Fool’s Fate

‘Ah-ah!’ the dragon cautioned us both. ‘Resist and I drop him. Wolves do not fly.’ Her words did not come from her mouth and throat, but penetrated my thoughts, a mind-to-mind touch.

Nettle froze. ‘What do you want?’ she growled. Her dark eyes had gone flinty.

‘He knows,’ Tintaglia replied, giving me a small shake. I felt it unhinged every bone in my spine. ‘I want to know all that you know of a black dragon buried in ice. I want to know all you know of an island humans name Aslevjal.’

‘I know nothing of such things!’ Nettle replied angrily. Her hands had knotted into fists. ‘Let him go.’

‘Very well.’ The dragon released me, and for a heart-stopping instant, I plummeted. Then her head shot out on her snake-like neck and she caught me up again. This time her jaws encompassed my ribs. She squeezed me, demonstrating how easily she could crush me. Then she eased the pressure and asked me, ‘And what do you know, little wolf thing?’

‘Nothing!’ I gasped, and then choked out every bit of air in my lungs as she crushed me. It would be quick, I told myself. I would not have to maintain my lie long. She wasn’t a patient creature; she’d kill me swiftly. I glanced back to take a last look at my daughter.

Nettle stood, suddenly larger than she had been. Then she flung her arms wide. Her hair tossed in a wind that only she felt, and then haloed out around her face. She threw her head back. ‘This is a DREAM!’ she shouted. ‘And it is my dream! I cast you out of it!’ The last she spoke as single words, uttered with all the command of a queen. For the first time, I comprehended the strength of my daughter’s Skill. Her ability to shape dreams and command that which happened in them was a manifestation of her Skill-talent.

Tintaglia flung me spinning out over an infinite void. Beneath me I saw not the rocky chasm of my dream, but a vast emptiness without colour or end. I had one whirling glimpse of the dragon writhing as Nettle dwindled her back to the size of a bee. Then I clenched my eyes shut against the dizzying fall. Even as I drew painful breath to scream, Nettle spoke softly by my ear. ‘It’s only a dream, Shadow Wolf. And it belongs to me. In my dreams, you will never come to harm. Open your eyes, now. Awake to your own world.’

An instant before I awoke, I felt the comforting resistance of bedding beneath me and when I opened my eyes to the darkness of my workroom, I was not in panic. Nettle had taken the terror from the nightmare. For a moment, I felt relief. I drew a deep breath, and as I surrendered to sleep once more, I felt a drowsy amazement at my daughter’s odd Skill-strength. But as I tugged my blanket back over my shoulder and reclaimed half the pillow from the ferret, the earlier portion of my dream dragged me back to wakefulness. Swift had lied. Burrich hadn’t discarded him. Worse, his leaving had thrown the family into turmoil.

I lay still, eyes closed, wishing vainly to sleep. Instead, I mapped out what I must do. The boy must be sent home, but I didn’t want to be the one to do it. He’d demand to know how I knew he had lied. So. I’d tell Chade that Burrich had not released Swift from his household. That would involve admitting to Chade that I’d had more Skill-contact with Nettle. Well, it couldn’t be helped, I told myself grumpily. All my secrets seemed intent on leaking out and becoming known.

So I made my resolution and tried to persuade myself that was the best I could do. I tried not to imagine Burrich going back to drinking every night, or Molly driven to distraction not only by her husband’s dive into the bottle but by her son’s vanishing. I tried not to wonder how much Burrich’s vision had faded. Enough that he had either not tried to track his son, or had failed in the effort.

I was up at dawn. I got bread and milk and bacon in the guardroom, and carried it out to the Women’s Garden to eat it. I sat listening to the birdcalls and smelling the new day’s warmth touching the earth. Such things have always been a deep comfort to me. This morning, they affirmed that the goodness of the earth always goes on and made me wish that I could stay to watch the summer grow strong and the fruit swell on the trees.

I felt her before I saw her. Starling wore a morning robe of pale blue. Her hair was loose upon her shoulders, and her graceful narrow feet were in simple sandals. She carried a steaming mug between both her hands. I watched her and wished that things could have been simpler between us. When she noticed me sitting silently on the bench beneath the tree, she gaped in feigned astonishment, then changed her expression to a smile as she came to join me. She sat down, kicked her feet free of her sandals and curled her legs on the bench between us.

‘Well, good morning,’ she greeted me. There was mild surprise in her eyes. ‘I nearly didn’t recognize you, Fitz. You look as if you’ve lost ten years.’

‘Tom,’ I reminded her gently, well knowing that she had dropped my old name to rattle me. ‘And I feel as if you are right. Perhaps the daily routine of a guardsman was what I needed all along.’

She made a sceptical noise in her throat, and took a sip from her mug. When she looked up, she added sourly, ‘I notice you don’t think the same is true for me?’

‘What, that you’d do better as a guardsman?’ I asked her innocently. Then, as she pretended a kick at me, I added, ‘Starling, you always look like Starling to me. Neither older nor younger than I expect you to be, but always Starling.’

She furrowed her brow for a moment, then shrugged and laughed. ‘I never know if you mean the things you say as compliments or not.’ Then she leaned closer to me, sniffing the air near me. ‘Musk? Are you wearing musk these days, Tom Badgerlock? If you are interested in attracting female companionship …?’

‘No, I wear no musk. I’ve just been sleeping with a ferret.’

I had replied with honesty, and her whoop of laughter startled me. A moment later, I was grinning with her as she shook her head at me. She shifted on the bench so that her sun-warmed thigh pressed against mine. ‘That is so like you, Fitz. So like you.’ She gave a sigh of contentment, and then asked lazily, ‘Then, can I surmise that you have ended your mourning and bonded again?’

Her words dimmed the summer morning for me. I cleared my throat and spoke carefully. ‘No. I doubt that I ever will. Nighteyes and I fit together like a knife and a sheath.’ I looked out over the chamomile bed and said quietly, ‘After him, there can be no other. It would be a disservice to whatever creature I joined, for he would be only a substitute, and never genuinely my partner.’

She read more into my words than I intended. She put her arm along the back of the bench. Pillowing her head on it, she looked up at the sky through the tree branches that shaded us. I finished the milk I had brought with me and set the cup aside. I was about to excuse myself for my morning lesson with Swift when she asked, ‘Have you ever thought of taking Molly back, then?’

‘What?’

She lifted her head. ‘You loved the girl. At least, so you’ve always maintained. And she had your child, at great cost to herself. You know that she could have shaken it from her body if she had chosen. That she didn’t means that she felt something deep for you. You should go to her. Take her back.’

‘Molly and I were a long time ago. She is married to Burrich. They built a life together. They have six children of their own,’ I pointed out stiffly.

‘So?’ She brought her gaze to meet mine. ‘I saw him when he came to Buckkeep to fetch Swift home. He was close-mouthed and grim when I greeted him. And he was old. He walks with a hitch and his eyes are clouding.’ She shook her head over him. ‘If you decided to take Molly back from him, he could offer you no competition.’

‘I would never do that!’

She sipped from her mug, looking at me steadily over the rim. ‘I know that,’ she said when she took the cup from her lips. ‘Even though he took her from you.’

‘They both think I’m dead!’ I pointed out to her, my voice harsher than I’d intended.

‘Are you sure you’re not?’ she asked flippantly. Then, at the look on my face, her eyes softened. ‘Oh, Fitz. You never do anything for yourself, do you? Never take what you want.’ She leaned closer to me. ‘Do you think Molly would have thanked you for your decision? Do you truly think you had the right to decide for her?’ She leaned back a little, watching my face. ‘You gave her and the child away as if you were finding a good home for a puppy. Why?’

I’d answered that question so many times I didn’t even need to think. ‘He was the better man for her. That was true then; it’s true now.’

‘Is it? I wonder if Molly would agree.’

‘And how is your husband today?’ I asked her roughly.

Her glance went opaque. ‘Who knows? He’s gone trout fishing in the hills with Lord and Lady Redoaks. As you know, I’ve never enjoyed that kind of outing.’ Then, glancing aside, she added, ‘But their lovely daughter Ivy apparently does. I’ve heard that she leapt at the chance to make the trip.’

She did not need to explain it to me. I took her hand. ‘Starling. I’m sorry.’

She took a breath. ‘Are you? It matters little to me. I’ve his name and his holdings to enjoy. And he leaves me the freedom of my minstrel ways, to come and go as I please.’ She cocked her head at me. ‘I’ve been thinking of joining Dutiful’s entourage for the journey to the Out Islands. What do you think of that?’

My heart lurched at the thought. Oh, no. ‘I think that it would be far worse than going trout fishing. I expect to be uncomfortable and cold for much of it. And Out Island food is terrible. If they give you lard, honey and bone marrow mixed together, you’ve had the height of their cuisine.’

She stood gracefully. ‘Fish paste,’ she said. ‘You’ve forgotten their fish paste. Fish paste on everything.’ She stood looking down on me. Then she reached a hand and pushed several strands of hair back from my face. Her fingertips walked the scar down my face. ‘Some day,’ she said quietly. ‘Some day you’ll realize that we were the perfect match, you and I. That in all of your days and places, I was the only one who truly understood you and loved you despite it.’

I gaped at her. In all our years together, she’d never said the word ‘love’ to me.

She slid her fingers under my chin and closed my mouth for me. ‘We should have breakfast together more often,’ she suggested. Then she strolled away, sipping from her cup as she went, knowing that I watched her go.

‘Well. At least you can make me forget all of my other problems for a time,’ I observed quietly to myself. Then I took my mug back to the kitchen and headed for the Queen’s Gardens. Perhaps it was my conversation with Starling for when I walked out on the tower top and found the boy feeding the doves, I was direct.

‘You lied,’ I said before he could even give me ‘good morning’. ‘Your father never sent you away. You ran off. And you stole money to do it.’

He gaped at me. His face went white. ‘Who … how did …?’

‘How do I know? If I answer that question for you, I’ll answer it for Chade and the Queen as well. Do you want them to know what I know?’

I prayed I had his measure. When he gulped and shook his head suddenly and silently, I knew I had. Given the chance to run home, with no one here the wiser as to how he had shamed himself, he’d take it.

‘Your family is worried sick about you. You’ve no right to leave people who love you in suspense about your fate. Pack up and go, boy, just as you came. Here.’ Impulsively I took my purse from my belt. ‘There’s enough here to see you safely home, and pay back what you took. See that you do.’

He couldn’t meet my eyes. ‘Yessir.’

When he didn’t reach for the purse, I took his hand in mine, turned it palm up and put the sack into it. When I let go of his hand, he still stood staring up at me. I pointed at the door to the stairwell. He turned, stunned, and stumbled toward the door. With his hand on it, he halted. ‘You don’t understand what it’s like for me there,’ he whispered feebly.

‘Yes. I do. Far better than you might imagine. Go home, bow your head to your father’s discipline and serve your family until you reach your majority, as an honest boy should. Didn’t your parents raise you? Didn’t they give you life, put food on your plate, clothes on your back, shoes on your feet? Then it is only right that your labour belongs to them, until you are legally a man. Then you can openly go your own way. You will have years after that to discover your magic, years of your own, rightfully earned, to live as you please. Your Wit can wait until then.’

He halted by the door and leaned his head against it for a moment. ‘No. My magic won’t wait.’