“Be silent.” Riddle spoke the command in a tone I’d never heard him use. I doubt that Shun had ever had anyone speak to her so, but for a miracle she did as she was told. With a wriggle like a nesting hen, she settled back in the robes next to FitzVigilant. I watched them exchange a look of shared outrage at how they were being treated. The team plodded on. The snow on the road was deepening, clinging to the wheels. For a moment I sensed how the horses strained, smelled their sweat in the cold air. I restrained my Wit and cleared my throat. I squeezed my daughter’s hand softly.
“Bee is a capable child. I trust that you will recognize that she needs very little supervision in her daily tasks. Her lessons will go on, as I assume they will for all the children of the estate. In my absence, let her set her own routine. If she requires help from either of you, I am sure she will seek you out. If she does not, then you need not be concerned for her. She has Careful and Revel, in addition to you. Will you be comfortable with that, Bee?”
My little daughter gave me a rare direct look. “Yes. Thank you, Papa, for trusting me to mind myself. I will do my best to be responsible.” Her mouth was set in a solemn line. She squeezed my hand in response. We were both putting a brave face on the situation.
“I know you will.”
“Nearly there,” Riddle called back to me. “Will they be ready?”
“Yes.” I hoped Nettle had taken my message seriously. No. I knew she would. I had not bothered to mask my emotions. She would have sensed my desperation. They would be waiting for us.
Again I saw Lady Shun and FitzVigilant exchange a look of mutual offense at being excluded from our cryptic exchange. I cared not at all. The track up to Gallows Hill was not well tended. The wagon jounced and slid in the ruts and I gritted my teeth at the pain it must cause the Fool. As soon as the horses halted, I was out of the wagon. I staggered sideways, the world spun, and then I found my balance. I leaned on the wagon and pointed up at FitzVigilant. “Take Bee home. And I am counting on you that she will be safe and content in my absence. Are we clear?” Even as he nodded, I knew this was not the best way to handle the man, let alone Shun. They would both be resentful and confused. It could not be helped. There was no time to do better.
I took Bee’s hands in mine. With her sitting on the open tail of the wagon, we were nearly on a level. She looked up at me, her fair skin whiter in contrast with the gray-and-red shawl that now covered most of her golden hair. I spoke softly, only to her. “Listen to me. Mind FitzVigilant, and if you have any needs, make them known to him, or Lady Shun, or Revel. I am sorry, so sorry, that our day was disrupted. When I return, I promise that we will have a whole day, all to ourselves, and that things will come out well. Can you trust me for that?”
Her gaze now was tranquil and accepting, almost lethargic. “I think I will go first to Steward Revel. He knows me well. And I know that you will try your best to keep your promise,” she said softly. “I see that.”
“I’m glad that you do.” I kissed her on top of her head. “Be brave,” I whispered.
Riddle was clambering down from the wagon seat. “Where are you going?” Shun demanded of him.
“I’m going with Fitz,” he told her. “Through the stone and back to Buckkeep. We are trusting Lady Nettle’s small sister into your care.” I more felt than saw how he turned his eyes on FitzVigilant. I was staring at my child, wondering how I could risk this and how I could not. “Lant, we’ve known each other a long time. I know the man you are capable of being. Never have I trusted you with more than I am entrusting you with now. Watch over Bee with kindness. Nettle and I will hold you responsible for her well-being.” He spoke softly but there were teeth in his words. If FitzVigilant replied, I did not hear it.
I let go of Bee and turned to the Fool. It was as if I saw him for the first time. If not for our moment of violent intimacy, if he had not spoken as I plunged the knife into him, I never would have known him. Only his voice had identified him to me. The rags he wore were beyond dirty: They stank and dangled in hanks of rotting fabric. From his knees down, they hung in wet brown tatters. His long, narrow feet were bound in rags. All his grace and elegance were gone. The scarred skin of his face was drawn tight over his bones. He was staring sightlessly up at the overcast sky, still and resigned to whatever might befall him now.