“Get him up!” The man's voice came from behind me. “There's no time for delay. We need to gain some distance.” I twisted on the ground to see who spoke but saw no one.
Green eyes stared into his. I could have fallen forever into those eyes. Trust me, she begged him, and he had to do as she requested. Later you can think of these things. Later you can think of duty. For now, think of living. And of me. Get up. The Fool took my arm and draped it across his shoulders. “Up you come,” he said persuasively, and heaved me to my feet. He was dressed all in black. More time must have passed than I had thought. Laughter and talk still spilled from the common room of the inn along with light. Once I was up, I found I could walk, but the Fool still insisted on keeping my arm as he guided me to a dark corner of the innyard. I leaned against the rough wood of the stable wall and collected myself.
“Are you going to be all right?” the Fool asked me again.
“I think so.” The cobwebs were clearing from my mind. But the feel of these cobwebs was more familiar. felt the familiar twinges of a Skillheadache, but they were less determined than usual. I drew a deep breath. “I'll be all right. But I don't think I should try to sleep in the inn tonight. It's built from memory stone, Fool, like the black road. Like the stone in the quarry.”
“Like the dragon Verity carved,” he filled in.
I took a deep breath. My head was clearing rapidly. “It's full of memories. That's so strange, to find stone like that here in Buck. I never supposed the Elderlings had come this far.”
“Of course they had. Think about it. What do you think the old Witness Stones are, if not Elderling handiwork?”
His words shocked me. Then, it was so obvious that I didn't waste time agreeing. “Yes, but standing stones are one thing. That inn is the rebuilt remains of an Elderling structure. I had never expected to see that here in Buck.”
He was silent for a time. As my eyes adjusted to the deeper darkness where we sheltered, I could see that he was actually chewing at the corner of his thumbnail. After a moment, he realized I was looking at him and snatched his hand away from his mouth. “Sometimes I get so caught up in the immediate puzzle that I overlook the pieces of the larger question that are all around us,” he said as if confessing a fault. “So. You are all right now?”
“I think I'll be fine. I'll find an empty stall in the stable and sleep there. If the hostler asks, I'll tell him I'm in disgrace.” I turned to go, then thought to ask, “Will you be able to get back into the inn, dressed like that?”
“Just because I sometimes wear the clothes of a nobleman, don't think I've forgotten all the tricks of a tumbler.”
He sounded almost offended. “I'll get back in the way I got out: through the window.”
“Good. I may take a walk about the town, to 'clear my head.' And to see what I can discover. If you can make the opportunity, go to the common room. Stir the gossip pot and see if you hear anything of strangers with a hunting cat passing through here yesterday.” I started to add something about bloodshed in the street, but stopped myself. There was little chance it directly related to us. “Very well. Fitz. Go carefully.” “There's no need to remind me of that.” I started to step away from him but he suddenly caught at my arm. “Don't go just yet. I've wanted to talk to you all day.” He abruptly let go of me and crossed his arms on his chest. He took a ragged breath. “I did not think this would be so hard. I've played so many roles in my life. I thought it would be easy, that it might even be fun to play master to your man. It's not.”
“No. It's hard. But I think it's wise.” “We've blundered too many times with Laurel.” I shrugged helplessly. “That is as it is. She knows we were both chosen by the Queen. Perhaps we can leave her in confusion and let her draw her own conclusions. They might be more convincing than anything we could fabricate.”
He cocked his head and smiled. “Yes. That tactic pleases me. For now, we shall discover what we can tonight, and plan an early start in the morning.”
We separated at those words. He withdrew into the darkness, vanishing as adeptly as Nighteyes could. I watched for him to cross the innyard but did not see him. I caught one brief glimpse of him as he vaulted back through the darkened window. I did not hear a sound.
Nighteyes pressed heavily against my leg. What news? I asked him. Our Wit was as silent as the warmth of his body against me. Bad news. Keep silent and follow.
He took me, not through the main streets of town, but away from its center. I wondered where we were going, but dared not reach forth to touch minds with him. I curbed my Wit, though it dulled my senses not to share the wolf's awareness. We ended up in a rocky field near the river's edge. He took me to the edge of it, where large trees grew. The tall dry grasses had been tramped down flat there. I caught a whiff of cooked meat and cold ashes. Then my eyes pieced together the length of rope still hanging from a tree, and the burnedout fire beneath it. I stood very still. The night wind off the river stirred the ashes and suddenly the smell of cooked meat sickened me. I put my hand over the extinguished coals. They were sodden and cold. A fire deliberately set and deliberately drowned. I poked at them, and felt the telltale greasiness of dripping fat. They had been more than thorough. Hung, cut in quarters, burned, and the remains thrown in the river.
