‘It’s only me. Only Fitz.’ I spoke calmly, trying to keep the anguish from my voice. Eda and El, Fool, will you ever recover from what you endured?
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated breathlessly. ‘So sorry, Fitz.’ He was breathing hard. ‘When they had me … they never woke me gently. Or allowed me to sleep until I woke. I so feared sleep I would bite myself to stay awake. But always, eventually, one sleeps. And then they would wake me, sometimes just a few moments later. With a little barbed blade. Or a hot poker.’ His grimace had barely the semblance of a smile. ‘I hate the smell of fire now.’ He dropped his head back on the pillow. Hatred surged in me and then passed, leaving me empty. I could never undo what they had done to him. After a time, he rolled his head toward me and asked, ‘Is it day now?’
My mouth had gone dry and wordless. I cleared my throat. ‘It’s either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on how you think of such things. We spoke last in early afternoon. Have you been sleeping all this time?’
‘I don’t exactly know. Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell. Give me a few moments, please.’
‘Very well.’
I retreated to the far end of the room and studiously ignored him as he tottered from the bed. He found his way to the garderobe, was there for some time and when he emerged, he called to ask if there was washwater.
‘In a pitcher next to the bowl on the stand by your bed. But I can warm some for you if you wish, too.’
‘Oh, warm water,’ he said, as if I had offered him gold and jewels.
‘Shortly,’ I replied. I set about my task. He groped his way to the chair by the fireside and sat down. I marvelled at how quickly he had learned the room. When I brought the warmed water and a washing cloth, he reached for it immediately and I realized that his silence had been so he could track my activity by what he could hear. I felt as if I spied on him as he washed his scarred face and then repeatedly scrubbed his eyes to clear the gummy mucous from his lashes. When he had finished, his eyes were clean but reddened at the rims.
I spoke without apology or preamble. ‘What did they do to your eyes?’
He set the cloth back in the bowl and clutched his damaged hands together, gently rubbing the swollen knuckles. He was silent as I cleared the table. Very well, then. Not yet. ‘Are you hungry?’ I asked him.
‘Is it time for a meal?’
‘If you’re hungry, it’s time for your meal. I’ve eaten too much already. And possibly drunk more than I should have as well.’
His response shocked me. ‘Do you truly have another daughter beside Nettle?’
‘I do.’ I sat down in my chair and pulled one of the shoes off. ‘Her name is Bee. And she is nine years old now.’
‘Truly?’
‘Fool, what purpose could I have for lying to you?’ He made no answer to that. I reached down and unfastened the second shoe. I pulled it free and put my foot flat on the floor. My left calf cramped abruptly and I exclaimed in pain and bent to rub it.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked in some alarm.
‘Ridiculous shoes, courtesy of Chade. Tall heels and pointed tips curling up at the toes. You’d laugh if you could see them. Oh, and the jacket has a skirt that goes nearly to my knees. And buttons shaped like little blue flowers. And the hat is like a floppy sack. Not to mention the curly wig.’
A small smile quirked his mouth. Then he said gravely, ‘You’ve no idea how much I’d love to see it all.’
‘Fool. It’s not idle curiosity that makes me ask about your eyes. If I knew what was done to you, it might help me undo it.’
Silence. I removed my hat and set it on the table. Standing, I began to unbutton the jacket. It was just slightly too tight in the shoulders and suddenly I could not endure how it bound me. I gave a sigh of relief, draped it on the chair back and sat down. The Fool had picked up the hat. His hands explored it. Then he set it, wig and all, upon his head. With apparent ease, he twitched the hair into place and then effortlessly arranged the hat into an artful slouch.
‘It looks far better on you than it did on me.’
‘Fashion travels. I had a hat almost like this. Years ago.’
I waited.
He sighed heavily. ‘What have I told you and what haven’t I? Fitz, in my darkness, my mind slips around until I scarcely trust myself at all any more.’
‘You’ve told me very little.’
‘Have I? Perhaps you know very little, but I assure you that night after night, in my cell, I spoke with you at length and in detail.’ A wry twist of his mouth. He lifted the hat and set it on the table where it crouched on its wig like a small animal. ‘Each time you ask me a question, it surprises me. For I feel that you were so often with me.’ He shook his head, then leaned back suddenly in his chair and for a time appeared to stare at the ceiling. He spoke into that darkness. ‘Prilkop and I left Aslevjal. You know that. We journeyed to Buckkeep. What you may never have guessed is that we used the Skill-pillars to do so. Prilkop spoke of having learned it from his Catalyst, and I, I had my silvered fingertips from when I had touched Verity. And so we came to Buckkeep and I could not resist the temptation to see you one last time, to have yet another final farewell.’ He snorted at his own foolishness. ‘Fate cheated us both of that. We lingered for a time but Prilkop was anxious to be on his way. Ten days he allowed me, for as you recall I was still very weak, and he judged it dangerous to use the pillars too frequently. But after ten days he began to chafe to be on our way again. Nightly he urged me to leave, pointing out what I knew: that together you and I had already worked the change that was my mission. Our time together was over, and long past over. Lingering near you would only provoke other changes in the world, changes that might be far less desirable. And so he persuaded me. But not completely. I knew it was dangerous, I knew it was self-indulgent even as I carved it. The three of us together, as we once had been. You, Nighteyes and I. I shaped it from the Skill-stone and I pressed my farewell into it. Then I left my gift for you, knowing well that when you touched it, I would be aware of you.’
I was startled. ‘You were?’
‘I told you. I have never been wise.’
‘But I felt nothing of you. Well, there was the message of course.’ I felt cheated by him. He had known that I was alive and well, but had kept his own situation concealed from me.
‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded sincere. After a moment, he continued. ‘We used the pillars again when we left Buckkeep. It was like a child’s game. We jumped from one standing stone to the next. Always he made us wait between our journeys. It was … disorienting. It still makes me queasy to think of it. He knew the danger of what we did. On one of our leaps … we travelled to an abandoned city.’ He halted and spoke quietly. ‘I hadn’t been there before. But there was a tall tower in the middle of it, and when I climbed those stairs, I found the map. And the broken window and the fingerprints in the soot from the fire.’ He paused. ‘I am sure it was the map-tower you visited once.’
‘Kelsingra. So the Dragon Traders name it now,’ I said, not wanting to divert him from his revelations.
‘At Prilkop’s insistence, we stayed there five days. I remember it … strangely. Even knowing what the stone can be and do, having it speak to one continually is wearing. I felt I could not escape the whispers no matter where I went. Prilkop said it was because of the silver Skill on my fingertips. The city drew me. It whispered stories to me when I slept, and when I was awake it tried to draw me into itself. I gave in once, Fitz. I took off my glove and I touched a wall in what had been a market, I think. When next I knew myself as myself, I was lying on the ground by a fire and Prilkop had all our things packed. He wore Elderling garb and had found some for me as well. Including the cloaks that help one hide, one for each of us. He demanded that we leave immediately, declaring that travel through the