Fool’s Quest

To understand what someone wants is not the same as trusting. She tried. She opened her wings. I tried to dab black on, but she fluttered her wings and spattered ink all over us. I tried again. I talked to her as I worked. “I’ve no idea if this will stand up to rain. Or wind. Or if your feathers will stick together. Open them. No, leave them open. So the ink dries. That’s it!”

By the time I began work on the second wing, she was more cooperative. My arms and my correspondence were freckled with ink. I finished her second wing and went over the first one again. Then I had to make her understand that I had to paint the undersides of her wings as well. “Now dry!” I warned her, and she stood, wings outstretched. She rattled her pinions to put them in order and I was glad to see little spatter of ink. And when she folded them, she looked to me like an ordinary black crow.

“No white!” I told her. She turned her head and preened her feathers to smoothness. She seemed satisfied with my work, for she hopped abruptly back into the middle of my plate.

“I’ll leave the window open for you,” I told her, and left her there, making a mess of my unfinished breakfast.

I pulled the door shut behind me, for what Chade had told me once was true. That open window and this opened door together created a terrific draft in the apartments.

I climbed the steep steps wondering how I could convey to the Fool all that had happened in one night. A foolish grin took command of my face. For the first time, I allowed myself to admit that part of me rejoiced. So long, so long, I had stood at the edge of the forest, looking at the lit windows in the distance. Buckkeep Castle was my home, had always been my home. Despite all my misgivings and fears, I allowed myself to imagine, for one delicious moment, that I could stand to my king’s left side during his judgments or be seated at the high table during a banquet. I imagined my small daughter dancing with me in the Great Hall. I would tell the Fool and he would understand my torn feelings. Then, with a rush of regret, I wished again that the Fool had been there last night, to see and hear Starling singing of my courage and brave and selfless deeds.

But he would have seen nothing of it. And like a hunted stag run off a cliff over a frozen lake, my mood plummeted into dark and cold. My exultation vanished and I almost dreaded telling him. Yesterday I had not mentioned Nettle’s pregnancy. Today I feared to tell him of King Dutiful’s public recognition of me.

My steps had slowed and by the time I reached the top of the stairs, I was plodding. So I was not prepared to see the Fool seated at Chade’s table, six candles burning bright in a tight circle before him. I was even less prepared for the lopsided smile with which he greeted me. “Fitz!” he exclaimed, almost merrily, the scars on his face contorting his smile to a puppet’s grin. “I’ve news to share!”

“And I,” I rejoined, my spirits daring to lift a bit.

“It’s good news,” he told me, as if I could not have guessed that. I wondered if he was going to tell me my own tidings, and immediately resolved that if he wished to do so and take pleasure in it, then I would let him.

“So I see,” I told him, taking a seat at the table opposite him.

“No, you don’t!” he rejoined, his laughter bubbling up at a jest I didn’t share yet. “But I do!”

I sat for a long moment in silence, waiting for him to add words to that. Then, as often had happened in our youths, I suddenly grasped the meaning he intended. “Fool! You can see?”

“I just told you that,” he responded, and burst into hearty laughter.

“Look at me!” I commanded him, and he lifted his eyes but they did not meet my gaze. To my deep disappointment, they were still clouded and gray.

The smile on his face faded a little. “I can see light,” he admitted. “I can tell light from darkness. Well, that’s not it exactly. Being blind isn’t darkness as you know darkness. Oh, it doesn’t matter, so I won’t try to explain it except to say, I know there are candles burning on the table before me. And when I turn my face away, I know there are not candles over there. Fitz, I think my eyesight is coming back. When you used the Skill on me that night . . . I knew that the sores on my back began to heal. But this is so much more than that.”

“I did nothing to your eyes that night. It may simply be that a natural healing process has begun.” I bit back the warning that nearly burst from me. Don’t hope too much. I knew how tenuous his health was. And yet, he could now perceive light. That had to mean he was starting to rally. “I’m glad for you. And we must keep you on the path. Have you eaten today?”