Fools Errand

  “I think we can dispense with your knife,” Laudwine observed evenly. “I've kept my part of the bargain. ”

  “It might not be wise,” I cautioned him. Then I lied. “The boy tried to get away just a minute ago. The only thing that kept him still was the knife. Best I keep it on him until she's . . . ” I sought for words. “All the way in,” I finished lamely. I saw one or two faces twitch with uneasiness. Deliberately, I added, “Until Peladine takes his body as her own completely. ” I saw one woman swallow.

  Laudwine seemed unaware that this troubled some of his followers. His affable manner never wavered. “I think not. It pains me to see you menace a throat that will soon belong to my kin. Your knife, sir. You are among your own kind here, you know. You have nothing to fear. ” He extended a hand for it.

  Experience had taught me that those most like me presented the greatest threat to me. But I let a slow smile spread over my face and took my knife from the Prince's throat. I did not give it to Laudwine, but sheathed it at my belt. I kept one hand always on Dutiful's shoulder, holding him at my side. Here, where the cave narrowed, I could thrust him behind me if need be. I doubted that need would arise. I intended to kill him myself. Twenty years ago, Chade had drilled me repeatedly in all the ways there were to kill a man with my hands. I had learned silent ways, and swift ways, and ways that were slow. I hoped I would be as quick and accurate as I had once been. The most satisfying tactic would be to wait until the woman took the boy's body, and then kill Dutiful so quickly that the woman would die with him, unable to flee back into her little cat's body. Would I still have time to kill myself before they pulled me down? I doubted it. Best not to dwell on such thoughts.

  Suddenly, the Prince spoke up for himself. “I won't struggle. ” He shrugged clear of my hand on his shoulder and stood as straight as the low ceiling would allow. “I've been a fool. Perhaps I deserve this for my foolishness. But I thought . . . ” His gaze had been traveling the faces that surrounded us. His eyes seemed to know where to linger, and in the wake of his glance, I saw uncertainty kindle on a few faces. “I thought you genuinely believed me one of your own. Your welcome and aid seemed so real. My bond with the cat I had never felt anything like that. And when the woman came into my mind and said that she, that she loved me ” His voice hesitated over those words, but he forced it on. “I thought I had found something real, something worth more than my crown or my family or even my own duty to my people. I was a fool. So. Her name was Peladine, was it? She never told me her name, and of course I never saw her face. Well. ” He folded his knees and sat cross'legged. He opened his arms to the staring cat. “Come, cat. You, at least, loved me for myself. I know you like this no better than I do. Let us both be done with this. ”

  He glanced up at me, a swift glance fraught with a meaning I could not discern. It chilled me. “Don't despise me as a complete fool. The cat loves me, and I love the cat. That much, at least, was always true. ” I knew that when the creature climbed into his lap, the contact would strengthen their bond. The woman would cross into him easily. His dark eyes were steady on mine. I saw Kettricken suddenly in his features, in his calm acceptance of what would be. His words were for me. “If by doing this I would be freeing the cat of her, I would rejoice. Instead, I go to share her entrapment. We shall be two that she bonded to, simply for the use of our bodies. She never had any need for our hearts, save to use them against us. ”

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  Dutiful Farseer turned away from me, closing his eyes. He bowed his head to the advancing animal. There was not a sound, not even an indrawn breath, in the cave. All watched, all waited. Several faces were white and taut. One young man turned aside, shuddering, as the cat stalked up to him. She pressed her striped brow to the Prince's, marking him as cats do. As she swiped her face against his, her green gaze brushed mine.

  Kit! me now.

  The sharp mindtomind contact was so unexpected, I could not react to it.

  What had Jinna's cat told me? That all cats can speak, but that they choose when and to whom. The mind that touched mine was a cat's mind, not a woman's. I stared at the little hunting cat, unmoving. She opened her jaws wide but soundlessly, as if a twinge of pain too great to express had passed through her. Then she gave her head a shake.

  Stupid brothertoadog! You waste our chance. Kilt me now!

  These words struck my mind with the impact of a blow. “No!” cried Dutiful and belatedly I realized he had not been privy to her first words to me. He clutched at the mistcat but she launched, from the floor to Dutiful's shoulder and at me, heedless of how her claws scored him in that spring. She flew at me, claws raw and mouth wide. What is so cav, white as a cat's teeth against her red mouth? I tried to reach my knife, but she was too fast. She landed on my chest, the curved claws of her front paws hooking securely into my flesh as her hind legs ripped at my belly. She turned her face sideways, and all I saw were teeth descending on my face as I fell backward into the corner of the cave.

  Other voices shouted. “Peladine!” Laudwine roared, and I heard the Prince's agonized cry of “No, no!” but I was occupied with saving my eyes. I pushed at the cat with one hand as I dragged at my sheathed knife with the other, but her claws were well set in my flesh. I could not budge her. I twisted my face aside as we went down, inadvertently baring my throat to her fangs. She seized that opportunity quite literally, and as I felt her teeth enter my flesh, thwarted only by the beads of Jinna's charm, I managed to pull my knife free. I did not know if I fought the woman or the cat, only that the creature intended to kill me. It mattered, but not in a way that would stay my hand. It was awkward to stab her as she clung to my chest, for her spine and ribs turned my blade twice. On the third time, I finally managed to sink the metal into her. She let go of my throat to sound her death yowl, but her claws remained firmly fixed in my chest. Her hind legs had shredded my shirt. My belly was striped with fire. I pulled her body off mine, cursing, but when I would have flung it aside, Dutiful snatched it from me.

  “Cat, oh, cat!” he cried, and clutched the lifeless body to his as if it were his child. “You killed her!” he cried accusingly.

  “Peladine?” Laudwine asked wildly. “Peladine!” Perhaps if his bondanimal had not just been slain, Dutiful would have had the presence of mind to pretend his body held the woman's mind. But he did not, and before I could regain my feet, I saw Laudwine's boot flying toward my head. I flung myself aside into a roll and sprang to my feet in a performance worthy of the Fool's younger self. My knife was still in the cat's body, but my sword hung at my belt. I dragged it free and charged at Laudwine.

  “Run!” bellowed at the Prince. “Get away. She bought your freedom with her life. Don't waste that!”

  Laudwine was a bigger man than I, and the sword he was drawing would give him a sizable advantage in reach. I gripped my hilt twohanded and took off his forearm before his weapon cleared its sheath. He went down with a shriek, clutching at the spurting stump as if it were a cup held aloft in a toast. Shock held the mob back for an instant, barely time for me to take two steps and crowd Dutiful into the alcove behind me. He had not fled and now it was too late. Perhaps it had always been too late. He went to his knees, the cat in his arms. I swung my blade in a madman's wild arc, forcing the mob back. “Get up!” I roared at him. “Usethat knife!”

  I was peripherally aware of him coming to his feet behind me. I had no idea if he had the knife from the cat's body. Fleetingly, I wondered if he would put it in my back. Then the wave of men surged forward, some in the front propelled only by the push of men behind them. Two grabbed Laudwine and dragged his curled body out of my reach. Someone jumped past them to confront me. The quarters were too close for anything except butchery. My first wide cut laid open his belly and slashed the face of another man as it finished. That slowed their rush, but then they bunched toward me. The men attacking us were hampered by their own numbers. When I was forced back, I felt the Prince step
aside, and suddenly both our backs were to the wall of the cave. He darted past me to stab a man who had just managed to slip inside my guard, and then spun to his right to defend himself. He screamed like a wildcat as he struck out at his man, and the man answered with a shriek of pain.

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  I knew we had no chance, so when the arrow flew past my ear to shatter on the wall behind me, I was not too alarmed. Some fool wasted breath sounding a horn. I ignored it, as I ignored the cries of the men falling in front of me. One was dying and I finished another on the backstroke. I swung my blade wide, and unbelievably, they gave ground before me. I roared my triumph and stepped forward into the gap. My body shielded Dutiful's now. “Come and die!” I snarled at them all. My free hand beckoned them in. “Blades down!” someone shouted. I swung my sword again, but those confronting me gave ground, tossing their swords to the earth. They cleared the way for an archer to advance on me. Other bowmen backed him, but his nocked arrow pointed straight at my chest. “Put it down!” he shouted again. It was the boy who had ambushed us, the one who had shot Laurel, and then fled with her. As I stood panting, wondering if I should force him to kill me, Laurel spoke behind him. She tried to speak calmingly, but her voice shook.

  “Blade down, Tom Badgerlock. You're among friends. ” Battle makes the world a small place, makes all life no bigger than the sweep of your sword's length. It took me a time to come back to myself, and I was fortunate that they allotted me that time. I stared about, trying to make sense of what I saw, the archer and Laurel, and the folk who stood behind her, bows drawn. These were strangers, older folk than Laudwine's band. Six men, two women. Most carried bows but a few had only staffs. Some of the arrows were pointed at Laudwine's folk. They had dropped their swords and stood as much at bay as I was. Laudwine was on the floor, rolling in their midst, still clutching at his stump. Two steps and I could finish him at least. I drew a breath. Then I felt Dutiful's hand on my upper arm. He pushed down firmly. “Blade down, Tom,” he said evenly, and for a moment it was Verity's calming voice in my ear. The strength went out of my arm and I let the tip of my weapon drop to the floor. Each panting breath I took was a flow of torment down my parched throat.

  “Drop it!” the archer repeated. He stepped closer, and I heard the small sounds of a bow drawn tauter. I felt my heart begin to race again. I calculated the distance I'd have to cover.

  “Hold!” Lord Golden interceded suddenly. “Give him a moment to come to himself. Battlefury takes him and his mind is not his own. ” He came, pushing his way to the front of the massed archers and then stepped out between them and me with a fine disregard for the arrows that now pointed at his back. He did not even glance at the Piebalds who grudgingly parted to let him through. “Easy, Tom. ” He addressed me as if calming a horse. “It's done now. It's all done. ”

  He stepped forward and set his hand on my arm, and I heard a murmur run through the crowd as if he had done something amazingly brave. At his touch, the sword fell from my grasp. Beside me, Dutiful dropped suddenly to his knees. I looked down at him. There was blood on his hand and shirtfront, but it did not seem to be his. He dropped my knife now and gathered the limp cat from the floor into his arms. He held it to his breast as if it were a child and rocked back and forth, keening. “My cat, my friend. ”

  A look of terrible concern washed over Lord Golden 's face. “My Prince,” he began worriedly. He stooped to touch the lad, but I caught him and turned him aside.

  “Leave him alone,” I suggested quietly. “Give him his time to mourn. ”

  Then, tottering stiffly through the crowd came my wolf. When he reached my side, it was my turn to sink down beside him.

  After that, little enough attention was paid to Tom Badgerlock and his wolf. They left us where we huddled as they moved Laudwine's followers away from the Prince. That suited us both, for it gave us time to be together, and freed me to observe all around us. What we mostly watched was the Prince. The archer, one Deerkin by name, had brought an old healer with him. She set aside the bow she had carried and came to the Prince's side. She made no effort to touch him, but only sat beside him and watched him as he mourned. Nighteyes and I kept vigil on the other side of him. She looked at me once. When our eyes met, her gaze was old and tired and sick with sadness. I fear mine was the same.

  The bodies of the Piebalds I had killed were dragged outside, and slung over their horses. Too late I heard the clatter of departing hooves and realized that the Piebalds had been allowed to flee. I set my teeth. I could not have stopped it from happening. Laudwine had gone last, no longer their leader, swaying in the saddle atop his frothing warhorse and steadied by a young rider behind him. That had disturbed me most of all. Not only had I snatched the Prince from him, but I had slain the animal that held his sister's soul, and maimed him, as well. I needed no more enemies than I already had, but it had been beyond my control. He had gone free, and I hoped I would not live to regret that.

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  The healer let the Prince hold and mourn the cat until the sun touched the horizon. Then she looked past him to me. “Take the cat's body from him,” she said quietly.

  It was not a task I wanted, but I did it.

  It was hard to coax him to give up the cat's cooling body. I chose my words with great care. This was not a time to let the Skillcommand force him to do what he was not ready to do on his own. When finally he allowed me to lift the mistcat from his lap, I was astonished at how light the creature seemed. Usually, a dead animal, lax and lolling, seems to weigh more than a live one, but with the loss of its life, the pathetic condition of the little cat was revealed. “As if she were eaten through with worms,” Nighteyes had said, and he was not far off the mark. The cat was a wasted little creature, her oncesleek fur gone dry and brittle, and bumps of bone defining her spine- At her death, her fleas were leaving her, far too many for a healthy animal. As the healer took the cat from me, I saw anger flicker over her face. She spoke softly. I do not know if Dutiful heard her words, but I did. “She did not even let it keep itself as a cat would. She possessed it too completely, and tried to be a woman in a cat's fur. ”

  Peladine had imposed a human's ways on the mistcat. She had denied her the long sleeps, the gorging to satiation, and the grooming sessions that were the natural right of a lithe little cat. Play and hunting had been denied her. It was the way of the Piebalds to use the Wit only for their own human ends. It sickened me.

  The healer carried the cat's body outside and the Prince and I followed with Nighteyes walking between us. A halfbuilt cairn awaited the little corpse. All Deerkin's people came outside to witness the interment. Their eyes were saddened, but they brimmed with respect.

  Their healer spoke, for Dutiful was too numbed with grief. “She goes on without you. She died for you, to free you both. Keep within you the cat tracks she left on your soul. Let go with her the humanness that you shared with her. You are parted now. ”

  The Prince swayed as they put the last stones on the cat, covering her death snarl. I set a hand to his shoulder to steady him, but he shrugged away my touch as if I were tainted. I did not blame him. She had commanded me to kill her, had done all she could to force me to the act, and yet I did not expect him to forgive me for having obeyed her. As soon as the cat was interred, the Old Blood healer had brought the Prince a draught. “Your share of her death,” she said as she offered it to him, and he had quaffed it down before either Lord Golden or I could interfere. Then the healer gestured to me that I should take him back into the cave. There, he lay down where his cat had died, and his mourning broke loose anew.

  I don't know what she gave him in that drink, but the boy's heartbroken sobs wound slowly down into the hoarse breathing of sodden sleep. There was nothing of rest in the . limp way he sprawled beside me. “A little death,” she had confided to me, thoroughly frightening me. “I give him a . little death of his own, a time of emptiness. He d
ied, you know, when the cat was killed. He needs this empty time to be dead. Do not try to cheat him of it. ”

  Indeed, it plunged him into a sleep but one step shy of death. She settled him on a pallet, arranging his body as if it were a corpse. As she did so, she muttered scathingly, “Such bruises on his neck arid back. How could they beat a mere boy like that?”

  I was too shamed to admit I had given him those marks. I held my silence and she covered him well, shaking her head over him. Then she turned and brusquely motioned me to her side for her services. “The wolf, too. I've time for you, now that the boy's hurts are tended. His hurt was far more grievous than anything that bleeds. ”

  With warm water she washed our wounds and salved them with a greasy unguent. Nighteyes was passive to her touch. He held himself so tightly against the pain I could scarcely feel him there. As she worked on the scratches on my chest and belly, she muttered sternly to me. I gave Jinna's charm the credit that she deigned to speak to a renegade like me at all.

  But the healer's only comment on it was that my necklace had probably saved my life. “The cat meant to kill you, and no mistake about that,” she observed. “But it was no will or fault of her own, I'm sure. And not the boy's fault, either. Look at him. He is a child still to our ways, far too young to bond,” she lectured me severely, as if it were my fault. “He is unschooled in our ways, and look how it has hurt him. I will not tell you lies. He is like to die of this, or take a melancholy madness that will plague him to the end of his days. ” She tightened the bandage around my belly with a tug. “Someone should teach him Old Blood ways. Proper ways of dealing with his magic. ” She glared at me, but I did not reply. I only pulled what was left of my shirt back over my head. As she turned away from me, I heard her snort of contempt.

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  Nighteyes wearily lifted his head and set it on my knee. Salve and clotted blood smeared me. He looked at the sleeping boy. Are you going to teach him?