Robin Hobb - Fool's Errand

"Eat it anyway, while there's food to eat." My words came out as a callous command.

Whether it was my Skill-hold upon him, or his own common sense, I couldn't tell. But after I had taken my share of the food from the seaweed packet, he came cautiously around the fire to claim his share. In some ways, he reminded me of Nighteyes when he had first come to me. The cub had been wary and defiant, yet pragmatic enough to realize he had to depend on me to provide for him. Perhaps the Prince knew that without me, he had no hopes of returning easily to Buck.

Or perhaps my Skill-command had burned so deep that even a suggestion from me must be obeyed.

The silence lasted as long as the food did, and a bit longer. I broke it. "I looked at the stars last night."

The Prince nodded. After a time, "We're a long way from home," he admitted grudgingly.

"We may face a long journey home with few resources. Do you know how to live off the land at all?"

Again, a silence followed my words. He did not want to speak to me, but I had knowledge he desperately needed. His question came grudgingly.

"What about the way we came here? Can't we go back that way?" A frown divided his brows as he asked, "How did you learn to do that magic? Is it the Skill?"

I broke a little piece of the truth off and gave it to him. "King Verity taught me to Skill. A long time ago." Before he could ask another question, I announced, "I'm going to walk down the beach and climb up those cliffs. It could be there's a town nearby." If I had to leave the boy here alone, I'd do my best to leave him in a safe place. And if the Skill-pillar did not emerge from the water, then I'd best prepare for along walk home. My will was iron in that regard. I'd return to Buck if I had to crawl there. And once there, I'd hunt down every one of those Piebalds and kill them slowly. The promise gave purpose to my motions. I began to pull on my socks and boots. The feathers still lay on the sand. A flick of my fingers slid them up my sleeve. I'd secure them better later. I did not wish to discuss them with the Prince. Dutiful made no reply to my words, but when I stood up and walked away from the fire, he followed me. I stopped at the freshwater stream, to wash my hands and face and to drink, as well. The Prince watched me, and when I was finished, he walked upstream to drink himself. While he was occupied, a strip from my shirt secured the feathers to my forearm. By the time he looked up from washing the blood from his face, my sleeve once more concealed them. Together we walked on. The silence felt like a heavy thing we carried between us. I could feel him mulling over what I had told him about the woman. I wanted to lecture him, to batter him with words until he understood exactly what the woman was trying to do. I wanted to ask if she was still in his mind with him. Instead I bit my tongue and held back my words.

He wasn't stupid, I told myself. I'd told him the truth. Now I had to let him work out what it meant to him. We kept walking.

To my relief, we found no more feathers on the sand. We found little of anything useful, though the beach seemed to have more than its share of flotsam. There were bits of rotting rope, and worm-bored lengths of ship timbers. The remains of a dead-eye lay not far from a thole. As we walked, the black cliff gradually loomed larger, until it towered above us and promised a good vantage of the land around it. As we drew closer, I saw that its face was pocked with holes. In a sand cliff, I would have thought them swallows' nests, but not in black stone. The holes seemed too regular and too evenly spaced to be the work of natural forces. The sun striking them seemed to wake glints in some of them. Curiosity beckoned me.

The reality was stranger than anything I could have imagined. When we reached the foot of the cliff, the holes were revealed as alcoves, of graduated sizes. Not all, but many of them held an object. Wordless with wonder, the Prince and I strolled along looking at the lowest levels of alcoves. The variety of objects put me in mind of some mad king's treasure hoard. One held a jeweled goblet, the next a porcelain cup of amazing delicacy. In a large alcove was something that looked like a wooden helmet for a horse, save that a horse's eyes are set on the sides of its head, not the front. A net of gold chain studded with tiny blue gems had been draped over a stone about the size of a woman's head. A tiny box of gleaming wood with images of flowers on it, a lamp carved from some lustrous green stone, a sheet of metal with odd characters graven into it, a delicate stone flower in a vase treasure after treasure after treasure was displayed there.

Wonder wrapped me. Who would so display such wealth, on an isolated cliff where the wind and waves could batter it? Each item shone as a cherished gem. No tarnish marred the metal, no coating of salt dimmed the wood. To whom did all this belong, and how and why was it here? I looked behind me down the beach, but saw no sign of any inhabitants. No footprints save our own marred the sand. All these marvels were left unguarded. Tempted beyond my control, I reached a finger to touch the flower in the vase, only to encounter resistance. It was as if a soft glass covered the opening of the alcove. Foolishly curious, I pressed my hand against the pliable surface. The harder I pressed, the more unyielding the invisible barrier became. I managed to touch one finger to the flower; it moved and a delicate chiming from its petals just reached my ears. Yet it would have taken a stronger man than I to press a hand in deep enough to grasp that flower. I drew my hand back, and as my flesh left the alcove, my fingers tingled unpleasantly. It reminded me of brushing a nettle, save that it did not last as long.

The Prince had watched me. "Thief," he observed quietly.

I felt like a child caught in some reckless act. "I did not intend to take it. I but wished to touch it."

"Certainly," he observed sarcastically.

"Have it as you will," I replied. I turned my eyes from the distraction of the treasures and looked up the cliff. I realized then that one series of vertical holes was a ladder rather than a succession of alcoves. I said not a word to the Prince as I approached them. Studying them, I decided they had been cut for a man taller than myself, but that I could probably manage.

Dutiful watched me curiously, but I decided he deserved no explanation. I began my climb. Each handhold was a bit of a stretch for me, and placing my feet demanded that I lift each foot uncomfortably high. I was about a third of the way up the cliff before I realized just how much work the whole climb was going to be. The new bruises the Prince had given me throbbed dully. If I had been by myself, I probably would have backed down.

I kept climbing, though the old injury in my back began to shriek in protest each time I reached for the next handhold. By the time I reached the top, my shirt was stuck to my back with sweat. I hauled myself over the lip of the cliff on my belly, and then lay still for a moment or two, catching my breath. The wind was freer here, and colder. I stood up slowly and surveyed my surroundings.

Lots of water. The shores beyond the point I stood on were rocky and abrupt. No beaches. Behind me I saw forest. Beyond the tableland that fronted our beach was more forest. We were either on an island or a peninsula. I saw no sign of human habitation, no ships on the sea, not even a tendril of smoke rising anywhere. If we had to leave our beach on foot, we'd have to go through the forest. The thought sent a surge of unease through me.

After a time, I became aware of a thin sound. I walked to the cliff's edge and looked down. Prince Dutiful looked up at me and shouted a question, but the inflection of his words was all that reached my ears. I made a vague hand motion at him, feeling annoyed. If he wanted so badly to know what I saw, let him climb up here himself. My mind was busy with other concerns. Someone had made those alcoves and gathered those treasures. I should see some sign of human occupation somewhere. Logic demanded it. At last I discovered what might be a footpath far down the beach. It led through the tableland and toward the forest. It did not look well used. It might be no more than a game trail, I thought, but I fixed it in my mind in case we had to resort to it.