Fool’s Quest

And that was it. After that, Fleeter disdained me completely. Perseverance bridled a bit when I asked the girl to take over Fleeter’s exercise and grooming, but I refused to be moved. I saw the light in the Patience’s eyes when I gave her the duty and knew that she would enjoy the horse with an open heart I could not offer. I visited the stables less and less often, and as I saw Fleeter bond to her, I did not intervene. The beautiful partner I had spurned lavished herself on another. I deserved the regret that stung me. It was too late to change it, and I would not if I could have.

The Fool continued to heal but very slowly. The evening that he came to join me at the hearth in the Great Hall, I felt a lift of relief. Ash had obviously chosen his garments: I saw him admire the effect from a distance. The Fool wore a long robe of black in a style half a century old, spangled with moons and stars cut from other fabric and quilted onto the garment. He wore the slouch hat that had once belonged to Lord Feldspar, now adorned with green buttons and charms of brass and tin. His walking stick carved with serpents and dragons was his own handiwork, and I was glad to see he had taken up his old pastime. Motley rode on his shoulder and contributed to his peculiar appearance. Ash guided him to a seat beside me, and to those who greeted him, he introduced himself as Gray, a traveler from far Satine. He claimed no title of lord, but presented himself as a foreign mage come to Buckkeep to study the legendary magic of the Farseers. His garments and accoutrements were peculiar enough that his gold eyes and scarred face seemed appropriate to them. That first evening he did not stay long but, as winter passed he began to move about Buckkeep Castle. He courted no new friends as Mage Gray but did begin to call on those who had known him. I saw him taking a small pleasure in this new role, and both Ash and Spark seemed to take great enjoyment in assisting him in it. The two youngsters, I thought, would care well for my old friend. So even from the Fool, I caged my feelings and thoughts.

I watched Nettle grow heavier with the child she carried, and Riddle became ever more solicitous of her. Kettricken and Elliania could not contain their joy for her. I took comfort that she was surrounded by their love even as I kept a careful distance. If I let no one depend on me, I could fail no one.

On most nights, sleep eluded me. I did not really care. In the dark of night, the libraries of Buckkeep were empty save for me and my lamp. I began a careful combing of them. At one time, Chade had developed a fascination with what he had called the religion of the White Prophet. I found the scrolls he had collected. Some I translated afresh, and others I renewed with painstaking pen-work. Here I finally found the references I sought. Clerres was distant, farther away than ever I had been. The accounts of traveling there were old and sometimes contradictory. I discussed my work with no one. The slow gathering of information consumed me.

I made time to go down to Buckkeep Town, and to frequent several of the taverns where the sailors gathered. I sought out those who had come farthest to Buckkeep’s port and asked of them for any news of a place called Clerres. Three had heard of the place, but only one claimed to have ever visited that far port. He’d been a boy, on one of his earliest voyages. The garrulous old man did his best to tell me of nearby ports, but time, a harsh life, and much rum had eroded his memory. “Go to the Spice Isles,” he told me. “There’s folk there that trade with the White Island Servants. They’ll put you on the right tack.” A tiny clue but one that gave shape to the journey to come.

I was relieved that my assassin’s skills no longer belonged to my king. I even told Dutiful how relieved I was, at a private dinner one evening in Chade’s rooms. My old mentor picked listlessly at his food as our king explained his decisions to move us into open view. “I know it was uncomfortable for you, Fitz, but your status demanded appropriate chambers. And a son of the Farseer reign should not be lurking in hidden passageways and spying on his people.” He set down his fork with sigh and gave me a weary smile. “Fitz, I am finished with secrets. Look where they have brought us. Consider how they twisted childhood for Shine and Lant, let alone yourself. And the near-disaster of their meeting when they were unaware of their kinship.”

I chewed slowly, my eyes on my food, wondering how he had acquired that bit of insight and hoping that the meaning had slipped past Chade.

“Think of your crown and my father’s last letter to you, hidden for years and known only to Chade. If he had perished in the Red-Ship Wars, none would have known of Verity’s wishes for you. I look at Chade as he is now, smiling and nodding, and I wonder what else he knew and has now forgotten, what key bits of Farseer history will never be revealed by him.”