Fool’s Quest

The fire crackled. Ash stood silent as a sentry, breathing raggedly. His eyes darted from the Fool to me and back again.

“No,” the Fool said at last. He was adamant.

“Have you not heard a word I’ve said?” I demanded.

It was his turn to raise his voice. “I have heard them all. And some of what you say makes sense. We will wait, for a time, and though I think that wait will be fruitless, how sweet it would be for both of us if it were not. For all of us. I held her in my arms for but the briefest moments, but in that time, the connection was made. I do not know that I can describe it to you. I could see again. Not the sight of eyes, but my sight of what might be. All the possible futures and the most crucial turning points. And for the first time, I held in my arms someone who shared that with me. Someone to whom I could pass on all I had learned. Someone to come after me, a true White Prophet uncorrupted by the Servants.”

I said not a word. Guilt was choking me. I had broken that embrace, had torn Bee from his arms and punched my knife blade into his belly, over and over.

“But if tonight a message about her whereabouts reaches you, and if you recover Bee tomorrow, then we should leave the day after.”

“I will not abandon her again!”

“Of course not. Neither will I. She will be where she is safest. She goes with us.”

I gawked at him. “Are you insane?”

“Of course I am! As well you know! Torture does that to a man!” He laughed without humor. “Listen to me. If Bee is truly your daughter, if she has your fire at all, then she will want to go with us, to bring down that hive of cruelty.”

“If?” I sputtered in outrage.

A horrible smile lit his face. His voice sank. “And if she is my child, as I am certain she is, then when you find her you will discover that she already knows she must go there and aid us. She will have seen it on her path.”

“No. I don’t care what she has ‘seen’ or what you advise. I would never take my child into slaughter!”

His smile only grew wider. “You will not have to. She will take you.”

“You are mad! And I am past weariness.”

I walked away from him, to the far end of the room. This was as close to a real quarrel as we had come since the Fool had returned. He, of all people, should be able to understand my anguish. I did not want to be at odds with him right now. And I had so little faith left in myself or my judgment that when he questioned it, it felt like an attack.

I heard Ash’s whisper to him. “You know he is right. First, you must rebuild your strength and endurance. I can help with that.”

I did not hear the Fool’s muffled response. But I heard Ash say, “And I can help with that as well. When the time comes, all will be ready.”

I spoke when I knew I had control of my voice. No anger, no hurt rode my words. “Tell me of those who follow the woman. Not the mercenaries she hired, but the pale folk. They puzzle me. They are Whites or part-White. If the Servants treat the Whites so badly, why do they follow her and do her bidding? Why must we kill them? Surely they would welcome being free of her?”

He shook his head slowly. His voice was calm and informative. Did he wish to smooth things over as badly as I did? “Children believe what they are told. They are on ‘a path,’ Fitz. They know nothing except obeying her. If they are not useful to her, then they are useless. And the useless are discarded. Euthanized when they are small, gently if they are fortunate. They will have seen some of their fellows given a night draught of poison. The ones who were intractable or did not manifest any talent become as slaves. Those who have a little talent are kept if they are obedient. Some come to believe everything they are told. They will be ruthless in following her orders. They will obey her even to giving up their lives. Or taking any life that opposes them. They are fanatics, Fitz. Show them any mercy and they will find a way to kill you.”

I pondered silently for a time. Ash had gone very still, and was listening as if he were absorbing every word. I cleared my throat. “So. There will be no hope of them rising against Dwalia. No hope of converting them to our cause.”

“If you find the ones who took her . . . not just the mercenaries they’ve hired. I mean the ones who made this plan. The luriks. Dwalia. They may seem kindly to you. Or young. Misguided. Or as if they were simply servants, obeying orders. Don’t trust them. Don’t believe them. Have no mercy, feel no pity. Every one of them dreams of rising to power. Every one of them has witnessed what the Servants have done to their fellows. And each has chosen to serve them rather than defy them. Every one of them is more treacherous than you can imagine.”