Robin Hobb - Fool's Fate

Chade did not reply immediately. I thought he was stunned by the Fool's words, his view of reality reordered by them. But then he snorted disdainfully. "Pish. What you say only makes it plainer to me that no good will be worked for anyone by resurrecting this dragon." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Oh, why do we bother with this fatuous debate? None of us know what we will find when we get there. It's all philosophical ramblings and nursery tales at this point. When I confront it, then I will think about what is best to do. There. Does that satisfy you?"

"I scarcely believe that my satisfaction matters to you." And as he spoke those odd words, the Fool sent a sidelong glance my way. But it was not a look to catch my eye, but rather one that pointed me out to Chade. "You're right," Chade agreed smoothly. "It is not your satisfaction but Fitz's agreement that matters to me. Yet I know that if this decision falls to him alone, he would give your satisfaction much weight, even, perhaps, at the risk of Farseer fortunes." My old master gave me a speculative look, as if I were a spavined horse that might or might not last through another battle. The smile he gave me was almost desperate. "Yet I hope he will hear my concerns, as well." His gaze met mine. "When we confront it, then we will decide. Until then, the choice remains open. Is that acceptable?"

"Almost," the Fool replied. His voice was cool as he proposed, "Give us your promise, as a Farseer, that when the time comes, Fitz may do as his judgment bids him."

"My promise as a Farseer!" Chade was incensed.

"Exactly," the Fool replied calmly. "Unless your words are just an empty sop thrown to keep Fitz on the path to doing your will." He leaned back in his chair, his wrists and hands lax on the arms of it, perfectly at ease. For a moment, I recognized that slender man in black with his shining hair bound back. This was the boy the Fool had been, grown to a man. Then he turned his head to regard Chade more directly, and the familiarity was gone. His face was a sculpted silhouette of determination. I had never seen anyone challenge Chade so confidently. I was shocked at the words Chade spoke then. His smile was very strange as his eyes went from me to the Fool and back again. It was my gaze he met as he said, "I give my word as a Farseer. I will not ask him to do anything against his will. There. Are you content, man?"

The Fool nodded slowly. "Oh, yes. I am content. For the decision will come to him, and that I see as clearly as anything that remains to me to see." He nodded to himself. "There are still things we must discuss, you and I, but once we are on board ship and under way, there will be time for that. But the day rushes on without us, and I still have much to do to prepare for my departure. Good day, Lord Fallstar."

A very slight smile hung about his mouth. His glance went from me to Chade. And then he made a most curious gesture. Sweeping his arms wide, he made a graceful bow to Chade, as if they had afforded one another some great courtesy. When he straightened he spoke to me. His tone was warmer. "It was good to have a few moments with you today, Fitz. I've missed you." Then he gave a sudden small sigh, as if he had recalled an unpleasant duty. I suspected that his predicted death had just pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. His smile faded. "Gentlemen, you will excuse me," he murmured. And he departed, exiting through the cramped panel concealed in the side of the hearth as gracefully as a lord departing a banquet.

I sat staring after him. Our recent Skill-encounter rattled in my mind with his strange words and stranger gestures. He had clashed with Chade over something, and triumphed. Yet I was not quite sure what, if anything, had just been settled between them.

My old mentor spoke as if he could hear my thoughts. "He challenges me for your loyalty! How dare he? Me, who practically raised you! How can he think there would be any chance of us disagreeing, when we both know how much rests upon the successful completion of this quest? My word as a Farseer, indeed! And what does he think you are, when all is said and done?"

He turned and put the question to me as if he expected an unthinking assent from me. "Perhaps," I said quietly, "he believes that he is the White Prophet and I am his Catalyst." Then I took a stronger breath and spoke a question of my own. "How can the two of you quarrel over my loyalty, as if I had no thought of my own to give to any decision I might make?" I gave a snort of disgust. "I would not think a horse or a dog as mindless a game piece as you both seem to think I am."

He was staring past me out of the window when he spoke, and I do not think he truly considered the import of his words. "Not a horse or a dog, Fitz, no. I'd never think of you that way. No. You're a sword. So you were made to be, by me, a weapon to be wielded. And he thinks you fit his hand the best." The old man snorted in contempt. "The man is, still, a fool." He looked at me and nodded. "You were wise to tell me of his plans. It is good we shall be leaving him behind."

There seemed nothing to say to that. I left the Seawatch Tower, going as I had come through the dark maze hidden within the walls of Buckkeep. I had seen both my friend and my mentor more clearly today than I liked. I wondered if the Fool's touch on my wrist had been a demonstration for both Chade and me of the influence he had over me. And yet, and yet, it had not felt that way. Had he not asked me first if I wished for it? Still, it had felt as if it were a thing he wished to display to me. Yet had it been only circumstances that had made him reveal it to Chade, as well? Or had his intent been that I see clearly how Chade regarded me, how he assumed he could always depend on me to do his will? I shook my head. Could the Fool imagine I did not already know that? I clenched my teeth. There would come a moment when the Fool realized Chade and I had conspired against him, a moment when he knew how I had held my tongue today. I went back to my workroom, and I did not like any of the thoughts I took there with me. As I pushed open the door, I instantly knew that the Fool had been there before me. He'd left his gift on the table beside my chair. I walked over to it and ran a finger down Nighteyes' spine. My wolf was in his prime in the carving. A dead rabbit sprawled between his forepaws. His head was lifted, his dark eyes regarding me intelligently, patiently.

I picked it up. I had seen the Fool begin the carving when he sat at the table in my cabin. I had never guessed what it might be, had almost forgotten that he had promised to show it to me when it was finished. I touched the points of Nighteyes' pricked ears. Then I sat down in the chair and stared into the fire, my wolf cradled in my hands.

Weaponsmaster Hod ascended to that title after long service as journeyman to Weaponsmaster Crend. Her years in that position were well spent, for she became familiar not only with the use of each weapon, but the manufacture of good blades. Indeed, there are still some who say that her primary talent was in the creation of fine weapons, and that Buckkeep would have been better served to give another the title of Weaponsmaster and keep her at her forge. King Shrewd, however, did not see it that way. Upon Crend's death, she was immediately moved into his position, and oversaw the training of all Buckkeep's men-at-arms. She served the Farseer reign well, ultimately giving her life in battle for then King-in-Waiting Verity.

The Fool's carefully planned disposal of his possessions sparked in me a sudden desire to sort out my own belongings. That night, instead of packing, I sat on the corner of Chade's old bed, surrounded by all I owned. If I had been inclined to the Fool's fatalistic melancholy, perhaps it would have saddened me. Instead, I found myself grinning at the paucity of it. Even Gilly the ferret nosing through my trove seemed unimpressed.