Golden Fool (16 page)

I tried to be pragmatic and hard. “And greasing the steps so you would fall?”

“Would she be told the why of it? Or simply told to put the grease on the steps after I had gone up to the roof garden? To a child, it might have been framed as a prank.”

“Did you ask her?”

A pause. “Some things are best left alone. Even if she knew the intent was to make me fall, I do not think she realized the full import of it. I think perhaps that I was two people to her, the woman that Regal wanted to bring down, and Kettricken whom she served every day. The one who should be blamed for her conduct is dead. And since I took her back to my side, she has never been anything but a loyal and diligent subject to me.” She sighed and stared past me at a wall as she spoke. “The past must be left in the past, Fitz. Especially this is true for those who rule. I must wed my son to a daughter of an Outislander. I must promote trade and alliance with the folk who doomed my king to death. Shall I quibble about taking a little spy under my wing and turning her into a lady of my court?”

I took a deep breath myself. If in fifteen years she had not regretted her decision, no words of mine would change it now. Nor should they, perhaps. “Well. I suppose I should have expected it. You did not quibble to take an assassin as your advisor when you came to court.”

“As my first friend here,” she corrected me gravely. She furrowed her forehead. When first I had met her, she had not had those lines on her brow and between her eyes, but now use had set them. “I am not happy with this charade we must keep. I would have you at my side to advise me, and to teach my son. I would have you honored as my friend as well as a Farseer.”

“It cannot be,” I told her firmly. “And this is better. I am more use to you in this role, and less risk to you and my prince.”

“And more risk to yourself. Chade has told me that Piebalds threatened you, right at our doorstep in Buckkeep Town.”

I discovered that I hadn’t wanted her to know that. “It is a thing best handled by me. Perhaps I can tease them out into the open.”

“Well. Perhaps. But I am ashamed that you face such things seemingly alone. In truth, I hate that such bigotry still exists in the Six Duchies, and that our nobles turn a blind eye to it. I have done what I could for my Witted folk, but progress has been slow. When the Piebald postings first began to appear, they angered me. Chade urged me not to act in the heat of that anger. Now, I wonder if it would not have been wise to let my wrath be known. My second reaction was that I wished to let my Witted folk know that my justice was available to them. I wanted to send out a summons, inviting the leaders of the Witted to come to me, that together we might hammer out a shield for them against the cruelty of these Piebalds.” She shook her head.

“Again Chade intervened, telling me that the Witted had no recognized leaders, and that they would not trust the Farseers enough to come to such a meeting. We had no go-between that they would trust, and no sureties that we could offer them that this was not a plan to lure them in and destroy them. He persuaded me to abandon the idea.” Her words seemed to come more reluctantly as she added, “Chade is a good councilor, wise in politics and the ways of power. Yet I sometimes feel that he would steer us solely on the basis of what makes the Six Duchies most stable, with less care given for justice for all my people.” Her fair brow wrinkled as she added, “He says that the greater the stability of the country, the more chance for justice to prosper. Perhaps he is right. But often and often, I have longed for the way you and I used to discuss these things. There too I have missed you, FitzChivalry. I dislike that I cannot have you at my side when I wish it, but must send for you in secret. I wish that I could invite you to join Peottre and me for our game today, for I would value your opinion of him. He is a most intriguing man.”

“Your game with Peottre today?”

“I shared some talk with him last evening. In the course of discussing the chance that Dutiful and Elliania would be truly happy, other talk of ‘chance’ came up. And from there, we moved to games of chance. Do you recall a Mountain game played with cards and rune chips?”

I dredged through my memory. “I think you spoke of it to me once. And yes, I recall reading a scroll about it, when I was recovering from Regal’s first attempt on me.”

“There are cards or tablets, either painted on heavy paper or carved on thin slabs of wood. They have emblems from our old tales, such as Old Weaver Man and Hunter in Hiding. The rune chips have runes on them, for Stone, Water, and Pasture.”

“Yes. I’m sure I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, Peottre wants me to teach him to play it. He was very interested when I spoke of it. He says that in the Out Islands they have a game played with rune cubes, where they are shaken and tumbled out. Then the players set out their markers onto a cloth or board that is painted with minor godlings, such as Wind and Smoke and Tree. It sounds as if it might be a similar game, does it not?”

“Perhaps,” I conceded. But her face had brightened at the prospect of teaching Peottre this new game in a way that was out of proportion to the pleasure I expected her to take in it. Did my queen find this bluff Outislander warrior attractive? “You must tell me more of this game later. I would like to hear if the runes on the dice are similar to the runes on your rune chips.”

“That would be intriguing, wouldn’t it? If the runes resembled one another? Especially as some of the runes from my game were similar to the runes on the Skill pillars.”

“Ah.” My queen was still capable of putting me off balance. She had always seemed able to think along several lines at once, bringing oddly disparate facts together to make a pattern others had missed. This had been how she had rediscovered the lost map to the kingdom of the Elderlings. I suddenly felt as if she had given me too much to think over.

I stood to excuse myself, bowed, and then wished I had words to thank her. An instant later it seemed a strange impulse, to thank someone for mourning someone you had loved. I made a fumbling effort, but she stopped me, coming to take both my hands in hers. “And perhaps only you understood what I felt at Verity’s loss. To see him transformed, to know he would triumph, and yet still to mourn selfishly that I would never again see him as the man he had been. This is not the first tragedy we have shared, FitzChivalry. We both have walked alone through much of our lives.”

It was unmannerly, but I did it anyway. I enfolded her in my arms and held her tightly for a moment. “He loved you so,” I said, and my voice choked on the words I spoke for my lost king.

She rested her forehead on my shoulder. “I know that,” she said quietly. “That love sustains me still. Sometimes I think I can almost feel him still, at my shoulder, offering counsel when times are difficult. May Nighteyes be with you as Verity is with me.”

I held Verity’s woman for a long moment. Things could have been so different. Yet her wish was a good wish, and healing. I released her with a sigh, and the Queen and the serving man parted to their daily tasks.

chapter
VI

OBLITERATION

. . . and it is almost certain that the Chalcedeans could have defeated the Bingtown Traders and claimed their territory for their own if only they could have maintained a solid blockade of Bingtown
Bay.

Two magics hampered them in this regard, and magic it most certainly was, despite any who would dispute it, for the Bingtown Traders are merchants and not fighters, as all know. The first magic was that the Bingtown Traders possess Liveships, trading vessels that, by some arcane practice involving the sacrifice of three children or elderly family members, are brought to sentient life. Not only can the figureheads of these vessels move and speak, but also they are possessed of prodigious strength, enabling them to crush lesser vessels if once they grip them. Some of them are able to spit fire for a distance equal to three of their vessel’s lengths.

The second magic is as likely to be disputed by the ignorant as the first, but as this traveler witnessed it, I defy those who call this a lie. A dragon, cunningly crafted of blue and silver gemstones and activated by a marvelous combination of magic and . . . [passage obscured by damage to parchment] was hastily created by the Bingtown artisans for the defense of their harbor. This creature, named Tinnitgliat by her creators, rose from the smoking wreckage that the Chalcedeans had made of the Bingtown warehouse district and drove the enemy vessels from the harbor.

—
WINFRODA
’
S
“
MY ADVENTURES AS A WORLD TRAVELER
”

I threaded my way back through the maze of corridors and emerged once more into my cell. I paused to peer into the darkness before entering it. Once within, I secured the secret door behind me. I then paused, standing perfectly still in the darkness. Through the closed door that led to the Fool’s apartment, voices reached me.

“Well, as I’ve no idea when he rose and left, nor why, I’ve no idea when he will return. It seemed such a charming concept at first, to have a strong and able man-at-arms, capable of not only defending me from street ruffians but also serving as my valet and seeing to my other needs as well. But he has proven most unreliable at daily tasks. Look at this! I’ve had to snatch a passing page from the corridor and have him tell a kitchen boy to bring up my breakfast. And it isn’t what I would have chosen at all! I’m tempted to let Badgerlock go entirely, except that with my ankle as it is, it is no time for me to be without a sturdy servant. Well. Perhaps I shall have to accept his limitations and acquire a page or two to see to my daily tasks. Look at the layer of dust on that mantel! Shameful. I can scarcely invite visitors to my chambers with them looking like this. It is almost fortunate that the pain in my ankle makes me tend toward solitary occupations just now.”

I froze where I was. I longed to know to whom he was speaking and why that person sought me, but I could scarcely make an entrance if Lord Golden had already insisted I was not here.

“Very well. May I leave a message for your man then, Lord Golden?”

The voice was Laurel’s and the irritation level in it was unmasked. She had seen too much of us when she had accompanied us on our journey to be deceived by our charade. She would never again believe us to be merely master and man. We had bungled our roles too often. Yet I also understood why Lord Golden insisted on resuming the masquerade. To do otherwise would have eventually completely unraveled our deception of the court.

“Certainly. Or you would be welcome to return this evening, if you wish to take the chance that he may have recalled his duties and wandered home.”

If he had intended that to mollify her, it failed. “A message will suffice, I am sure. In passing through the stable, I noticed something about his horse that made me concerned for her. If he will meet me there at noon today, I will point it out to him.”

“And if he does not return by noon . . . by Sa, how I detest this! That I should have to act as a secretary to my own serving man!”

“Lord Golden.” Her quiet voice cut through his dramatics. “My concern is a grave one. See that he meets me then, or arranges to speak to me about my concern. Good day.”

She shut the door very firmly behind herself. I heard the thump, but even so I waited some minutes, to be completely certain that the Fool was alone. I eased the door open silently, but the Fool’s preternatural awareness served him well. “There you are,” he exclaimed with a sigh of relief as I entered. “I was beginning to worry about you.” Then he looked more closely at me and a smile lit up his face. “The Prince’s first lesson must have gone very well.”

“The Prince chose not to attend his first lesson. And I am sorry to have put you out. I didn’t think to arrange for Lord Golden’s breakfast.”

He made a disparaging noise. “I assure you, the last thing I would expect is that
you
would be a competent servant. I’m perfectly capable of arranging my own breakfast. It is required, however, that I raise a suitable fuss when I am forced to waylay a page for it. I’ve muttered and complained enough now that I can add a boy to my staff without exciting any comment.” He poured himself another cup of tea, sipped it and made a face. “Cold.” He gestured at the remains of the repast. “Hungry?”

“No. I ate with Kettricken.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “The Prince sent me a message this morning. It now makes sense to me. He wrote, ‘I was saddened to see that your injury prevented you from joining in the dancing at my betrothal festivities. Well do I know how frustrating it is when an unexpected inconvenience denies you a pleasure long anticipated. I heartily hope that you are soon able to resume your favorite activities.’ ”

I nodded, somewhat pleased. “Subtle, yet it conveys it. Our prince is becoming more sophisticated.”

“He has his father’s wit,” he agreed, but when I glanced at him sharply, his expression was mild and benign. He continued. “You have another message as well. From Laurel.”

“Yes. I overheard it.”

“I thought you might have.”

I shook my head. “That one both puzzles and alarms me. From the way she spoke, I don’t think this meeting has anything to do with my horse. Still, I’ll meet her at noon and see what it is about. Then I’d like to go down to Buckkeep Town, to see Hap, and to apologize to Jinna.”

He lifted a pale eyebrow.

“I had said I would come by last night, to talk to Hap. As you know, I went to the betrothal festivities with you instead.”

He picked up a tiny nosegay of white flowers from his breakfast tray and sniffed it thoughtfully. “So many people, all wanting a bit of your time.”

I sighed. “It is hard for me. I don’t quite know how to manage it. I’d grown used to my solitary life, with only Nighteyes and Hap making claims on me. I don’t think I’m handling this very well. I can’t imagine how Chade juggled all his tasks for so many years.”

He smiled. “He’s a spider. A web weaver, with lines stringing out in all directions. He sits at the center and interprets each tug.”

I smiled with him. “Accurate. Not flattering, but accurate.”

He cocked his head at me suddenly. “It was Kettricken, then, wasn’t it? Not Chade.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looked down at his hands, twiddling the little bouquet. “There’s a change in you. Your shoulders are squared again. Your eyes focus on me when I talk to you. I don’t feel as if I should glance over my shoulder to see if a ghost is there.” He set the flowers down carefully on the table. “Someone has lifted a part of your burden.”

“Kettricken,” I agreed with him after a moment. I cleared my throat. “She was closer to Nighteyes than I realized. She mourns him, too.”

“As do I.”

I thought about my next words before I said them. I wondered if they were necessary, feared that they might hurt him. But I spoke them. “In a different way. Kettricken mourns Nighteyes as I do, for himself, and for what he was to her. You . . .” I faltered, unsure how to put it.

“I loved him through you. Our link was how he became real to me. So, in a sense, I do not mourn Nighteyes as you do. I grieve for your grief.”

“You have always been better with words than I am.”

“Yes,” he agreed. Then he sighed and crossed his arms on his chest. “Well. I am glad that someone could help you. Even as I envy Kettricken.”

That made no sense. “You envy her, that she mourns?”

“I envy her, that she could comfort you.” Then, before I could even think of any reply, he added briskly, “I’ll leave it to you to clear the dishes away to the kitchen. Take care to be a bit surly when you return them, as if your master had just harshly rebuked you. Then you may be off to Laurel and Buckkeep Town. I plan to spend a quiet day today, in my own pursuits. I’ve let it out that my ankle pains me and that I wish to rest, without visitors. Later this afternoon, I am invited to gaming with the Queen’s favored. So if you do not find me here, look for me there. Will you be back in time to help me limp down to dinner?”

“I expect so.”

His spirits seemed suddenly dampened, as if he were truly in pain. He nodded gravely. “Perhaps I will see you then.” He rose from the table and went to his private room. Without another word he opened the door. He shut it quietly but firmly behind him.

I gathered the dishes onto the tray. Despite his words about my incompetence as a servant, I took care to straighten the room. I returned the tray to the kitchens, and then fetched wood and water for our chambers. The door to the Fool’s personal room remained shut. I wondered if he were ill. I might have ventured to tap at the door if noon had not been upon me. I went to my room and buckled on my ugly sword. I took some of the coins from the purse Kettricken had given me and put the rest under the corner of my mattress. I checked my hidden pockets, took my cloak from its hook, and headed down to the stables.

With the influx of people for Prince Dutiful’s betrothal, the regular stable was filled to capacity with the horses of our guests. In these circumstances, the beasts of lesser folk like me had been moved to the “Old Stables,” the stables of my childhood. I was just as content with the arrangement. Far less chance that I might encounter Hands there or any who might recall a boy who had once dwelt with the Stablemaster Burrich.

I found Laurel leaning against the gate of Myblack’s stall, talking softly to her. Perhaps I had misinterpreted her message. My concern for the animal mounted and I hastened to her side. “What’s wrong with her?” I asked, and then, belatedly recalling my manners, “Good day to you, Huntswoman Laurel. I am here as you requested.” Myblack benignly ignored both of us.

“Badgerlock, good day. Thank you for meeting me here.” She glanced about casually, and finding our corner of the stable deserted, she still leaned closer and whispered to me, “I need a word with you. In private. Follow me.”

“As you wish, mistress.” She strode off and I followed at her heels. We walked past the rows of stalls to the back of the stables, and then to my shock, we began the climb up the now-rickety steps that had once led to Burrich’s loft. When he was Stablemaster, he had claimed to prefer to live close to his charges rather than accept better quarters in the castle itself. When I had lived with him, I had believed that to be true. In the intervening years, I had decided that he had kept his humble residence there as much for the sake of keeping me out of the public eye as he did for his own privacy. Now, as I followed Laurel up the steep steps, I wondered how much she knew. Did she bring me here as a prelude to telling me that she knew who I really was?

The door at the top of the steps was not latched. She shouldered it open and it scraped across the floor. She stepped inside the dim chamber and motioned for me to follow. I ducked a dusty cobweb in the doorframe. The only light came from the cracked shutter over the little window at the end of the room. How small the space suddenly seemed. The sparse furnishings that had sufficed for Burrich and me were long gone, replaced by the clutter of a stable. Twisted bits of old harness, broken tools, moth-eaten blankets: all the horsey litter that folk set aside, thinking that perhaps one day they will mend it or that it might come in useful in a pinch, filled the chamber where I had spent my childhood.

How Burrich would have hated this! I thought to myself. I wondered that Hands allowed such clutter to gather, and then decided that he probably had more pressing matters to attend to. The stables were a larger and grander concern than they had been during the years of the Red Ship War. I doubted that Hands sat up at night greasing and mending old harness.

Laurel misinterpreted the look on my face. “I know. It smells up here, but it’s private. I would have seen you in your own room, but Lord Golden was too busy playing the grand noble.”

“He
is
a grand noble,” I pointed out, but the flashing look she gave me stilled my tongue. Belatedly it came to me that Lord Golden had bestowed much attention on Laurel during our journey, yet not a word had they exchanged last night. Oh.

“Be that as it may, or be you whom you may.” She dismissed her annoyance with us, obviously intent on graver matters. “I received a message from my cousin. Deerkin didn’t intend the warning for you; he intended it for me. I doubt that he would approve my passing it on to you, for he has ample reasons not to be fond of you. The Queen, however, seems to hold you in some regard. And it is the Queen I am sworn to.”