Fools Fate by Robin Hobb
Chapter 31
DRAGON'S HEAD
And dark Oerttre, mother to them all, lifted her eyes and shook her head.
“It cannot be,” she said with grave resolve. “We are not bound by what mere men have said.
My eldest must remain here, to reign after me. Woman to woman is our power passed.
You would take our Narcheska to be your Queen? Of all our treasure, she would be the last
That we would forfeit, no matter what your deed. Show me in fact how you have fulfilled
The letter of your promise. In blood you wrote your vow that you'd do as she had willed.
O Farseer Prince, recall now the boast that you did say:
On these hearthstones of our mothershouse, icefyre's head you'd lay. ”
— “THE DRAGON'S HEAD,” COCKLE LONGSPUR
We followed my marks backward through the Elderling maze, and emerged eventually from the crack in the icy wall into a bright day. The wind was brisk and blowing ice crystals filled the air, peppering our skins and making the steep path treacherous underfoot. The clear light of true day made my eyes tear. The Fool went before me down the steep path. Here, exposed to the wind and cold, his weakness showed plain, and I muttered at my own stupidity. This had overtaxed him. The second time he slipped, I took a firm grip on the back of his collar and kept him upright on his feet until we reached the Black Man's door. “Knock!” I told him, but when he only stared back at me, bleary-eyed with exhaustion, I reached past him to thud my fist against the wood.
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The door was opened so swiftly that I had to believe that he had been waiting for us. Even then, the Fool stood frozen, staring at the smiling Black Man who confronted us. “He's cold, and very weary,” I excused him, and then thrust him into the room in front of me. Once inside I pushed the door firmly shut behind us and then turned back gratefully to the cozy room. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness after the brightness of full daylight. I saw the small hearth fire first, and then I found the Black Man staring at the Fool in mutual incredulity.
“He was dead,” the Black Man told me firmly. “He died. ” His eyes were very wide.
“Yes. He was. ” I confirmed it for him. “But I am the Catalyst. I change things. ”
And then Thick sprang up from the hearth and grasped me in a short-limbed hug. He danced like a little bear as he shouted, “You're back! You're back! I thought you would never come back. Chade said, ‘The ship is coming,' and I said, ‘But he's not here and I won't get on a ship. ' Then he said, ‘It's coming anyway. ' And it did, but no one was there and it went back, because I said, ‘No, I am not walking back all alone, all alone, and I don't want to get on a ship anyway!' ” He halted his dance and then told me with a satisfied grin, “Either you are dead or Chade is so mad at you that you'll wish you were. That was what he said. Dutiful. Oh, and the dragon head, I forgot to tell the dragon head part. Nettle did it! She sent the dragon head to the mothershouse and it was a big surprise for everyone. Except me. She told me she could do it, could talk to Tintaglia and make her sorry if she didn't. So she did. And everything is good again now. ”
The last he said so confidently that it was difficult to look down into the cheerful round-eyed face and say, “I don't think I understood half of what you just told me. And I think I have been away longer than I thought. But I'm glad to be back. ” I extricated myself from his hug. A strange silence had fallen in the other half of the room. The Black Man and the Fool regarded one another, not with animosity, but disbelief. Looking at the two of them together, I could see a kinship, but it was one of ancient lineage rather than a close family resemblance. The Black Man was the first to speak.
“Welcome,” he said faintly.
“I never saw you,” the Fool said wonderingly. “In all the futures I glimpsed, in all that might be, I never saw you. ” He abruptly began to tremble and I knew he was at the end of his strength. The Black Man seemed to sense this also, for he pushed a cushion closer to the fire and motioned hastily that the Fool should be seated. The Fool more collapsed than sat down. I took my cloak from around him, telling him, “The warmth will reach you faster if you let it in. ”
“I don't think I'm that cold,” he said faintly. “I'm just . . . I'm outside of my time, Fitz. I'm a fish in the air or a bird beneath the sea. I'm past my life and I grope forward through each day, wondering what I am meant to do with myself. It's hard. It's very hard for me. ” His voice dwindled as he said the words. He looked up at the Black Man as if begging for help. His head wavered on his neck.
I did not know what to say to him. Did he resent that I had sought more life for him? It hurt to think so, but I held my tongue. I watched the Black Man grope for words. “This, I can teach . . . ” The Black Man's voice slowly faded away. A smile slow as sunrise came to his face. He cocked his head at the Fool and said something in another tongue.
The Fool opened to him as a flower turns to light. A tremulous smile lit his face and he replied hesitantly in the same language. The Black Man whooped aloud in delight to hear him. He gestured at himself and said something rapidly, and then, as if remembering his manners, took up the kettle and a cup and with a graceful flourish, poured tea for the Fool and set it before him. The Fool thanked him extravagantly. Their language seemed to take many words to say simple things. Not one syllable of it resembled any tongue I'd ever heard before. The Fool's voice grew fainter. He took a breath and then finished what he was saying.
I felt an adolescent pang of exclusion. Almost as if the Fool sensed it, he turned slowly to me. He pushed his hair back from his face with fingers that shook. “I have not heard the language of my childhood since, well, since I left home. It is like balm to hear it again. ”
Chade and Dutiful must have known through Thick that I had returned, for I felt then such a battering against my Skill-walls as might have been a siege. I decided reluctantly that it was time to let them in. I took the cup of tea the Black Man had just poured for me and sat down by his fire and then, seeing the Fool well occupied with our host, I surrendered and lowered my Skill-walls.
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Chade's blast of fury, fear, and frustration preceded all thought, shaking and cuffing me as if I were an errant serving boy. When he was finished, I think it annoyed him even more that I laughed at his onslaught, even as my reaction cheered Dutiful.
Not much can be wrong with you if you can laugh like that! I've never felt such a carelessness of spirit from you. I caught the boy's sense of amazement and wonder.
An instant later, Chade echoed it. What has come over you? Are you drunk?
No. I am whole and well healed. And so is the Fool. But my tale will keep. Does all go well with you? Has our prince well and truly won his bride? Thick has told me a wild bit of tale about a dragon's head on the mothershouse hearth. Is it true? Who killed Icefyre?
No one killed the dragon. It was just his head he placed there. But, yes, it seems to be done and settled, Chade replied with grim satisfaction. Now that we know you are safe, we can sail tomorrow. That is, if Dutiful can find the courage to tell his bride she must come home with him.
I but allow her time to be sure it is her will that she follows in this, Dutiful replied sternly.
I do not understand. Would someone start at the beginning and tell the tale?
And then it was that I heard in full, from both Chade and Dutiful, with excited asides from Thick, of how Nettle had bedeviled and nagged Tintaglia, troubling her dreams and her waking hours, importuning her to pay back the puny humans who had suffered so much so that Icefyre could fly free. Tintaglia in her turn had driven Icefyre much as a pigeon drives his mate to the nest, back to Zylig, where the dragons presented themselves to the Hetgurd still convened there, and then on to Mayle Island and Wuislington.
There the dragons had landed before Elliania's mothershouse. I gathered that there had been some
I thought that Elliania had professed herself satisfied that Dutiful had fulfilled his promise and proven himself worthy of her when he aided in the rescue of her mother and sister. I was a bit confused as to why all this had been necessary.
Oh, she has shown herself well satisfied, for some days now, Chade replied acidly, and I suspected that perhaps Dutiful's virtue had not been proof against the girl's importuning. It is her mother who has proven difficult, much to Peottre's woe. Oerttre told us, before we were even docked in Zylig, that she did not regard any agreement that men had brokered concerning her daughter as binding. She finds it unthinkable that Elliania would leave her home, even to be Queen of all the Six Duchies. She has raised a thousand faults with the arrangement, saying that as she herself was still alive and therefore the true narcheska, all of this was agreed to without the proper consent. She objects to the idea of Lestra inheriting the title of narcheska; she finds the girl unfit to rule after her. And she is horrified at the thought that Elliania and Dutiful's children would remain in the Six Duchies.
Except for our sons, Dutiful interjected.
True, Chade conceded. She had been more than willing to allow Dutiful and Elliania to, that is, to become, to have— He could not find a delicate way to verbalize the thought.
Dutiful was more prosaic. Her mother was willing to allow me to share Elliania's bed. She seemed affronted that anyone might think to thwart her daughter in who she wishes to bed. And the Narcheska Oerttre had offered that any male children so conceived would be given to the Six Duchies. At the age of seven.
There was a mutual silence as they allowed me to digest that idea. It was untenable. None of his dukes would accept an heir thus created.
And now? Now that Icefyre has fulfilled completely Elliania's challenge to Dutiful?
Narcheska Oerttre was impressed. It is hard not to be impressed when a creature of that size lumbers through your home and places his head on your hearthstones. Especially when some of the framework of your door is still around his neck. I could easily excuse Dutiful's youthful satisfaction at this vindication. I think her objections are at an end. And even if she still has reservations, there were enough members of the Hetgurd here to witness it that they will not stand. They now see it as an honor that Elliania will come to my hearth. To “found a new mothershouse” is how they phrase it.
As if she were conquering all the Six Duchies by becoming Dutiful's queen, Chade complained. Yet I could hear the relief in his voice. I foresaw there would be difficulties in future days, as the customs of her land clashed with ours. If she bore a son first, would her relatives be scandalized to see him inherit before her daughters? I set the thought from my mind. There would be enough time to worry about that when it happened.
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And how was that brought about?
Ask Thick. He and Nettle seem to have concocted that.
The smile faded from my face. I had to know. Does Nettle know about Burrich's death?
Yes. Chade's reply was short and grim.
I would not wish such news to be withheld from me, Dutiful pointed out severely. I knew he was justifying his action to Chade as much as to me. And so I did as I thought best. Besides, my mother deserved that news, as well, that she can see to the needs of the family of the man who served us so well and so long. Besides. When I stand before my cousin in the flesh, I do not wish to do so with a bag of dirty secrets behind my back.
That seemed harsh and I sensed that I trod on the edges of a quarrel between Dutiful and Chade. It did not seem a good time to advance my own opinion. Moreover, it was too late to change what had been done. So I tried to change the subject instead. So. The wedding will now proceed with no further objections.
Now it can. Dutiful had insisted we remain here until we heard from you. Or until we decided you were dead, and sent a rescue party back for Thick. Not that he was fond of the idea of being rescued and brought home. But now that you are there, we shall send a boat for both of you immediately. As soon as you arrive here, we can proceed home.
No boats! Thick insisted.
The Prince ignored him. Our wait for Fitz has not been wasted time, Dutiful contradicted Chade. It would not have been appropriate to immediately snatch the Narcheska from her family. Elliania has been too long separated from her mother and sister. I have enjoyed seeing them together. And when she looks from her sister to me . . . Fitz, she thinks I am a hero. The Outislander bards are making songs of this.
Very long songs, Chade added. We've had to listen to them, smiling, nearly every night.
We simmered into satisfied silence. My prince had won his bride. There would be peace between the Six Duchies and the Out Islands. Then Dutiful added solemnly, And I was glad that you were allowed some time to deal with your loss. I am sorry, Fitz.
Chade asked quietly, You were able to recover the Fool's body?
It was my moment for triumph. I recovered the Fool.
I thought he was dead! Dutiful's gravity dissolved in amazement.
So did I, I replied, and abruptly decided to leave that as my full explanation. It was easy enough to divert them from any more questions regarding the Fool. I simply added, I am sorry to have missed the ship you sent for us. But you need not bother with another. Thick and I have an easier way back to Buckkeep. One that does not require him to set foot on a deck again.
Their astonishment at my revelation of the working Skill-pillar could not match Thick's delight at the news he could go home without sailing. He suddenly clutched me about the middle, tugged me to my feet, and capered so wildly about me that I could not hold the focus necessary to Skill. I seized him by his shoulders and braced my feet to stop our dance, and then looked up to find the Black Man regarding us with alarmed amusement. The Fool looked too tired to show any surprise.
“He just realized that we could go home through the Skill-pillars,” I explained to them. “Thick hates boats. And he is delighted to know that our journey may be a matter of moments instead of days. ”
The Black Man looked at me without comprehension. Then the Fool said something to him in his own tongue, and the man made a long “aaaah” of understanding and nodded sagely. The Fool's explanation seemed to bring to his mind some other incident, for the Black Man launched into a long monologue intended for the Fool.
Thick skidded to a sudden halt and cocked his head as if listening. “Skill scrolls, Chade says, bring the Skill scrolls. ” He paused, frowning as he paid attention to Chade's Skilling. “But not yet! Don't go home yet, not until he has a good way to explain it. But soon. Nettle is getting tired of all the messages. You could do it better. ”
I had given Chade much to think about, and to my relief, he excused himself from our Skilling to do just that. Dutiful attempted to explain to me how Nettle had persuaded Icefyre to present his head to the Narcheska, but Thick was too excited to permit our conversation. And I sensed restlessness from the Prince that told me he had better ways to pass his time than lingering with me. I sent him off with a stern warning to be circumspect, which I am sure he ignored.
I came back to full awareness to find the Fool nodding wearily to the Black Man's long explanation of something. It was the most foreign babbling I had ever heard, with not a single word that I recognized. Thick insisted on reporting how he had spent his time with the Black Man, with many descriptions of food, of Chade being angry and upset, and of a wonderful sliding place he had discovered not far away. I looked at his round face, beaming with contentment. He was a wonderful man. He accepted, with equanimity, that I had returned, that the Fool was no longer dead, and that soon we would be back home without going on a boat. His joy at sliding on snow was equal to his joy at
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As he prattled, I tried to decipher what the future held for me. We would go back to Buckkeep and I'd have the task of transporting the Skill library there. Already I dreaded how many trips through the pillars that would entail. Yet that task became simple when I thought of what would follow. I had to introduce myself to Nettle. And reveal to Molly that I lived. Such a wave of longing swept through me at that thought that it near took my breath away. In restoring the full range of memories of her, the Fool had swept my heart back in time to that moment when I first knew I had lost her. The anguish was as fresh, and my love for her as strong. I dreaded the thought of our first meeting, and all the explaining I must do. I dreaded facing her grief for her husband, but I knew I must. Burrich had cared for my daughter when I had “died. ” Could I do less for his little sons? And yet, it was not going to be easy. None of it was going to be easy. Yet, with an odd sideways tilt of my heart, I realized I was anticipating it, that I believed that beyond the sorrow we would share at Burrich's death, there might eventually be something else. I felt shallow and greedy even as I thought of it, but nonetheless, it was there. It seemed years since I had looked ahead and seen opportunities and possibilities. I suddenly knew that I wanted change and life and the dangers of attempting to win Molly's love again.
Thick shook me by the shoulder. “So?” he asked me delightedly. “So, you want to go now?”
“Yes,” I found myself saying, and then discovered that I had been smiling and nodding to his descriptions of sliding on the snow. I'd volunteered to go sliding with him. His delight was too great for me to crush it, and it suddenly came to me that I truly had nothing better to do at the moment. The Fool could do with rest and he seemed to be enjoying his talk with the Black Man. So we bundled up and went outside again. I had planned to slide with him once or twice, just enough to content him, but the slope he had found was as long and sweeping as an otter slide and just as inviting. Thick's use of it over the last few days had polished it smooth. We slid on our bellies and then together, on top of my cloak, whooping like children, heedless of how wet and cold we got.