Fool’s Quest

“It will all be sorted out,” Dutiful said comfortingly, “but it will take time. And simply because Fitz can now move openly within Buckkeep Castle does not mean that he will joyfully give up his quiet life and private ways.” Regretfully, he added, “Or that all will be glad to see the Witted Bastard return to Buckkeep and polite society.”

Chade abruptly interrupted. “Nettle, I must ask you to apply your Skill for me. It’s Sildwell. I sent him with messages and gifts to Withywoods. He was to Skill to me when he arrived safely. All this evening, I’ve felt him pecking at my thoughts like a woodpecker on a tree, but his Skill ebbs and flows as if blown by the wind.”

“Sildwell? The apprentice who left the Silver Coterie?” She looked startled, and my heart sank a bit. What had Chade been up to?

“Yes. As he seemed unable to get along with his fellows in the coterie and you gave him leave to depart, I thought to train him as a messenger, one that could occasionally employ his Skill-talents as well. He’s a tough young man and an excellent horseman.”

“His Skill was erratic,” Nettle observed somewhat acerbically. “And his manners appalling.”

“Practice may improve both of those things,” Chade replied. “In any case, I sent him off to Withywoods with messages and small gifts for FitzVigilant and Bee and so on. And he seems to be trying to tell me he has reached Withywoods but he cannot find Bee. And FitzVigilant has been injured. Or burned. I cannot make out what he is trying to convey to me. If you would reach to him?”

“He can’t find Bee?” I interrupted.

Nettle shook her head at me, her mouth pinched with disapproval. “Take no alarm. Sildwell is disorganized and ill mannered. And possibly drunk. There were a number of reasons I chose to discontinue his Skill-training. Let’s not panic.”

I took a breath. Chade was scowling. He’d been caught going behind Nettle’s back to co-opt a former apprentice as his personal Skilled messenger. I wondered if he’d intended more than that. I noticed he’d mentioned Lant but said nothing of Shun. Was she a bigger secret than I’d realized?

Nettle took a seat on the divan. “Let’s resolve this swiftly and put everyone’s mind at ease. Dutiful, will you join us? Fitz?”

Although a joining of Skill-strength did not require physical proximity, each of us moved to sit beside her. Chade came to stand behind her. As I took my place and opened my Skill to theirs, it felt rather like wading into a river. No. Being a stream merging with a river. Together, we rushed out toward the messenger.

I knew nothing of Sildwell, so I let the others guide us. We reached, I felt the connection, and then it failed and faded. I had never felt such a thing in the Skill. I tried not to let my puzzlement be a distraction. Nettle gathered us as if she were plaiting a rope and again she reached.

Skillmistress! Sildwell seemed as startled as he was relieved. I cannot . . . And he was gone, like a voice swept away by wind or the glimpse of someone in a heavy snowfall. Fog . . . stable fire . . . no one knows of . . . strange folk.

Fire in my stables? Fear leapt in me and I shoved it down relentlessly. I glanced at Chade. His eyes were wide with fear. I reached behind Nettle, took his hand, and squeezed it. Small and tight, I sent a thought to him. Don’t distract the others. First we discover the truth. I felt his assent but his fear did not abate. I tried to wall in mine. Nettle was taking control of Sildwell. I felt her reach and try to shape him into himself.

Apprentice Sildwell. Gather yourself. Focus. Choose one thought to convey. Be calm. Form the thought in your mind. Hold it. Polish it. Now. Slowly. Extend the thought to me.

So calm and structured. As she instructed Sildwell, I felt Nettle reinforce his awareness of himself as a solid and separate entity from the Skill-current that we all navigated. She abruptly spoke aloud to me. “Da. Calm yourself. I need your strength right now. Lord Chade. Now is not the time for this panic.” Then I felt her dismiss us and put her focus back on the youngster. I tried to help her as she attempted to wrap him in confidence. And, Now, she invited him.

There is no Lady Bee here. Some folk died in a fire. They all are strange. Then, as if something else flowed and washed against us, his thoughts were swept away. All was fog, as if we were on a gray sea in a gray fog in a constant wash of gray rain. Frightening . . . That thought broke through stronger than the others, and then there was nothing. No sense of anyone, anywhere in the Skill-current.