Fool’s Quest

I watched him anxiously, worried that he would silver either his right hand or the outside of the glove. I was not confident of the failing torchlight but I thought he had managed. “Can you stand and walk?”

“I put on a glove. Wasn’t that enough for you?”

“I suppose it was.” I maneuvered an arm around him and hauled him to his feet. It took more effort than I’d expected and I abruptly realized the weight of the skirts and the fur-lined cloak he wore. “This way. We have a fire.”

“I can sense it.”

He was not steady on his feet but he walked. “Sense it? Or see the light against the dark?”

“Both, and more. I think it’s a dragon-sense, from the dragon blood. I smell the fire, I see the light it gives off, but more. There’s something I can’t quite describe. It’s not my eyes, Fitz, but I sense warmth. The warmth of your body, and the greater heat of the fire. I can tell you that Lant stands to the left of it, and Perseverance crouches by Spark. Is she all right?”

“Let’s find out,” I suggested, swallowing my fears. I had the Wit so I knew what it was to have a sense that others did not possess. If he said he could sense my warmth, why doubt him? I knew that on the far side of the market-circle, a bitch fox watched us from the darkness of the forest edge. My Wit told me that. I would not dispute what his “dragon-sense” told him.

My heart sank as I steadied the Fool toward the fire. Spark sprawled in the snow, making pathetic little sounds, like a kitten mewling for its mother. Her hands scrabbled and her booted feet kicked uselessly. Per was hunkered down beside her. The conflict on his face was as shifting as the firelight. Fear. Sympathy. Uneasiness. Confusion.

“There’s a log here. Behind you. A little more. Sit down.”

The Fool sat, more abruptly than I intended. Uneasiness rippled through me as he carefully gathered his skirts around him. The white glove on his left hand was feminine, as was his movement as he adjusted the hood of his cloak. I saw Lant’s lip twitch, as if he were a cat smelling something foul. I felt a surge of irritation with him. “Spark. How is she?” I asked Perseverance, and he flinched at the name.

“I don’t know.”

I crouched down beside the girl and spoke for the Fool’s benefit. “She’s not unconscious. Her eyes are open and she’s making sounds. But there is no awareness in her eyes.” I lifted my gaze to Per. “May I please have the butterfly cloak? Let’s keep her as warm as we can.”

Without hesitation, he stood up, shed the garment, and handed it to me. I took off one of the cloaks I was wearing and gave it to him. He bundled into it gratefully as I tucked one edge of the butterfly cloak under Spark, rolled her onto it, and then snugged it around her, leaving only her face bare. She looked like a brightly colored cocoon. Her sounds grew softer and became a high soft humming. Her twitching eased. “Tell me everything,” I commanded the Fool.

He pulled his cloak more closely around himself. Even in the cold winter air, I could smell the mustiness of it. It was thick wool, lined with fur, from Lady Thyme’s closet. The heavy woolen skirts he wore came down to the top of his boots, which were leather, cut more for a city street than a snowy forest. He brushed his short, pale hair back from his brow and gave a small sigh. “You left me. You told me you were going to do it, and I heard in your voice that you meant it. So I immediately made my other arrangements. I wasn’t happy to do it, Fitz, but you left me no choice. I persuaded Spark that my place was beside you, as indeed it is in this venture. Lady Rosemary had dismissed her, to fend for herself in Buckkeep Castle, so it took little effort to make her completely mine. I persuaded her to attempt a foray back into Chade’s old quarters. She procured the dragon’s blood for me.”

“Why dragon’s blood?”

“Hush. Let me speak.” He looked unerringly at Lant. “There are tea herbs in that pack we left. Left front pocket.” He glanced over at the pot. “The water will boil soon.” Lant did not move instantly, but then he rose and turned toward the tent. “There are two cups in the pack also. The tea is a restorative one. It may help Spark,” he called after Lant, then shifted his attention back to me. “The clothing was easier. No one bothered us about that. It’s from Lady Thyme’s wardrobe, of course. Spark said the lock on the door was a good one, but old. And she had been taught how to outwit locks. Once we were in, we took the greater part of an afternoon to select what we wished. And Spark proved to have a knack at adjusting clothing for size. That was what took the most time. She had to move it, a garment or two at a time, down to my rooms, and there she worked on the cutting and fitting and hemming. We were mostly finished with it the last time you came battering at the door. I dared not let you in for fear you would immediately guess our plan.”