Fool’s Quest

Kettricken smiled in return. “Please, let us not wait for formalities. Be at ease, my friends. It has given me great pleasure to watch Web recover his spirits. You should meet Soar, Fitz. I do not say that he might make you reconsider your decision to remain alone, but he has certainly given me reason to doubt my own unpartnered status.” She gave a small shake of the head. “When I saw the pain you felt at Nighteyes’s passing, I thought I wanted none of that, ever. And again when Web lost Risk, I told myself that I had been wise to refrain from sharing my heart with an animal, knowing eventually I must feel the tearing pain of departure.” She lifted her eyes from watching Web pour tea for all of us and met my incredulous gaze. “But witnessing Web’s joy in Soar, I wonder. I have been alone so long. I grow no younger. Must this be a regret I take to my grave, that I did not understand fully the magic I possessed?”

She let her words trail away. When she turned to meet my gaze, there were echoes of hurt and anger in her eyes. “Yes. I am Witted. And you knew, Fitz. Didn’t you? Long before I suspected, you knew. And you knew the Wit that so endangered Dutiful when he was a boy came from me.”

I chose my words carefully. “My lady, I think it as likely that it came from his father as from you. And ultimately, it matters little where it came from. Even now, to possess the Wit can bring—”

“It mattered to me,” she said in a low voice. “And it matters still. What I felt between Nighteyes and me was not imaginary. If I had realized that during our sojourn in the Mountains, I would have let him know what that support meant to me.”

“He knew,” I said, recklessly interrupting her. “He knew, never fear.”

I saw her take a breath, her breast rising and falling with the emotion she contained. Her Mountain training was all that kept her from berating me. Instead, she said quietly, “Sometimes thanking someone is more important to the person giving the thanks than the one who receives it.”

“I’m sorry.” Words I was heartily sick of saying. “But we were struggling with so much else. I had only the barest understanding of the Wit then, and even my grasp of what the Skill could be was tenuous. If I had told you that I suspected you were Witted, then what? I certainly could not have taught you how to manage a magic that I did not myself control well.”

“I understand that,” she said. “But nonetheless I think my life has been less fulfilling than it might have been.” In a lower voice she added, “And much lonelier.”

I had no response. It was true. I had known of the loneliness that devoured her once King Verity was transformed into a stone dragon and taken from her forever. Could an animal companion have helped her to bear that? Probably. Yet it had never occurred to me to tell her that I had sensed a feeble pulsing of the Wit in her. I had always believed it so slight that it did not matter. Unlike myself, where the Wit had demanded from my earliest childhood that I find a soul to share my life. I moved slowly across the room and sat down at the low table. Kettricken came to take her place. She spoke to me in a calmer voice as she picked up her cup. “Web tells me that it is not too late. But also not a thing for me to rush into.”

I nodded and sipped from my own cup. Was this discussion why she had summoned me? I could not imagine where it was leading.

Web looked up at Kettricken. “The bond must be mutually beneficial,” he said. He darted a glance at me as he continued, “Kettricken’s duties often confine her to the castle. Were she to bond with a large animal, or a wild creature, it would limit their time together. So I have suggested to her that she consider beasts that would be comfortable sharing her lifestyle. Cats. Dogs.”

“Ferrets. Parrots,” I pointed out, relieved to move the conversation to a different arena.

“And that is why I’ve a favor to ask of you, Fitz,” Web said abruptly.

Startled, I met his gaze.

“I know you will say no, but I am pressed to ask you anyway. There is no one else who can help her.”

I looked at Kettricken in dismay, wondering what she needed.

“No. Not Lady Kettricken,” Web assured me.

My heart sank. “Then who is she and what does she need?”

“She’s a crow. If you two come to an understanding, she’ll share her name with you.”

“Web, I—”

He spoke over my objection. “She has been alone for about six months. She was sent to me, seeking my help. She was hatched with a defect. When she fledged out, several of her pinions in each wing were white. At an early age, she was driven out of her murder. Assaulted and badly injured by her own family, she was found by an elderly shepherd. He took her in and helped her heal. For eight years they were companions. Recently, he died. But before he died, he contacted me and then sent her on to me.”

He paused, waiting for the question he knew I would ask.

“She left her Wit-partner?” I was incredulous at such faithlessness.