Fool's Quest (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #2)

The immense entry hall was cleaner than I recalled it and much emptier. It was warmer as well, and seemed possessed of a sourceless light. The last time I had visited here, the floor had been littered with the fibers and dust of collapsed wooden furniture. The ancient debris had been cleared away, and a score of new desks and tables strove to occupy a space designed for hundreds. Scribes of various mien and garb occupied them, some perhaps diligently adding numbers, others facing a queue of people waiting with various degrees of impatience. I dreaded that we would be assigned to such a queue, but instead we were marched through that hall, drawing all manner of stares, and ushered through a wooden door and into a smaller chamber.

It was still too large a place for our company, but it offered warmth, and as soon as we halted Lant and Per gratefully set down their burdens. At a gesture from their leader, the troops ranged themselves round the wall. General Rapskal came to stand before me. “I will be immediately calling on the king and queen to see if they are willing to give you an audience. I will not deceive you. I am unhappy with your account of yourself and I will advise them to regard you with the just suspicion that intruders to our city deserve. Wait here.”

He turned and I let him go three steps before I halted him with a genial, “And will we be offered wash-water and a place to tidy ourselves before we appear before them? We’ve no wish to insult them with a rough appearance.”

He turned back. A frown creased his brow. He made a swift gesture, and one of his men stepped forward to take hasty counsel with him. It did not take long. “Captain Perling will see to your comfort and supervision while I am gone. Whatever you need, you may ask of him.” And with no more farewell than that, he turned and marched out of the room. The close-fitting footwear he wore made little more than a whisper against the stone. I turned a kindly look on the captain and smiled.

“When the Elderling Selden sojourned with us many years ago, he spoke glowingly of the wonders of your city. I see now that he did not exaggerate. Could we trouble you, good Captain, for warm water and perhaps food and wine to restore ourselves? As you can imagine, our travels since the bear attack have been a journey of privation.”

I was following an axiom of Chade’s. Always behave as if you are the person you wish to be perceived as. I was an emissary from the Six Duchies, a prince of the blood, and I had every right to be welcomed as such. Nonetheless, I had initially feared we would be thrown into a cell or dungeon until the king and queen could judge us. At the very least, I’d expected to be treated harshly, but the captain did not appear to share his general’s trepidation about us. He dispatched a handful of his men for food and drink and wash-water, invited us to be seated, and had his men bring a table and set it before us. The benches he offered us appeared hard and cold, but when we were seated, they warmed and became as soft as any cushioned chair.

That was enough to impress us, but it did not stop there. A vessel decorated with a pattern of leaves and dancers was set on the table before us. Cold water was poured into it, but within moments it steamed gently. We were grateful to warm our chilled faces and hands with it, and to dry them on the soft towels set out for us. The food was less impressive. It was good meat, root vegetables, a cold fowl, and bread, but plainly cooked and served. We were still glad to fill our bellies, and if the wine they offered us was a rather sour vintage, it was still welcome.

Our guards gave us no privacy but we ignored them as we attempted to straighten our garments and smooth our hair. When we had eaten and made ourselves as presentable as we could, we sat on the comfortable benches and waited. And waited. Perseverance voiced the question that filled all our minds. “Do you suppose they are safe?”

I deliberately misunderstood him. “The king and queen of the Elderlings? I am sure they will do their best to see us soon, and extend to us the same welcome we have offered their emissaries to Buckkeep.” I put a kindly smile on my face. “You need not fear them, boy, no matter how strange their guise may seem to you. The Six Duchies has long had cordial relations with all the Traders.” Lant was nodding and the boy seemed to take my meaning. We sat and we waited. Endlessly. I comforted myself that I heard no alarm raised as the slow hours passed. I hoped that the Fool and Spark were using the time well.

I had begun to long to take a nap when finally the door opened again. General Rapskal appeared with a tall Rain Wilder at his side. His hair was tousled from wind and while he was clearly an Elderling, he was not as finely made as General Rapskal. He was older, I decided, though the scaling on his brow did not make it easy to guess his age. He entered the room, looked at me, and then turned to his general. “Swifter would have been better, Rapskal. Later, I will wish to speak to you.”

I rose as he crossed to me and was startled when he extended his hand to me. I offered mine and he took my hand in a Trader’s greeting rather than the warrior’s wrist-clasp I had half-expected.

“You are Prince FitzChivalry Farseer, of the Six Duchies?” he confirmed with me. I nodded gravely. He still had not released my hand. “I beg pardon for the rough welcome you have received. I am Reyn Khuprus.”

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