The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy: Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate. Robin Hobb
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began to blister. It made conversation difficult and my departure more graceful. I went to the door of the kitchen and opened it. The man with the food was out of sight.
Lebven called to me, ‘If you’re seeking the back house, it’s out the other door and around the side. Just before you get to the rabbit hutches.’
I thanked her and obediently went out of the other door. A long look around showed me no other folk moving. I went around the side of the house, but another wing thwarted my view. The moonlight showed me rows of rabbit hutches between the house and the stable. So that had been what the man carried, a rabbit, its neck freshly wrung. The perfect late meal for a hunting cat. But there was no sign of the man and I dared not reach out towards Nighteyes, nor be gone from the kitchen too long. I growled to myself in frustration, certain that the packed meal had been for the Prince and his cat. I’d missed a chance. I returned to the warmth and light of the kitchen.
The kitchen had grown quieter. The washing up was mostly done, and the chore boys and girls escaped to their beds. Only Lebven remained beating the dough, and a morose man who was tending a pot of simmering meat. I resumed my seat and poured the last of the ale into my mug. Doubtless the others would get what sleep they could before they had to rise and prepare the next meal. The mottled cat abruptly stretched, rose and came to investigate me. I feigned ignoring him as he sniffed at my shoes and then my calf. The tom turned his head and opened his mouth wide as if expressing disgust, but I suspected he was only savouring my scent.
Smells like that dog outside. A disdainful curl of thought from him. Effortlessly, he floated up to land on the table beside me and thrust his nose towards the platter of venison. I fended him off with the back of my wrist. He took neither offence nor notice, but stepped over my arm to seize the slice he desired.
‘Oh, Tups, such manners in front of our guest. Don’t you mind him, Tom, he’s as spoiled as they come.’ She picked him up with floury hands. He kept possession of his meat as she set him on the floor then hunkered down over it, turning his head sideways to shear off mouthfuls. He gave Lebven one reproachful look. Shouldn’t feed the dogs at the table, woman. It was hard not to imagine malevolence in his yellow-eyed stare. Childishly, I stared right back, knowing well that most animals hate that. He muttered a threat in his throat, seized his meat, and whisked himself out of sight under the table.
I drank the last of my ale slowly. The cat knew. Did that mean the whole household knew of my connection to Nighteyes? Despite Avoin’s monologues all evening, I still knew too little of the hunting cats. Would they regard Nighteyes as an intruder, or would they ignore his scent in the courtyard? Would they think the information significant enough to communicate to the Witted humans? Not all Wit-bonds were as intimate as the one I shared with Nighteyes. His concern with the human aspects of my life had distressed Black Rolf almost to the point of disgusting him. Perhaps these cats only bonded with humans for the joy of the hunt. It was not impossible. Unlikely, but not impossible.
Well, I had not learned much more than what we had already suspected, but I’d had a more than ample meal. Sleep seemed the only other thing I could accomplish tonight. I offered Lebven my thanks and goodnight, and despite her insistence that she would do it, cleared my things from the table. The keep was quiet as I made my way softly back to my room. Only a dim light shone from under the door. I set my hand to it, expecting to find it latched. It was not. Every nerve suddenly ajangle, I eased it silently open on the darkened room. Then I caught my breath and stood motionless.
Laurel wore a long dark cloak over her nightgown. Her hair was loose and spilling down her back. Lord Golden wore an embroidered dressing gown over his nightshirt. The light from the tiny fire in the hearth glinted off the burnished thread of the birds embroidered on the back and sleeves of his dressing gown, and picked up the lighter streaks in Laurel’s flowing hair. He wore lacy gloves on his hands. They stood very close together by the fire, their heads bent together. I stood silent as a shocked child, wondering if I had interrupted an embrace. Lord Golden glanced over Laurel’s shoulder at me, and then made a small motion for me to come in and shut the door. As Laurel turned to see me, her eyes seemed very large.
‘I thought you were asleep in your chamber,’ she said quietly. Was she disappointed?
‘I was down in the kitchens, eating,’ I explained to her. I expected her to reply to my words, but she merely looked at me. I felt a sudden desire to be elsewhere. ‘But I am extremely tired. I think I shall be going to bed immediately. Good night.’ I turned towards my servant’s room, but Lord Golden’s voice halted me.
‘Tom. Did you learn anything?’
I shrugged. ‘Small details of the servants’ lives. Nothing that seems useful.’ I was still not certain of how freely I should speak before Laurel.
‘Well. Laurel seems to have done better.’ He turned to her, inviting her to speak. Any woman would have been flattered by his golden focus.
‘Prince Dutiful has been here,’ Laurel announced in a breathless whisper. ‘Before I retired to sleep, I asked Avoin to show me the stables and the cattery. I wanted to see how the animals were housed.’
‘His mistcat was there?’ I guessed incredulously.
‘No. Nothing that obvious. But the Prince has always insisted on tending to the cat’s needs himself. Dutiful has certain odd little habits, ways of folding things or hanging tack. He is very fussy about such things. There was an empty enclosure in the cattery. On the shelf by it were brushes and such, arranged just so. It was the Prince’s doing. I know it.’
I recalled the Prince’s chamber at Buckkeep, and suspected she was right. And yet – ‘Do you think the Prince would have let his precious cat be housed down there? In Buckkeep, the creature sleeps in his rooms.’
‘There is everything for a cat’s comfort there: things to claw, the herbs they fancy, fresh greens growing in a tub, toys for exercise, even live prey for their meals. The Bresingas keep hutch upon hutch of rabbits, so that their cats need never eat cold meat. The cats are truly pampered royalty.’
It seemed to me that my next question followed logically. ‘Might the Prince have stayed down in the stables to be closer to his cat?’ Perhaps the basket had not had too long a journey to make.
Laurel raised one brow at me. ‘The Prince stay in the cattery?’
‘He seemed to be very fond of the animal. I thought he might do that rather than be parted from it.’ I had nearly betrayed my conclusion: that the Prince was Witted and would not be parted from his bond-animal. There was a small silence. Lord Golden broke it. His mellow voice carried no further than the two of us. ‘Well, at least we have discovered that the Prince was here, even if he is not here now. And tomorrow may yield us more information. The Bresingas play cat-and-mouse with us. They know the Prince has left the court with his cat. They may suspect that we have come seeking him. But we shall stay in our roles, and graciously dance after whatever they dangle for us. We must not betray what we know.’
‘I hate this sort of thing,’ Laurel declared flatly. ‘I hate the deceit, and the polite faces we must wear. I wish I could simply go and shake that woman awake and demand to know where Dutiful is. When I think of the anguish that she has caused our queen … I wish I had asked to see the cattery before dinner. I would have asked different questions, I assure you. But I brought you the news as soon as I could. The Bresingas had furnished me with a maid who insisted on helping me prepare for bed, and then I did not dare slip from my room until I was sure most of the keep was asleep.’
‘Asking blunt questions will not serve us, nor shaking the truth out of noble ladies. The Queen wants Dutiful returned quietly. We must all keep that in mind.’ Lord Golden included me in his instruction.
‘I will try,’ Laurel replied with quiet resignation.
‘Good. And now we must all try to get what rest we can before tomorrow’s hunt. Good night, Tom.’
‘Good night, Lord Golden, Huntswoman Laurel.’
After a moment or two of silence, I realized something. I had been expecting Laurel to leave so that I