“It does seem as if at any moment they might awaken,” I observed.
Kettle had settled with a sigh to the earth beside me. She shook her old head slowly. “I do not think so,” she said quietly. She almost sounded as if she grieved.
“Well, as we cannot fathom their mystery, and what remains of the road has ended here, we shall leave them tomorrow and resume our journey,” Kettricken announced.
“What will you do,” the Fool asked quietly, “if Verity is not at the last map destination?”
“I do not know,” Kettricken confided to us quietly. “Nor shall I worry about it until it happens. I still have an action left to take; until I have exhausted it, I shall not despair.”
It struck me then that she spoke as if considering a game, with one final move left that might yet lead to victory. Then I decided that I had spent too much time focusing on Kettle’s game problems. I yanked a last snarl from my hair and pulled it back into a tail.
Come hunt with me before the last light is gone, the wolf suggested.
“I think I shall hunt with Nighteyes tonight,” I announced as I stood and stretched. I raised one eyebrow at the Fool, but he seemed lost in thought and made no response. As I stepped, away from the fire, Kettricken asked me, “Are you safe, alone?”
“We are far from the Skill road. This has been the most peaceful day I’ve known in some time. In some ways.”
“We may be far from the Skill road, but we are still in the heart of a land once occupied by Skill users. They have left their touch everywhere. You cannot say, while you walk these hills, that you are safe. You should not go alone.”
Nighteyes whined low in his throat, anxious to be gone. I longed to go hunt with him, to stalk and chase, to move through the night with no human thoughts. But I would not discount Kettle’s warning.
“I’ll go with him,” Starling offered suddenly. She rose, dusting her hands on her hips. If anyone besides myself thought it was strange, no one made sign of it. I expected at least a mocking farewell from the Fool, but he continued to gaze off into the darkness. I hoped he was not getting sick again.
Do you mind if she goes with us? I asked Nighteyes.
In reply he gave a small sigh of resignation, and trotted away from the fire. I followed him more slowly and Starling followed me.
“Shouldn’t we catch up with him?” she asked me several moments later. The forest and the deepening dusk were closing in around us. Nighteyes was nowhere to be seen, but then, I did not need to see him.
I spoke, not in a whisper, but very low. “When we hunt, we move independently of one another. When one of us starts up some game, the other comes swiftly, either to intercept, or to join in the chase.”
My eyes had adjusted to the dark. Our quest led us away from the statues, into a forest night innocent of man’s workings. Spring smells were strong, and the songs of frogs and insects were all around us. I soon struck a game trail and began to move along it. Starling came behind me, not silently, but not awkwardly either. When one moves through the forest by day or by night, one can either move with it or against it. Some people know how to do it instinctively; others never learn. Starling moved with the forest, ducking under hanging branches and sidestepping others as we wove our way through the night. She did not try to force her way through the thickets we encountered, but turned her body to avoid being caught on the twiggy branches.
You are so aware of her, you will not see a rabbit if you step on it! Nighteyes chided me.
At that moment, a hare started from a bush right beside my path. I sprang after it, going doubled over to follow it on the game trail. It was far faster than I, but I knew it would most likely circle. I also knew that Nighteyes was also moving swiftly to intercept it. I heard Starling hurrying after me but had no time to think of her as I kept the rabbit in sight as it dodged around trees and under snags. Twice I nearly had it, and twice it doubled away from me. But the second time it doubled, it raced straight into the jaws of the wolf. He sprang, pinned it to the earth with his front paws, then seized its small skull in his jaws. As he stood, he gave it a sharp shake, snapping its neck.
I was opening its belly and spilling its entrails out for the wolf when Starling caught up with us. Nighteyes snapped the guts up with relish. Let’s find another, he suggested, and moved swiftly off into the night.
“He always gives up the meat to you like that?” Starling asked me.
“He doesn’t give it up. He lets me carry it. He knows that, now is the best hunting, and so he hopes to kill again swiftly. If not, he knows I will keep meat safe for him, and that we will share later.” I secured the dead rabbit to my belt. I started off through the night, the warm body flopping lightly against my thigh as I walked.
“Oh.” Starling followed. A short time later, as if in answer to something I’d said, she observed, “I do not find your Wit-bond with the wolf offensive.”
“Neither do I,” I replied quietly. Something in her choice of words nettled me. I continued to prowl along the trail, eyes and ears alert. I could hear the soft pad, pad, pad of Nighteyes feet off to my left and ahead of me. I hoped he would scare game toward me.
A short time later, Starling added, “And I will stop calling the Fool ‘she.’ Whatever I may suspect.”
“That’s good,” I told her noncommittally. I did not slow my pace.
I truly doubt you will be much good as hunter this night.
This is not of my choosing.
I know.
“Do you want me to apologize as well?” Starling asked in a low strained voice.
“I . . . uh,” I stammered, and fell silent, unsure of what this was all about.
“Very well then,” she said in an icily determined voice. “I apologize, Lord FitzChivalry.”
I rounded on her. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded. I spoke in a normal voice. I could sense Nighteyes. He was already topping the hill, hunting alone now.
“My lady queen bid me stop spreading discord within the company. She said that Lord FitzChivalry carried many burdens I could not know of, and did not deserve to bear also my disapproval,” she informed me carefully.
I wondered when all this had come to pass, but dared not ask it. “None of this is necessary,” I said quietly. I felt oddly shamed, like a spoiled child who had sulked until the other children gave in. I took a deep breath, determined to simply speak honestly and see what came of it. “I do not know what made you withdraw your friendship, save that I disclosed my Wit to you. Nor do I understand your suspicions of the Fool, or why they seem to anger you. I hate this awkwardness between us. I wish we could be friends, as we were before.”
“You do not despise me, then? For giving my witness that you claimed Molly’s child as your get?”
I groped inside me after the lost feelings. It had been long since I had even thought about it. “Chade already knew of them.” I said quietly. “He would have found a way, even if you had not existed. He is very . . . resourceful. And I have come to understand that you do not live by the same rules that I do.”
“I used to,” she said softly. “A long time ago. Before the keep was sacked and I was left for dead. After that, it was hard to believe in the rules. Everything was taken from me. All that was good and beautiful and truthful was laid waste by evil and lust and greed. No. By something even baser than lust and greed, some drive I could not even understand. Even while the Raiders were raping me, they seemed to take no pleasure in it. At least, not the kind of pleasure . . . They mocked my pain and struggling. Those who watched were laughing as they waited.” She was looking past me into the darkness of the past. I believe she spoke as much to herself as me, groping to understand something that defied meaning. “It was as if they were driven, but not by any lust or greed that could be sated. It was a thing they could do to me, so they did it. I had always believed, perhaps childishly, that if you followed the rules, you would be protected, that things like that would not happen to you. Afterward, I felt . . . tricked. Foolish. Gullible, that I had thought ideals could protect me. Honor and courtesy and justice . . . they are not real, Fitz. We all pretend to them, and hold them up like shields. But they guard only against folk who carry the same shields. Against those who have discarded them, they are no shields at all, but only additional weapons to use against their victims.”