Riddle shook his head at my meager offering. From his saddlebags, he produced a loaf of dark, sweet bread, a generous chunk of cheese, a nice slab of ham, and a sack of dried plums. It would have been ample for the two of us, and was adequate for all four of us to make a meal. Motley was happy with the scraps. I made a fresh pot of tea, and as Lant and Per sat slackly before the fire, I went out for more wood and built the fire up well for the night.
They were all yawning when I returned. “Have we a plan for the morrow?” Riddle asked me wearily.
“Up early. Ride. Find Bee and Shine. Kill the men who took them. Bring the girls home.”
“That’s a plan?” Lant asked incredulously.
“Based on what I know, that’s the best I can do,” I told him. Riddle nodded agreement and smothered a tremendous yawn. Per was already nodding before the fire. I took the half-full mug of tea from his lax hands. “Go to bed,” I suggested to him. “Remember that tomorrow is another day.” He managed a yawn before he rose and stumbled toward the sleeping platform. He was asleep with his boots on almost as soon as he lay down.
“How’s the wound, Lant?” I asked him.
“Aches,” he muttered. “Everything aches still. I was tired when I began today. Now I’ve got nothing left.”
“Not your fault,” I told him. “You’re still healing. If Chade were himself, he’d have realized that he shouldn’t send you. No reason to be ashamed. You need this rest and you should take it.”
I wondered why I was attempting to comfort him and then put my finger on it. Guilt. He felt guilty for not defending Shine when she was taken, and guiltier now that he could barely participate in a mission to rescue her. And tomorrow, I knew, he would feel even worse. I watched him as he rose from his chair. He staggered two steps sideways and then trudged to the bed. He lay down, wrapped his cloak more closely around himself, and was still.
“Fitz?” Riddle asked thickly.
“I’m sorry,” I lied as he stood. I caught him as he sagged and eased him down onto the floor. Taking him by the shoulders, I dragged him closer to the fire. I snapped his cloak out and spread it over him. He was fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Take care of Lant and the boy,” I told him. “That’s the best way to help me. What I may have to do, I think I’ll do best alone. Don’t feel bad about this. I’ve always been a treacherous bastard. And you know that.”
“Fiiiizs,” he managed, and then his eyes closed. I sighed heavily.
“Oh, Fitz,” the crow said in a voice oddly like the Fool’s. It felt like a rebuke.
“I do what I have to do,” I told her. “I’m not taking you with me, either.”
I put a piece of wood in the fire.
I lay down beside Riddle, my back against his, covered us both with my cloak, and closed my eyes. I did not allow myself to fall asleep. I did not have that luxury. I let myself rest for as long as it took my propped log to burn through in the fireplace.
When I heard it fall, I arose. I sprinkled seed on another piece of bread and went out to the stable. I moved softly, waking Fleeter with my thoughts as much as with my touch.
I didn’t deceive her. “If you eat this, you will have the strength to carry me through the rest of the night and the day tomorrow.”
I thought she would question me. Nighteyes would have questioned me. Instead, without hesitation, she lipped the piece of bread from my hand. Her trust shamed me. I did not think it would do her any harm. Nonetheless, I did not feel comfortable with what I had done. I went back to the cabin to allow the seed to work.
I ate lightly, pressing carris seed into what was left of Riddle’s cheese and toasting it on the now-stale bread. Carris seed was often used on festive cakes for a lift of energy and spirit. I was judicious with it. The effects often ended quite abruptly. I recalled well how Chade had once dropped in his tracks after depending on it too heavily. The bread, melted cheese, and tangy seeds were delicious and I felt the invigorating effects almost immediately. I felt almost lighthearted as I moved around the small cabin. The other three were sleeping heavily and probably would not wake until well past noon. I gave the crow a small cut of the bread and put water in one of the mugs for her. I checked on Perseverance before I left, slightly worried that perhaps he had consumed a heavier dose of my tea than I’d intended for him. But his breathing was strong and he even muttered as I felt the strong pulse at his throat. He’d be fine. I washed out the cup very well and packed the pot with snow, which I heated and added to it all the delvenbark that I carried. Time to disappear from the Skill-current. I hadn’t told Chade that I’d retained a measure for myself. At the time, it had simply seemed a good idea. Now as I drank the bitter brew, I reflected that no one could hide my daughter from me or cloud my mind. I felt it deaden the Skill in me immediately, and felt also both the dampening of spirit and unnatural energy it bestowed. I washed the kettle with snow and put it back on the table. I packed some of the food, built up the fire for them. As I went out the door, I heard the sharp clap of wings and felt a slap of black feathers against my cheek as the crow escaped. She flew to the top of the horse’s shed and kicked down some snow from the ridgepole as she landed. The moon was well risen now, but even so she was just a darker bit of blackness against the sky. I looked up at her.
