Fool's Errand (64 page)

I found I could not lie to him. “I . . . feel it. So does Nighteyes. He says the cat is riddled with her, as if she were parasites worming through her flesh. He felt sorry for the cat.”

“Oh.” The word was very small. I glanced back at him, and thought he looked more gray than pale now. His eyes went distant and his thoughts traveled back. “When I first got her, she loved for me to groom her. I kept her coat like silk. But after we left Buckkeep . . . sometimes the cat would want to be brushed, but the woman always said there was no time for that. Cat lost weight and her fur was rough. I worried, but she always set my worry aside. She said it was just the season, that it would pass. And I believed her. Even though the cat wanted to be brushed.” He looked stricken.

“I took no pleasure in telling you that.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

For a long time, I led the horse in silence as I tried to puzzle out what his last words meant. Didn’t matter that I was sorry, or didn’t matter that she was dead?

“I believed so many things she told me. But I already knew that— They’re coming now. The crow has fetched them.” A sudden note of remorse came into his voice. His words were halting. “They knew to watch the standing stone. From all the legends of such stones. But she wouldn’t let me tell you that. Until now. When it doesn’t matter. She finds it humorous, now.” He suddenly sat up straight in the saddle. Life came back into his face. “Oh, cat!” he breathed.

Panic raced over me. I tried to set it aside. A quick scan of all horizons showed me no one, nothing. But he had said they were coming, and I was sure he had not lied. As long as he was with me and linked to the cat, I could not hope to hide from them. I could mount Myblack behind him, and run her to death, and we still would not escape. We were too far from Buckkeep, and I had no other safe place, no other allies. And a crow keeping watch for them. I should have guessed.

I dropped all restraint and reached out for my wolf. At least I would know he was alive.

I touched him. But the wave of pain that immersed me was scalding. I had discovered the only thing worse than not knowing his fate. He was alive and he suffered, and he still excluded me from his thoughts. I threw myself against his walls, but he had locked me out. In the fierceness of his defense, I wondered if he was even aware of me. It reminded me of a soldier clutching his sword beyond his ability to use it—or of wolves, jaws locked on each other’s throats, dying together.

In the space of that moment, in the tortured drawing of a breath, the Piebalds appeared. They crested the hillside above us, and some emerged from the forest to our left. Behind us, they came across the wild meadows, perhaps six of them. The big man on the warhorse rode with them. The crow sailed over us once, and this time his caw was mocking. I looked in vain for a gap in their circle that might permit escape. There were none. By the time I mounted Myblack and charged toward an opening, the others could effortlessly close it. Death rode toward me from every direction. I halted and drew my sword. The foolish thought came to me that I would rather have died with Verity’s sword in my hand instead of this guardsman’s blade. I waited.

They did not race toward me. Rather, they came at a steady pace like the slow closing of a noose. Perhaps it amused them to think of me standing there, watching them come. It gave me far too much time to think. I sheathed my sword and took out my knife instead. “Get down,” I said quietly. Dutiful looked down at me in vague confusion. “Get off the horse,” I ordered him, and he obeyed, though I had to steady him before his second foot hit the ground. I wrapped an arm around his chest and carefully set the knife to his throat. “I’m sorry,” I told him with great sincerity. Conviction was running through my veins like icy water. “But you are better dead than what the woman plans for you.”

He stood quite still in my grip. I didn’t know if he didn’t want to risk resistance or if he didn’t care to resist. “How do you know what she intends for me?” he asked me evenly.

“Because I know what I would do.”

That statement wasn’t quite true, I told myself. I’d never take over another person’s body and mind simply for the sake of extending my life. I was too noble for that. So noble that I’d kill my Prince before I’d let him be used that way. So noble that I’d kill him, knowing my daughter must then die, as well. I didn’t want to look too closely at that reasoning. So I held my knife to the throat of Verity’s only heir and watched the Piebalds come. I waited until they were within shouting distance, and then I raised my voice. “Come any closer and I kill him.”

The big man on the warhorse was their leader. He lifted his hands to stop the advance of the others, but then he himself rode slowly forward as if to test my resolve. I watched him come and my grip on the Prince tightened. “It takes one motion of my hand and the Prince is dead,” I warned him.

“Oh, come, you’re being ridiculous,” the big man replied. He continued to walk his horse toward me. Myblack snorted a query at his beast. “For what will you do if we obediently halt here? Stand in our midst and starve to death?”

“Let us go, or I’ll kill him,” I amended.

“Equally silly. Where’s the benefit to us in that? If we can’t have him, he might as well be dead.” His voice was deep and resonant and it carried well. He had a dark, handsome face and sat his horse like a warrior. In another time and place, I would have looked at him and judged him a man worthy of my friendship. Now his followers laughed aloud at my pathetic efforts to defy him. He and his horse came closer still. The big horse stepped high as he came and his eyes shone with their Wit-bond. “And consider what happens if you do kill him as I advance. Once he’s dead, we’ll all be very annoyed with you. And you still won’t have a chance of escape. I doubt that you can even make us kill you swiftly. So. That’s my counteroffer. Give us the boy and I’ll kill you quickly. You have my word on that.”

Such a kind offer. His grave manner and careful speech convinced me he would honor it. Quick death sounded very appealing when I considered the alternatives. But I hated dying without having the last word.

“Very well,” I conceded. “But he costs you more than my life. Release the wolf and the tawny man. Then I’ll give you your Prince, and you can kill me.”

The Prince stood motionless in the circle of my arm and knife. I scarcely felt him breathe, and yet I could feel him listening, as if my words soaked into him like water into dry earth. The fine web of Skill between us warned me that there was something else going on. He reached out with his unholy combination of Wit and Skill to someone. I readied my muscles lest the woman wrest control of his body from him.

“Are you lying?” Dutiful asked me so softly that I scarcely heard him. But was the question from Dutiful or the cat’s woman?

“I’m telling the truth,” I lied sincerely. “If they release Lord Golden and the wolf, I’ll free you.” To your death. And the second throat I’d cut would be mine.

The big man on the big horse gave what might have been a chuckle. “Too late for that, I’m afraid. They’re already dead.”

“No. They aren’t.”

“Aren’t they?” He rode his horse closer.

“I’d know if the wolf died.”

He no longer needed to shout for his voice to reach me. He spoke in a confidential manner. “And that is why it is so unnatural that you should oppose us. I confess, having you answer that one question alone is enough to make me postpone your death.” Warmth for me shone in his eyes and genuine curiosity came into his voice. “Why, in the name of the life and death that Eda and El encircle, do you stand like this against your own kind? Do you like what is done to us? The floggings, the hangings, the quartering and burning? Why do you support it?”

I let my own voice ring out to all of them. “Because what you seek to do to this boy is wrong! What the woman did to her cat is wrong! You take to yourself the name of Piebalds and claim pride in your lineage, yet you go against what Old Blood teaches. How can you condone what she has done to her cat, let alone what she wishes to do to the Prince?”

The light in the big man’s eyes went cold. “He is a Farseer. Can anything be done to him that he does not merit, a thousand times over?”

At those words, the Prince stiffened in my grasp. “Laudwine, is that truly what you believe?” The youth and incredulity in Dutiful’s voice was heartbreaking. “You spoke me fair when I rode with you. You said that eventually I could become the king who would unite all my folk under equal justice. You said—”

Laudwine shook his head in disdain for Dutiful’s gullibility. “I would have said anything to have you come along quietly. I bought time with fair words, until the bond was knitted strong enough. I’ve had signs through the cat that the task is done. Peladine can take you anytime now. If there were not a knife at your throat just now, she’d already have you. But Peladine has no wish to die twice. Once was quite enough for her. Hers was a slow death, coughing and gasping as she grew weaker every day. Even my mother’s was swifter. They hung her, true, but she was not quite dead when they cut her in quarters to feed their fire. And my father, well, I am sure that the time in which he watched Regal Farseer’s soldiers dispose of my mother seemed to last years.” He smiled unpleasantly at Dutiful. “So you see, my family’s relationship with the Farseers is a long one. The debt is an old one, Prince Dutiful. I think the only pleasant time that Peladine had in her last year were the hours in which we spent planning this for you. It is only fitting that a Farseer should actually restore a life for the ones that have been taken from me.”

And there it was. The seed of hate from which all this had sprung. Once more, the Farseers did not have to see far to know whence their ill fortune came. The Prince’s pitfall was built from his uncle’s arrogance and cruelty. Hatred was the legacy Regal had bequeathed to me, as well, but my heart closed against the sympathy that flared in me. The Piebalds were my enemies. Regardless of what they had suffered, they had no right to this boy. “And what was Peladine to you, Laudwine?” I asked evenly. I suspected I knew the answer, but he surprised me.

“She was my womb-sister, my twin, as like to me as woman can be to man. Bereft of her, I am the last of my line. Is that reason enough for you?”

“No. But it is for you. You would do anything to have her live again in human flesh. You’d help her steal this boy’s body to house her mind. Even though that goes against every Old Blood teaching we hold dear.” I let my voice ring with righteousness. If my words shocked any of his warriors, they hid it well.

Laudwine halted his horse a sword’s length away from us. He leaned down to fix me with his stare. “There’s more to it than a brother’s grief. Break your lackey’s bonds to the Farseer family and think for yourself. Think for your own kind. Forget our old customs of limiting ourselves. Old Blood is a gift from Eda, and we should use it! There is great opportunity here, for all of us who bear Old Blood. We have a chance to be heard. Let the Farseers admit to themselves what legend has long said is true; the Wit is in their blood as thick as the Skill. This boy will be king someday. We can make him ours. When he steps into power, he can end the persecution we have endured so long.”

I bit my lower lip in a show of thoughtfulness. Laudwine could little imagine what decision I truly weighed. If I did as he wished, the Farseer line would still have its heir, in body at least. Nettle could live a life of her own, free of fate’s entangling web. And there might be good in it, for the Old Blood and the Six Duchies. All I had to do was surrender Dutiful to a life of torment. The Fool and my wolf could go free, and Nettle could live, and perhaps the Old Blood could eventually be free of persecution. Even I could live. Give up a boy I scarcely knew to buy all that. One single life, weighed against all those others.

I made my decision.

“If I thought you spoke true—” I began, and then halted. I stared at Laudwine.

“You might come over to us?”

He believed me to be a man caught between death and compromise. I let uncertainty show in my eyes, and then gave the briefest possible nod. I reached up one-handed and tugged at my collar, loosening it. Jinna’s beads peeped out at him. You like me, I begged him. Trust my words. Desire me for a friend. Then I spoke my coward’s speech. “I could be useful to you, Laudwine. The Queen expects Lord Golden to bring the Prince back to her. If you kill him and the Prince goes back alone, they will wonder what became of Golden, and why. If you let us live, and we take the Prince back to them, well, I can explain away the changes in his demeanor. They’ll accept him back unquestioningly.”

His eyes wandered over me, deliberating. I watched him convince himself. “And Lord Golden would go along with what you said?”

I made a small sound of derision. “He has not the Wit. He has only his eyes to tell him that we have regained the Prince alive and unharmed. He will think only of his hero’s welcome at Buckkeep. He will believe that I negotiated the Prince’s freedom, and be glad to claim the credit for it at court. In fact, he will witness me doing it. Take us to where you hold him. Let us make a show for him. Send him on his way with my wolf, assuring him that the Prince and I will follow.” I nodded sagely as if confirming the thought to myself. “Actually, it is best if he is well on his way. He should not witness the woman taking over the boy. He might wonder what was amiss with him. Let Lord Golden be gone first.”

“You seem very concerned for his safety,” Laudwine probed.

I shrugged. “He pays me well to do very little. And he tolerates my wolf. We are both getting on in years. Such a post is not easily found.”

Laudwine grinned, but in his eyes I saw his secret contempt for my servant’s ethic. I opened my collar more.

He glanced at Dutiful. The boy’s eyes were fixed on his face. “A problem,” Laudwine observed softly. “The boy has no benefit in our bargain. He may well betray it to Lord Golden.”

I felt Dutiful draw breath to speak. I tightened my grip on him, asking for silence while I thought, but he spoke anyway. “My interest is in living,” he said clearly. “However poor an existence it may become. And in my cat. For she is true to me, even if your sister is false to both of us. I will not abandon the cat to her. And if she takes my body from me, then perhaps that is the price I must pay, for letting a Piebald make a fool of me with promises of fellowship. And love.” His voice was steady, and pitched to carry. Beyond Laudwine’s shoulder, I saw two of his riders look aside, as if Dutiful’s words pained them. But no one spoke up on his behalf.