Fool's Fate - Page 202/343

The Prince came to Burrich's request and sat behind me. When Burrich had arranged the Prince's grip around me to his liking, he spoke to me. “This is going to take a sharp tug. Don't look at me while I do it. Look straight ahead, and be as loose as you can. Don't tighten in fear for the pain to come or I'll only have to jerk it harder the second time. Steady. Hold him firm, my lord. Trust me, now, lad. Trust me.” As he spoke calmingly, he'd been slowly lifting my arm. I listened to his words, letting them drown out the pain, his touch filling me with calm and trust. “Be easy, be easy, and . . . Now!”

I roared with the sudden shock, and in the next instant, Burrich was on his knee on the floor beside me, his big callused hands holding my arm firmly to my shoulder. It tingled and it hurt, but it hurt the right way, and I leaned against him, weak with the relief of it. Even as I panted, I noticed how he held his game leg out at an angle, the knee scarce bending. I thought of what it had cost him to come all this way, near blind and half-lame, and I felt humbled.

He spoke quietly into my ear as he embraced me. “You're a man grown, all these many years, but when I see you hurt, I swear, you are eight years old and I'm thinking, ‘I promised his father I'd look after his son. I promised.' ”

“You did,” I assured him. “You have.”

Web spoke quietly, his voice deep. “I stand amazed. That is a bit of Old Blood magic I thought was lost to us. I saw that kind of healing done on animals a few times when I was a lad, before old Bendry died in the Red Ship War. But I've never seen it used that way on a man, nor so smoothly. Who taught you? Where have you been all these years?”

“I don't use Beast Magic,” Burrich said emphatically.

“I know what I just saw,” Web replied implacably. “Call it by any dirty name you like. You're a master of it, in a way that is near lost to us. Who taught you, and why have not you passed on the teaching?”

“No one taught me anything. Get out. And stay away from Swift.” There was dark threat in Burrich's words, and almost fear.

Web remained calm. “I'll leave, for I think Fitz needs quiet, and a time for private speech with you. But I'll not let your son walk in ignorance. He gets his magic from you. You should have taught him your skills with it.”

“My father has the Wit?” Swift looked shocked to his core.

“It all makes sense now,” Web said quietly. He leaned toward Burrich, looking at him in a way that went beyond the touch of eyes. “The Stablemaster. And a master in the Wit, as well. How many creatures can speak to you? Dogs? Horses? What else? Where did you come from, why have you hidden yourself?”

“Get out!” Burrich flared.

“How could you?” Swift demanded, suddenly in tears. “How could you make me feel so dirty and low, when it came from you, when you had it, too? I'll never forgive you. Never!”

“I don't need your forgiveness,” Burrich said flatly. “Only your obedience, and I'll take that if I have to. Now both of you, out. I've work to do and you're in my way.”

The boy set down the teapot blindly and stumbled from the tent. I could hear the sobs that wracked him as he ran off into the night.

Web rose more slowly, setting the kettle of soup down carefully. “I'll go, man. Now isn't our time. But our time to talk is going to come, and you'll hear me out, even if we must come to blows first.” Then he turned to me. “Good night, Fitz. I'm glad you're not dead. I mourn that Lord Golden did not return with you.”

“You know who he is?” The words were torn from Burrich.

“Yes. I do. And by him, I know who you are. And I know who used the Wit to pull him back from death and raise him from the grave. And so do you.” Web left on those words, letting the tent flap fall behind him.

Burrich stared after him, then blinked his clouded eyes. “That man is a danger to my son,” he observed tightly. “It may come to blows between us.” Then, he seemed to dismiss that concern. Turning his head toward Chade and Dutiful, he said, “I need a strip of cloth or a leather strap or something to bind his arm to his shoulder for the night, until the swelling goes down and it holds firm on its own. What do we have?” Dutiful held up the robe the Pale Woman had given me. Burrich nodded in approval and Dutiful began cutting a strip off the bottom of it.

“Thank you.” And then, to me, “You can eat with your right hand while I'm doing this. The hot food will warm you. Just try not to move too much.”