“Please,” I said, not knowing what I begged of them. “I’m sick. And I’m so cold. ”
“Yes. ” Dwalia nodded. “Yes, you are. ” She moved an admonishing finger at both her luriks, and then she left the tent.
I sat very still. If I moved the spinning became unbearable. But I was cold, so cold. I wanted to reach for the blankets and furs, to pull them up around me. But any motion woke the vertigo. I braved it, and then, for my bravery, I retched. I vomited on myself and it soaked my shirtfront and made me colder. Neither the fog man nor Odessa moved. She watched me with sour-milk eyes and Vindeliar watched me with tears brimming his eyes. They watched until I was retching a thin yellow fluid that I could not spit clear of my mouth. It clung to my lips and chin, and still the tent spun and I was so cold. I wanted to be away from the wet and the stink of my vomit.
Do it. Move away. The dizziness would be bad no matter if I moved slow or fast. So just move.
I scooted back and dropped over on my side. The vertigo that struck me was so severe I could not tell up from down. I moaned, I think.
Someone lifted a blanket and tucked it around me. It was Shun. I could not bear to look at her for the spinning, but I knew her scent. She put another something over me. A fur, a heavy one. I felt a tiny bit warmer. I drew my body up into a ball. I wondered if I could speak without vomiting. “Thank you. ” I said. Then, “Please. Don’t touch me. Don’t move me. It makes the dizziness worse. ”
I focused my eyes on a corner of the blanket. I willed it to be still, and for a miracle, it was. I breathed slowly, carefully. I needed to be warm but even more, I needed the spinning to stop. A hand touched me, an icy hand on my neck. I cried out wordlessly.
“Why don’t you help him? He’s sick. He burns with fever. ” Her voice sounded sleepy but I knew she was not. Not really. Her anger was too strong for her to be sleepy. Could the others hear that, too?
Odessa spoke. “We are to do nothing until Lingstra Dwalia returns to instruct us. Even now, you may have disrupted the path. ”
Another blanket settled over me. “Do nothing, then. Don’t stop me. ”
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Shun lay down beside me. I wished she wouldn’t. I feared that if she nudged me or moved me, the vertigo would come roaring back.
“We obeyed. ” The fear in Vindeliar’s voice was like a bad taste in the air. “Lingstra cannot be angry with us. We obeyed and did nothing. ” He lifted his hands to cover his eyes. “I did nothing to help my brother,” he moaned. “I did nothing. She can’t be angry. ”
“Oh, she can be angry,” Odessa said bitterly. “She can always be angry. ”
Very carefully, I let my eyes close. The spinning slowed. It stopped. I slept.
Chapter Thirteen
Chade’s Secret
This is the dream of the flame horses. It is a winter evening. It’s not night but it’s dark. An early moon is rising over the birch trees. I hear a sad song with no words, and it is like a wind in the trees. It keens and moans. Then the stables burst into flames. Horses scream. And then two horses race out. They are on fire. One is black and one is white, and the flames are orange and red, whipped by the wind of the horses’ own passage. They race out into the night. The black one falls suddenly. The white one races on. Then suddenly the moon opens its mouth and swallows the white horse.
This dream makes no sense to me and no matter how I try, I cannot draw a picture for it. So this dream is recorded only in words.
—Dream Journal of Bee Farseer
I woke on the floor of the study, not far from where the stable boy slept on. I had not wanted to sleep, and I certainly could not have borne sleeping in my own room. But I had taken blankets from my bed, and Bee’s book from her hiding place, and returned to the estate study. I’d fed the fire to sustain it through what was left of the night and then spread my blankets. I’d settled down and held her book in my hands. I thought about reading it. Was that breaching her trust in me? I’d leafed through it, not settling on any section but marveling at her tidy lettering, her precise illustrations, and how many pages she had filled.
In a bizarre hope that she might have had time to leave some account of the attack, I went to the last page of her journal. But it stopped well short of our trip to Oaksbywater. There was a sketch of a barn cat. The black one with the kinked tail. I’d closed the book, pillowed my head on it, and fallen asleep. The sound of footsteps in the corridor had woken me. I sat up, aching, and the weight of my worries fell on me again. Bleak discouragement soaked me. I’d already failed and there was nothing I could do to change that. Bee was dead. Shun was dead. Perhaps they were worse than dead. It was my fault and I could find neither anger nor ambition to do anything about it.
I went to the window and pushed back the drape. The skies were finally clear and blue. It was an effort to gather my thoughts. Chade would be coming today, with Thick. I tried to make plans, to decide to ride to meet him or make preparations for his arrival. I couldn’t find the mental order to do either. On the hearth, Perseverance slept on. I made myself cross the room and add wood to the fire. I welcomed the blue sky but knew it meant the days would be colder.
I left my study and went to my room. I found clean clothing. I went to the kitchen. I dreaded to see who might not be there, but Cook Nutmeg was present, and Tavia, and the two little kitchen maids, Elm and Lea. Tavia had a black eye and a swollen lower lip, but seemed unaware of both. Elm had a peculiar hobble to her gait. I felt sick with dread and refrained from asking any questions. “So good to have you home again, Holder Badgerlock,” Cook Nutmeg greeted me, and promised to serve me breakfast very quickly.
“We should expect company here soon,” I warned them. “Lord Chade and his man Thick will be arriving in the next few hours. Please prepare something for all of us to eat when they get here. I will ask you to let the other servants know that I expect Thick to be treated with the same respect as Lord Chade. His appearance and mannerisms may give you the impression he is a half-wit. But he is an indispensable and loyal servant to the Farseer throne. Treat him as such. For now, if you’d send a tray of food and some hot tea to my study, that would be very welcome. Oh, and please send up enough food for the stable boy Perseverance, too. He will breakfast with me this morning. ”
Cook Nutmeg knit her brow but Tavia nodded at me. “It’s kind you are, sir, to take on that poor benighted lad as a stable boy. Having work to do may settle his mind. ”
“Let us hope so” was all I could find the will to say to her. I left them there, fetched a cloak, and walked out to where the Withywoods stables had once stood. Cold crisp air, blue sky, white snow, blackened wood. I walked around what remained. I could see at least one horse corpse, half-baked and crow-scavenged, sprawled in the wreckage. The fire appeared to have burned unchecked. A survey of the grounds around the stable showed me nothing more than what I’d seen in the night. The only tracks were of people on foot, most likely Withywoods folk going about their tasks.
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I found the remaining horses and the mount I’d stolen the night before housed in one of the sheep shelters. They had feed and water. A dazed-looking girl was taking care of them, and one of the bull-pups had survived. The girl sat on a heap of straw in the corner, the pup in her lap, and stared at nothing. She was probably struggling to make sense of a world in which her masters were gone and she was suddenly in charge of the remaining horses. Could she remember that she’d had masters? Seeing her alone there made me wonder how many of the stable hands had perished alongside their charges. Tallman and Tallerman were gone, I knew. How many others?
“How’s the pup?” I asked her.
“Well enough, sir. ” She started to struggle to her feet. A motion of my hand excused her from that. The puppy reached up to lick her chin. His raggedly cut ears were healing.
“You’ve done a good job with his injuries. Thank you. ”
“You’re wel
come, sir. ” She looked up at me. “He misses his mother, sir. He misses her so badly I can almost feel it myself. ” Her eyes were very wide. She swayed slightly.
I nodded. I was too great a coward to ask after her own mother. I doubted she would remember if she’d had one. “Take good care of him. Comfort him all you can. ”
“I will, sir. ”
I found the pigeon-cote as the messenger had warned me I would. Rats or some other scavenger had been at the small, feathered bodies. A single live pigeon with a message tied to its leg was perched on one of the higher ledges. I caught it and opened the message to discover it was from Nettle to FitzVigilant, wishing him a happy Winterfest and asking for news of her sister. I swept the bird bodies out of the coop. I found corn for the lone pigeon, checked that it had water, and left it there.
By the time I reentered the manor, I was chilled to the bone and heartsick. Everything I had seen convinced me of the accuracy of Perseverance’s tale. The men who had seized Bee were ruthless killers. I desperately hoped she was a hostage, one they would value and care for. I made my way back to the study and found the stable boy awake. Someone had brought him wash-water, and he’d attempted to tidy himself. The tray of food rested on my desk, untouched. “Aren’t you hungry?” I asked him.
“Starving, sir,” he admitted. “But I didn’t think it right to eat it without your leave. ”
“Lad, if you’re to serve me, the first thing I require of you is that you behave in a practical way. Didn’t the kitchen lass tell you it was for you? Didn’t you see two cups there, and two plates? You’re hungry, the food is there, and you had no idea when I was coming back. You should have eaten. ”
“It didn’t seem polite, sir. My family always ate at table together. ” He closed his mouth suddenly, his lips tight. For an instant, I hoped Thick would be able to clear his mother’s mind. Then I wondered if the woman deserved to face all that she had lost. I opened my mouth twice before I spoke.
“I see your point. Let’s sit together and eat, then. We have to be ready to face this day. I’ll need your help to put what remains of our horses back into comfortable situations. Lord Chade and Thick will be arriving later, to help us consider what has happened here. ”
“The king’s own advisor?”
I was startled that the boy knew of Chade. “Yes. And Thick will be with him. He’s a sort of advisor, too. Don’t be put off by his appearance and ways. His mind may not work exactly as ours do, but he’s an old friend of mine and has helped me more than once. ”
“Of course, sir. Any guest in your house must be treated with respect. ”
“Excellent. Now let’s stop talking for a bit and get some food down both of us. ”
The boy excelled at that. The haunted look had receded a bit from his eyes, but his cheeks were still flushed with fever from his wound. I excused myself from the table, left him eating, and came back with a generous dose of ground willowbark that I added to the rest of his tea. After he had eaten, I told him to go to the steams. I thought of sending someone to his mother’s house to get clean garments for him, but decided it would only cause more distress for everyone.
A tap at the study door was FitzVigilant. He looked little better than he had the night before. “Did you sleep?” I asked him.
“Nightmares,” he replied brusquely.
I didn’t ask questions. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Somewhat better. ” He looked at the floor, and then back up at me. His words came slowly. “I can’t make my days fit together. Not just Winterfest eve. That whole day at Oaksbywater is fragmented. And not just that day but many that came before it. Look at this. I remember buying it. But I don’t recall why. ” He held up a bracelet of delicate silver links. “I would never choose anything like this for myself. And I feel ashamed and I don’t know why. I did something terrible, didn’t I?”
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Yes. You didn’t protect my daughter. You should have died before you let them take her. “I don’t know, Lant. But when Lord Chade is here with Thick, perhaps we can—”
“Sir!” It was Bulen, bursting into the room. For one crooked moment, I wanted to rebuke Revel for not training him better. But Revel was gone.
“What is it?”
“A troop of soldiers, sir, coming up the carriageway! Twenty or more!”
I was on my feet in the instant. My eyes went to the sword over the mantel. Gone. Looted. No time to care about that. I reached under my desk and jerked free the nasty short sword that I’d long ago fastened to the underside of it. I looked at Lant. “Arm yourself and join me. Now. ” I went out the door without looking back to see if he or Bulen was following. I had a target and at that moment I was fully convinced that I could slay twenty men with my anger alone.
But the mounted men advancing up the drive were in the livery of the Buckkeep Rousters. They wore black with only a touch of blue, and had a reputation as dark for recklessness and violence. The leader wore a helm that left only his eyes and a great expanse of beard and mustache exposed. I stood in the open door, panting, my bared sword in my hand, and returned their incredulous looks as they pulled their horses to a halt. Belatedly, it came to me. The troop of guards that Chade had dispatched had finally arrived. The messenger, traveling alone, had braved the snow and storms to reach Withywoods before they had. Their captain’s eyes met mine, evaluating me coldly. His eyes flickered to the burnt stable and then back to me. He knew he was too late and was already assembling reasons for why it was not his fault. This was the guard company Chade had chosen to send to Withywoods? The Rousters? What had he expected them to face? Had the men who had taken Bee actually been targeting Shun? Too many new ideas rattled through my head. Slowly I lowered my sword until it pointed at the ground.
“Captain, I am Holder Badgerlock, master of Withywoods. Welcome. I am aware that Lord Chade sent you to supplement my folk here. I am afraid we were all too late to prevent a disaster. ” Such bland and formal words for what had happened here. I’d reverted to my former identity, giving a name they might expect to hear.
“Captain Stout is my name. My lieutenant is Crafty. ” He gestured at the younger man beside him. His beard and mustache were patchy but ambitious. “Given the weather, we traveled as swiftly as was possible. It is unfortunate that we were not placed here before you left your home unguarded. ”
Not his fault, and he was making sure I knew it. He was right, but it was salt in a fresh wound, and his disrespect was unhidden.
A thin, almost-familiar music crept into my thoughts. I lifted my eyes. Thick? From the ranks of the men, he and Chade emerged. Chade pushed his horse forward to demand, “What tidings? Is she here? What happened?”
“It’s hard to say. There was a raid here, on Winterfest eve. Bee was taken. My stables were torched, and some of my folk killed, but something has clouded the minds of everyone who was here. They recall nothing of it. Except for one stable boy. ”
“And Lady Shun?” His question was desperate.
“I’m sorry, Chade. I don’t know. She isn’t here. I don’t know if she was taken or is among the dead. ”
His face changed. He aged. I swear the flesh sagged on his skull and his eyes dimmed. “And Lant?” His voice was faint with despair.
“I’m fine, Lord Chade. A bit the worse for a new hole in my shoulder, but I’ll live. ”
“Thank Eda for that. ” The old man dismounted as Lant handed his sword to Bulen and went forward to meet him. Chade embraced him wordlessly, closing his eyes. I think I saw Lant flinch as Chade’s arms enfolded him, but he made no sound.
“Fitz. Hey!” Thick, looking uncomfortable on a very tall horse. He dismounted awkwardly, sliding on his belly down the horse’s shoulder. His round cheeks were red with cold. His music, the harbinger of his incredible Skill-strength, was a muted anthem today. Nonetheless, as it reached my senses more strongly, I felt a slight lift of my heart. He came to me an
d stared up at me. He reached up and patted my chest as if to make certain I saw him. “Fitz! Look! We met the soldiers and we rode with them. Like an army coming to your door! I’m cold! I’m hungry! Can we go inside?”
“Of course, all of you, please. ” I looked up at the mounted men. “You must be cold and hungry. Um, Bulen, can you find some help to take care of the horses?” I had no idea where we would stable the beasts. And I had given Cook no notice that we might have twenty hungry guardsmen dropping in. Thick reached out and took my hand.
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And Bee was stolen!
The knowledge hit me like a blow to the head. What was I doing here? Why hadn’t I already set off in pursuit?
“There you are! Why were you hiding in the fog? Now we can feel each other,” Thick told me companionably. He squeezed my hand and smiled up at me.
The cold shock of reality seizing me was like being flung directly from a fever back to health. Everything that had seemed distant and vaguely sad now assaulted me full-force. My child stolen by folk cruel enough to burn horses alive in my stables. My people dulled down to the sensibilities of sheep. A killing rage rose in me, and Thick took a step back from me. “Stop,” he begged me. “Don’t feel that much!”
As soon as he released my hand, the choking miasma of despair sought to fill me. I looked at the ground. Putting up my Skill-walls at that moment was like attempting to lift the real walls of Withywoods. I felt too much to contain: too much anger, frustration, guilt, and fear. My emotions circled one another like savage dogs, tearing at my soul in passing. Block by block, I built my Skill-walls. When I looked up, Thick was nodding at me, his tongue resting on his lower lip. Lant was speaking softly and quickly to Chade, who held him by the shoulders and stared into his face as he spoke. And the Rousters were looking very unhappy at being here at all. I looked at their captain and used my Skill to push my words as well as my voice.
“You didn’t want to come here. You were fine traveling down the road until you got to the carriage lane that leads here. Then you wanted to go anywhere else. Now that you are here, you feel miserable and unsettled. You see the signs, as I do, that this holding was attacked by armed men. They came and they went, and left the signs of their passage but no memory of it with my folk. There is a spell … an evil magic has been put over Withywoods, specifically to keep away those who could help us. ” I took a steadying breath and straightened my back. “Please, if two of your fellows would find stabling for the horses in the sheep pens and give them whatever fodder you can find, I would be grateful. Then come inside, get warm, have food. Then we will discuss how best to follow people who have left no tracks. ”