Fool’s Quest

“No. She’s not my Old Blood companion.” I had never demanded the current usage of anyone and I did not have time to wonder why I did so now, for Per immediately pleaded, “Would she come to me, do you think? She is such a beauty.”

Motley leaned forward and pecked my cheek lightly. “Nice boy!” she squawked.

Eyes wide, Per extended his forearm hopefully to her, as if she were a falcon. She hopped from my shoulder to the offered perch with the barest lift of her wings.

“Aren’t you fine?” Per breathed as he drew his arm in to admire her.

“Fine,” she agreed in mutual admiration, and I suddenly dared to hope she’d found a more permanent home than the Fool or I could offer her.

“Would you like the care of her? She’s got a few white feathers and because of them the other crows mob her. You’ll have to ink them black for her if they start to fade.”

“Truly?” Per looked as if I’d conferred an honor on him. “The poor thing! What’s her name? How did you come to have her?”

“We call her Motley. Her owner died and a mutual friend asked if I could look after her for a time.”

“Motley. Well. Aren’t you fine? Would you ride on my shoulder, do you think?”

The bird’s bright gaze met mine for an instant, almost as if she begged pardon or asked permission. Then as Perseverance slowly lowered his wrist, she climbed up his arm until she sat on his shoulder. Per shot me a grin and then, as he recalled our mission, it faded. “Sir? What are we riding into? Has Bee been found? Is she well?” He tipped his head toward the axe that rode across my back. “It doesn’t need a new handle, does it?”

“No. It doesn’t. And I don’t know what we’re riding into, or what condition Bee is in. Which is why I don’t think either of you should be accompanying me.” The words felt like stones as they fell from my lips.

Lant spoke up suddenly from my other side. “Well, whatever you do know, I’d like to know as well. Did you receive more tidings since we last spoke? I’ve only Lord Chade’s directive that I follow you.”

I spoke more to the boy than to him. “We’ve had reports of her captors riding toward the coast. The ship they hoped to escape on has been seized. We believe we know the path they intend, and the king’s forces are on their way to cut them off. We may discover her captors before they do. Or after. In either case, I know I must be there.” I recounted the details tersely. Then we all rode silently for a time.

When Per spoke, his words came slowly. “So. We’re actually riding ahead of your guard, aren’t we? Are you hoping to get to the soldiers and Bee before the king’s soldiers do? You hope we can fight them and rescue her ourselves?”

“That would be insane!” Lant declared. “There were at least a score of mercenaries, not counting the pale folk.”

Per had a more pragmatic worry. “All I’ve brought with me is my belt-knife.”

Lant snorted. “Lad, we are not going to charge into a band of trained mercenary soldiers with nothing but your belt-knife and FitzChivalry’s axe. I’m sure he has a better intention than that.”

But I didn’t.

Lying was suddenly too much effort and rather pointless. “I don’t have a plan, really. When and if I locate them, I’ll decide what to do. And that is why you should both go back. Now.” I turned to look at Lant. “Ride with my guard tomorrow. You can let Foxglove know that I’ve ridden ahead to scout. That would actually be a very useful thing for you to do, if you’d carry that message to Foxglove for me.”

Lant appeared to consider it. I hoped it would offer him a dignified way out of following me into what was, truly, an ill-considered venture. For that brief time, there was only the sound of the horses’ hooves on the packed snow of the road, the creaking of saddle leather, and the wind shushing as it smoothed the coverlet of snow that covered the meadow. I looked at the distant trees and then at the sky. Overcast. No snow tonight, I hoped fervently.

We topped a small rise and looked down the broad moving waters of the Buck River. The edges of the moving water were frozen but a stripe of dark water still showed at the center of the current. Just past that crossing I’d leave the road and cut across country. I could see the trail I’d follow. I watched a farmer’s wagon pulled by a heavy team of grays come down to the ferry on the other side. Good timing. There were three houses and a barn and several large pens on the far side of the river. The ferry was a rickety old one, used mostly by farmers and shepherds wanting to move flocks. We rode down to the splintery timbers of the landing and sat our horses in silence as the ferry bumped and sloshed its way across to us. I glanced at my companions. Lant looked dismayed and Per uncertain. The nose of the ferry dock was coated with ice. Priss bridled as we approached it.