The Tawny Man Series Books 2 and 3: The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate. Robin Hobb
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explained to me, over and over and over, why I must stay away from Molly. Yet such a realization did not decrease my anger with Hap, nor my belated contempt for my boyhood self. Instead it gave me a sense of futility, that I must witness my foster son committing the same foolish and selfish acts that I had performed myself. Just as I had, he believed that their love justified the risks they took, without ever considering that the child might come to pay the price for their intemperance. It could all happen again, and I could not stop it. I think I grasped then, fleetingly, the passion that powered the Fool. He believed in the terrible strength of the White Prophet and the Catalyst, to shoulder the future from the rut of the present and into some better pathway. He believed that some act of ours could prevent others from repeating the mistakes of the past.
By the time I reached Buckkeep and had ascended to the Skill-tower, I had walked away the fierceness of my anger. Yet the sick, dull weight of it lingered, poisoning my day. I was almost relieved to find that Dutiful had given up on me and left. Only a simple underlining of the word had altered my note. The boy was learning to be subtle. Perhaps at least with this young man I could succeed in turning him aside from the errors of the past. That errant thought only made me feel cowardly. Was I surrendering Hap then, abandoning him to his own poor judgement? No, I decided, I was not. But that decision put me no closer to knowing what to do about it.
I returned to Lord Golden’s chambers and was in time to join the Fool for his breakfast. As I entered, however, he was not eating. Rather he sat at table, bemusedly twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers between his forefinger and thumb. It was an unusual token, for the blossoms were made of white lace and black ribbon. It seemed a clever subterfuge for a season without flowers, and it put me in mind of his old fool’s motley for this season. He saw me looking at the posy, smiled at my bemusement, and then carefully pinned it to his breast. It was the Fool who gestured at the spread of food before him and said, ‘Sit down and eat quickly. We are summoned. A ship docked at dawn with an ambassadorial contingent from Bingtown. And not just any ship, but one of their liveships, with a talking, moving figurehead. Goldendown, I believe his name is. I don’t think one has ever ventured into Buck waters before. Aboard was an emissary mission from the Bingtown Council of Traders. They have applied with great urgency to see Queen Kettricken at her earliest convenience.’
The news startled me. Usually Six Duchies contacts with Bingtown were contacts between individual merchants and traders, not their ruling council treating with the Farseers. I tried to recall if the city-state had ever sent us ambassadors when Shrewd was king, then gave it up. I had not been privy to such matters when I was a lad. I took a seat at the table. ‘And you are to be there?’
‘At Councillor Chade’s suggestion, we will both be there. Not visibly, of course. You are to take me there through Chade’s labyrinth. He himself came to tell me so. I’m quite excited to see it, I admit. Save for my brief glimpse of it on the night Kettricken and I fled the castle and Regal, I’ve never glimpsed it.’
I was shocked. It was inevitable that he knew of the spy passages’ existence, but I had not thought Chade would ever offer him access to them. ‘Does the Queen concur in this?’ I asked, trying to be delicate.
‘She does, but reluctantly.’ Then, dropping the aristocratic air, he added, ‘As I have spent some time in Bingtown and know something of how their council operates, Chade hopes my evaluation of their words may give him a deeper understanding. And you, of course, provide an extra pair of eyes and ears for him, to catch any nuances that might otherwise be missed.’ As he spoke, he served us adroitly, adapting a platter to be my plate. He was generous with smoked fish, soft cheese and fresh bread and butter. A pot of tea steamed in the middle of the table. I went to my room to fetch my cup. As I returned with it, I asked, ‘Why could not the Queen simply invite you to be present when she receives them?’
The Fool shrugged one shoulder as he took a forkful of smoked fish. After a moment, he observed, ‘Don’t you think the Bingtown ambassadors might look askance at the Queen of the Six Duchies inviting a foreign noble to attend her first meeting with them?’
‘They might, but then they might not. I believe it has been decades since the Bingtown Council has sent a formal declaration to the Six Duchies court. And we have a Mountain queen now, a woman from a realm completely outside their ken. Did she greet them by slaughtering chickens in their honour or scattering roses before them, it would be all one to them. Whatever she does, they will assume it is her custom, and they will attempt to receive it politely.’ I took a sip of tea and then added pointedly, ‘Including inviting foreign nobles to her first reception of them.’
‘Perhaps.’ Then, grudgingly he admitted, ‘But I have reasons of my own for not wishing to be visibly present.’
‘Such as?’
He took his time cutting a bite of food and then eating it. After he had followed it with a sip of tea, he admitted, ‘Perhaps they would recognize that I bear no resemblance to any Jamaillian noble family that they have ever encountered. The traders of Bingtown have far more commerce with Jamaillia than any Six Duchies venture. They would see through my sham and spoil it.’
I accepted that, but reserved my opinion as to whether it was the complete reason. I did not ask if he feared he would be recognized. He had told me that he had spent some time in Bingtown. Even dressed as a nobleman, the Fool’s appearance was sufficiently unique that he might be recognized by any that had seen him there. He was looking more uncomfortable than I had seen him in a long time. I changed the subject.
‘Who else will be “visibly present” at the ambassadors’ initial reception by the Queen?’
‘I don’t know. Whoever represents each of the Six Duchies and is currently at court, I imagine.’ He took another bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed and added, ‘We shall see. It may be a delicate situation. I understand that there have been messages exchanged, but erratically. This delegation was actually expected to arrive months ago, but the Chalcedeans intensified the war. The Bingtown war with Chalced has disrupted shipping woefully to all points south of Shoaks. I gather that the Queen and Chade had given up all expectations until today.’
‘Messages?’ All of this was news to me.
‘Bingtown has approached the Queen, proposing an alliance to quell Chalced once and for all. To entice her, they have offered trade advantages in Bingtown, and a new closeness between the realms. Kettricken has rightly seen it as an empty offer. There can be no free trade until Chalced gives over its harassment of the ships in and out of Bingtown. Once Chalced is battered into submission, then Bingtown will be open for trade again, whether or not the Six Duchies took any part in subjugating Chalced. Bingtown lives on trade. It cannot even feed itself. So. A cold evaluation is that the Six Duchies risked inflaming its own disagreements with Chalced, with very little to gain by it. That being so, Kettricken has graciously declined their invitation to join their war. But now the Bingtown Councils hint that they have something else to offer, something so stupendous and so secret that word of it cannot be entrusted to a scroll. Hence, these envoys. A clever ploy, to play on the curiosity of the Queen and her nobles. They will have a rapt audience. Shall we eat and go?’
We dispatched the food swiftly between us, and then I cleared the breakfast tray away to the kitchens. All was in a hubbub there. The unexpected delegation demanded an amazing luncheon and an extraordinary feast in their honour. Old Cook Sara had actually descended into the thick of the culinary skirmish in progress, proclaiming that she would do it all herself, that those Bingtowners would never be able to say that the Six Duchies lacked in any sort of food. I retreated hastily from the commotion and hurried back to Lord Golden’s chambers.
I found the door latched. At my knock and quiet call, it was opened. I stepped through and shut it behind me, and then stood in shock. The Fool stood before me. Not the Fool in Lord Golden’s garb, but the Fool very nearly as I had known him when we were both boys. It was the garment he wore, close-fitting hose and a full tunic of solid black. His only ornaments were the earring and the tiny black and white posy. Even his slippers were black. Only his stature and colouring seemed changed from those days. I half-expected him to shake a rat’s-head sceptre at me or turn a flip. At my raised brows, he said, almost abashedly, ‘I did not wish to risk any