken his boots, and his narrow, pale feet looked bruised and vulnerable. The wolf’s throat was matted with blood and saliva, and his breathing had a whistle in it.

I wanted to drop to my knees beside them, but I feared to take my knife from Dutiful’s throat.

“Wake up,” I bade them, quietly. “Wake up, you two. I’ve come back for you.”

The wolf’s ears flicked, and then he opened an eye to me. He shifted, trying to lift his head and the stirring woke the Fool, as well. He opened his eyes and stared at me, unbelieving. Despair dragged at his face.

“You have to get up,” I warned him quietly. “I’ve struck a bargain with the Piebalds, but you’ll have to get up and be ready to move. Can you walk? Both of you?”

The Fool had the owlish look of a child awakened in deep night. He sat up stiffly. “I . . . what sort of a bargain?” He looked at the charm at my throat, made a small sound, and deliberately pulled his eyes away. Hastily I tugged my collar closed. Let no charm cloud his mind now, no artificial affection make him reluctant to leave when he could.

Laudwine was coming toward us, Dutiful’s hunting cat at his side. He did not look pleased that I had managed to talk to his captives without him present. I spoke quickly, letting my voice carry to him. “You two go free or I kill the Prince. But once you are free, the Prince and I will follow. Trust me.”

And my time to speak to them alone had gone. The wolf sat up ponderously, levering himself off the floor. When he stood, his hindquarters swayed and he staggered a step sideways before he recovered. He smelled foul, of old blood and piss and infection. I did not have a hand free to touch him. I was too busy threatening Dutiful’s life. He came to lean his bloodied head against my leg, and our thoughts flowed in the contact.
Oh, Nighteyes.

Little brother. You lie.

Yes. I lie to them all. Can you get the Scentless One back to Buckkeep for me?

Probably not.

It eases my heart to hear you say that. It’s so much better than “we’ll all die here.”

I would rather stay and die beside you.

I would rather not witness that. It would distract me from what I must do.

What of Nettle, then?

This thought was harder to share with him.
I cannot steal the life of one for the sake of the other. I do not have that right. If we all must die, then . . .
My thoughts sputtered to a halt. I thought of the strange moments that I’d shared in the flow of the Skill with that great other presence. I groped for some sort of comfort for us.
Perhaps the Fool is wrong, and time cannot be shifted from its course. Perhaps it is all determined before we are born. Or perhaps the next White Prophet will choose a better Catalyst.

I felt him dismiss my philosophical musing.
Give him a clean death, then.

I will try.

It was the merest trickle of thought between us, sieved through his pain and caution. It was like rain after a drought. I cursed myself for all the years we had shared this, and I had let my soul go yearning after the Skill. The end of this sharing loomed before me, and I only now perceived the full sweetness of all we had known. My wolf was a tottering step or two from death. I would likely kill myself, or be killed, before the afternoon was over. The dilemma of what one of us would do when the other died had been snatched away from us, and replaced with the reality. Neither of us would go on forever.

The Fool had managed to stand. His golden eyes searched my face desperately but I dared show him nothing. He drew himself up and became Lord Golden when Laudwine began speaking. The Piebald leader’s voice was rich and polished, his powers of persuasion like a warming cloak. Behind him, his followers fanned out to witness.

“Your friend has summed it up for you. I have proven to his satisfaction that we never intended to hurt the Prince, only to let him see for himself that those of us you call Witted are not evil beings to be torn to pieces, but simply humans with a special gift from Eda. It was all we desired, that our Prince could be shown that. We regret the depth of our misunderstanding, and that you have been injured in the process of sorting it out. But now you may take your horse and go free. The wolf also. Your friend and the Prince will come after you shortly. All of you will return to Buckkeep, where it is our earnest hope that Prince Dutiful will speak out on our behalf.”

Lord Golden’s eyes traveled from Laudwine to me and back again. “And the reason for the knife is?”

Laudwine’s deprecatory smile spoke volumes. “Your servant has little trust in us, I fear. Despite our assurances, he feels he must threaten Prince Dutiful until he is satisfied you are freed. I commend you for having such a loyal servant.”

I could have driven cattle through the gap in his logic. A slight flicker in Lord Golden’s eyes told me of his doubts, but at my slow nod, he bobbed his own assent. He did not know the game, but he trusted me. Before the day was out, he would curse that trust. I closed my heart against that thought. This poor bargain was the best I could do for any of us. I forced the betrayal from my lips. “My lord, if you would take my good dog and go, I will soon follow after with the Prince.”

“I doubt we shall go far or swift this day. As you can see, your dog is grievously hurt.”

“No need to hurry. I shall be along to join you soon, and we can make our way home together.”

Lord Golden’s face remained concerned but calm. Perhaps only I was aware of all that battled within him. The situation did not make sense to him, but I obviously wanted him to take the wolf and leave. I almost
saw
him make his choice. He stooped to take up his once-rich cloak, now stained with blood and earth. He shook it out, and then swept it over his shoulders as if it were still a fine garment. “I will have my boots returned to me, of course? And my horse?” The nobleman, conscious of his superior birth, was back in his voice.

“Of course,” Laudwine agreed, but I saw several scowling faces in the crowd behind him. Malta was a fine horse, a rich prize for whoever had captured Lord Golden.

“Then we shall go. Tom, I shall expect you to follow immediately.”

“Of course, master,” I humbly lied.

“With the Prince.”

“I shall not leave until he precedes me,” I promised heartily.

“Excellent,” Lord Golden confirmed. He nodded to me, but the Fool’s eyes shot me a troubled glance. The look he turned on Laudwine was chill. “You have treated me no better than common ruffians and highwaymen would have. I will be unable to conceal my condition from the Queen and her guard companies. You are fortunate indeed that Tom Badgerlock and I are willing to confirm to her that you have seen the error of your ways. Otherwise, I am sure she would send her troops to hunt you down like vermin.”

He was perfection as the affronted nobleman, yet I nearly roared at him to shut up and get away while they could. Throughout, the mistcat watched Dutiful as a house cat watches a mousehole. I could almost feel the woman’s hunger to possess him completely. I had no faith that she would be bound by Laudwine’s bargain any more than his mob. If she moved to take him, if Dutiful showed any sign of her invading him, I would have to kill him whether the Fool had escaped or not. I desperately wanted them gone. I smiled, hoping it did not look too much like a snarl as Lord Golden gripped Laudwine with his eyes. Then he dared to sweep the gathered mob with that golden glance. I was not certain what they thought, but I firmly believed that he memorized every face he gazed upon. I saw anger stir in many of them at his look.