Fool’s Fate. Робин Хобб

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       You’re better off than me. I’ve got no window at all.

       The floor moves.

       I know. But we’ll be fine. Soon all the extra people will get off the boat, and the sailors will throw the lines free and we’ll set off on our adventure. Won’t that be fun?

       No. I want to go home.

       Oh, it’ll be better, once we get underway. You’ll see.

       No, it won’t. The floor moves. And Sada said I’d get seasick.

      I wished someone had thought to tell Sada to speak positively of the journey to come.

       Is Sada coming with us, then? Is she on board?

       No. Only me, by myself. Because Sada gets horribly sick on ships. She felt very sorry for me, that I had to go. She said every day on a ship is like a year to her. And there’s nothing to do except be sick, and vomit and vomit and vomit.

      Unfortunately, Thick was right. It was late afternoon before the well-wishers were escorted from the ship. I managed to get up on the deck, but only briefly, for the captain cursed all the guard, ordering us to get back down below, to give his crew room to work. My glimpse of the crowd on the docks did not show me the Fool. I had dreaded to meet his accusing stare, but it worried me even more not to see him there. Then I was herded below decks with the rest and the hatches were closed over us, cutting off what little light and air we’d had before. I perched on my sea chest again. The resinous smell of the ship’s tarry timbers intensified. Overhead, the captain ordered the ship’s boats to tow us away from the dock. The sounds changed as we began to move through the water. The captain shouted incomprehensible commands, and I heard the pattering of bare feet as sailors rushed to obey them.

      I heard the ship’s boats called back and taken in. The vessel gave a sort of dip and then the rhythm of the motions changed again. I judged that our canvas had caught the wind. This was it. We were finally underway. Someone took pity on us down below and opened the hatch a crack, which taunted more than comforted. I stared at the skinny band of light.

      ‘I’m already bored,’ Riddle confided to me. He stood next to me, carving on the heavy planks of the hull.

      I made a noise at him. He went on carving.

       Well, Tom Badgerlock, we’re underway. How do you fare down below?

      The Prince sounded cheery, but what could one expect of a fifteen-year-old, off on a sea-voyage to slay a dragon and win the hand of a Narcheska? I could sense Chade in the background, and pictured him at a table next to the Prince, Dutiful’s fingers lightly touching the back of his hand. I sighed. We still had a lot of work to do to make the Skill-coterie work.

       I’m already bored. And Thick seems distressed.

      Ah. I was hoping you’d appreciate a task. I’ll send a man to your captain. Thick is at the after rail, and could use some company. You’ll be joining him. That was unmistakably Chade, speaking through the Prince.

       Is he sick already?

       Not quite yet. But he has convinced himself that he will be.

      Well, at least it would get me out into the air, I thought sourly.

      A short time later, Captain Longwick called out my name. When I reported to him, he informed me that I was to tend the Prince’s man Thick, who was indisposed on the afterdeck. The men who overheard my orders chivvied me for being nursemaid to a half-wit. I grinned and replied that being above decks watching over one simpleton was far better than being trapped below decks with a troop of them. I climbed the ladder and emerged into the fresh sea air.

      I found Thick on the afterdeck, holding onto the railing and staring dolorously back at Buckkeep. The black castle on top of the rocky cliffs was dwindling behind us. Civil stood near the little man, his hunting cat at his heels. Neither he nor the cat looked pleased to be there, and as Thick leaned out over the railing and made retching noises, the cat flattened his ears.

      ‘Here’s Tom Badgerlock, Thick. You’ll be fine now, won’t you?’ Civil gave me a brief nod, nobleman to guardsman. As always, he stared at me searchingly. He knew I was not what I seemed. I’d saved his life from the Piebalds back in Buckkeep Town. He had to wonder at how I’d suddenly appeared and come to his aid. He’d have to keep wondering, just as I had to wonder how much Laudwine had told him about Lord Golden and me. We’d never spoken of it, nor did I intend to now. I made my eyes opaque and bowed.

      ‘I’m here to assume my duties, sir.’ My tone was neutrally respectful.

      ‘I’m very glad to see you. Well, farewell, Thick. You’re in good hands, now. I’m going back into the cabin. I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.’

      ‘I’m going to die,’ Thick replied dismally. ‘I’m going to puke my guts out and die.’

      Civil gave me a sympathetic look. I pretended not to see it as I took my place at the railing alongside Thick. He leaned far out again, forcing gagging sounds from his throat. I held onto the back of his jacket. Ah, yes. The adventure of travel by sea.

       SIX

       Voyage of Dreams

       … despised beast-magic’s other uses. The ignorant believe that the Wit can only be used to give humans the power to speak to animals (words obscured by scorching) and shape-changing for evil intent. Gunrody Lian, the last man to admit openly at Buckkeep Court that he had (large fragment burned away) also for healing the mind as well. From beasts, too, he claimed they could harvest the instinctive knowledge of curative herbs, as well as a wariness against (this portion ends here. Next scorched fragment of scroll begins:) … set hands to her head and held her steady and looked in her eyes. So he stood over her while the ghastly surgery was done, and she never looked away from him, nor cried out in agony. This I myself saw but … (again, into the scorched edge of the scroll. The next three words may be:) dared not tell.

      Fallstar’s attempt to recreate the Wit-scroll by Skillmaster Leftwell, from the burned fragments discovered in a wall of Buckkeep Castle

      I managed to get all the way to the next morning before I vomited myself. I lost count of how many times I held onto Thick while he leaned far over the railing and retched hopelessly at the sea. The taunting of the sailors did not help matters, and if I had dared leave his side, I’d have taken some satisfaction from one or two of them. It was not congenial mockery of a landsman with no stomach for the sea. There was an ugly undercurrent to it, like crows drawn to torment a single eagle. Thick was different, a dimwit with a clumsy body, and they gleefully delighted in his misery as proof that he was inferior to them. Even when a few other miserable souls joined us at the railing, Thick took the brunt of their teasing.

      It diminished briefly when the Prince and Chade took an evening stroll out on the decks. The Prince seemed invigorated by the sea air and his freedom from Buckkeep. As he stood by Thick and spoke to him in low tones, Chade contrived to set his hand on the railing touching mine. His back СКАЧАТЬ