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“There aren’t,” I told him. I looked at Perseverance. “And you?”

The boy had the brilliant Elderling cloak hooded up over his head. It was too large for him. He peered at me from the recesses. “I’m dressed warm. I brought food, mostly grain for porridge. Some smoked dried meat. A cook-pot for it, and a spoon. A cup. My knife. A sling. Not a lot.”Advertisement

“A bedroll?”

“I’ve got her cloak, sir, the butterfly cloak. It’s surprisingly warm.”

I looked at him. His cheeks were pink and the tip of his nose was red, but he looked comfortable crouched by the fire. I pondered for a time. I didn’t like my decision. “We’ll camp here for three days. Then I’ll take you back.” And I’d have to wait at least another three days before I dared another journey through the pillar. Setback after setback.

“No,” said Lant.

“Won’t go,” Perseverance replied. He didn’t look at me. Instead he went to his pack that he’d set inside the tent and came back with a pot. He moved away from the trodden area to pack it full of clean snow. He brought it back and set it by the fire. “We’ll have porridge for dinner,” he announced. He looked at Lant. “I could add some of your dried fruit if you want.”

Lant was warming his hands. “It’s in my pack. Fetch it for me and I’ll find the apples for you.”

“No.” I said. They both stared at me. I pointed at my cousin. “Fetch it yourself, Lant. Perseverance is my man, not yours. For the next three days, you’ll do everything for yourself. Then we’ll see if you don’t want to go back to Buckkeep.”

He glared at me. Then, without a word, he rose and stalked off to the tent. He returned with his pack, opened it, and took out a packet of dried apples. I had to admire his self-control. He didn’t take his temper out on the boy, but only selected a handful of dried slices and gave them to the lad. Perseverance thanked him.

I inspected their work on the tent. It had been intended only for me, and to be comfortably large for one man. Three were going to be more than snug. The tent was canvas, sewn like a big pocket that could be staked down and the top lifted with a line to a tree. I tightened several of the lines and tapped down one peg more securely. I hadn’t wanted to bring it but I knew we’d all be glad of it tonight. I’d planned to abandon it as soon as I could.

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The cold was not as daunting now that I knew I had a warm fire to return to. I walked slowly around the circular clearing that had once been a marketplace. I tried to imagine Elderlings converging here to trade goods and exchange news. I looked up at the pillar that had ejected us. It was a darker shape against a dark sky. I recalled the first time I had seen this place. Kettricken, the Fool, the old woman, Kettle, Starling, and I had come here on our long quest to find King Verity and persuade him to return to his throne and his embattled kingdom. The Fool had climbed the pillar, and when I looked up at him there, he had been someone else: another jester or songster, from another time. And Starling had slapped me, hard, to wake me from that vision. Later, the Fool and I had gone hunting with Nighteyes. And ended up in a water fight in a creek. Boys. We’d been such boys, but I’d believed myself a man. So many years ago. How my world had changed since then. How we had changed.

I glanced back at Per and Lant. Per was crouched over his little pot, adding another handful of snow. The apples and the oats waited beside him. He was explaining to Lant that it would take a lot of melted snow to make a pot of water, and then it must boil before he added the oats or the apples. I felt a burst of disgust that Lant did not know such simple things as how to cook porridge over a fire in winter. Then it came to me that his life would never have taught him such skills, any more than mine had taught me the rules of the various gambling games that pleased the nobles of Buckkeep. I wasn’t being fair to expect those things of him. But life wasn’t fair. Life does not wait for any of us to grow up. Perhaps if it had been summer, they’d have been throwing water at each other.

I looked at Lant and tried to see him dispassionately. He had grit. He’d ridden after me with that half-healed stab wound. Even now, I saw his hand stray to his healed ribs and gently rub them. I knew the ache of old injuries in the cold. He’d known I would not welcome him, and yet he’d followed me. I still didn’t understand why. Lant said something in a low voice, Per chuckled, and the crow copied him with her cawing laugh. Nothing could have made me smile tonight. I felt envy for their youth, and a spark of warmth for both of them. They’d made such a mistake today. And they’d have to pay the toll for it. pqdm.com