Free Fool's Quest by Hobb Robin Page A

out suddenly, “He bites! Beware!” prompting a sudden reshuffling of the bodies on top of him.
    All this took place as I wallowed forward, fell, rose, and finally burst free of the deep snow onto the trampled ground. I flung myself to my knees beside Shun, sobbing, “Be alive! Please, be alive!”
    She wasn’t. I felt nothing from her. Then, as I touched her cheek, her staring eyes blinked. She looked up at me without recognition and began to utter short, sharp shrieks as if she were a hen on a threatened nest. “Shun! Don’t be scared! You are safe now! I’ll protect you.” Even as I made those promises, I heard how ridiculous they were. I tugged at her opened top and the torn lace, getting snow from my mittened hands on her bare chest. She gasped and suddenly gripped the ripped edges of the fabric. She sat up, holding her collar closed. She looked down at the fabric in her hands and then said brokenly, “It was the finest quality. It was.” She bowed her head. Sobs rose from her, terrible shaking sobs without tears.
    â€œIt still is,” I assured her. “You still are.” I started to pat her comfortingly, then realized my mittens were still laden with snow. I tried to drag my hands free of them, but they were fastened to the sleeves of my fur robe.
    Behind us, the plump woman was talking to the man on the ground. “You cannot have her. You heard the words of the shaysim. He values her life beyond his own. She must not be harmed, lest he do harm to himself.”
    I turned my head to look at them. The plump woman was nudging her charges, and they were slowly getting off the man. The rapist responded with curses. I did not need to know the language to understand the depth of his anger. The pale folk were tumbling away from him, falling back and stumbling through the deeper snow as he came to his feet. Two were bleeding from their noses. He spat snow, cursed again, and then strode off into the darkness. I heard him address something angrily, the heavy stomping of a startled horse, and then the sounds of a horse pushed abruptly into a gallop.
    I had given up on the mittens. I crouched beside Shun. I wanted to talk to her but had no idea what to say. I would not lie again and tell her that she was safe. None of us was safe. She huddled as deep into herself as she could, pulling her knees up to her chest and bowing her head over them.
    â€œShaysim.” The plump woman crouched in front of me. I would not look at her. “Shaysim,” she said again and touched me. “She is important to you, this one? Have you seen her? Doing important things? Is she essential?” She put her hand on Shun’s bent neck as if she were a dog, and Shun cowered away from the touch. “Is she one you must keep beside you?”
    The words sank into me like FitzVigilant’s blood had sunk into the trampled snow. They made holes in me. The question was significant. It had to be answered and it had to be answered correctly. What did she want me to say? What could I say that would make her keep Shun alive?
    I still did not look at her. “Shun is essential,” I said. “She does important things.” I flung an arm wide and shouted angrily, “They are all essential. They all do important things!”
    â€œThat’s true.” She spoke gently, as if I were a little child. It came to me that perhaps she thought I was much younger than I was. Could I use that? My mind tumbled strategies frantically as she continued to speak. “Everyone is significant. Everyone does important things. But some people are more significant than others. Some people do things that make changes. Big changes. Or they make tiny changes that can lead to big changes. If someone knows how to use them.” She hunched even lower, then thrust her face below mine and looked up at me. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Shaysim? You’ve seen the paths