The Tawny Man Series Books 2 and 3: The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate. Robin Hobb
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 centre 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 favoured. 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, then 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 our guests’ horses. 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 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 leaned still 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 I 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.’
‘As we both are,’ I assured her. ‘Have you shared these tidings with her as well?’
She looked at me. ‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘It may be that there is no need to, that this is a matter you can handle yourself. And it is not as easy for me to manage a quiet moment with the Queen as it is for me to summon you.’
‘And the warning?’
‘He bade me flee. The Piebalds know who I am and where I live. I am twice a traitor, to their way of thinking. For by my family connection, they consider me Old Blood. And I serve the hated Farseer regime. They will kill me if they can.’ Her voice betrayed no emotion as she recounted the threat to herself. But she lowered her tone and looked aside from me as she added, ‘And the same is true of you.’
Silence floated between us. I watched dust particles