The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy: Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate. Robin Hobb
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not gladly. I sat for a time beside him, my hand resting on his ruff. He sniffed at the salve I had applied. Honey and bear grease, I told him. He licked the long scratch and I let him. His tongue would push the ointment deeper into the wound and do him no harm. Besides, there was no way I could have stopped him. He already knew that I would have to go back to Galekeep.
It would be wisest for me to keep following them, even if I don’t go swiftly. The longer you are delayed, the colder the trail will be. Easier for you to come to me than to try to follow fading tracks.
There is no arguing with that. I gave no voice to my worries that he could neither hunt nor defend himself just now. He knew it, I knew it, and he had made his decision. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can. He knew that too, but I could not refrain from the promise.
My brother. Be careful what you dream tonight.
I won’t seek to dream with them.
I fear they may seek you.
Fear smoked through my mind, but again there was nothing to say. I wished, vainly, that I had been brought up knowing more of the Wit. Perhaps if I had understood Old Blood better, I would know what I was dealing with now.
No. I think not. What you do, how you link to him, that is not just Skill. It is the crossing of your magic. You open the door with one and travel with the other. As when I attacked Justin after he had bridged into you with Skill. His Skill made the bridge, but I used my bond with you to run across it.
He had deliberately shared that thought with me, acknowledging a worry that had been growing in me for some time. Dog-magic, Justin had called my Wit, and told me that my use of the Skill stank of it. Verity had never complained of that. But Verity, I admitted unwillingly, shared my truncated education in the Skill. Perhaps he had not detected a staining of the Wit in my use of the Skill, or perhaps he had been too kind to ever rebuke me with it. Now I worried for my wolf. Do not follow them too closely. Try not to let them know that we track them.
What did you fear? That I would attack a cat, and two men on horseback? No. That battle belongs to you. I will trail this game; it is up to you to bring it to bay and down it.
His thought created unpleasant images in my mind all the way back to Galekeep. I had entered into this to track down a boy, runaway or perhaps kidnapped. Now I was facing not only a boy who did not wish to be returned to Buckkeep, but his confederates. How far would I go in my efforts to return him to the Queen, and what limits would he set in his determination to have his own way?
Would those with him have any constraints as to what they would do to keep him?
I knew Lord Golden was wise to continue our play. Much as I longed to drop all pretence and simply hunt down the Prince and drag him back to Buckkeep, I could see the consequences of that. If the Bresingas were certain that we pursued him, they would certainly get a warning to him. He would flee faster and hide deeper. Worse, they might directly interfere with our pursuit of him. I had no wish to meet with an untimely ‘accident’ as we tracked Prince Dutiful. As matters stood, we could still hope to move secretly to regain the Prince and discreetly convey him back to Buckkeep. He had fled Galekeep at our arrival, yet not gone far at first. Now he was on the move again, but still had no reason to connect Lord Golden to any pursuit. If the Fool could pry us loose of Lady Bresinga’s hospitality without arousing any suspicion, we could follow him unobtrusively and have a better chance of catching up with him.
I returned to Galekeep hot and dusty and parched. It still seemed odd to surrender my horse to a stableman. I found Lord Golden napping in his chambers. The curtains were drawn against the heat and light, putting the room in twilight. I went quietly past him to my own room to wash most of the dust and sweat away. I hung my shirt on the bedpost to dry and air and slung my fresh one over my shoulder.
Servants had replenished the bowl of fruit in Lord Golden’s chamber. I helped myself to a plum and ate it by the window, peering around the curtain at the garden outside. I felt both tired and restless. I could think of nothing constructive to do, and no way to pass the time. Frustration and worry chafed me.
‘Did you find my chain, Badgerlock?’ It was Lord Golden’s aristocratic tone that interrupted my thought.
‘Yes, my lord. Just where you thought you’d lost it.’
I drew the delicate jewellery from my pocket and carried it over to where he lounged on his bed. He accepted it as gratefully as if he were truly a nobleman and it had truly been lost. I lowered my voice. ‘Nighteyes follows the trail for us. When we can leave, we can go straight to the wolf.’
‘How is he?’
‘Stiff. Sore. But I think he will recover.’
‘Excellent.’ He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. ‘I’ve selected evening clothing for us, and laid it out in your room. Really, Badgerlock, you must learn to handle my garments more carefully.’
‘I’ll try, my lord,’ I muttered, but I could not get my heart back into the game. I was suddenly tired of the whole charade. ‘Have you thought of a way for us to leave discreetly?’
‘No.’ He strolled to the table. Wine had been left there for him. He poured a glass and drank it, then poured another. ‘But I’ve thought of an indiscreet one, and already laid the groundwork for it this afternoon. Not without regrets – I’ll be compromising Lord Golden’s reputation somewhat, but what is a nobleman without a bit of scandal to his name? It will probably just increase my popularity at court. Everyone will want to know my side of it, and will speculate on what truly happened.’ He sipped from his glass. ‘I think that if I succeed at this, it will convince Lady Bresinga that her fears that we are seeking the Prince are groundless. No proper emissary of the Queen would behave as I intend.’ He gave me a sickly smile.
‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing, just yet. But I fancy that by morning, our leaving will be facilitated as swiftly as we could wish.’ He drank again. ‘Sometimes I don’t care for the things that I must do,’ he observed, and there was a plaintive note in his voice. He finished the glass of wine as if girding himself for a task.
Not another word would he divulge to me. He arrayed himself carefully for dinner, and I had to suffer the indignity of the green jerkin and yellow leggings. ‘Perhaps it is a shade too bright,’ he conceded in response to my incensed gaze. His grin was too broad for me to believe any apology in his words. I did not know if it was the wine or one of his fey humours. ‘Stop glowering, Badgerlock,’ he rebuked me as he adjusted the cuffs of a muted green coat. ‘I expect my servants to maintain a pleasant demeanour. Besides, the colour does set off the darkness of your eyes and skin and hair – all of you. It rather reminds me of an exotic parrot. You may not appreciate such a show of yourself, but the ladies will.’
Obeying him taxed all my ability to dissemble. I walked behind him to where the nobility had gathered before dinner. This was a larger group than the night before, for Lady Bresinga had extended her hospitality to those who had hunted with her earlier. They might have been invisible for all the notice Lord Golden gave them. Sydel was seated at a low table with young Civil. An assortment of feathers was spread out before her on a cloth, and they seemed to be discussing them. She had obviously been watching the door, for the moment Lord Golden entered, her face was transfigured. She gleamed like a lantern in the darkness. Young Civil also underwent a transformation, but it was not so pleasant. He could not very well sneer at a guest in his mother’s home, but his features went very still and cold. Dismay clutched at my belly. No. I wanted no part of this.
But Golden, smiling and charming, made directly for the pair. His greetings to everyone else in the chamber were brief to the point of neglect. Without even a pretence of subtlety, he seated himself between them, obliging Civil to move over to make room for him. From that moment on, he virtually ignored everyone else in the room as he focused all of his allure on the girl. Their heads bent together over the feathers. His every movement was a seduction. His long fingers stroked the gaudy feathers on the cloth. He selected one, and touched its softness to his own cheek, and then leaned forwards to draw it gently down the length