Fool's Errand (73 page)

“So. What did our Queen think of Prince Dutiful’s bride?”

Chade looked at me for a long moment. “Are you asking for a report?”

Something in his voice made me falter. A trap? Was this one of his trap questions? “I merely asked. I have no right—”

“Ah. Then Dutiful was mistaken, and you have not consented to teach him?”

I worked the two ideas against one another, trying to see how they fit. Then I gave it up. “And if I have?” I asked him cautiously.

“If you have, then you not only have a right to the information, but a need. If you are going to educate the Prince, you must know everything that affects him. But if you are not, if you intend to go back to your hermit’s hut, if you are asking but for the sake of hearing family gossip . . .” He let his words trail off.

I knew that old trick of his. Leave a sentence dangling, and someone will leap to fill in the end, and possibly betray their own thoughts in doing so. Instead, I sat regarding my cup of tea and chewing on the side of my thumbnail until he leaned across the table and in exasperation slapped my hand away from my mouth. “Well?” he demanded.

“What did the Prince tell you?”

It was his turn to hold his silence for a time. I waited him out, wolf-wary.

“Nothing,” he grudgingly admitted at last. “I was but hoping.”

I leaned back in my chair, wincing as my aching back touched it. “Oh, old man,” I warned him, shaking my head. Then I found myself smiling, despite myself. “I thought the years had rounded your corners, but they haven’t. Why are you making it like this between us?”

“Because I am the Queen’s Councillor now, not your mentor, my boy. And because, I fear, there are days when, as you put it, my corners are rounded, and I forget things and all my carefully gathered threads turn suddenly to a snarl in my hand. So. I try to be careful, and more than careful, in every aspect of all I do.”

“What was in the tea?” I asked suddenly.

“Some new herbs I’ve been trying. They were mentioned in the Skill-scrolls. No elfbark, I assure you. I’d give you nothing that might damage your abilities.”

“But they ‘sharpen’ you?”

“Yes. But at a cost, as you’ve already surmised. All things have a cost, Fitz. We both know that. We’ll both spend this afternoon abed, don’t doubt it. But for now, we have our wits about us. So. Tell me.”

I took a breath, wondering how to phrase it. I glanced up at his fireplace mantel, at a knife that still stood embedded in the center of it. I weighed trust and youthful confidences and all I had once promised King Shrewd. Chade’s gaze followed mine. “A long time ago,” I began softly, “you tested my loyalty to the King, by asking me to steal something from him, just as a prank. You knew I loved you. So you tried that love against my loyalty to my King. Do you recall that?”

“I do,” he responded gravely. “And I still regret it.” He took a breath, and sighed it out. “And you passed his test. Not even for love of me would you betray your King. I know I put you through the fire, FitzChivalry. But it was my King who asked that you be tested.”

I nodded slowly. “I understand that. Now. I too made my oath to the Farseer line, Chade. Just as you did. You vowed no loyalty to me, nor I to you. There is love between us, but no oaths of fealty.” He was watching my face very carefully. A frown divided his white brows. I took a breath. “My loyalty is to my Prince, Chade. I think it must be up to him what he shares with you.” I took a deep breath, and with great regret, severed a portion of my life. “As you have said, old friend. You are the Queen’s Councillor now, no longer my mentor. And I am not your apprentice.” I looked down at the table and steeled myself. The words were hard to say. “The Prince will decide what I am to him. But I will never again report to you about my private words with my Prince, Chade.”

He stood, quite abruptly. To my horror, I saw tears welling in his sharp green eyes. For a moment, his mouth trembled. Then he walked around the table, seized my head in his hands, and bent down to kiss my brow. “Thanks be to Eda and El both,” he whispered hoarsely. “You are his. And he will still be safe when I am gone.”

I was too astonished to speak. He walked slowly around the table and resumed his seat. He poured more tea for both of us. He turned aside to wipe his eyes, and then looked back at me. He pushed my cup across the table toward me and said, “Very well. Shall I report now?”

chapter
XXIX

BUCKKEEP TOWN

A good bed of fennel is an excellent addition to any cottage garden, though one must be wary of it spreading. Cut it back each fall, and gather the seedheads before the birds can scatter them all through your garden, or your spring will be spent pulling up the lacy fronds. All know the sweet flavor of this plant, but it has medicinal uses, as well. Both seed and root of this herb aid the digestion. A colicky babe will take a tisane of fennel, and much good with it. Chewed, the seed will refresh the mouth. A poultice of the same will soothe sore eyes. Given as a gift, the message of fennel is said by some to be “Strength” and by others, “Flattery.”

— MERIBUCK
’
S HERBAL

As Chade had warned me, I slept away not only the afternoon, but part of the early evening, as well. I awoke in the utter blackness of my little chamber, in the total solitude of myself, and suddenly feared I was dead. I rolled off my bed, found the door by touch, and lunged out of it. Light and moving air stunned me. Lord Golden, impeccably attired, sat at his writing desk. He glanced up casually at my abrupt entrance. “Oh. Awake at last,” he observed congenially. “Wine? Biscuits?” He gestured at a table and chairs by the fireside.

I came to the table rubbing my eyes. Food was artfully arranged on it. I dropped into the closest chair. My tongue felt thick, my eyes sticky. “I have no idea what was in Chade’s tea, but I don’t think I want to try it again.”

“And I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I suspect that that is just as well.” He rose and came to the table, poured wine for us, and then glanced over me disparagingly. He shook his head. “You are hopeless, Tom Badgerlock. Look at yourself. Sleeping in all the day, and then appearing with your hair half on end in a worried old robe. A worse servant a man never had.” He took the other chair.

I could think of no reply to that. I sipped my wine gratefully. I considered the food but found I had no appetite. “How was your evening? Did you enjoy a dance with Huntswoman Laurel?”

He raised one eyebrow at me, as if my question puzzled and surprised him. Abruptly, he was my Fool again as a smile twisted his mouth. “Ah, Fitz, you should know by now that every moment of my life is spent dancing. And with every partner, I tread a different measure.” Then, adroit as ever, he changed the subject, asking, “And are you well this evening?”

I knew what he meant. “As well as could be expected,” I assured him.

“Ah. Excellent. Then you will be going down to Buckkeep Town?”

He knew my mind before I had even thought it. “I’d like to check on Hap and see how his apprenticeship goes. Unless you need me here.”

He studied my face for a moment, as if waiting for me to say more. Then he said, “Go to town. I think it an excellent idea. There are, of course, more festivities tonight, but I shall endeavor to manage my preparation without you. Do, please, try to make
yourself
a bit more presentable before leaving my apartments, however. Lord Golden’s reputation has been tarnished quite enough of late without it being said that he keeps moth-eaten servants.”

I snorted. “I’ll try.” I rose from the table slowly. My body had rediscovered its aches. The Fool ensconced himself in one of the two chairs that faced the hearth. He leaned back in it with a sigh and stretched out his long legs toward the warmth. His voice reached me as I moved toward my chamber.

“Fitz. You know I love you, don’t you?”

I halted where I stood.

“I’d hate to have to kill you,” he continued. I recognized his adept imitation of my own voice and inflection. I stared at him, baffled. He sat up taller and glanced over the back of his chair at me with a pained smile. “Never again attempt to put my clothing away,” he warned me. “Verulean silk should be draped for storage. Not wadded.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I promised him humbly.

He settled back in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. “Good night, Fitz,” he told me quietly.

In my chamber, I found one of my old tunics and some leggings. I put them on, and then frowned at the fit. The leggings sagged on me about the waist; the privations and steady exertions of our expedition had trimmed my body. I brushed at the shirt, and then frowned at the stains. It had not changed since I came to Buckkeep, but my eye for it had. It had been fine for my farmstead, but if I were going to stay at Buck and teach the Prince, I would need to dress as a townsman again. The conclusion was inevitable and yet it felt oddly vain. I washed my face with the stale water in the ewer. In my small looking glass, I tried vainly to smooth my hair, then gave it up as a bad cause, and put on my cloak. I put out my candle.

Lord Golden’s chamber, as I ghosted through it, was now lit only by flickering firelight. As I passed the chair by the hearth, I offered, “Good night, Fool.” He did not speak, but lifted his graceful hand in farewell, his flicking forefinger gesturing me toward the door. I slipped out, feeling oddly as if I had forgotten something.

The keep had a festive atmosphere as all prepared for another night of feasting, music, and dancing. Garlands dressed the door arches, and far more folk than usual moved through the halls. A minstrel’s voice drifted from the lesser hall, and three young men in Farrow colors chatted near the door. My worn clothing and badly cropped hair drew a few bemused glances, but I was generally unnoticed among the newcomers and their servants, and unchallenged as I left Buckkeep and headed down toward the town. The steep road was still busy with folk coming and going from the keep, and despite the steady rain, Buckkeep Town was livelier than usual. Any occasion up at the keep stimulated trade in the town, and Dutiful’s betrothal was a major occasion. I wended my way through merchants and tradesmen and servants on errands. Nobles on horseback and ladies on litters passed me, on their way up to the keep for the evening’s festivities. When I reached Buckkeep Town itself, the press of folk in the street only became thicker. Taverns were full to overflowing, music swelled out to lure in passersby, and children raced past, enjoying the excitement of so many strangers in town. The holiday aura was infectious, and I caught myself smiling and wishing many a stranger good evening as I made my way down to Jinna’s shop.

But as I passed one doorway, I saw a young man chivying a maid to stay and talk with him a moment longer. Her eyes were bright and her smile merry as she shook her dark curls at him in sweet rebuke. Raindrops jeweled their cloaks. He looked so earnest and so young in his entreaties that I averted my eyes and hurried past. In the next moment, my heart ached as I realized that Prince Dutiful would never know a moment like that, would never taste the sweetness of a stolen kiss, or the elation and suspense of wondering if the lady would grant him another moment of her company. No. His wife had been chosen for him, and the freshest years of his manhood would be spent in waiting for her to grow to womanhood. I dared not hope they would be happy. The best I could manage was that they would not make one another miserable.

These were my thoughts as I found my way down the winding little street that led to Jinna’s door. I halted outside it, and sudden awkwardness flooded me. The door was closed, the windows shuttered. A little glow of candlelight leaked out through one ill-fitting shutter, but it did not look welcoming. Rather it spoke of the intimacy of home within those walls. It was later than I had thought it was; I would be intruding. I smoothed my hacked hair nervously and promised myself that I would not go within, only stand at the door and ask for Hap. I could take him out to a tavern for a beer and some talk. That would be good, I told myself, a good way to show him I considered him a man grown now. I took a breath and tapped lightly at the door.

Within, I heard the scrape of a chair, and the thud of a cat landing on the floor. Then Jinna’s voice came through the shuttered window. “Who’s there?”

“Fit . . . Tom Badgerlock.” I cursed my awkward tongue. “Look, I’m sorry to call so late, I’ve been away, and thought I should check on—”

“Tom!” The door was flung wide to my hasty excuses, nearly hitting me as it opened. “Tom Badgerlock, come in, come in!” Jinna had a candle in one hand, but with the other she caught the sleeve of my shirt and drew me inside. The room was dim, lit mostly by the hearth fire. There were two chairs pulled up there with a low table between them. A steaming teapot sat brewing beside an empty cup. A heap of knitting, the needles thrust through it, occupied one chair. She pulled the door firmly shut behind me, and then gestured me toward the hearth. “I’ve just put on elderberry tea. Would you like a cup?”

“That would be—I didn’t mean to intrude, I only meant to check on Hap and see how—”

“Here, let me take your wet cloak. Ah, it’s drenched! I’ll hang it here. Well, sit down, you’ll have to wait, for the young scamp isn’t here. Truth to tell, I’ve been thinking to myself that the sooner you came back and had a word with the lad, the better for him. Not that I wish to be telling tales on him, but he wants someone taking a hand with him.”

“Hap?” I asked incredulously. I took a step toward the fire, but her cat chose that moment to wrap himself suddenly against my ankle. I lurched to a halt, barely avoiding stepping on him.

Make a lap. Near the fire.

The assertive little voice rang in my mind. I looked down at him and he looked up at me. For an instant, our gazes brushed, then we both looked aside in instinctive courtesy. But he had already seen the ruins of my soul.

He rubbed his cheek against my leg.
Hold the cat. You’ll feel better.

I don’t think so.

He rubbed against my leg insistently.
Hold the cat.

I don’t want to hold the cat.

He reared up suddenly on his hind legs, and hooked his vicious little front claws into both flesh and leggings.
Don’t talk back! Pick up the cat.

“Fennel, stop that! Where are your manners?” Jinna exclaimed in dismay. She bent toward the ginger pest, but I stooped swiftly, to unhook his claws from my flesh. I freed myself but before I could straighten up, he leapt to my shoulder. For all his size, Fennel had amazing agility. He landed, not heavily, but as if someone had put a large, friendly hand on my shoulder.
Hold the cat. You’ll feel better.

Steadying him as I stood up was easier than plucking him loose. Jinna clucked and exclaimed, but I assured her it was all right. She drew out one of the chairs that faced the small hearth and smoothed the pillow on it. I sat down, and it tipped back under me. It was a rocker. The moment I was settled, Fennel moved down to my lap and settled himself in a warm mound. I folded my hands atop him in a show of ignoring him. He gave me a slit-eyed cat grin.
Be nice to me. She loves me best.

It took me a moment to find my thoughts. “Hap?” I said again.

“Hap,” she confirmed. “Who should be abed right now, for his master expects him earlier than the dawn tomorrow. And where is he? Out dangling after Mistress Hartshorn’s daughter, who is far too knowing for her tender years. She’s a distraction to him, that Svanja, and even her own mother says that she would be better at home, tending to work and learning her own trade.”

She nattered on in a voice of mixed annoyance and amusement. The level of her concern astonished me. I felt a twinge of jealousy: was not Hap my boy, for me to worry about? As she spoke, she set a cup at my elbow, poured tea for both of us, and resumed her chair and knitting. When she was settled, she glanced over at me and our eyes met for the first time since I had knocked. She started, and then leaned closer, peering at me.

“Oh, Tom!” she exclaimed in a voice of deep sympathy. She leaned toward me, studying my face. “Poor man, what’s happened to you?”

Empty as a hollow log when the mice are eaten.

“My wolf died.”

It shocked me that I spoke the truth so bluntly. Jinna was silent, staring at me. I knew she could not understand. I did not expect her to understand. But then, as her helpless silence lengthened, I felt very much as if she might understand, for she offered no useless words. Abruptly, she dropped her knitting in her lap and leaned across to put her hand on my forearm.

“Will you be all right?” she asked me. It was not an empty question; she genuinely listened for my reply.

“In time,” I told her, and for the first time, I admitted that was true. As disloyal as the thought felt, I knew that as time passed, I would be myself again. And in that moment, I felt for the first time the sensation that Black Rolf had tried to describe to me. The wolfish part of my soul stirred, and,
Yes, you will be yourself again, and that is as it should be,
I heard near as clearly as if Nighteyes had truly shared the thought with me. Like remembering, but more so, Rolf had told me. I sat very still, savoring the sensation. Then it passed, and a shiver ran over me.

“Drink your tea, you’re taking a chill,” Jinna advised me, and leaned down to toss another piece of wood on the fire.

I did as she suggested. As I set the cup down, I glanced up at the charm over the mantel. The changeable light from the flames gilded and then hid the beads. Hospitality. The tea was warm and sweet and soothing, the cat purred on my lap, and a woman looked at me fondly. Was it just the wall charm’s effect on me? If it was, I didn’t care. Something in me eased another notch.
Petting the cat makes you feel better,
Fennel asserted smugly.

“The boy’s heart will be broken when he hears. He knew the wolf would go after you, you know. When the wolf disappeared I was worried, but when he didn’t come back, Hap told me, never fear, he’s gone off to follow Tom. Oh, I dread your telling him.” Abruptly, she reined her flow of words. Then she stoutly declared, “But in time, like you, he will recover. Oh, he should be home by now,” she worried, and then, “What will you do about him?”

I thought of myself, so many years ago, and of Verity, and even of young Dutiful. I thought of all the ways that duty had shaped us and bound us and held back our hearts. Truly, the boy should be home by now, getting sleep the better to serve his master on the morrow. He was an apprentice yet, and his prospects were not yet settled. He had no business showing an interest in a girl. I could take a firm hand with him and remind him of his duty. He would listen to me. But Hap was not the son of a king, nor even a royal bastard. Hap could be free. I leaned back in my chair. It rocked and I absently stroked the cat. “Nothing,” I said after a moment. “I think I’ll do nothing. I think I’ll let him be a boy. I think I’ll let him fall in love with a girl, and stay out later than he should, and have a pounding headache tomorrow when his master chides him for being late.” I turned to look at her. The firelight danced over her kindly face. “I think I’ll let the boy be a boy for a time.”