Ash started to speak. I put a hand on his shoulder to silence him. There would always be dishonorable things done to preserve the honor of any power. Silence now, as Dutiful never needed his nose rubbed in that dirt. Something like a shadow of a smile bent the Fool’s lips. Riddle and Nettle remained silent, acceding to Dutiful. The relief on the boy’s face was evident. It took courage for him to make a low bow to Dutiful and add, “It is respect for the Farseer line that bids me take this course, my king.”
“Be it so.” Dutiful was resigned.
I gestured to Ash and he followed me. We moved away from the light and warmth of the fire, to the dark and shadowy end of the room. Back to the shadows where assassins belonged, I thought. Back to where the old worktable still bore the scorches and scars of my own apprenticeship.
As I moved, I thought about the task Lady Rosemary had been dispatched to carry out. The man who had hired killers to assassinate the royal assassins would soon experience the king’s quiet justice. Would it be subtle: a fall down the stairs, or poisoning from a bit of bad meat? Or would she choose to be sure he knew who was killing him and take her time about it? Would his body be left in such a way as to warn others, or would no corpse ever be found? I suspected the Bawdy Trout might catch fire. Or possibly experience a very destructive brawl. Cod oil in their wine casks? I reined my thoughts away. It was her task, and her assignment came from the king himself. Professional courtesy demanded that I not interfere or judge her decisions. As Ash would learn, some secrets we held back, even from those who shared our trade.
The boy was standing silent near the darkest end of the table. “Well?” I demanded.
“I was waiting for you to be seated, sir.”
I felt a moment’s exasperation. Then I sat, looked at him, and chose Chade’s tone as I ordered him quietly, “Report.”
He licked his lips. “Lord Chade told me that I should do all in my power to keep your friend comfortable. Anything he might need, I was to furnish him. And I was told that he had Skilled that directive to me from Withywoods, as well. Any desire he expressed, I was to fulfill as best as I might. But, sir, it was not just my master’s order that made me do as I did. I did it for that man—I scarcely know what name to call him by! But he spoke me kind, even when I first frightened him. Even when I continued to fear and almost loathe his appearance, if I am honest!
“And when he became accustomed to me, he talked to me. As if he were full of words and they must pour out! And the stories he told! At first I thought he was making up such things. Then I went to the scrolls you had written from those times and there I found the tales told again, almost exactly as he had said.”
He paused expectantly, but his words had snatched the speech from my lips. He’d been reading the accounts I’d written and entrusted to Chade, my reports on the hidden history of the Red-Ship Wars, and how Dutiful had been won back from the Old Blood faction and the dragon Icefyre released from the glacier on Aslevjal. The fall of the Pale Woman. It astonished me, even as I felt a bit foolish. Of course he was reading them. Why did I imagine that Chade had asked me to record them, if not to use in the education of his new apprentices? Had I not read scroll after scroll in Verity’s hand, and King Shrewd’s, and even those from my father’s pen?
“But, if you don’t mind my saying, his tellings were more exciting than your writing. Hero tales, told by one of the heroes himself. Not that he didn’t tell your part in all he did, but …”
I nodded, wondering if the Fool had indulged in a bit of embroidery or if the true tales of our exploits had been enough to fire the boy’s imagination.
“I took the best care of him that I knew how, preparing his food, keeping his linens clean, changing the dressings on his injuries, the few times he would allow it. I thought he was getting better. But when he received the news that you had gone off to Withywoods, he became a different creature. He ranted and wept. He said that he should have gone with you, that only you and he could protect each other. I could not calm him. He got up from his bed and stumbled about, demanding that I find garments and boots for him, that he must follow you however he could. And so I obeyed him, but very slowly, for I knew this was not what was best for him. And I am ashamed to say I brought him a tea, one of those that taste of sweet spices and milk but hide a sleeping draught. He drank it down and calmed somewhat. He asked for toasted cheese and bread and perhaps some pickles and a glass of white wine.
“I was so relieved to see him calm and so sure of my tea that I promised to fetch it right away. I left him sitting on the edge of the bed. I took my time in preparing the food and putting it on a tray, and when I returned, my hopes were rewarded. I saw him well bundled in the bed and sleeping soundly. So I did not disturb him.”
“But he wasn’t there at all.”
The boy looked only mildly surprised that I had guessed the Fool’s ruse. “No. He wasn’t. But it was quite a time before I discovered that. When he did not wake when I thought he should, I thought to see if his fever had come back. But he was only bunched bedding and a pillow stuffed into the hooded cloak I had brought him.”