The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy: Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate. Robin Hobb
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shall I describe that long climb up the stairs to the tower? Chade led the way through the secret places of the keep and I followed his uncertain lamplight. Dread and anticipation warred inside me. I felt I had left my stomach far behind me, and yet I longed for him to hurry up the steps. Excitement coursed through me as we approached that indulgence so long denied to me. My hopes and focus should have been on recovering the Prince, but the prospect of drowning myself in Skill dominated all my thoughts. It terrified and tantalized me. My skin felt taut and alive, and my senses seemed to strain against the confines of my flesh. Music seemed to move through the air at the edges of my hearing.
Chade triggered the door’s opening, and then gestured for me to precede him. As I edged past him, he observed, ‘You look nervous as a bridegroom, boy.’
I cleared my throat. ‘It seems strange to rush headlong into that which I have tried to school myself to avoid.’
He shut the door behind us as I glanced about the room. A small fire burned on the grate. Even in the height of summer, the thick stone walls of the keep seemed to whisper a chill into the room. Verity’s sword leaned up against the hearth where I had left it, but someone had removed the leather on the hilt. ‘You recognized Verity’s blade,’ I observed.
‘How could I not? I am glad you kept it safe.’
I laughed. ‘More like, that it kept me safe. Well. What exactly do you propose?’
‘I suggest you make yourself comfortable and that you attempt to Skill out after the Prince. That is all.’
I looked around for a place to sit. Not on the hearthstones. Yet, as it ever had been, there was only one comfortable chair near the fire. ‘And the drugs and herbs the Queen mentioned?’
Chade gave me a sidelong glance. I thought I detected some wariness in the look. ‘I do not think we will need them. She refers to several scrolls within the Skill collection. There are teas and tinctures that are suggested for Skill-students who seem to have difficulty attaining a receptive state. We had considered using them on Prince Dutiful but had decided to postpone it until we were sure they are necessary.’
‘Galen never used any herbs when he was instructing us.’ I brought a tall stool from the workbench and set it opposite Chade’s chair. I perched on it. He settled in his chair, but then had to look up at me. I suspect it annoyed him. He sounded peevish when he spoke.
‘Galen never used any herbs when he was instructing you. Did you never suspect that perhaps the others in your Skill-coterie received special attentions that you were not privy to? I did. Of course, we will never be certain of that.’
I shrugged my shoulders to that. What else could I do? It was years ago and they were all dead, several of them at my hands. What did it matter now? But the thoughts had stirred my old aversion to the Skill. From anticipation, I had shifted suddenly to dread. I changed the subject. ‘Did you find out for me who gave the cat to the Prince?’
Chade looked startled at my abrupt shift. ‘I – yes, of course. Lady Bresinga of Galeton and her son Civil. It was a birthday gift. The cat was presented to him in a little jewelled harness with a leash. The animal was about two years old, a long-legged stripy creature with a rather flat face and a tail as long as the rest of it. I understand those cats cannot be bred, that a kitten must be taken from a wild den before its eyes have opened if anything is to be made of it. It is an exotic coursing animal, suited to solitary hunting. The Prince took to it immediately.’
‘Who took the kitten from the den?’ I asked.
‘I have no idea. Their huntsman, I imagine.’
‘Did the cat like the Prince?’
Chade frowned to himself. ‘I had not really concerned myself with that. As I recall, they approached the dais, with Lady Bresinga holding the end of the cat’s leash and her son actually carrying the animal. It seemed almost dazed by all the light and noise of the festivities. I wondered myself if they had drugged it lest it panic and struggle to escape. But when they had made their courtesies to the Prince, the lady put the end of the leash in his hand and Civil, her son, set the cat at Dutiful’s feet.’
‘Did it try to get away? Did it test the leash?’
‘No. As I said, it seemed quite calm, almost unnaturally so. I believe it looked at the Prince for a time, and then bumped its head against his knee.’ Chade’s eyes had gone distant, and I saw his trained mind recalling the scene in detail. ‘He reached down to stroke it, and it cowered away. Then it sniffed his hand. Then it did this strange thing, opening its mouth wide and breathing near his hand, as if it could taste his scent from the air. After that, it seemed to accept him. It rubbed its head up and down his leg, just as a little cat does. When a servant tried to lead it away, it would not go, so it was allowed to remain near the Prince’s chair for the rest of the evening. He seemed very well pleased with it.’
‘How soon did he begin hunting it?’
‘I believe he and Civil took it out the next day. Civil and the Prince are nearly of an age, and the Prince was eager to try the cat, as any boy would be. Civil and his mother stayed on at court the rest of the week, and I think that Civil and the Prince took out the cat every morning. It was his chance to learn how to hunt with it, you see, from people familiar with the sport.’
‘And did they hunt well together?’
‘Oh, I suppose so. It is not for large game of course, but they brought back, oh, birds I think, and hares.’
‘And it always slept in his room?’
‘As I understand it, it has to be kept close to a human to keep it tamed. And of course, the hounds in the stable would not have left it in peace. So, yes, it slept in his room and followed him about the keep. Fitz, what do you suspect?’
I answered him honestly. ‘The same thing that you do. That our Witted prince has vanished with his hunting cat companion. And that none of this is a coincidence. Not the gift of the animal, not the bonding, not the disappearance. Someone planned this.’
Chade frowned, not wanting to admit what he believed. ‘The cat could have been killed when the Prince was taken. Or she could have run off.’
‘So you’ve said. But if the Prince is Witted, and the cat is bonded to him, she would not have run off when he was taken.’ The stool was uncomfortable but I stubbornly remained perched on it. I closed my eyes for a moment. Sometimes, when the body is weary, the mind takes flight. I let my thoughts skip where they would. ‘I’ve bonded thrice, you know. The first time to Nosy, the puppy that Burrich took from me. And again, to Smithy when I was still a boy. The last time, to Nighteyes. Each time, there was that instant sense of connection. With Nosy, I bonded before I was even aware I was doing it. I suspect it happened because I was lonely. Because when Smithy offered love, I accepted it with no discrimination. And when the wolf’s anger and hatred of his cage so exactly matched mine, I could not distinguish between us.’ I opened my eyes briefly and met Chade’s startled stare. ‘I had no walls, you see.’ I looked away from him, down at the dwindling fire. ‘From what I’ve been told, in Witted families, the children are protected from doing that. They are taught to have walls when they are young. Then, when they are of an age, they are sent out to find suitable partners, almost like seeking a suitable marriage partner.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Chade asked quietly.
I followed the thought where it led me. ‘The Queen has chosen a bride for Prince Dutiful for the sake of a political alliance. What if an Old Blood family has done the same?’
A lengthy silence followed my words. I looked back at Chade. His eyes were on the fire, and I could almost see his mind working frantically to sort out all the implications of what I had said. ‘An Old Blood family deliberately selects an animal for the Prince to bond with. Assumptions, then: that Lady Bresinga is Witted, that indeed her whole line is, as you put it, Old Blood. That they somehow knew or suspected the Prince is also Witted.’ He paused, pursed his mouth, and considered. ‘Perhaps they were the source of the note claiming the Prince was Witted … I still do