Fool’s Quest

I was not grasping the fullness of what I was hearing, but the offer of rest and time alone tempted me beyond words. I think my weariness must have shown in my face, for Malta added, “I believe that comfortable chambers are ready for you and your young servingfolk. I will do all I may to assure you a night of rest and sweet dreams.” Her glance met her husband’s, and he nodded and added slowly, “I promise I will caution the parents not to set their hopes too high. And give them a night to consider well their choice: To have you try. Or not.”

Amber nodded to that for me. “Prince FitzChivalry does not have unlimited abilities. He has not been able to restore my sight, but much else that was wrong with me, he set right.”

Malta nodded. “It grieved me when first I saw that you had lost your vision and been subjected to ill use. You have told us what befell you, but not why you have taken on some semblance to an Elderling. I know that you and Tintaglia had some doings, some years ago. I assume she is the one who began your changes?”

I wished Amber could have seen Malta’s expression. She dreaded the wrong answer, but Amber danced all around a question as lightly as the Fool could. “We did. It was many years ago, and she was more prone, then, to honor her debts to mere people. She persuaded the good folk of Trehaug to supply me for an expedition.”

“I recall something of that,” Malta replied. And then, as if both relieved by Amber’s tale and recalling her duties as a hostess, she added, “If you will excuse me, there is a small comfort I wish to send you.”

“And I am off also,” Reyn added. “Please, for now, be comfortable here.”

They left the room together, Malta’s hand on Reyn’s arm. Phron sauntered after them, the remainder of the cakes in his custody. At the door he paused, turned, and swept us a surprisingly gracious bow for a young man clutching a plate. I had to smile, and then the door closed behind them.

For a time, the three of us sat in silence, each occupied with our own set of worries. Amber asked softly, “Whyever did you do it, Fitz? Why attempt such a healing on your own and for a boy you scarcely know?” She leaned back in her chair and patted her own cheeks. “When I grasped what was happening, I was terrified.”

“He took my hand and it just . . . happened. We connected in the Skill and I do not think I could have refrained from correcting his body.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Lant observed, and Amber choked on a laugh.

Then a servant entered bearing a tray with a large silver pot on it surrounded by tiny white cups, followed by Spark and Per. The servant poured each of us a tiny cup of dark and steaming liquid. “A gift from the king and queen. Sweetsleep tea.” She wished us a good night and departed.

I lifted a cup and sniffed it. I passed it to Amber. “Are you familiar with this? It’s like a very dark tea, but thicker.”

She smelled it, and then took a delicate sip. “I’ve had this before, in Bingtown. Sweetsleep. It’s supposed to make one sleep well with very pleasant dreams. It allows you to forget your cares. It’s very expensive. It’s quite a compliment to be served this.”

“It is,” Perseverance confirmed heartily. “The serving woman who brought us here was astonished at being told to prepare it for you. It came all the way from Jamaillia, a gift to the king and queen from the Satrap himself! ‘Like drinking gold to have this tea,’ she said.”

“I would welcome a deep sleep,” Lant said quietly. “With pleasant dreams, for a change.” He took up his cup and sipped from it. We watched him. He licked his lips. “It’s nice. An edge of bitter and then it tastes sweet.”

Amber was taking slow sips of hers. She paused as if she could see me watching her. “It’s safe,” she said quietly. “Traders will drive a hard bargain with you, but poison is not part of their ethic. Nor do I think Reyn and Malta would do harm to the man who saved their son. Or to the man they hope will save the children of Kelsingra.”

Spark had been watching Amber. Without hesitation, she raised her cup to her lips and tasted it. “I like it,” she proclaimed and took another sip.

“You’re not drinking it, are you?” Amber smiled at me across the table. There was a bit of a challenge in that smile.

“I’m a cautious fellow,” I reminded her.

“Fitz. There’s a time for caution. And a time to try something new. Something that might let you have a good night’s sleep.” I do not know how she sensed my hesitation. “Hospitality,” she said quietly. “Do not turn away a very gracious gift. I promise you, it’s no more than a restful tea. Less harmful than carryme. Courtesy demands we enjoy it.” She lifted her tiny cup and sipped from it.

Perseverance looked to me. I shrugged and tasted mine. It was pleasant, the bitter followed by the sweet. The boy watched me and then took his down in a series of slow sips. “Fitz, drink it,” Amber said in the Fool’s voice. “Trust my judgment in this. It will not harm you and may do you much good.”