Fool's Fate (Tawny Man #3)

Chapter 5

DEPARTURES

Do not disdain those who find that their strongest Skill-talent is in the fashioning of dreams. It is a talent most often manifested among Solos. These lone Skill-users, while not as effective as a coterie, can employ their unique talents to serve their monarchs in ways both subtle and effective. Ominous dreams sent to an enemy lord can make him reconsider his actions, while dreams of victory and glory can fortify the courage of any military leader. Dreams can be rewards, and in some cases can offer balm to those who are discouraged or weary at heart.

— TREEKNEE'S “LESSER USES OF THE SKILL”

That evening I told Chade that Swift had become desperately homesick and that I'd sent him home in the hopes that he could mend things with Burrich. The old man nodded distractedly: the boy was the least of his concerns.

I also told him of my conversation with Web, finishing with “He knows who I am. I think he has since he arrived here.”

Chade's reaction to that was more emphatic. “Damn! Why must you start coming unraveled now, when I have so much else to deal with?”

“I don't think I'm unraveling,” I said stiffly. “Rather I think that this is knowledge that someone has possessed all along, and now it has come round to bite us. What do you suggest I do?”

“Do? What can you do?” he demanded testily. “It's known, boy. All we can do is hope that Web truly has as much goodwill toward us as he appears to have. And that the knowledge is not widespread amongst the Witted.” He thumped a leather case to settle the scrolls inside and then began to tie it shut. “Holly, you say?” he asked after a moment. “You think Holly told Web?”

“So he seemed to imply.”

“And when is the last time you saw her?”

“Years ago, when I lived among the Witted. She was Rolf's wife.”

“I know that! My wits aren't failing me that badly.” He pondered while he rolled the next scroll up. “There isn't time,” he finally announced. “I'd send you off to see this Holly if there was, to discover how many people she has told. But there just isn't time. So, think with me, Fitz. How will they use this?”

“I'm not sure that Web intends to use it at all. The way he said it was as if he wished to help me; I felt no threat from him, nor even that he was holding my secret over my head. It was more as if he were urging me toward honesty with Swift as the best way to break through to him.”

“Hm,” the old man replied thoughtfully, tying the last case shut. “Push the teapot this way.” Then, as he poured, “Web is a puzzle, isn't he? The man knows a great deal, and it isn't just those Witted tales he tells. I would not call him an educated man, yet, as he puts it, anything he has ever decided he needed to know, he's found a way to learn.” Chade's gaze went distant as he spoke. Plainly he had spent some time pondering Web's significance. “I did not like Civil's proposal that Dutiful have a ‘Witted coterie' as he did not have a Skilled one. No public mention has been made of such a thing. Yet, nonetheless, it seems to have come into existence. There is Civil Bresinga with his cat, that minstrel Cockle, and Web. All plan to accompany us on this voyage. And I sense, though the Prince is reluctant to speak of it, that they are a ‘coterie' of sorts. There is a closeness when all of them are in the room that excludes me. Web is plainly the heart stone of the group. He is more like a priest than a leader; that is, he does not command, but he counsels them, and speaks often of serving ‘the spirit of the world' or ‘the divine.' He has no qualms that such words may make him appear foolish. If he had ambitions, he'd be a dangerous man. With what he knows, he could bring all of us tumbling down. The very few times he has spoken to me, it has been in a very indirect way. I feel as if he is urging us toward an action, but he does not tell us what it is that he hopes we will do. Hm.”

“So.” I ticked the possibilities off on my fingers. “Maybe Web simply wanted me to be honest with Swift. Well, with the boy gone, that's no longer an issue. But perhaps he wants me to reveal to all who I really am. Or perhaps he wants the Farseers to admit that the Prince is Witted. Or, if the two things were presented at once, it would be as good as saying that the Wit runs in the Farseer blood.” And then my tongue froze. Did the Wit truly run in the Farseer line? The last prince to have definitely had it was the Piebald Prince, and he had left no issue. The crown had passed to a different Farseer bloodline. So, perhaps I had gotten the Wit from my Mountain-bred mother. And passed it on when Verity had usurped my body for the conception of Dutiful. That was a little bit of the puzzle that I'd never given Chade, nor did I ever intend to. Dutiful, I was convinced, was the son of Verity's spirit. Yet now I wondered uncomfortably if by the use of my body, Verity had passed on some of my tainted magic to his son.