I drew off my glove.
“Fitz, no! Contact Nettle first, let her know what you—”
I pressed my hand to the cold black stone.
And nothing happened. I felt astonished. And sick.
“Maybe it’s broken.” Riddle spoke doubtfully, and I heard his reluctance to encourage me at all.
“Shine said they went through the stone.” I centered my hand on the rune, dug my fingers into the cold, rough impression. I pushed. Nothing. I could sense nothing from the stone.
Elfbark.
No. I could not allow myself to be dead to the Skill right now. It could not be so, not when Bee might be only two steps through darkness away from me. “No. No!”
I rubbed my hand down the face of the cold stone, eroded by age. I felt the skin of my palm snag on it, felt callus sand away. “No!” I shouted.
“Fitz, it might be—”
I do not recall whatever else Riddle might have said. I shoved at the stone, hit it with a fist. I went into a rage. The edges of my vision went red and black. And when I came out of my rage, I had ruined a battle-axe against the Skill-pillar. I did not even recall pulling it from my back sling. My arms, back, and shoulders hurt from the force of the blows but the stone itself showed little sign of my attack, other than a few gray scuffs on its black surface. I was out of breath, and sweat ran down my back to match the tears of frustration that had coursed down my cheeks. I found I was hoarse from roaring curses.
I dropped the useless weapon in the snow and stood, lungs screaming for the air that I gulped, my raw hands braced on my knees. When I could straighten up and look around me, I found all my companions standing in an awestruck circle, at a very safe distance away.
“Fitz?” Riddle’s voice was soft.
“What?”
“Why don’t you step back from that axe?”
Instead I stooped down and picked it up. I examined the peened-over edge, and then returned it to my back sling. I crouched, scooped up a handful of snow in my raw palm, and ate it. The moisture eased my throat. “I’m done,” I told them wearily.
“What happened?” Lant demanded.
“Stupidity happened,” I told him. “I drank elfbark tea so their wizard could not use the Skill to hide Bee from me, and I deadened my Skill to the point where I can’t use a portal. She might be only two steps away, and I cannot take them!”
“What now, sir?” It was one of my Rousters.
What now? I sank down and sat in the snow. It was cold. I didn’t care. I tried to master my thoughts. It seemed to take a long time. I looked up at Riddle, who was still keeping his distance.
“I’m staying right here. Perseverance, take Fleeter. She’s fast. Ride ahead to Buckkeep Castle. Riddle and Lant, follow as swiftly as you can, but I’ll wager the boy will get there first. Go straight to Skillmistress Nettle. Tell her what has happened and ask her to send me Skilled ones who are experienced at using the stones to travel and who know how to use a blade. Riddle and Lant, if you will, give a full report to King Dutiful.”
Per spoke up fearfully. “Sir, I don’t know the fastest way.”
He still held the horses’ reins. I looked at Fleeter. Do you know the swiftest way to the stables at Buckkeep? Can you run that far?
I do. Her Wit was contained. You still claim we cannot bond, and you ask this of me?
I do.
Then you will grant me a boon. When I ask it.
I promise it will be so, I replied humbly. She owed me nothing and I needed this so desperately. I held my breath.
I’ll take the boy there.
Bear him well, Fleeter.
I know no other way. She tossed her head, dismissing me.
Thought is swift. The bargain was sealed in that moment. I met Per’s gaze. “Trust Fleeter. She knows the way. Go now.”
For an instant our gazes held. Then Per passed the reins of the other horses to Lant. He mounted Fleeter, turned her head, and she bore him away. I spoke to the others. “Sawyer and Reaper. You ride back to Captain Foxglove. Tell her that she and my guard are to take Lady Shine to Buckkeep as swiftly as they can. Sawyer, pick the six best soldiers in the Rousters. Bring them back here, with whatever supplies you can muster for spending the night in the open.” I looked at Riddle, to see if I’d missed anything.
He was scowling. “I don’t like leaving you here.”
“There’s nothing you can do for me by remaining.”
He tipped his head. “The body?”
I just looked at him.
“We’ll take it. Foxglove can sling her over the white horse and take her back to Buckkeep.”