Fool’s Quest

“After all these years, I should be resigned to the need for such deceptions. But they only make me long for simple truth. One day, FitzChivalry Farseer, I would like you to stand before the court and be acknowledged as yourself and given credit for your many years of service to the crown. One day you should take your rightful place at Dutiful’s side, and be openly recognized as his mentor and protector.”

“Oh, please don’t threaten me with that,” I begged her, and she smiled tolerantly and drew her chair a bit closer to mine.

“Very well, then. But what of your daughter. What of clever little Bee?”

“Clever little Bee.” I repeated her words. They numbed my mouth.

“So I have heard, in the missives Lant has sent Nettle. She received one just two days ago. She was quite relieved to hear her sister was doing so well at her lessons. Indeed, that in some areas, such as her reading and writing, she scarcely needs his instructions.”

“I think she is a bright child,” I conceded. Then, disloyally, I added, “But I am sure that all fathers think their daughters are clever.”

“Well. Some fathers do. I hope you are one of them. Nettle was startled that her sister was developing very differently from how she had feared. When the news reached me, I was very pleased. And intrigued. I had feared the child would not survive, let alone prosper. But my intent is that we will send for her, and then I can see for myself.” She folded her hands and rested her chin on her fingers. She waited.

“Perhaps the next time I come to Buckkeep, I will bring her with me,” I offered. I hoped my desperation did not sound in my voice. Bee was too little, too different to be brought to court. How much did I dare tell Kettricken?

“Then you do not intend to stay long with us?”

“Only until the Fool is hearty enough to endure a Skill-healing.”

“And you think that will be so soon that your little daughter will not miss you?”

Oh, Kettricken. I did not meet her eyes. “Probably later rather than sooner,” I admitted reluctantly.

“Then we should send for her now.”

“Traveling conditions are so harsh . . .”

“There is that. But in a comfortable carriage, accompanied by my personal guard, she might do well. Even through the storms. I am sure they will manage to find respectable inns every night.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

The look she gave me implied her plan was immutable. “I have,” she said, and with that settled, she changed the topic. “How fares Lord Golden?”

I started to shake my head and then shrugged instead. She had made her plans for Bee, but I would let her distract me while I planned my own campaign. “Better than he was, in some ways. Warm, clean, fed, and some of his lesser injuries have begun to heal. But he is still closer to death’s door than to the gates of health.”

For a moment, her years showed on her face. “I could scarcely believe it was him. If you had not been there to vouch for it, I would never have suspected it. Fitz, what happened to him? Who did this?”

I wondered if the Fool would want his tale shared. “I am still drawing the full tale out of him.”

“When last I saw him, years ago, he said he would return to the place where he was taught.”

“And he did.”

“And they turned on him.”

Kettricken could still take me by surprise with her leaps of intuition. “So I believe. Lady Kettricken, I am sure you recall how private a man the Fool was.”

“And is. I know what you will next suggest, that I visit him myself. And I shall. In truth, I have already called on him twice, and each time found him sleeping. But visits would be much easier for me if you and Lord Chade had not squirreled him away into your old den. I’m a bit old to be stooping and scuttling through narrow hideaways. Surely he would be better off in a chamber that offered him light and air.”

“He is fearful of pursuit, even within the stout walls of Buckkeep. I think he will sleep best where he is right now. And as for light, well, it means little to him now.”

She shuddered as if my words were arrows that had struck her. She turned her face away, as if to hide from me the tears that filled her eyes. “That grieves me beyond words,” she choked out.

“And me.”

“Is there any hope that with the Skill . . .?”

The very question I still pondered. “I do not know. He is very weak. I do not wish to restore his sight if it takes the last of his strength and he dies of it. We will have to be very cautious. We have made some small progress already, and as he eats and rests and gains strength, we will do more.”

She nodded violently to that. “Please. But, oh, Fitz, why? Why would anyone treat him so?”

“They thought he knew something, and was keeping it from them.”

“What?”

I hesitated.

She turned back to face me. Weeping seldom makes a lady lovelier. Her nose had reddened and the rims of her eyes had gone pink. She no longer tried to disguise the tears running down her face. Her voice was harsh. “I deserve to know, Fitz. Do not play Chade with me. What secret could possibly be worth resisting what they did to him?”