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But the Fool might.
It was the only thought that could have brought me to my feet again. My groping hands found the door and I stumbled out into his chamber. The only light came from a small nest of dying coals in the hearth and the uncertain light of the night torches burning on the grounds outside the open window. I staggered towards his bed. ‘Fool?’ I called out softly, hoarsely. ‘Fool, Nighteyes has Dutiful treed. And …’
The words died on my lips. The dream had forced the earlier events of the night from my mind. What if that huddled shape beneath the blankets were not one body but two? An arm flung back a coverlet to reveal only one form occupying the great bed. He rolled to face me and then sat up. Concern furrowed his brow. ‘Fitz? Are you hurt?’
I sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, set one hand to each side of my head and pushed, trying to hold my skull together. ‘No. Yes. It’s the Skill, but we haven’t time for that. I know where the Prince is. I dreamed him. He was night-hunting with a cat in the hills behind Galeton. Then something was hunting us, and the cat went up one tree and I … the Prince went up another. And then he looked down and he saw Nighteyes under the tree. The wolf has him treed somewhere in those hills. If we go now, we can take him.’
‘No, we can’t. Use your common sense.’
‘I can’t. My head is cracking like an eggshell.’ I hunched forwards, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. ‘Why can’t we go get him?’ I asked piteously.
‘Walk your thoughts through it, my friend. We dress and creep out of this room, get past the stablefolk to take our horses out, ride through unfamiliar country by night until we come to where the Prince is up a tree with a wolf at the foot of it. One of us climbs the tree and forces the Prince down. Then we coax him to come back with us. Lord Golden miraculously appears at breakfast with, I imagine, a very disgruntled Prince Dutiful, or Lord Golden and his man simply disappear from Lady Bresinga’s hospitality without a word of explanation. In any case, in a few days a lot of very uncomfortable questions are going to be asked about Lord Golden and his man Tom Badgerlock, not to mention Prince Dutiful.’
He was right. We already suspected the Bresingas were involved in the Prince’s ‘disappearance’. Bringing him back to Galekeep would be foolish. We had to recover him in such a way that we could take him straight back to Buckkeep and no one the wiser. I pressed my fingers to my eyeballs. It felt as if the pressure inside my skull would force them out of their sockets. ‘What do we do then?’ I asked thickly. I didn’t even really want to know. I wanted to fall over on my side and huddle into a miserable ball.
‘The wolf keeps track of the Prince. Tomorrow, during our hunt, I will send you back for something I’ve forgotten. Once you are on your own, you will go to where the Prince is and persuade him to return to Buckkeep. I chose you a big horse. Take him with you immediately and return him to Buckkeep. I’ll find a way to explain your absence.’
‘How?’
‘I haven’t thought of it yet, but I will. Don’t be concerned about it. Whatever tale I tell, the Bresingas will have to accept for risk of offending me.’
I picked at the next largest hole in the plan. It was hard to keep my thoughts in order. ‘I … persuade him to come back to Buckkeep?’
‘You can do it,’ the Fool replied with great confidence. ‘You will know what to say.’
I doubted it, but had run out of strength to object. There were painfully bright lights behind my closed eyes. Knuckling them made them worse. I opened my eyes to the dim room, but zigzags of light still danced before my vision, sharding it. ‘Elfbark,’ I pleaded quietly. ‘I need it.’
‘No.’
My mind could not encompass that he had refused me. ‘Please.’ I pushed the word out. ‘The pain is worse than I can explain.’ Sometimes I could tell when a seizure was coming on. I hadn’t had one in a long time. Was I imagining that odd tension in my neck and back?
‘Fitz, I can’t. Chade made me promise.’ In a lower voice, as if he feared it was too little to offer, he added, ‘I’ll be here with you.’
Pain tumbled me in a wave. Fear mingled with it.
Should I come?
No. ‘Stay where you are. Watch him.’ I heard myself say the words out loud as I thought them. There was something I was supposed to worry about in that. I recalled it. ‘I need elfbark tea,’ I managed to say. ‘Or I can’t hold the limits. On the Wit. They’ll know I’m here.’
The bed moved under me as the Fool clambered out of it, a terrible jostling that pounded my brain against the inside of my skull. I heard him go to the washstand. A moment later, he was back, damp cloth in hand. ‘Lie back,’ he told me.
‘Can’t,’ I muttered. Any movement hurt. I wanted to get back to my own room, but could not. If I was going to have a fit, I didn’t want to do it in front of the Fool.
The cold cloth on my brow was like a shock. I retched with it, then took short panting breaths to get my stomach under control. I more felt than saw the Fool crouch down before me as I sat on the edge of the bed. He took my hand in gloved ones and his fingers fumbled over mine. An instant later, they bit down, pinching hard between the bones of my hand. I gave an inarticulate cry and tried to pull free of him, but as ever he was stronger than I expected.
‘Just for a moment,’ he muttered as if reassuring me. The pain in my hand became a racing numbness. A moment later, he seized my arm just above my elbow in both his hands, and again his fingers sought and then pinched down hard.
‘Please,’ I begged him, and tried to move away from him. He moved with me and the pain in my head was such I couldn’t escape. Why was he hurting me?
‘Don’t struggle,’ he begged me. ‘Trust me. I think I can help. Trust me.’ Again his hands moved, this time to my shoulder, and again those relentless fingers jabbed down hard. I gasped, and then his hands were on either side of my neck, his fingers pressing in and up as if he wished to detach my head. I grasped his wrists but could find no strength in my hands. ‘A moment,’ he begged me again. ‘Fitz, Fitz, trust me. Trust me.’
Then something went out of me. My head dropped forwards on my chest, lolling on my neck. The pain was not gone, but it was much diminished. I fell over on my side and he rolled me onto my back. ‘There. There,’ he said, and for a moment I stared into blessed darkness. Then the gloved hands were back, thumbs on my brow, spread fingertips seeking spots on my temples and the sides of my face, and then they pressed mercilessly, his smallest fingers digging in at the hinge of my jaw.
‘Take a breath, Fitz,’ I heard him tell me, and I then realized that I was not breathing. I gasped for air, and everything suddenly eased. I wanted to weep for relief. Instead, I sank instantly into a bottomless sleep. I dreamed a strange dream. I dreamed I was safe.
I came to a hazy wakefulness before dawn. I took a deep breath, and realized I was in the Fool’s bed. I think he had just arisen. He was moving quietly about the room, selecting clothing for himself. I think he felt me watching him, for he came back to the bedside. He touched my brow, pushing my head back onto the pillow. ‘Go back to sleep. You have a little more time to rest, and I think you need it.’ Two gloved fingers traced twin lines from the top of my head to the bridge of my nose. I slept again.
When next I woke, it was because he was gently shaking me. My servant-blue clothing was laid out on the bed beside me. He was already fully dressed. ‘Time to hunt,’ he told me when he saw I was awake. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to hurry.’
I moved my head cautiously. I ached all along my spine and neck. I sat up stiffly. I felt as if I had been in a fistfight … or had a seizure. There was a sore spot inside my cheek as if I’d bitten it. I looked away from him as I asked, ‘Did I have a fit last night?’
A small silence preceded his words. He kept his voice casual. ‘A small one, perhaps. You tossed your head about and trembled