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

I didn’t hesitate. I’d had too much time in the last few days to remember all sorts of decisions that had been taken out of my hands. “I’m not angry, Riddle.” I stood and held out my hand. We clasped wrists and then he embraced me. I spoke by his ear. “I thought you had come here in fury over what I did to you as we passed through the Skill-pillars.”

He stepped back from me. “Oh, I’ll leave that to Nettle. If she hasn’t blasted the skin from your flesh with her words yet, you’ve that to look forward to. I don’t know what will come of this, Fitz, but I wanted you to know that I’ve done my best to be honorable.”

“I can see that. As you always have, Riddle. No matter what comes of this, I will take your side and Nettle’s.”

He gave a tight nod, then heaved a deep sigh and went over to sit on the chair I had offered him earlier. He clasped his hands and looked down on them.

“There’s more, and it’s bad news,” I guessed.

“Bee.” He said her name, took a deep breath, and then sat, wordless.

I sank back down onto the bed. “I remember what you said at the tavern, Riddle.”

He looked up at me suddenly. The muscles in his face were tight. “And the situation hasn’t changed, Fitz. Nor the outcome. Nettle said she would talk to you, that this wasn’t my burden. But it is. Even if I were not married to your daughter, as your friend it would still be my duty. Fitz, you have to give her up. You have to bring her here, to Buckkeep, where she can be properly supervised and educated. You know that. You do.”

Did I? I clenched my teeth to hold back my angry response. I thought back over the last month. How many times had I resolved to do better with Bee? And failed. How many times had I set her aside to deal with disasters and mayhem? I’d involved my nine-year-old daughter in disposing of a body and concealing a murder—even if she didn’t know I’d killed the messenger. For the first time I thought of the potential danger to my child, if, indeed, there were pursuers still searching for the messenger. Or assassins seeking Shun and FitzVigilant. Chade had put those two with me for safekeeping, secure in his belief that I would protect them. I’d given no thought to that at all when I’d left everyone to bring the Fool to Buckkeep. No consideration that Bee might be in danger from assassins seeking their targets in my home. That last attempt on Shun’s life had been a poisoning. The assassin had killed a kitchen boy instead of Shun. A sloppy job. And what if his next attempt was just as sloppy? Winterfest would open the doors of Withywoods to all sorts of folk. What if the assassin poisoned more than a single dish in his next try for Shun?

Why hadn’t I seen this before?

“I’ve lost my edge,” I said quietly. “I’m not protecting her.”

Riddle looked puzzled. “I’m talking about your being a father, Fitz, not her guardsman. I think you’re more than capable of protecting her life. But someone has to make sure she has that life for you to protect. Give your daughter an education and the opportunities appropriate to her station. The manners, the dress, the social experiences. She is the daughter of Lady Molly, as well as the child of Holder Badgerlock. It would be very appropriate for her to come to court and spend time with her sister.”

He was right. But, “I can’t give her up.”

Riddle stood, squared his shoulders, and spoke firmly. “Then don’t. Come with her, Fitz. Find a new name and come back to Buckkeep. This is where Bee belongs. And where you belong. And you know that.”

I stared at the floor. He waited some time for me to speak, and when I did not, he said more softly, “I’m sorry, Fitz. But you do know that we’re right.”

He left quietly and as he shut the door behind him I wondered how difficult that had been for him. We’d known each other a long time. He had begun as a sort of spy for Chade and a bodyguard for when I needed someone to watch my back. He’d become a comrade and someone I’d trusted as we’d experienced terrible things. And then, somehow, he’d become the man who courted my daughter. Riddle would be the father of my grandchild. Strange. I’d trusted him with my life, more than once. I had no choice now, in that he must be trusted with not just my daughter’s heart but the fate of the child they would have. I swallowed. And with Bee? Because I was failing her.

If I gave Bee to Riddle and Nettle, I could undertake the Fool’s vengeance.

That traitorous thought made me want to vomit.

I got up suddenly. I could not think about it at the moment. I tried so hard, but there was just not enough time or enough of me. And trying was not doing. “Oh, Molly,” I said aloud and then clenched my jaws together. There had to be an answer, but I couldn’t see it. Not now.