Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, #1)(178)

I kept climbing, though the old injury in my back began to shriek in protest each time I reaqhed for the next handhold. By the time I reached the top, my shirt was stuck to my back with sweat. I hauled myself over the lip of the cliff on my belly, and then lay still for a moment or two, catching my breath. The wind was freer here, and colder. I stood up slowly and surveyed my surroundings.

Lots of water. The shores beyond the point I stood on were rocky and abrupt. No beaches. Behind me I saw forest. Beyond the tableland that fronted our beach was more forest. We were either on an island or a peninsula. I saw no sign of human habitation, no ships on the sea, not even a tendril of smoke rising anywhere. If we had to leave our jss beach on foot, we'd have to go through the forest. The thought sent a surge of unease through me.

After a time, I became aware of a thin sound. I walked to the cliff's edge and looked down. Prince Dutiful looked up at me and shouted a question, but the inflection of his words was all that reached my ears. I made a vague hand motion at him, feeling annoyed. If he wanted so badly to know what I saw, let him climb up here himself. My mind was busy with other concerns. Someone had made those alcoves and gathered those treasures. I should see some sign of human occupation somewhere. Logic demanded it. At last I discovered what might be a footpath far down the beach. It led through the tableland and toward the forest. It did not look well used. It might be no more than a game trail, I thought, but I fixed it in my mind in case we had to resort to it.

Then I looked out over the retreating water, searching for anything that might indicate worked stone. Nothing was exposed yet, but one area looked promising. As each wave fell back, I had glimpses of what might be several large black stones with straight edges. They were still under a shallow layer of water. I hoped it was not a geological quirk. There was a tangle of driftwood on the beach, with a seaweedfestooned branch that pointed toward the rocks. I noted it as a guide. I wasn't sure the tide would bare the rocks completely, but when it reached its full ebb, I intended to investigate them as much as I could.

Finally, with a sigh, I lay down on my belly, scrabbled my legs over the edge, and felt for the first foothold. The climb down was even more unpleasant than the journey up, for I had to grope blindly for each step as I descended. By the time I reached the ground, my legs had a tremor of weariness in them. I skipped the last two steps, dropping to the sand and nearly falling to my knees.

“Well, what did you see?” the Prince demanded.

I let him wait while I caught my breath. “Water. Rocks. Trees.”

“No town? No road?”

“No.”

“So what are we going to do?” He sounded annoyed, as if it were all my fault.

I knew what I would do. I was going back through the Skillpillar, even if I had to dive to find it. But what I said to him was, “What I tell you, she knows. Isn't that true?”

That stole all his words from him. He stood for a time just staring at me. When I set off down the beach, he fol--lowed me, unaware of how much authority he had ceded to me.

The day was not warm, but hiking on sand demands more effort than walking on solid ground. I was tired from my climb and preoccupied with my own worries, so I made no effort at conversation. It was Dutiful who broke the silence. “You said she was dead,” he abruptly accused me. “That's impossible. If she is dead, how does she speak to me?”

I took a breath to speak, sighed it out after a moment, and then took another. “When you are Witted, you bond to an animal. It's more than sharing thoughts, it's sharing being. After a time, you can see through the animal's eyes, experience its life as it does, perceive the world as the animal does. It isn't just ê”

“I know all that. I am Piebald, you know.” He gave a snort of contempt for my words.

I don't think an interruption had ever irritated me more. “Old Blood,” I corrected him sharply. “Tell me you're Piebald again, and I'll have to beat it out of you. I've no respect for what they do with their magic. Now. How long have you known that you're Witted?” I demanded suddenly.

“I êwhyê” I saw him struggle to push his mind past my threat. I'd meant it and he knew it. He took a breath. “For about five months. Since the cat was given to me. Almost as soon as her leash was given over to me, I felt ”You felt a trap closing on you, one you've been too stupid to perceive. The cat was given to you because others knew you were Witted before you knew it yourself. So you've shown signs of it, without being aware that you were doing so. Someone noticed, someone decided to use you. So they presented you with an animal to bond with. That's not how it's supposed to be, you know. Witted parents don't just hand their child an animal and say, here, this is your partner for as long as you both live. No. Usually the child is well schooled in the Wit and its consequences before it bonds. Usually the child makes a quest of some sort, seeking a likeminded animal. When it's done right, it's like getting married. This wasn't done right. You weren't educated about the Wit by people that cared aê?out you. A group ck Witted saw an opening, and took advantage of it. The cat didn't choose you. That's bad enough. But I don't think the cat was even allowed to choose the woman. She stole it, as a kit, from the mother's den, and forced the bond. Then the woman died, but she kept on living in the cat."

His eyes were wide and dark, staring up at me. He looked slightly aside from me, and I felt the Wit working between them.