Fool’s Fate

He desired a woman of the Gull Clan. He went to her mothershouse with gifts, but she did not accept them. Her sister did, and he lay with her, but it was not enough for him. He went away and raided for a year and returned to the Badger mothershouse with much wealth, but no pride in his heart, for he was eaten up with unworthy lust.

His warriors were good fighters but foolish in heart, for they listened to his command when he took them to raid the Gull Clan mothershouse. Their warriors were away and the women in the field when Bowsrin’s ships came to their shore. Kaempra Bowsrin and his warriors killed their old men and some of their nearly-grown boys, and took the women on the bare earth, despite how they fought. Some died rather than be forced. Bowsrin stayed there for seventeen days, and every day that he was there, he forced the Gull Clan daughter Serferet to accept his body. Finally she died of it. Then they left, to return to their own mothershouse.

The moon changed and then the Badger Mothershouse received tidings of what their kaempra had done. They were shamed. They drove their men from their lands, telling them never to return. Seventeen of their sons the women gave to the Gull Clan, to do with whatever they wished, in atonement for Bowsrin’s evil. And the mothershouses of all clans banned Bowsrin and his men from the land, and any man who offered them any comfort was to share their fate.

In less than a year, the sea ate him and his men. And Clan Gull used his forfeited sister-sons, not as slaves, but as warriors to defend their shores and as men to raise up more sons and daughters for Gull Clan. And the women of the mothershouses were at peace with one another again.

Outislander cautionary tale, from Bard Ombir

The next day we took ship for the island of Mayle. Prince Dutiful and Chade met briefly with the convened Hetgurd to announce this decision to them. The Prince gave a brief speech in which he said he had chosen to recognize the conflict as a Hetgurd matter. As a man, he could not call back the word he had given, but he would give them the chance to discuss this challenge and reach a consensus on what their will was. He spoke with dignity and calm, Chade told me later, and his willingness to concede that it was a matter only the Hetgurd could settle seemed to soothe many of the ruffled feathers. Even Eagle spoke well of it, saying that a man who was willing to face a challenge squarely was a man anyone could respect, regardless of where he was birthed.

The Prince’s nobles received the tidings of his departure with varying degrees of surprise and dismay. It was conveyed to them as a slight change in our schedule. Most had not planned to accompany the Prince to his fiancée’s mothershouse; they had been told back in Buckkeep that such a large delegation of folk would not be easily welcomed there. They had expected to stay in Zylig and establish connections for future trade negotiations. For the most part, they were content to remain on Skyrene and court trading partners. Arkon Bloodblade, kaempra of the Boar Clan and the Narcheska’s father, quietly assured us that he would remain with his warriors to ensure their stay was pleasant, and to further advance our cause with the Hetgurd.

Chade told me later that he had strongly suggested to our nobles that they continue to enjoy the hospitality of the Boar stronghouse rather than investigate the hospitality of the local inns. He also suggested that they display their own heraldic devices when they went out and about amongst the Outislanders, just as the clansmen sported their animal sigils. I doubt that he told the Six Duchies nobles there would be more safety for them if they were not seen as part of the Farseer Buck Clan, as the Outislanders thought of the Prince’s family.

The Tusker was an Outislander vessel, far less comfortable than the Maiden’s Chance had been. She bobbed more in the waves, I noted as I watched the others board, but her shallower draught was more suitable for the inter-island channels that we would be navigating than the Maiden’s deeper hull. Some of the channels, I was told, were barely passable at a low tide, and during certain tides that came only once or twice a year a man could walk from island to island on foot. We would traverse several of these channels before once more crossing open water to the Narcheska’s home island and her village of Wuislington.

It was a cruel thing to do to Thick. I let him sleep as long as possible before I awakened him to a hot meal of familiar foods brought from the Maiden’s Chance. I urged him to eat and drink well and spoke only of pleasant things. I concealed from him that we would be embarking on yet another voyage. He was unhappy about having to wash and dress, wanting only to go back to his bed. I longed to be able to let him, for I was convinced it would have been best for his health. But we could not safely leave him behind in Zylig.

Even when we stood on the docks with the Prince’s guardsmen, his Wit-coterie, Chade and Prince Dutiful, watching the cargo of bridal gifts being loaded onto the Tusker, Thick thought we had only come out on a morning’s stroll. The boat was tied alongside the dock. At least, I told myself grimly, boarding would present no problem. I was wrong. He watched the others walk up the gangway and on board with no qualms, but when it was his turn, he stopped dead beside me. ‘No.’

‘Don’t you want to see the Outislander ship, Thick? Everyone else has gone on board to look around. I’ve heard it is very different from our ship. Let’s go and see it.’

He looked at me for a moment in silence. ‘No,’ he said. His little eyes were beginning to narrow in suspicion.

Further deception was useless. ‘Thick, we have to go on board. It’s going to sail soon, to take the Prince to the Narcheska’s home. We have to go with him.’

Around us, activity on the docks had halted. All else had been in readiness, and all the others were aboard. The ship waited only for Thick and me. Men from other ships and passers-by stared at Thick’s strangeness avidly, with varying degrees of revulsion on their faces. Sailors from the Tusker waited to haul the planks of the walkway on board and cast off lines. They stared at us in annoyance, waiting. I sensed from them that we humiliated them by our very presence. Why could not we get on board and out of sight below decks? Time to act. I took his upper arm firmly. ‘Thick, we have to get on board now.’

‘No!’ He bellowed the word suddenly as he slapped at me wildly, and both his fear and his fury struck me in a wild wave of Skill. I staggered aside from him, bringing a general guffaw from those who had halted to watch us. In truth, it must have looked strange to them, that the petulant slap of a half-wit had near driven me to my knees.

I hate to recall what followed. I had no choice but to force him. But Thick’s terror left him no choice either. We fought it out on the docks, my physical size and strength and the stoutness of my well-practised walls against his Skill and awkward fighting abilities.

Both Chade and Prince Dutiful were instantly aware of my dilemma, of course. I sensed the Prince trying to reach Thick and calm him, but the red haze of his anger acted as efficiently as any Skill-wall. I could not feel Chade’s presence at all; I think his effort of the day before had drained him. The first time I seized Thick with the intent of simply lifting him off his feet and carrying him aboard, his Skill flooded into me. The skin-to-skin contact left me vulnerable. It was his fear that he flung at me, and I near wet myself with the terror he woke in me. Ancient memories of moments when death’s jaws had closed around me rushed through me. I felt the teeth of a Forged one sink into my shoulder and an arrow thudded home in my back. I had lifted him to my shoulder, and I sagged to my knees, under the weight of his terror rather than his body. This elicited a fresh roar of laughter from the onlookers. Thick broke free of me and then stood there, crying out wildly and wordlessly, at bay, unable to flee, for now a circle of jeering men ringed us.

The mockery around us grew, battering me more effectively than Thick’s flailing fists. I could not grasp hold of him without risking the integrity of my walls, nor did I dare lower my walls against Thick’s onslaught to allow my own Skill to have its full effect. So I made futile efforts at herding him aboard, closing off his escape whenever he tried to dart past me down the docks. When I stepped toward him, he would step back, closer to the gangplank, and the circle of men there would give way. Then he would dart at me, hand outstretched, knowing that if he touched me, my walls would fall before him. And I would be forced to give ground to avoid his reaching hand. And all the while, men laughed and shouted to their comrades in their harsh tongue, to come and see a duchyman who could not fight a half-wit.

In the end, it was Web who saved me. Perhaps the excited cries of the sailors on the Tusker brought him to the railing. The bulky sailor pushed his way past the gawkers and came down the gangway toward us. ‘Thick, Thick, Thick,’ he said calmingly. ‘Come now, man. There’s no need for this. No need at all.’

I had known that the Wit could be used to repel someone. Who has not leapt back from the clashing teeth of a dog or narrowly avoided the swipe of a cat’s claws? It is not just the threat that forces one to give ground, but the force of the creature’s anger that pushes its challenger back. I think that for a Witted one, to learn to repel is as instinctive as knowing how to flee danger. I had never stopped to think that there might be another complementary force, one that calmed and beckoned.

I did not have a word for what Web exuded toward Thick. I was not his target, yet I was still peripherally aware of it. It settled my hackles and calmed my thundering heart. Almost without my volition, my shoulders lowered and my jaw unclenched. I saw a wondering look come over Thick’s face. His mouth sagged open and his tongue that was never completely inside it, protruded even more as his little eyes drooped almost closed. Web spoke softly. ‘Easy, my friend. Relax. Come now, come with me.’

There is a look a kitten gets when its mother lifts it by the nape of its neck. That look was on Thick’s face as Web’s big hand settled on his arm. ‘Don’t look,’ Web suggested to him. ‘Eyes on me, now,’ and Thick obeyed him, looking up at Web’s face as the Witmaster led him aboard the ship as easily as a lad leads a bull by the ring in its nose. I was left trembling, the sweat drying down my spine. The blood rushed to my face at the taunting of the men that accompanied my boarding of the ship. Most of them spoke Six Duchies in a rudimentary way. That they used it now was deliberate, to be sure I understood their scorn. I could not pretend to ignore them, for I could not control the blood which reddened my face with shame. I had no place I could vent my anger as I stalked after Web. I heard the planks taken up behind me as soon as I was on board. I didn’t look back, but trailed after Web and Thick toward a tent-like structure on the deck of the ship.

The accommodations were far cruder than those on the Maiden’s Chance had been. On the foredeck, there was a permanent cabin with wooden walls, such as I was accustomed to seeing on a ship. I was to learn it was divided into two chambers. The larger of these had been given over to the Prince and Chade, and the Wit-coterie crowded into the smaller one. This temporary cabin on the aft deck was for the guardsmen. The walls were made of heavy leather stretched on poles with the entire structure lashed down to pegs set in the deck. These shelters were a concession to our Six Duchies sensibilities; the Outislanders themselves preferred an open deck as best for hauling freight or fighting. A look at the faces of my fellow guardsmen persuaded me of how little welcome Thick would be amongst them. After my shameful performance on the dock, I was little higher in their regard. Web was trying to get Thick to sit down on one of the sea chests that had been brought from the Maiden’s Chance.

‘No,’ I told him quietly. ‘The Prince prefers that Thick be housed close at hand to him. We should take him to the other cabin.’

‘It’s even more crowded than this one,’ Web explained, but I only shook my head.

‘The other cabin,’ I insisted, and he relented. Thick went with him, still with that glazed look of trust on his face. I followed, feeling as exhausted as if I’d spent a morning in sword training. It was only later that I realized that it was Web’s own pallet he settled Thick onto. Civil sat in the corner on a smaller pallet, his snarling cat on his lap. The minstrel Cockle was disconsolately inspecting three broken strings on a small harp. Swift was looking everywhere but at me. I could feel his dismay that this half-man had been brought right into his living space. The silence in the tiny room was thicker than butter.

Once Thick had settled on the pallet, Web smoothed a calloused hand over his sweaty brow. Thick stared up at us in puzzlement for a moment and then closed his eyes, weary as a child. His breathing was hoarse as sleep claimed him. After the buffeting he’d dealt me, I longed to join him there, but Web was taking my arm.

‘Come,’ he said. ‘We have to talk, you and I.’

I would have resisted him if I could, but when he set his hand on my shoulder, my defiance melted. I let him steer me out onto the deck. I heard the jesting shouts of the sailors when I reappeared, but Web chose to ignore them as he steered me to a rail. ‘Here,’ he said, and from his hip took a leather flask and unstoppered it. The scent of brandy reached me. ‘A bit of this down you, and then take some deep breaths. You look like a man who has bled half to death.’

I did not think I needed the brandy until I took some and felt its heat run through me.

Fitz?

The Prince’s worried query reached me as a whisper. I realized abruptly how tightly I was still holding my walls. Gingerly I eased them down, and then reached back to Dutiful. I’m fine. Web has Thick settled now.

‘That’s right. I do. But you scarcely need to tell me that.’

Give me a moment, my prince, to gather myself. I had not even realized that I had spoken aloud the thought I’d previously Skilled to Dutiful. ‘I know. I’m a bit rattled, I suppose.’

‘Yes, you are. What I don’t understand is why. But I have my suspicions. The simple man is very important to the Prince, isn’t he? And it has something to do with how he could stop a warrior in his prime from forcing him to do a thing he didn’t wish to do. What made you flinch before his touch? When I touched him, nothing happened to me.’

I handed him back his flask. ‘Not my secret,’ I said bluntly.

‘I see.’ He took a mouthful of his brandy. He looked aloft pensively. Risk did a lazy loop around our ship, waiting for us. Canvas blossomed suddenly on the mast. A moment later, it bellied in the wind and I felt our ship dip and then gather speed. ‘Short journey, they tell me. Three days, four at most. If we’d taken the Maiden’s Chance, she would have had to sail around the whole cluster of islands, and then we would have had to put her at harbour on one of the other islands and still take another shallow draught vessel to reach Wuislington.’

I nodded sagely to that, not knowing if it was true or not. Perhaps his bird had told him. More likely, it was sailor gossip, gained by his own ready ears.

As if it were a logical continuation, he asked, ‘If I were to guess this secret, would you tell me I’d got it right?’

I gave a short sigh. Only now that the struggle was over did I realize how weary I was. And how strong Thick had been when driven by his fear and anger to apply all his strength to me. I hoped he had not burned reserves he could not afford. His sickness had already drained much of his vigour. He had thought himself in a life-or-death struggle with me; of that I had no doubt. Concern for him suddenly filled me.

‘Tom?’ Web pressed me, and with a start I recalled his question.

‘It’s not my secret,’ I repeated doggedly. Hopelessness was welling up in me like blood from a puncture wound. I recognized it as Thick’s. That didn’t help. I’d have to quell it somehow, before it could affect the rest of the people on the ship.

Can you handle him for us?

The assent I sent to the Prince was an acknowledgement of his request rather than a confirmation that I could accomplish it.

Web was offering me his flask again. I took it, swigged from it, and then said, ‘I have to go back to Thick. It’s not good for him to be left alone.’

‘I think I see that,’ he agreed as he took the flask back from me. ‘I wish I was sure if you were protector or gaoler to him. Well, Tom Badgerlock, when you judge that it’s safe for me to be the one to stay with him, you let me know. You look as if you could use a bit of rest yourself.’

I nodded without replying and left him there. I went to the little chamber allotted to the Wit-coterie. All the other folk had fled, probably made uncomfortable by the strength of the emotions emanating from Thick on a swelling Skill-tide. He slept, but it was for exhaustion, not peace. I looked down on his face, seeing a simplicity there that was not childish or even simple. His cheeks were flushed and tiny beads of sweat stood on his forehead. His fever was back and his breathing was raspy. I sat on the floor by his pallet. I was ashamed of what we were doing to him. It wasn’t right and we knew it, Chade and Dutiful and I. Then I gave in to my weariness and lay down at his side.

I gave myself three breaths to centre myself and gather my Skill. Then I closed my eyes and put my arm lightly across Thick in order to deepen our Skill-connection. I had expected him to have his walls up against me, but he was defenceless. I slipped into a dream in which a lost kitten paddled desperately in a boiling sea. I drew him from the water as Nettle had done and took him back to the waggon and the bed and the cushion. I promised him that he was safe and felt his anxiety ease a little. But even in his dreams, he recognized me. ‘But you made me!’ the kitten suddenly cried out. ‘You made me come on a boat again!’

I had expected anger and defiance, or even an attack following those words. What I received was worse. He cried. The kitten wept inconsolably, in a small child’s voice. I felt the gulf of his disappointment that I could betray him so. He had trusted me. I picked him up and held him, but still he cried, and I could not comfort him, for I was at the base of his sorrow.

I was not expecting Nettle. It was not night, and I doubted that she was sleeping. I suppose I had always assumed that she could only Skill when she slept. A foolish notion, but there it was. As I sat rocking the tiny creature that was Thick, I felt her presence beside me. Give him to me, she said with a woman’s weariness at a man’s incompetence. Guilty at my relief, I let her take him from me. I faded into the background of his dream, and felt his tension ease as I retreated from him. It hurt that he found my presence upsetting, but I could not blame him.

After a time, I found myself sitting at the base of the melted tower. It seemed a very forsaken place. The dead brambles coated the steep hillsides all around it, and the only sound was the wind soughing through their branches. I waited.

Nettle came. Why this? she asked, sweeping an arm at the desolation that surrounded us.

It seemed appropriate, I replied dispiritedly.

She gave a snort of contempt and then, with a wave, made the dead brambles into deep summer grasses. The tower became a circle of broken stone on the hillside, with flowering vines wandering over it. She seated herself on a sun-warmed stone, shook out her red skirts over her bare feet and asked, Are you always this dramatic?

I suspect I am.

It must be exhausting to be around you. You’re the second most emotional man I know.

The first being?

My father. He came home yesterday.

I caught my breath, and tried to be casual as I asked And?

And he had gone to Buckkeep Castle. That is as much as he told us. He looks as if he has aged a decade and yet sometimes I catch him gazing across the room and smiling. Despite his fogged eyes, he keeps staring at me, as if he has never seen me before. Mother says she feels as if he keeps saying farewell to her. He comes to her and puts his arms around her and holds her as if she might be snatched away at any moment. It is hard to describe how he behaves; as if some heavy task is finally finished, and yet he also acts like a man preparing for a journey.

What has he told you? I tried to keep her from sensing my dread.

Nothing. And no more than that to my mother, or so she says. He brought gifts for all of us when he came back. Jumping jacks for my smallest brothers, and cleverly carved puzzle boxes for the older boys. For my mother and me, little boxes with necklaces of wooden beads inside them, not roughly shaped but each carved like a jewel. And a horse, the loveliest little mare I’ve ever seen.

I waited, knowing what I would hear next and yet praying it would not be said.

And he himself now wears an earring, a sphere carved from wood. I’ve never seen him wear an earring before. I didn’t even know his ear was pierced for one.

I wondered if they had talked, Lord Golden and Burrich. Perhaps the Fool had merely left those gifts with Queen Kettricken to be passed on to Burrich. I wondered so many things and could ask none of them. What are you doing right now? I asked her instead.

Dipping tapers. The most boring and stupid task that exists. For a moment, she was silent. Then, I’ve a message for you.

My heart stopped at those words. Oh?

If I dream of the wolf again, my father says, I’m to tell him, you should have come home a long time ago.

Tell him … A thousand messages flitted through my mind. What could I say to a man I hadn’t seen in sixteen years? Tell him that he needn’t fear I’ll take anything away from him? Tell him that I love still as I have always loved? No. Not that. Tell him I forgive him. No, for he never knowingly wronged me. Those words could only increase whatever burden he put upon himself. There were a thousand things I longed to say and none I dared send through Nettle.

Tell him? Nettle prompted me, avidly curious.

Tell him I was speechless. And grateful to him. As I have been for many years.

It seemed inadequate, and yet I forced myself to say no more. I would not be impetuous. I would think long and hard before I gave any real message to Nettle to relay to Burrich. I did not know how much she knew or guessed. I did not even know how much Burrich knew of all that had befallen me since last we parted. Better to regret unsaid words than repent of words I could never call back.

Who are you?

I owed her at least that much. A name to call me by. There was only one that seemed right to give her. Changer. My name is Changer.

She nodded, both disappointed and pleased. In another place and time, my Wit warned me that others were near me. I pulled away from the dream and she reluctantly let me go. I eased back into my own flesh. For a time longer, I kept my eyes closed while opening all my other senses. I was in the cabin, Thick breathing heavily beside me. I smelled the oil the minstrel used on the wood of his harp and then heard Swift whisper, ‘Why is he sleeping now?’

‘I’m not,’ I said quietly. I eased my arm away from Thick lest I awake him and then sat up slowly. ‘I was just getting Thick settled. He is still very sick. I wish we didn’t have to bring him on this voyage.’