Fool's Fate

by neetha Napew

  “Narcheska Elliania, I would have a word with you.”

  Even when she turned to look at him, her look was the only acknowledgment she gave him. He accepted it as permission to speak to her. His words were clear and formal, and I think he intended that all should hear and understand them. The Owl drew closer to them as they spoke, probably to witness their words for posterity. Bards do not believe in privacy.

  “I am sure that you heard us speaking just now. But I shall state it plainly. Last night, we left out the offering for the Black Man, as is customary when visiting this place, for any reason. This morning it remained on the stone table, untouched. Long has it been said that no man can buy the Black Man’s approval with gifts, but when he takes them, he gives you permission to risk your life here. This morning, we knew that he did not even cede that much to us. Narcheska, we have come here with you, knowing already that the challenge you gave your suitor was inappropriate. You did not listen to us. Will you pay attention now to what the Black Man himself has shown us? We are not welcome here. Many of us expected him to be angry with you. We did not expect he would withhold his permission even from those who come to see that your challenge to the dragon is a fair one. You place not just your husband and yourself in danger, but all who are here. And should you achieve your end, we now fear that the displeasure of the gods will fall, not just on you, but on all who witness the deed.”

  I saw her blink, and perhaps the color in her cheeks heightened. Only her stillness proclaimed that she listened to him as she stared into the distance. He spoke on more quietly but his words carried clearly. “Withdraw the challenge, Narcheska. Replace it, if you wish, with one more fitting. Demand a whale’s spear from him, or the teeth of a bear, killed by him alone. Pit him against any creature that is right and proper for a man to hunt, but let us all leave this island and the dragon it protects. Icefyre is not for a man to kill, Narcheska. Not even for love of you.”

  I thought he would convince her, right up to his last words. But they were uttered with such disdain that even I felt the sting of them. She did not turn her eyes toward him as she spoke. “My challenge stands.” She spoke those words to the sea. But then she turned to face Dutiful and added, “Because it must. For the honor of Narwhal Clan.”

  She spoke the last words almost as if they were an apology, as if she regretted them but had to say them anyway. Dutiful gave a single slow nod, an acceptance of the challenge and her assertion that it must stand. It was an act of faith between them, and I think I perceived then what Chade seemed to have known for some time; that if those two could learn to go in harness, they would be a powerful pair.

  The Bear clenched his fists at his side, and thrust out his jaw. The Owl nodded jerkily to himself, as if to fix the moment in his memory.

  The Narcheska turned to Peottre and said, “Should not we be preparing to leave now? It is a long and arduous journey, I am told, to where the dragon is under the ice.”

  Peottre nodded gravely. “As soon as we have bidden your father farewell.”

  To me, it sounded like a dismissal; yet Arkon Bloodblade did not seem insulted, but relieved. “We must sail with this tide,” he agreed.

  “Witness!” the Bear shouted angrily. All turned to his cry. “Witness that if we die here, we who have come at the Hetgurd’s request, witness that if we die here, then Clan Narwhal and Clan Boar owe our mothershouses blood-gold. For we are not here by our choice, nor do we seek this conflict. If we fall to the gods’ displeasure, then do not let our families cry in vain for justice.”

  A silence fell after his words. Then, “Witness,” Peottre conceded gruffly, and “Witness,” Arkon Bloodblade echoed him.

  I sensed an Out Island custom with which I was not familiar. Chade seemed aware of my confusion. I felt his uneasiness as he told me,He has bound them both. Whatever disgrace or bad luck may come from our actions here will belong to the Boar and the Narwhal clans. The Bear has claimed everyone here as a witness to this.

  It seemed to me that the Bear was almost discomfited by how easily Peottre and Bloodblade had accepted his gambit. He clenched his fists several times, but when no one deigned to notice that, he turned and walked away from them. The Owl followed him. I suspected that they had expected a challenge that they could have settled with swords or fists, and that their concession had actually forced him and the other Hetgurd companions to proceed with their mission.

  The process of bidding farewell to the Narcheska’s father proceeded grudgingly after that. The formal farewells involved the Hetgurd men, Chade, the Prince, Peottre, and the Narcheska. The rest of us were left standing as informal witnesses. Thick was wandering idly about on the beach, overturning rocks and poking at the tiny crabs he disturbed there. I pretended to be maneuvering to keep an eye on him as I edged closer and closer to the Fool. He appeared to be aware of my efforts, for he walked a little apart from Swift and Cockle. When I stood within hearing distance of a soft word, I said quietly, “So. Despite all my efforts, you contrived to get here. How did you do it?”

  Although we are of a height, he still somehow managed to look down coolly on me. There was stillness in his face that bespoke a great anger. I thought he was not going to speak to me. Then, “I flew,” he said coldly. He stood, not looking at me, breathing quietly. I felt somewhat encouraged that he had not stalked away but wondered if that was merely because he did not wish to call attention to our speaking. I ignored his mockery of my question.

  “How can you be angry at me? You know why I did it. You said that if you came here you would die here. So I arranged that you would not come here.”

  For a time, he was silent. We both watched Arkon Bloodblade pushed off in a small boat. Two of his Boar warriors took the oars and leaned into them heartily. Their expressions proclaimed that they were happy to be leaving this island. The Fool gave me a sideways glance. His eyes had darkened to the color of strong tea in a glass. Clean of powder and paint, his face was a smooth golden brown. “You should have respected that I knew what I had to do,” he rebuked me.

  “If you knew that I was going to my death, would not you try to stop me?”

  It was the wrong question to ask him, and I knew that almost as soon as I had asked it. He stared out at the ship in the harbor where sailors labored with the anchor chain and the sails and spoke in a low voice, his lips scarcely moving. “On the contrary. Many times I have known that faith or your own stubbornness would endanger your life, but I have always respected your decisions to do so.”

  Then he turned and walked slowly away from me. Swift sent me an odd glance, then hurried off to follow him. I noticed Civil looking after them with an expression of distaste. I heard the crunch of footsteps on beach gravel, and turned to find Web approaching me. It was hard for me to meet his eyes. I still felt oddly guilty, as if I had insulted him by refusing his offer of lessons. If he felt anything of the kind, he concealed it well. He gestured after the Fool and Swift with his chin. “You know him, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” The question surprised me. “He’s Lord Golden, from Buckkeep. Didn’t you recognize him?”

  “No, I didn’t. Not at first. It wasn’t until Lord Chade called him ‘Lord Golden’ that I perceived any similarity. But even when I was told his name, I felt that I did not truly know him at all. Yet I think that you do. He is an odd creature. Can you sense him?”

  I knew what he meant. The Fool had never left any impression on my Wit-sense. “No. And he has no scent.”

  “Ah.” That was all he said, but I suspected that I had given him much to ponder.

  I looked down at my feet on the gravelly sand. “Web. I’m sorry. I keep intending to find time to spend with you, but I never seem to manage it. It isn’t that I’m not interested, or that I disdain what you have to teach. It just seems that so many things come between me and what I would like to be doing.”

  “Like now,” he replied with a grin. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Thick. The little man was hunkered down beside a p
iece of driftwood that he had overturned. His attention on the sand fleas and small crabs he had exposed was so intense that he was ignoring the waves that were nearly lapping about his feet. If I didn’t intervene soon, he would have wet shoes and spend the rest of the day in misery. I exchanged an understanding glance with Web, and hurried down the beach toward my charge.

  Even before the ship was out of sight, Longwick was issuing orders to his men. With the casual precision of the veteran soldier, he set them to breaking up our provisions into manageable loads. From the number of packs he was preparing, it was obvious he expected all to share in the task of transporting our goods to our next campsite. Thick had left off poking about on the beach and now sat disconsolately in the door of our tent, a blanket draped around his shoulders. The day was not truly that cold. I wondered anxiously if he was starting to burn with fever again. I went to confer with Longwick.

  “How far do we expect to journey today?” I tilted my head toward Thick to explain my concern to him.

  Longwick followed my gesture and scowled worriedly at my concern. “I’ve been told it’s a three-day journey to where the dragon is trapped in the ice. But I’m sure you know that such measurements of distance mean nothing. A one-day journey for a seasoned traveler with a light pack can be a three-day trek for a courtier with a full load.” He lifted his eyes to scan the clear skies and then the icy peaks of the island speculatively. “It’s not going to be a pleasant journey for any of us,” he opined. “It’s always winter when you’re crossing a glacier.”

  I thanked him and left. The other men had moved to strike their tents, but Thick had not budged from ours. I tried to put on a pleasant expression, but my heart sank at the thought of the task before me. If he had hated me for putting him onto a ship, how was he going to feel about me after I had dragged him on a hike across a glacier? “Time to pack up, Thick,” I informed him cheerfully.

  “Why?”

  “Well, if we’re going to slay the dragon, we have to go to where the dragon is.”

  “I don’t want to slay the dragon.”

  “Well, we won’t actually be the ones to slay the dragon. That will be up to the Prince. We’ll just be there to help him.”

  “I don’t want to go-oo.” He dragged the word out mournfully. But to my relief, he stood and stepped out of the tent as if expecting me to take it down immediately.

  “I know, Thick. I don’t want to go hiking through all that snow and ice, either. But we have to. We’re King’s Men, and that is what we do. Now, before we take down the tent, we both have to dress more warmly. Shall we do that?”

  “We don’t have a king.”

  “Prince Dutiful will be King someday. And when he is, we’ll still be his. So, we are King’s Men, even now. But you can say you’re a Prince’s Man if you like that better.”

  “I don’t like snow and ice.” Grudgingly, he moved back into the tent and looked about it helplessly.

  “I’ll get out your things,” I assured him, and proceeded to do so. I’ve been many things in my days, and serving as valet to the little man did not strike me as so strange as it might have at one time. I laid out his clothes and then stuffed him into them. It was like dressing a large child. He complained of his sleeves dragging up inside the second shirt I put on him, and then his boots were too tight with the extra stockings. By the time I had him dressed, I felt sweaty and smothered myself. I sent him outside, warning him to stay away from the water, as I added a layer to my own clothes and then repacked my and Thick’s belongings.

  I had to smile when I realized that I was dreading the hike because of the way the cold always made my scars ache. Because of my recent Skill-healing, I had no scars now, I reminded myself; at least not the bone and muscle deep ones that seemed to twist pain deep into me. Those had been replaced with superficial markings on my skin to pretend they were still there. I rolled my shoulders, proving to myself that my flesh no longer pulled against a deep scar in my back. It was a good feeling, and I found myself grinning as I dragged our packed gear out of the tent and then dismantled the tent itself.

  I hauled our things to where Longwick was supervising the parceling out of packs. A single small tent was still pitched there. The commander had decided to establish a cache of supplies here on the beach, and was discussing with Chade whether he should leave one or two men to guard it. Chade wanted to leave only one, in order to have a larger force with us. Longwick was courteously but stubbornly holding out for two. “For there is an unsettling feel to this island, sir. And we both know that guardsmen are prone to superstition. The Hetgurd men have been telling tales of a Black Man, and now my own men are muttering that, yes, they might have glimpsed a mysterious shadow lurking at the edge of the camp last night. A man alone would be prey to such thoughts. Two will play dice and talk and keep a better eye on our supplies.”

  In the end, Longwick won his point and Chade conceded to leaving two men behind. Churry and Drub would remain with our cache. That settled, Chade turned to me and asked, “Is the Prince’s man Thick ready for the journey, Badgerlock?”

  “As ready as I could make him, Lord Chade.”But he’s not happy about it.

  Are any of us?“Excellent. I’ve a few extra items that we shall want when we reach the dragon. Longwick has divided them for easier carrying.”

  “As you will, Lord Chade.” I bowed to him. He hurried off as Longwick issued me a small cask of Chade’s explosive powder to add to my pack. I groaned to myself, for it proved heavier than I had expected. We were taking only two of them with us. The other one had been entrusted to Riddle’s load. The rest would remain with our cached supplies.

  One man would have been ready to leave shortly after Bloodblade’s ship had sailed. But when one readies a company of men to travel anywhere, it is a different tale. The sun had reached noon before we were all packed and assembled. I noticed that the Fool struck his elaborate pavilion rapidly, with no help from anyone. Whatever it was made from, it packed down to an amazingly small load. He shouldered it all himself, and I would have been surprised, save that I had always known that he was much stronger than his slight frame would suggest. He moved amongst us but was not a part of either party. The Hetgurd men regarded him with the wariness that many warriors reserve for the God-touched. They did not disdain him, but felt it wiser neither to notice nor be noticed by him. The other guardsmen seemed to feel he was no business of theirs, and certainly did not want to be recruited to help carry his possessions or otherwise serve him. Cockle watched him curiously from afar, scenting a story but not strongly enough to be drawn in yet. Only Swift seemed uninhibitedly fascinated by the Fool. He dropped his own pack to the ground and perched on it while he chattered away at him. The Fool has ever had a clever way of talking, and Swift’s ready laughter seemed to feed his wit. Web watched the two interact with something like approval on his face. It was only then that it dawned on me that this was the first time Swift had shown an easy friendliness toward anyone. I wondered how the Fool had melted his reserve, even as I noticed Civil regarding them with distaste. When Civil glanced up to find my eyes on him, he looked away, but I could sense his uneasiness bubbling just under the surface. I wondered if I could find a way to have a quiet word with him and calm his fears. Plainly he recalled his first impression of Lord Golden when we had guested at his home. It was easy to divine his worries now: he thought that the Fool was easing the lad toward seduction. I wanted to intervene before Civil muttered a word of that suspicion to anyone, for I suspected the Outislanders would be far less than tolerant of such behavior, God-touched or not.

  Longwick distributed metal-shod walking staves to all of us, an item I would never have thought of packing. But it soon became apparent that Peottre was the real source of this equipment when Chade summoned all of us to listen to him before we left the beach.

  Both he and the Narcheska were as heavily burdened as any among us. She waited alongside three sleds, also provided by Blackwater, which were already loaded with much
of our supplies. Her long outer coat was all of snowy white fox. She wore a bright little cap, woven of many colors, and her glory of black hair was tucked completely out of sight under it. Her loose boots were soled with scraped walrus hide and the tops were of deerskin with the hair left on. Leather bindings laced them around her legs to the knee. But for the solemn look on her face, she looked as if she had been prepared as a snow bride. Peottre was bulky as he lumbered beside her in black wolf and bearskin trousers. More than any Witted one I had ever known, he looked like a shape-changer out of a beast-tale. His many layers of clothing had enlarged him to an almost laughable size. Yet all were solemn as he spoke to us, anxious to catch every word.

  “I know where the dragon sleeps,” he said. “I have been there twice before. Yet, even so, it will be difficult for me to lead you there. On a glacier, knowing where something is does not mean I know the way to it. Glaciers are not like stone and earth, which remain the same year after year, and the glacier we shall cross here is among the most restless in the world. Glaciers sleep and they walk, they groan to wakefulness, cracking wide their yawns. And then they sleep, and the blowing snow bridges over the gaping crevasses, hiding their danger from all but the most wary walker.

  “To fall into one is little different from being swallowed by a snow demon. Down you will go into darkness, and that is an end of you. We will mourn you, but we will go on.”

  His eyes passed slowly over all of us as he said this, and I was not the only man who suppressed a shiver.

  “Follow me,” Peottre went on. “Not just in where I go, but in my very tread. And even then, do not trust the ice beneath you. Once we venture out onto the glacier’s face, probe every step you take. One man, two men, three men may pass safely right in front of you, and then the crust may betray you. Probe ahead with your staff, before every step you take. You will grow weary of doing this. But stop doing it only if you have also grown weary of your life.” Again, his measuring glance passed over all of us. Again he nodded. Then he said, “Follow me.”