Fool's Quest (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #2)

Fool's Quest (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #2) Page 88

When he spoke of how markedly pale some of the younger invaders were, the ones who wielded no weapons but aided those who did, when he spoke of their light hair and pale eyes and their pale garments, my blood ran cold. Were these the messenger’s pursuers? Of course they were. She had said she was being hunted. The Fool’s wild warnings were suddenly solid and real. These pale folk must be Servants from Clerres. As the Fool had warned me, the Servants had been tracking the messenger. And following him as well? Would they want to recover the Fool as well as find this Unexpected Son? Did they think I had found and concealed him at Withywoods and so sought him there? But what were they doing with Chalcedeans? Were they mercenaries in their hire? How had they come so far and deep into Buck Duchy without being reported to anyone? There was a regular patrol that rode the king’s highways, mostly to discourage highwaymen, but also to take reports of unusual events. A troop of horse of that size, ridden by obvious foreigners, would certainly have been reported to them. If people remembered seeing them.

“That’s all I remember, sir.” The boy looked drained. And suddenly appeared as tired as I felt. I doubted that he had been sleeping well.

I sorted the information I had and tried to find sense in it. They would have taken Bee and Shun as hostages. They would want the Unexpected Son in trade for them. I did not have him, but I did have the Fool. Could I use him as bait to lure them in? Did he have the strength to agree to such a gambit?

And then my logic fell into discordant pieces. If Bee was a hostage, their power was in dangling her before me, not vanishing without a trace and clouding the memories of those they left behind. Unless they had a stronghold close by, a secure place from which to negotiate. What would I do in their place? Take the hostages to the Chalcedean border or the seacoast? Negotiate from there, demand that we bring the Unexpected Son there? Perhaps. “Eat some food. I’ll be back in a moment.” I turned and pointed a finger at Lant. “Stay there. I want to talk to you.”

He didn’t say a word.

As I walked down the corridor to the chamber that had been Bee’s nursery, the enormity of the disaster suddenly swept through me. I staggered to one side and caught myself on the wall. I stood for a moment, my vision black at the edges. Then with a surge I slashed at my weakness, damning it for daring to overcome me just when I most needed to be calm and rational. Emotion must be contained until I had all the information I needed with which to plan a course of action. Now was not the time to hate myself or give in to useless wishes for what I should have, might have, could have done. There was only the now, and I must be keen and remorseless if I was to find and follow their trail. I entered the nursery. Here, at least, no one had bothered to toss furniture and search for plunder. Perhaps no one had hidden here, perhaps the room had been missed. Why couldn’t Bee have hidden here and been safe? Useless question.

I found cushions and a blanket and went back to my study. I threw them down on the hearth, refusing to feel anything about Molly’s pretty things so roughly used. I pointed at them. “Perseverance. After you’ve eaten, rest there. Try to sleep. If you recall anything more, no matter how trivial it might seem, I want to hear it.”

“Sir,” he said. He put his attention back on the food, hunching over it like a half-starved hound. He’d probably been unable to eat much the last few days. Now he would eat and then he’d be able to sleep. I looked at him for a moment. Fatherless, unknown to his mother, and I was the only one in his world who remembered his name. Mine now, sworn to me. First vassal for the bastard prince. So fitting, somehow.

I seized my chair, dragged it across the room, and sat down facing Lant. I’d moved so close that he had to sit up straight to avoid his sprawled legs tangling with mine as I sat down. “It’s your turn. Tell me everything you remember from the time I cut the dog’s throat.”

He stared at me and then licked his lips. “We had gone to town. And a man was cruel to his dog, so you knocked him down and gave the dog a quick death.”

“Why had we gone to town, Lant?”

I watched his face, saw his mind skip and jump, finding what he was allowed to recall. “To get some more tablets for my students.”

I nodded. “Then we went to the inn to eat. And both Riddle and I left in a hurry. Why?”

He swallowed. “You didn’t say.”

I nodded again. I moved toward him, not with my body, but first with my Wit, sensing him as another living creature, and then with my Skill. I did not know if I could push into his mind, but I suspected someone had. I recalled a brief conversation I’d had with Chade. He’d asked me if I thought the Skill could be used to make a man forget something. I’d told him I didn’t want to consider ever using the magic that way. Both times I’d seen it done had been disastrous for me. When my father, Chivalry, had made the Skillmaster Galen forget how much he hated him, the man had turned his hatred for my father onto his son. The irony was that Galen had used the magic in a similar way on me. He’d invaded my mind and left me “misted,” as Verity had put it. Galen had used his Skill to convince me that I had little talent for the magic. Even after my king had done his best to clear the clouds from my mind, I’d never had full confidence in my abilities again. I’d always wondered if that forced forgetting had been what made my Skill-magic so erratic.