Fool’s Quest

I shook my head and then recalled he could not see me do that. “Little change that I can see. The sword cut he took is healing, but slowly. The delvenbark has cut him off from his Skill. I know he was using it to maintain his body. I suspect he was consuming other herbs as well. And now he is not. I do not know if I am imagining that the lines in his face are deeper and the flesh fallen from his cheeks, but—”

“You are not imagining it,” Ash said quietly. “Every time I venture into his room, he seems to have aged. As if every change he did with his magic is falling away, and his true age catching up with him.” He set his scissors down, his task finished. Motley pecked at the shining shears, and then decided to groom her feathers instead. “What good have they done if they save him from dying of the Skill only to let him die of his years?”

I had no answer to that. I had not considered it.

Ash followed it with another question. “And what will become of me if he dies? I know it is a selfish thing to wonder, but wonder I do. He has been my teacher and protector here at Buckkeep Castle. What will become of me if he dies?”

I did not want to think of such an eventuality but I answered as best I could. “Lady Rosemary would assume his mantle. And you would remain an apprentice to her.”

Ash shook his head. “I am not sure she would keep me. I think she dislikes me in direct proportion to how much Lord Chade favors me. I know that she believes he is lenient with me. I think if he were gone, she would dismiss me and take on apprentices more dutiful to her.” In a softer voice, he added, “And then I would be left with the only other profession I have ever studied.”

“No.” The Fool forbade it before I could.

“Would you take me on as your servant, then?” Ash asked in the most wistful tone I had ever heard.

“I cannot,” the Fool said regretfully. “But I am sure Fitz would see you well placed before we go.”

“Go where?” Ash asked, echoing my own thoughts.

“Back to where I came from. On a dire mission of our own.” He looked blindly toward me. “I do not think we should wait, Fitz, for your Skill or my eyesight. A few more days, and I believe I shall be fit to travel. And we must set out as soon as we possibly can.”

“Did Ash read you the scrolls I left? Or Spark perhaps?” The girl grinned. But my foray did not distract the Fool.

“They were worthless, as you well know, Fitz. You don’t need old scrolls or a map. You have me. Heal me. Restore my sight, and we can go. I can get you there, to Clerres. You took me through a stone to bring me here; we can get to Clerres the same way that Prilkop took me.”

I made myself pause and draw a deep breath. Patience. His heart was fixed on destroying Clerres. As was I, but both logic and love anchored me where I was and doomed me to the suffocation of waiting. I was not sure if rationality could move him, but I would try. “Fool. Do you not understand at all what has befallen Chade, and how it affects me? I dare not attempt to Skill, not to try to heal you nor to enter a stone alone. Taking you with me? No. Neither of us would ever emerge.”

He opened his mouth to speak and I raised my voice.

“Nor will I leave Buckkeep until my hope of finding Bee within the Six Duchies is exhausted. Those of the Wit search for her now. And there is a chance that Chade will recover enough to help us reach for Shun. Shall I race off to Clerres, a journey of months by ship, leaving Bee to her captors’ whims for all those days, when word of her here in Buck or in Rippon may reach us any moment? I know you are impatient to go. Standing still and waiting for word feels like being slowly burned alive. But I will endure it rather than rush off and abandon her here. And when we do go to Clerres, when we take our vengeance to them, it had best be on a ship with troops. Or do you truly believe I can journey to a distant city, beat down their walls, kill those you hate, and emerge with my life and their captives intact?”

He smiled and it was frightening when he said softly, “Yes. Yes, I do believe we can. Moreover, I believe we must. Because I know that where an army would fail, an assassin and one who knows their ways will succeed.”

“So let me be an assassin! Fool, I have said that you and I will take our vengeance on them. And we will. My hatred for all they are burns just as hot as yours. But mine is not a raging forest fire, but a bed of tended coals in a smithy. If you wish me to do this as an assassin, then you must allow me to do it as I was trained to do it. Effectively. Efficiently. With ice in my blood.”

“But—”

“No. Listen. I’ve said their blood will run. It will. But not at Bee’s expense. I will find her, I will take her home, and I will stay with her until she is recovered enough to be without me for a time. Bee must come first. So become accustomed to delay and use it wisely. Rebuild your body and your health, just as I spend my waiting days honing my old skills.”