Fool's Quest (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #2)

I nodded, and wondered if a stable boy had known his duty better than I had known mine.

A silence fell between us. Oh, Bee, where are you? Do you know I’m coming after you? How could she? Why would she think I’d bother coming for her when I’d abandoned her before? I fenced the question with stone. Focus on finding her and bringing her home. Don’t let your agony cloud your thoughts.

We heard hoofbeats behind us, and I turned in my saddle. Four of the Rousters were catching up with us. “A message from Withywoods?” I hazarded.

But they came on at a gallop, and then pulled their horses in hard when they were alongside their captain. One of them, a youngster with orange hair and freckles, greeted his captain with a grin. “Sir, it’s boring as old maids at tea back there. Mind if we ride along?”

Lieutenant Crafty laughed aloud and leaned over to clasp wrists with his man as he shot a glance at his captain. “I told you we had a lively one when we found him, sir! And you’ve brought a few like-minded friends, I see. Excellent.”

Their captain was not as merry about it. “Well. If you must ride along, form up and try to look like you’ve a bit of discipline.”

“Sir!” the redhead agreed with a shout, and in a moment Chade and I were in the center of an honor guard. I sat straighter on the roan, suddenly uncomfortable with such a status. I felt a tendril of Wit-quest from the mare. Were we safe? We were fine, I assured her, and scowled to myself. She was becoming too attuned to me. Chade glanced over at me and misinterpreted my expression.

Become accustomed to it, Prince FitzChivalry. The tone of his Skilling was wry.

They know me only as Badgerlock, I objected.

I doubt that. Gossip flies swiftly. But even if they name you Badgerlock now, that will change when they return to Buckkeep Castle. So conduct yourself as a prince.

It was good advice and hard to follow. I was not accustomed to being at the center of anything. Assassins lurk at the edges, looking like no one in particular.

And you will learn now to do that while being at the center of scrutiny, Chade suggested.

We rode on, not speaking aloud. Out of the forest and on the open road, the day was blue and white. Farmsteads set in their fields plumed smoke from their chimneys. The road was little-traveled on this fine cold day, and when we reached the turn for Gallows Hill, the only tracks were the soft dimples from Chade, Thick, and Nettle’s journeyman when they had arrived the day before. We followed them.

“What’s up this trail?” the redhead asked curiously. He looked to me for an answer.

“Not much of anything. The old gallows for Withy and Oaksbywater. And a standing stone.”

“Then no one comes up here much?”

“True,” I affirmed. “And I am glad of it.”

We rode a bit farther in silence.

“As good a place as any, then,” the lad said.

Amateur. The betrayal was in his arrogant tone, his confidence allowing him to bait us. The bit of braggadocio cost them their surprise. Chade was pulling his sword even as the boy tried to wheel his horse into Chade’s. I felt the flash of Chade’s Skill as he arrowed a message to Dutiful. We are attacked! I sensed a startled response from the king but had no time to pay attention to it. In front of us, the lieutenant thrust his sword deep into his captain’s side below the ribs, and then pulled his foot from his stirrup to kick the dying man off his horse. I saw it as I urged the roan so that she surged forward and carried me out of the jaws of danger as my two “guards” tried to trap me between them. One shouted, “Witted Bastard!” The roan chested the lieutenant’s horse hard. His foot had not returned to the stirrup and she caught him off balance. I shoved him hard, he fell sideways, and his startled horse dragged him a short way before his foot came free and he fell. Down but not dead.

Chade.

I wheeled the roan tightly and was in time to see Chade and the redhead exchange sword-thrusts. The tip of Red’s sword skittered across Chade’s belly before slicing into his side. Chade’s thrust was surer. He gave a low cry and bared his teeth as his blade sank into the youngster’s belly. I echoed it with a horrified shout of my own. As Red fell away from Chade, another guard closed with him from the other side.

I had no time to see more. The banked rage I had felt at Bee’s kidnapping and the rape of Withywoods roared to life in me, and I let it. I had two adversaries of my own. I wore the nondescript sword Chade had armed me with before I left Buckkeep. I’ve never been an excellent swordsman, but as there was no axe handy and since the situation did not seem suited to poison or garrotes, I began to draw the blade. Then I leaned far back in my saddle to allow one sword to pass through the air that occupied the place where my midsection had been a moment before. Snapping myself upright again was far harder than it should have been but it enabled me to slam the pommel of my sword into one opponent’s mouth. There was a satisfying crunch of teeth.