Fool's Fate (Tawny Man #3)

He lowered his eyes but I sensed no mellowing toward me. I had to prompt him again before he began reading it. But once he began, I think he interested himself. The rise and fall of his boyish voice was soothing. I let my thoughts float on the sound, barely taking in the sense of the words.

He was still reading when Chade entered. Ostensibly, I paid no attention to the old man while he conferred quietly with the Prince. Then Dutiful's Skill touched me. Chade would like you to dismiss Swift for a time, so we could speak freely here.

A moment.

I nodded as if to myself over whatever Swift had just read. When he drew breath, I reached out to touch his shoulder. “That's enough for today. You can go. But I will be here tomorrow, and so should you be. I'll expect you.”

“Yes, sir.” There was no anticipation, no resignation in his voice. Just a flat acknowledgment. I suppressed a sigh. He went to the Prince, made his courtesy, and was dismissed. At a Skill-nudge from me, Dutiful let him know that he thought education a desirable advantage for every man, and that he too wished to see Swift at his lessons every day. He received the same lackluster assent that I had, and then Swift went on his way.

The door had scarcely closed behind him before Chade was at my side. “How is he?” he asked gravely as he touched Thick's face.

“Feverish and coughing. He has taken water but no food.”

Chade sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He felt Thick's throat just under his jaw and then slipped his hand inside his collar, assessing his fever. “For how long,” he asked me, “has he been fasting?”

“It has been at least three days since he took any substantial food that stayed with him.”

Chade breathed out noisily. “Well, that is where we must begin. Get nourishment into him. Salty broths, thick with soft meat and vegetables.”

I nodded, but Thick groaned and turned his face to the wall. His music had an odd floating quality to it. It seemed to fade into a distance, as if it were leaking into a place I could not access.

Chade's hand on my wrist distracted me. What did you do to him, last night? Did you cause this sickness, do you think?

His query shocked me and I answered it aloud. “No. No, I think this is just the result of his seasickness, his nights on deck in the rain, and the lack of food.”

Thick had, perhaps, been aware of our Skilling. He rolled his head toward us and looked at me balefully. Then his eyes sank shut again.

Chade moved away, motioning for me to follow. He sank down onto a well-padded bench built beneath one of the windows and indicated I should sit close beside him. The Prince had been setting out game pieces for Stones. Now he lifted his gaze to regard us curiously.

“Strange, that speaking softly may be the best way to keep this private.” Chade pointed out the window as if bidding me observe something. I leaned forward and nodded. He smiled, and spoke quietly near my ear. “I could not sleep last night. I've been practicing Skill-exercises, on my own. I fancy that I've become more attuned to it. Thick's music was strong and wild. Then, I sensed something . . . someone. You, I thought. But there was another presence, one I thought I had glimpsed before. It grew stronger, more masterful; then Thick's music calmed.”

A part of me was astounded that Chade was strong enough in the Skill to have witnessed anything. I didn't think fast enough and I was silent for too long before I asked innocently, “Another presence?”

Chade smiled toothily. “Nettle, I think. You are bringing her into the coterie this way?”

“Not really,” I said. And it was like a wall collapsing, this surrendering of my secret to Chade. I resented it, and yet I could not deny the relief that I felt to speak of it. I was tired of my secrets, I realized abruptly. Too tired to protect them anymore. Let him know of Nettle and her strength. It didn't mean I'd allow her to be used. “I asked a favor of her. I needed to let her know that Swift was safe and that I'd watch over him. Before we left Buckkeep, I'd told her that he was coming home, because that was what I believed. When I discovered he'd come aboard with Web, well . . . I couldn't leave her in suspense, wondering if her brother were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Of course not,” Chade murmured. His eyes glinted with hunger for information. I fed it.

“In return, I asked that she soothe Thick's nightmare. She seems very Skilled at controlling her own dreams. Last night, she proved capable of controlling someone else's.”

I watched his face as avidly as he watched mine. I saw him ponder the possible uses of such a thing; saw sparks kindle as he recognized how powerful a weapon it could be. To take control of the images in a man's mind, to guide his unguarded thoughts into channels grim and daunting, or uplifting and lovely . . . what could not be done with such a tool? One could craze a man with nightly terrors, inspire a wedding alliance based on romantic dreams, or poison an alliance with suspicions.