“You must leave it!” the creature belched at us. “What the ocean washes up on the treasure beach must always remain here. Drop what you have found. ”
The Prince opened his hand. The figurine fell but the chain tangled on his lax fingers, to dangle from his handlike a puppet.
“Drop it!” the creature repeated more urgently.
I decided the time for subtlety was past. I drew my sword awkwardly with my left hand, for I feared to let go of the Prince. “Stay back,” I warned. My feet were crunching over barnacles on the uneven rocks. I risked a glance behind me. I could see my squaredoff black stones, but they barely stuck up above the water. The creature mistookmy look.
“Your ship has left you here! There is nothing out there but ocean. Drop the treasure. ” There was a hissing quality to its speech, most unnerving. It had no more lips than a lizard, but the teeth that the opened mouth bared were multitudinous and sharp. “The treasures of this beach are not for humans! What the sea brings here is meant to be lost to humankind! You were not worthy of it. ”
Seaweed squelched underfoot. The Prince slipped and nearly went down. I kept my grip on his shoulder and dragged him back to his feet. Three more steps, and water lapped around my feet.
“You cannot swim far!” the creature warned us. “The beach will have your bones!”
Like a distant wind, I faintly felt the buffeting of fear that he directed at us. The Prince's mind was unshielded, and he gave a sudden cry of wild terror. “I don't want to drown!” he cried out. “Please, I don't want to drown!” When he turned to me, the whites showed all around the edges of his eyes. I did not think him a coward. I knew only too well what it was like to have another mind impose panic on my unguarded thoughts.
“Dutiful. You have to trust me. Trust me. ” “I can't!” he bellowed, and I believed him. He was torn between us, my Skillcommand for obedience warring with the insidious waves of fear the creature gushed at him. I tightened my grip and dragged him back with me as I retreated. The water was up to our knees. Every wave nudged against us in its passage. The wallowing creature did not hesitate to follow us. Doubtless it would be more at home in the sea. I risked another glance behind me. The Skillpillar was close. I felt that vague confusion that the black memory stone always inflicted on me. It was strange, to push myself toward disorientation in the hopes of salvation.
“Give me the treasure!” the creature commanded, and virulent green droplets shimmered suddenly at the end of its claws. It lifted them menacingly.
In one motion, I sheathed my sword, threw my left arm around Dutiful, and flung us both backward into the water. As the creature dove toward us, I thought I saw a sudden flash of comprehension in those inhuman eyes, but it was too late. We fell full length into the cold saltwater, and my groping fingers sought and found the canted surface of the fallen pillar. I had no time to warn the Prince as it swallowed us.
We stumbled out into an almostwarm afternoon. The Prince dropped nervelessly from my grip to sprawl on a cobblestoned street in the gush of saltwater that had accompanied us. I drew a deep breath and looked around us. “Wrong face!” I had known this could happen but had been too intent on escaping the thing on the beach to consider it. Each face of a Skillpillar was carved with a rune that told where that surface would transport you. It was a wonderful system, if one understood what the runes meant. With a jolt, I suddenly grasped how much I had just risked. What if this pillar had been buried under stone, or shattered to pieces? I dared not think what might have become of us. Shaking, I stared at the foreign landscape. We stood in the windswept ruins of an abandoned Elderling city. It looked vaguely familiar and I wondered if it was the same city that a similar pillar had once carried me to. But there was no time for exploration or speculation. All had gone wrong. My original plan had been to return alone through the pillar, to rush unhindered to the aid of my friends. But I could not leave Dutiful stunned and alone in this barren place any more than I could have left him on the hostile beach. I'd have to take him with me. “We have to go back,” I told the Prince. “We have to get back to Buck exactly as we came. ”
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“I didn't like that at all. ” His voice shook, and I knew instinctively that he was not speaking about the creature on the beach. Going through a pillar was a harrowing experience for an untrained mind. Regal had used the pillars recklessly in transporting his young Skillusers, little caring how many of them went mad from the process. I would not use my Prince so recklessly. Except that I had no other choice, and no time.
“I know,” I said gently. “But we have to go now, before the tide comes in any deeper. ” He stared at me without comprehension. I weighed him keeping his sanity against what the woman might know through him. Then I threw that concern aside. He had to understand, at least a little, -sv, or I'd emerge from the pillar with a drooling idiot. “We have to go back to the pillar on the beach. We know it has a facet that will take us back to Buck. We'll have to discover which one. ”
The boy made a small retching sound. He hunkered down on the cobblestones, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. “I don't think I can,” he said faintly.
My heart smote me. “Waiting won't make it any bet' ter,” I warned him. “I'll hold you together as best I can. But we have to go now, my Prince. ”
“That thing might be waiting for us!” he cried wildly, but I think he feared the passage more than any lurking creature.
I stooped and put my arms around him, and although he struggled wildly, I dragged him back into the pillar with me.
I had never used a pillar twice in such swift succession. I was unprepared for the sharp sensation of heat. As we emerged, I accidentally snuffed warm seawater up my nose. I stood up, holding Dutiful's head above water. The water around the pillar was seething with the heat from it. And the Prince had been right. As I held his lax body in my arms and shook water from my face, I heard startled grunts from the beach. Not one, but four of the ungainly creatures had congregated there. At the sight of us, they charged, hunching across the sand and into the waves. No time to think or look or choose. The Prince was limp and lolling. I clutched him to me, and risked dropping my Skillwalls to try to hold his mind intact. As an incoming wave drove me to my knees, I slapped a hand to the steaming surface of the Skillpillar. It dragged me in.
The transit this time seemed unbearable. I swear I smelled a strange odor, oddly familiar and yet repulsive. Dutiful. Dutiful, prince. Heir to the Far seer throne. Son of Kettricken. I wrapped his tattering thoughts in my own and named him by every name I could think of.
Then came a moment he reached back to me. know, ou That was all I sensed from him, but after that- he held, n to himself and to me. There was a queer passivity to our ond and when at length we -shed out onto green grassunde; a lowering sky, I wondered if the Princes mmd hadsurvived our escape from the treasure beach.
The Tawny Man 2 - Golden Fool
The Tawny Man 2 - Golden Fool
The Tawny Man 1 - Fools Errand
Chapter XXV
RANSOM
By these signs may you know one who has the potential for the Skill:
A child who comes of Skilled parents.
A child who wins often at games of physical skill, and his opponents stumble, lose heart, or play poorly against him.
A child who possesses memories not rightfully his.
A child who dreams, and his dreams are detailed and contain knowledge beyond the child's own experience.
Ê- Ê, DUN NEEDLESON, SKILLMASTER TO KING WIELDER
The barrow crouched on the hillside above us. It was raining, a misty but determined fall of water. The grass was deep and wet. I suddenly didn't have the strength to stand by myself, let alone support the Prince. As one, we sank down until I knelt on the wet earth. I lowered his body to the sward. His eyes were open but they stared blindly. Only the rasping of his breath showed me he was alive. We were back
in Buck, but our situation was only marginally better than when we had last left here.
We were both soaking wet. After a moment, I became aware of an odd smell and realized that the pillar behind us was radiating warmth. The smell was the dampness forced out of the stone. I decided I would rather be cold than get too close to it. The figurine still dangled from the chain tangled in the Prince's fingers. I plucked it free, gathered up the chain, and put it inside my pouch. The Prince made no response to any of this. “Dutiful?” I leaned closer and looked directly into his eyes. They didn't focus on me. The rain was falling on his face and his open eyes. I tapped him lightly on the cheek. “Prince Dutiful? Do you hear me?”
He blinked slowly. It was not much of a response, but it was better than nothing.
“You'll feel better in a little while. Just rest here for a time. ” I wasn't sure that was true, but I left him on the wet grass and climbed up on top of the barrow. I surveyed the surrounding lands, but saw no other humans. There wasn't much of anything to see, just rolling countryside and a few copses of trees. A flock of starlings wheeled in unison, and settled again, squabbling over feed. Beyond the wild meadow, there was forest. There was nothing that looked like an immediate threat, but nothing that looked like food, drink, and shelter, either. I was fairly certain that Dutiful would benefit from all three, and feared that without them he would sink further into unresponsiveness, but what I needed was even more basic. I wanted to know if my friends lived. I wanted beyond all rationality to reach out for my wolf. I longed to howl for him, to put my whole heart into that questing. I also knew it was the most foolish and reckless thing I could do. It would not only alert any Witted ones nearby that I was here, it would also warn them that I was coming.
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I forced order onto my thoughts. I needed a refuge, and quickly. It seemed likely to me that the woman and the cat would be constantly questing for the Prince. Even now, they might be coming for him. The afternoon was already venturing toward evening. Dutiful had told me the Piebalds would kill Nighteyes and the Fool at sunset if I had not returned him. Somehow, I must get the Prince to a safe place before the woman could find us, then slip off on my own to discover where the Piebalds held my friends and then free them. Before sunset. I racked my brain. The closest inn I knew of was the Piebald Prince. I doubted that Dutiful would get a fond welcome there. Yet Buckkeep was a long walk and a riverfording away. I pondered but could think - , of no other refuge for him. In his present condition, I could scarcely leave him here alone, and another trip through a pillar would be the end of Dutiful's mind, even if we emerged physically unscathed. I once more scanned the empty landscape. I reluctantly admitted that though I had choices, none of them were good. I abruptly decided that I would get us moving, and try to think of something better along the way.
I gave one final glance around before descending from the barrow. As I did so, my eye caught something, not a shape, but a movement beyond a cluster of trees. I crouched low and stared at it, trying to resolve what I had seen. In a few moments, the animal emerged. A horse. Black and tall. Myblack. She stared toward me. Slowly I stood again. She was too far off to go chasing after her. She must have fled when the Piebalds captured Nighteyes and the Fool. I wondered what had become of Malta. I watched her for a moment longer, but she only stood and stared back at me. I turned my back on her and descended to the Prince.
He was no more coherent, but at least had reacted to the chill rain by drawing into a ball and shivering. My apprehension for him was mixed with a guilty hope. Perhaps in his present condition, he could not use his Wit to let the Piebalds know where we were. I set my hand to his shoulder and tried to make my voice gentle as I told him, “Let's get you up and walking. It will warm both of us. ”
I don't know if my words made sense to him. He stared ahead blankly as I pulled him to his feet. Once up, he hunched over his crossed arms. The shivering did not abate. “Let's walk,” I suggested, but he did not move until I put an arm around him and told him, “Walk with me. Now. ” Then he did, but it was a stumbling, staggering gait. At a snail's pace, we traversed the wet hillside.
Very gradually, I became aware of the thud of hooves behind us. A glance back showed Myblack following us, but when I stopped, she stopped also. When I let go of the Prince, he sagged toward the earth and the horse immediately became suspicious. dragged the Prince back to his feet. As we plodded on again, I could hear her uneven hoofbeats behind us again.
I ignored Myblack until she had nearly caught up with us. Then I sat down and let Dutiful lean against me until her curiosity overcame her native wariness. I paid no attention to her until her breath was actually warm on the back of my neck. Even then I did not turn to her, but snaked a hand stealthily around to catch hold of the dangling reins.
I think she was almost glad to be caught. I stood slowly and stroked her neck. Her coat was streaked with dried lather, and all her tack was damp. She had been grazing around her bit. Mud was crusted into one side of the saddle where she had tried to roll. I led her in a slow circle and confirmed what I feared. She was lamed. Something, perhaps the Withounds, had tried to run her down, but her fleetness had saved her. I was amazed that she had even stayed in the area, let alone come back to me when she saw me. Yet there would be no wild gallop to safety for any of us. The best we would do was a halting walk.
I spent some little time trying to cajole the Prince into standing and mounting the horse. It was only when I lost my patience and ordered him to get to his feet and get on the damned horse that he obeyed me. Dutiful did not respond to conversation, but he obeyed simple orders from me. Then I appreciated how deep that jolt of Skillcommand had gone, and how firmly linked we remained. “Don't fight me,” I had charged him, and some part of him interpreted that as “don't disobey me. ” Even with his cooperation, the mount was an awkward maneuver. As I heaved him up into the saddle, I feared he would topple off the other side. I didn't try to ride behind him. I doubted that Myblack would have tolerated it. Instead I led her. The Prince swayed with Myblack's hitching gait but did not fall. He looked terrible. All the maturity had been stripped from his features, leaving him a sick child, his darkcircled eyes wide, his mouth drooping. He looked as if he could die. The full impact of that possibility seized my heart in a cold grip. The Prince dead. The end of the Farseer line and the shattering of the Six Duchies. A messy and painful death for Nettle. I could not let it happen that way. We entered a strip of open woods, startling a crow who rose, cawing like a prophet of doom. It seemed an ill omen.
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I found myself talking to both Prince and horse as we walked. I spoke in Burrich's soothing cadence, using his reassuring words, in a calming ritual remembered from my childhood. “Come along now, we're all going to be fine, there, there, the worst part is over, that's right, that's right. ” From that I progressed to humming, and again it was some tune that Burrich had often hummed when he worked on injured horses or laboring mares. I think the familiar song calmed and settled me more than it did the horse or the Prince. After a time, I found myself talking aloud, as much to myself as to them. “Well, it looks as if Chade was right. You're going to Skill whether you're taught to or not. And I'm afraid the same holds true for the Wit. It's in your blood, lad, and unlike some, I don't think it can be beaten out of you. I don't think it should be. But it shouldn't be indulged the way you've indulged it, either. It's not that different from the Skill, really. A man has to set limits on his magic and on himself. Setting limits is part of being a man. So if we come out of this alive and intact, I'll teach you. I guess I'll teach myself as well. It's probably time for me to look into all those old Skill scrolls and find out what's really in them. It scares me, though. In the last two years, the Skill has come back on me like some sort of spreading ulcer. I don't know where it's taking me. And I fear what I don't know. That's the wolf in me, I guess. And Eda's breath, let him be safe right now, and my Fo
ol. Don't let them be in pain or dying simply because they knew me. If anything happens to either of them . . . it's strange, isn't it, how you don't know how big a part of you someone is until they're threatened? And then you think that you can't possibly go on if something happens to them, but the most frightening part is that, actually, you will go on, you'll have to go on, with them or without them. There's just no telling what you'll become. What will I be, if Nighteyes is gone? Look at Small Ferret, all those years ago. He went on and on, even though the only thing left in his little mind was to kill ” “What about my cat?”
His voice was soft. Relief washed through me that he had enough mind left to speak. At the same time, I hastily reviewed my thoughtless rambling and hoped he had not been paying too much attention. “How do you feel, my Prince?” “I can't feel my cat. ”
A long silence followed. I finally said, “I can't feel my wolf, either. Sometimes he needs to be separate from me. ”
He was silent for so long that I feared he wasn't going to reply. Then he said, “It doesn't feel like that. She's holding us apart. It feels as if I am being punished. ”
“Punished for what?” I kept my voice even and light, as if we discussed the weather.
“For not killing you. For not even trying to kill you. She can't understand why I don't. I can't explain why I don't. But it makes her angry with me. ” There was a simplicity to his heartspoken words, as if I conversed with the person behind all the manners and artifice of society. I sensed that our journey through the Skillpillar had stripped away many layers of protection from him. He was vulnerable right now. He spoke and reasoned as soldiers do when they are in great pain, or when ill men try to speak through a fever. All his guards were dropped. It seemed as if he trusted me, that he spoke of such things. I counseled myself not to hope for that, nor believe it. It was only the hardships he had been through that opened him to me like this. Only that. I chose my words carefully. “Is she with you now? The woman?” He nodded slowly. “She is always with me now. She won't let me think alone. ” He swallowed and added hesitantly, “She doesn't want me to talk to you. Or listen. It's hard. She keeps pushing me. ”