The Golden Fool. Robin Hobb
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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 eventually have unravelled 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 her. 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. ‘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 favourite 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 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