Fool’s Quest

He spoke swiftly, his words tumbling out. “I’m still in danger, Fitz. I know you think I’m foolish. I know you can’t possibly believe that here, in Buckkeep Castle, they could not only come after me but take me back. But they could. I know this as clearly as I know . . . as I know that you are my friend. There are very few things I know anymore, Fitz. Few things I am certain about, but you are one of them. And the other is that the danger to me is real.” His voice had become softer and softer as he spoke. On his last words, he folded his hands and looked down at them as if he could see them. Folded, they no longer resembled hands. There were knots of white and lumps of red and speckles of scars. I looked away from them.

“I’ll stay with him, sir,” Ash said quietly. I hadn’t asked him to, and wouldn’t have thought of it, but the moment he volunteered, I was grateful.

“I know you have to go,” the Fool said. Quiet desperation was in his voice.

“I do.” I’d felt several nudges from Chade, and Nettle was now pressing against my thoughts. It was important that I appear. Dutiful and Elliania were delaying their entrance until I could walk in with them. Much longer and it would appear that we slighted our nobles.

I’m coming now, I Skilled back to them and then closed my thoughts to them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I assured the Fool, and “Soon!” the crow echoed. She hopped closer to the Fool and tilted her head.

“Motley’s worried about you,” Ash said as gently as if he were coaxing a child. “She’s trying to look into your face.”

I did not think it would work. I was not sure what I felt as the Fool’s clenched hands slowly opened. He beckoned to the bird and she hopped closer. “Here’s a bit of bread for her,” Ash whispered, and dropped a torn crust into the Fool’s hand. He closed his fingers on it, forcing the bird to stand near and take it in chunks as he held it.

“Soon,” I promised the Fool, and rose and left the table. I was halfway down the steps when Ash caught up with me.

“Sir, sir,” he called in a carrying whisper. “Let me adjust your collar.” But when he was closer to me, he spoke other words by my ear, for me alone to hear. “He is not as strong as he tries to show himself to you. Earlier today, I found him on the floor near the hearth, trying to rise. It was hard for him to make himself take my hand. Harder for him to endure the pain as I helped him back to his feet. You see him walk, and he can rise from a bedside or a chair. But once on the floor, he could not lift himself.” And again in his whisper, he added, “There, that’s much better.”

“Thank you,” I told him, letting my voice carry as he did. I caught his hand and gripped it briefly; I knew he understood my unvoiced gratitude. Hard news for me to hear, and harder to know that my friend concealed his infirmity from me. I went the rest of the way down the stairs to my old room with a heavy heart.

No sooner had I closed the hidden door behind me than I heard a forceful rap at the chamber door. “A moment,” I called, and Riddle spoke through the door, saying, “That’s a moment more than I’m to give you.” As I opened the door, he told me, “I’ve been sent to fetch you and bring you down to dinner regardless of objections or appearance. But actually, I think you’ve done very well with yourself.”

“And you,” I returned his barbed compliment, for truly Riddle looked little like his normal self. His white shirt was cuffed and collared in purple. Kettricken’s Mountain colors. His trousers were black. He was allowed to wear simple boots. I felt envy.

He lifted his chin and showed me his profile. “You don’t think I look more noble-blooded already? It’s Kesir Riddle now, which Kettricken explains would translate more as ‘servant’ than ‘lord,’ given the Mountain Kingdom philosophy on the duties of rulers. But tonight they will call me Kesir Riddle and I will sit at the high table.”

“Were you sent to escort me there, lest I fail to arrive on time? Or am I to be seen with you to impart my paternal approval of your marriage to my daughter?”

“Both, perhaps. Though I will admit it seems a bit odd that you should be in that role when you actually appear to be younger than I am.”

I had just shut the door behind me and locked it, or I think I would have insisted he stand beside me before the looking-glass. I turned my gaze on him and studied him in silence. Riddle was Riddle, and so I had seen him through the years. While he was scarcely a graybeard, when I surveyed him I noted the lines that now framed his mouth and that his hair was retreating from his brow. He grinned suddenly.