Fool's Fate (Tawny Man #3)

I was cold and wet and shaky. I didn't want to join the guardsmen in our tent until I had finished calming myself. In a sort of instinctive retreat to safety, I found myself outside the Fool's tent. I fumbled with cold hands at the tent flap. “Lord Golden,” I called softly, belatedly recalling that he might have other guests.

There must have been some note in my voice that alerted him to my distress. He flung the flap open and beckoned me hastily in. Then, “Stand still. Don't drip everywhere.” He had already changed out of his hiking clothes. He looked warm and dry in a long black robe. I envied him.

“Peottre fed me a bit of cake. It had elfbark in it, and I've lost my Skill Magic.” The words tumbled from me, broken by my chattering teeth.

“Take off your wet things.” He had begun rummaging in his pack almost as soon as I entered. Now he dragged out a long coppery garment. “This will probably fit you. It's warmer than it looks. How could elfbark steal all your magic in one bite? It's never affected you that way before.”

I shook my head. “It just did. And someone is attacking Thick and me with the Skill, trying to make us hate each other. It nearly worked, until I thought Thick was going to attack me with the Skill, so I put up my walls and then I could suddenly think my own thoughts and I knew that I didn't really resent having to nursemaid him all the time. It's not really his fault, and even if I don't like having to do it, I shouldn't take it out on him, should I? If anything, I should be angry with Chade, not Thick. He's the one who has put me in this position, and I think that half of it is that he's trying to keep me so busy that I'm separated from you and therefore won't be influenced by you. Because he wants me simply to follow his orders and not to think—”

“Stop!” the Fool exclaimed, alarmed. I halted in mid-word. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, but he held up both hands. “Fitz. Listen to yourself. I've never heard you rattle on that way. It's . . . disturbing.”

“It's the elfbark.” I shivered with the restless energy that coursed through me. The last of my wet clothing slapped onto the pile and I gratefully accepted the garment he held out to me, then flinched at its chill weight in my hands. “It's cold. It's cold as iron! What is this made from, fish scales?”

“Just trust me and put it on. It warms quickly.”

I had little choice. I pulled it over my head and it slithered down my body. The long robe reached almost to my feet. I shifted my shoulders in its grip and it suddenly relaxed. “That's strange. It felt tight across my shoulders and chest, and then, when I flexed my shoulders, it just settled onto me. Look. It even reaches to my wrists. It's like unimaginably fine chain metal. Is this more Elderling magic? Is this from the Rain Wilds? I wonder how they made it, and from what? Look at the way the color shifts when I move.”

“Fitz. Stop chattering like that. It's unnerving.” The Fool had taken possession of my wet clothes. As he lifted them, a fine trickle of water ran out of them. “I'm putting these outside to drain. It's hopeless to expect them to dry by morning. Do you have others?”

“Yes. In my pack, but I left that in the Prince's tent. I left the keg of Chade's explosion powder there, too. And Thick's things were mostly in my pack, but that's all right as he is there and he'll need them. So it's good that they are already there.” I heard myself babbling and managed to stop talking before he commanded me to.

For a few moments longer, I shivered, and then I felt the robe returning the warmth of my body to me. With a sigh, I sank down onto the Fool's blankets and drew my icy feet up under me. A moment later, I had unfolded myself and restlessly tried a new position. The Fool reentered the tent and regarded me curiously as I stood and paced a turn around his tiny candle. “What is it?”

“It's like ants running under my skin.” I pulled my straggling hair back off my face and refastened my warrior's tail. “I can't sit still. I can't stop talking and thinking, and I can't really think in any sort of order, if that makes any sense at all.” My hands suddenly felt too large for me. I systematically popped each of my knuckles, and then shook my hands loose again. I looked up to find the Fool staring at me, his teeth gritted. “I'm sorry,” I apologized hastily. “I can't help it.”

“That's obvious,” he muttered. Then, more clearly he added, “I wish I had some way to help you, but giving you herbs to calm you might not be the best solution. I fear too the plunge in spirits that must follow this wild flight you're on. Never have I seen you so besieged by restlessness. If the pit of bleak despair that follows elfbark is as deep as this craze is lofty, I fear for us all.”