The Tawny Man 1 - Fools Errand
Chapter XV
GALETON
Since the time of the Piebald Prince, the scouring of the Witted has been accepted within the Six Duchies as matteroffactly as enforced labor for bad debt or logging for thieves. It was the normal way of the world, and unquestioned. In the years following the Red Ship War, it was natural that the purging should begin in earnest. The Cleansing of Buck had freed the land of the Red Ship Raiders and the Forged ones they had created. Honest folk hoped to purify the Six Duchies of unnatural taints completely. Some were, perhaps, too swift to punish on little evidence. For a time, accusations of being Witted were enough to make any man, guilty or not, tremble for fear of his life.
The selfstyled Piebalds took advantage of this climate of suspicion and violence. While not revealing themselves, they publicly exposed wellknown figures who were possessed of the Wit but never spoke out against the persecution of their more vulnerable fellows. It was the first attempt by the Witted as a group to wield any sort of political power. Yet it was not the effort of a people to defend themselves against unjust persecution, but the underhanded tactic of a duplicitous faction determined to seize power for themselves by any available means. They had no more loyalty to themselves than a pack of dogs.
t ê. delvin's “the politics of the piebald cabal”
As it turned out, my race to the ferry landing was of small use. The ferry was there and tied up, and so it would remain, the captain told me, until an expected cargo of two sa, wagons of sea salt arrived. When Lord Golden and Laurel arrived, which, to speak fairly, was not so much longer after I did, the captain remained adamant. Lord Golden offered him a substantial purse to leave without the wagons, but the captain shook his head with a smile. “I'd have your coins once, and nice as they might clink, I could only spend them once. I wait for the wagons at Lady Bresinga's request. Her coins come to me every week, and I'll not do anything to risk her ill will. You'll have to wait, good sir, begging your pardon.”
Lord Golden was little pleased with this, but there was nothing he could do. He told me to remain there with the horses, and took himself off to the landing inn where he could have a mug of ale in comfort while he waited. It was in keeping with our roles, and I harbored no resentment. I told myself this several times. If Laurel had not been with us, perhaps he would have found a way for us to share some time without compromising our public roles. I had looked forward to a companionable journey with him and time in which we did not have to maintain our facade of master and servant but I resigned myself to what was necessary. Still, something of my regret must have showed in my face, for Laurel came to keep pace with me as I walked the horses about in a field near the ferry landing. “Is something troubling you?” she asked me.
I glanced at her in some surprise at the sympathy in her voice. “Just missing an old friend,” I replied honestly.
“I see,” she answered, and when I offered no more on the topic, she observed, “You've a good master. He held no grudge against you that you beat him in our race. Many's the master who would have found a way to make you regret your victory over him.”
The idea startled me, not as Tom Badgerlock but as Fitz. It had never occurred to me that the Fool might resent a race fairly won. Plainly I was not fully settled into my role. “That's true, I suppose. But the victory was his as much as mine. He chose the horse, and at first I was not much impressed with the beast. But she can run, and in running she showed a spirit I didn't suspect she had. I think I can make a good mount of her yet.”
Laurel stepped back to run a critical eye over my black. “She seems a good mount to me. What made you doubt her?”
“Oh.” I searched for words that would not make me sound Witted. “She seemed to lack a certain willingness. Some horses want to please. Your Whitecap is one, and Malta another. My black seems to lack that. But as we get to know one another, perhaps it will come.”
“Myblack? That's her name?”
I shrugged and smiled. “I suppose. I hadn't given her one, but, yes, I suppose that's what I've been calling her.”
She gave me a sideways glance. “Well, it's a little better than Blacky or Queenie.”
I grinned at her disapproval. “I know what you mean. Well, she may yet show me a name that fits her more truly, but for now she's Myblack.”
For a time we walked in silence. She kept glancing up the roads that led down to the ferry landing. “I wish those wagons would come. I don't even see them.”
“Well, the land rises and falls a good deal along here. They may crest a hill anytime and come into view for us.”
“I hope so. I'd like to be on our way. I'd hoped to reach Galeton before full dark. I'd like to get up in the hills as soon as possible and take a look around.”
“For the Queen's quarry,” I supplied.
“Yes.” She glanced aside from me for a time. Then, as if making sure I understood that she did not break a confidence, she said bluntly, “Queen Kettricken told me that both you and Lord Golden are to be trusted. That I need hold nothing back from either of you.”
I bowed my head to that. “The Queen's confidence honors me.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I was startled. “Well, such confidence from such a great lady to one like me is ” - , “Unbelievable. Especially when you arrived in Buckkeep Castle but a few days ago.” Her eyes met mine squarely, Kettricken had chosen her confidante well. Yet her very intelligence could be a threat to me. I licked my lips, debating my answer. A small piece of truth, I decided. Truth was easiest to keep straight in later conversations. “I have known Queen Kettricken of old. I served her in several confidential ways during the time of the Red Ship War.”
“Then it was for her that you came to Buckkeep rather than Lord Golden?”
“I think it is fair to say I came for myself.” Silence ensued. Together we led our horses to the river and allowed them to drink. Myblack showed no caution of the water, wading out to drink deep. I wondered how she would react to boarding the ferry. She was big and the river was wide. If she decided to give trouble, it could be an unpleasant crossing for me. I dipped a kerchief in the cold water and wiped my face with it.
“Do you think the Prince just ran away?” I dropped the kerchief from my eyes to stare at her in surprise. This woman was blunt. She did not look away from me. I glanced about to be sure no one could hear us. “ don't know,” I said as bluntly. “I suspect he may have been lured rather than taken by force. But I do think others were involved in his leaving.” Then I bit my tongue and chided myself for being too open. How would I back up that opinion? By revealing I was Witted? Better to listen than to talk. “Then we may be opposed in recovering him.” “It's possible.”
“Why do you think they lured him away?” “Oh, I don't know.” I was beginning to sound vapid and I knew it.
She met my eyes squarely. “Well. I also think he was lured away, if not taken outright. I speculate that those who took him did not approve of the Queen's plan for marrying him to the Outislander narcheska.” She glanced away and added, “Nor do I.”
Those words gave me pause. It was the first hint that she was not unquestioning in her loyalty to the Queen. All Chade's old training came to the fore, as I sought to see how deep her disagreement ran. Gouldshe have had something to do with the Prince's disappearance? “I am not sure that I agree with it myself,” I replied, inviting her to say more.
“The Prince is too young to be pledged to anyone,” Laurel said forthrightly. “I have no confidence that the Out Islands are our best allies, let alone that they will remain true. How can they? They are little more than citystates scattered along the coast of a forbidding land. No one lord holds true power there, and they squabble constantly. Any alliance we make there is as like to draw us into one of their petty wars as to benefit us in trade.”
I was taken aback. She had obviously given this a great deal of thought, and in a depth I would not have expected of a Huntswoman. “What would you favor, then?”
“Were the decision mine and well I know it is not I would hold him back, in reserve as it were, until I saw surely what was happening, not just in the Out Islands but to the south, as well, in Chalced and Bingtown and the lands beyond. There has been talk of war down there, and other wild tales. Dragons have been seen, they do say. Not that I believe all I hear, but dragons did come to the Six Duchies during the Red Ship War. I've heard those tales too often to set them aside. Perhaps they are attracted to war and the prey it offers them.”
To enlighten her in that regard would have required hours. I merely asked, “Then you would marry our Prince off to a Chalcedean noblewoman, or a Bingtown Trader's daughter?”
“Perhaps it would be best for him to marry within the Six Duchies. There are some who mutter that the Queen is foreignborn, and that a second generation of a foreign queen might not be good.”
“And you agree?”
She gave me a look. “Do you forget I am the Queen's ROBIN HOB BHuntswoman? Better a foreigner like her than some of the Farrow noblewomen I've had to serve in the past.”
Our talk died there for a time. We led the horses away from the river. I removed bits and let the animals graze. I was hungry myself. As if she could read my thoughts, Laurel dug into her saddlebag and came up with apples for us both, “I always carry food with me,” she said as she offered one to me. “Some of the folk I've hunted for think no more of the comfort of their hunters than they do of their horses or dogs.”
I bit back a response that would have defended Lord Golden from such a charge. Best to let the Fool decide how he wished to present himself. I thanked her and bit into the apple. It was both tart and sweet. Myblack lifted her head suddenly.
Share? I offered her, She flicked her ears at me disdainfully and went back to grazing.
A few days without me and he's consorting with horses. I might have known. The wolf used the Wit without subtlety, startling me and spooking all three horses.
“Nighteyes!” I exclaimed in surprise. I looked around for him.
“Beg pardon?”
“My . . . dog. He's followed me from home.”
Laurel looked at me as if I were mad. “Your dog? Where?”
Luckily for me, the great wolf had just come into view, slipping out of the shelter of the trees. He was panting, and he headed straight for the river to drink. Laurel stared. “That's a wolf.”
“He does look a great deal like a wolf,” I conceded. I clapped my hands and whistled. “Here, Nighteyes. Here, boy.”
I'm drinking, you idiot. I'm thirsty. As you might be if you had trotted all the way here instead of riding a horse.
“No,” Laurel replied evenly. “That is not a dog that looks like a wolf. That is a wolf.”
“I adopted him when he was very small.” Nighteyes was still lapping. “He's been a very good companion to me.”
“Lady Bresinga may not welcome a wolf into her home.”
Nighteyes lifted his head suddenly, looked about, and then without a glance at me, slunk back into the woods. Tonight, he promised me in parting.
I'll be on the other side of the river by tonight.
So will I. Trust me. Tonight.
Myblack had caught Nighteyes' scent and was staring after him. She whickered uneasily. I looked back at Laurel and found her regarding me curiously.
“I must have been mistaken. That was, indeed, a wolf. Looked a great deal like my dog, though.”
You've made me look like an idiot.
That wasn't hard.
“It was a very peculiar way for a wolf to behave,” Laurel observed. She was still staring after him. “It's been years since I've seen a wolf in these parts.”
I offered Myblack the apple core. She accepted it, and left a coating of green slime on my palm in return. Silence seemed the wisest choice.
“Badgerlock! Huntswoman!” Lord Golden summoned us from the roadside. In great relief, I led the horses over to him.
Laurel trailed us. As we approached him across the meadow, she made a small sound of approval in her throat. I glanced back at her in consternation. Her eyes were fixed on Lord Golden, but at my questioning glance, she quirked a small smile at me. I looked back at him.
Aware of our scrutiny, he all but struck a pose. I knew the Fool too well to be fooled by Lord Golden's careless artifice. He knew how the wind off the river toyed with his golden locks. He had chosen his colors well, blues and white, and his elegant clothing was cut to complement his slender figure. He looked like a creature of sun and sky. Even carrying food bundled in a white linen napkin and a jug, he still managed to look elegantly aristocratic.
“I've brought you a meal and drink so you'll not be tempted to leave the horses untended,” he told me. He handed me the napkin and the moisturebeaded jug. Then he ran his eyes over Laurel and gave her an approving smile. “If the Huntswoman would enjoy it, I would be pleased to share a meal with her while we await those cursed wagons.”
The fleeting glance Laurel sent my way was laden with meaning. She begged my pardon for deserting me even as she was certain I could see this was too rare an opportunity for her to miss.
“I am certain I would enjoy it, Lord Golden,” she replied, inclining her head. I took Whitecaps reins before she could think to ask me. Lord Golden offered her his arm as if she were a lady. With only the slightest hesitation, she set her sunbrowned fingers on the pale blue of his sleeve. He immediately covered her hand with his long, elegant fingers. Before they were three steps away from me, they were in deep conversation about game birds and seasons and feathers.
I closed my mouth, which had been hanging just slightly ajar. Reality reordered itself around me. Lord Golden, I suddenly realized, was every bit as complete and real a person as the Fool had been. The Fool had been a colorless little freak, jeering and sharptongued, who tended either to rouse unquestioning affection or abhorrence and fear in those who knew him. I had been among those who had befriended King Shrewd's jester, and had valued his friendship as the truest bond two boys could share. Those who had feared his wickedly barbed jests and been repulsed by his pallid skin and colorless eyes had been the vast majority of the castle folk. But just now an intelligent and, I jbs must admit, very attractive young woman had chosen Lord Golden's companionship over mine.
“There's no accounting for tastes,” I told Whitecap, who was looking after his departing mistress with an aggrieved air.
What's in the napkin?
I didn't think you'd go far. A moment, I put the horses to graze with makeshift picket lines and went over to where the field met the edge of a forested bramble. There was a great mossy river boulder there, and I spread the napkin out atop it. When I unstoppered the jug, I found it held sweet cider. Within the napkin were two meat pasties.
One for me.
Nighteyes did not come all the way out of the bramble. I tossed one of the pasties to him and immediately bit into my own. It was still warm from cooking and the meat and gravy were brown and savory. One of the lovely things about the Wit is that one can carry on a conversation while eating without choking. So. How did you find me, and why? I asked him.
I found you just as I'd find any fleabite. Why? What else was I to do? You could not have expected me to stay in Buckkeep Town. With a cat? Please. Bad enough that you reek of that creature. I could not have abided sharing space with him.
Hap will worry about you when he discovers you are missing.
Perhaps, but doubt it. He was so excited to come back to Buckkeep Town. Why a boy would find it enticing, I do not know. There is nothing but noise and dust, no game worth speaking of, and far too many humans crammed into one space. Then you came after me solely to spare yourself that aggravation . It had nothing to do with being concerned for me or missing me?
If you and the Scentless One hunt, then should hunt with you. That is only sense. Hap is a good boy, but he is not the best hunter. Better to leave him safe in town.
But ive are on horseback, and, my friend, you are not as fleet as you used to be, nor do you have the endurance of a young wolf. Best you go back to Buckkeep Town and keep watch over the boy.
Or maybe you could just dig a hole right here and bury me. “What?” His bitterness startled the word out of me. I did choke on the cider I was drinking.
Little brother, do not treat me as if I am already dead, or dj' ing. If you see me that way, then I would rather truly be dead, You steal the now of my life away, when you constantly fear that tomorrow will bring my death. Your fears clutch cold at me and snatch all my pleasure in the day's warmth from me.
As he had not in a long time, the wolf dropped all the barriers between us. I suddenly perceived what I had been hiding from myself. The recent reticence between us was not entirely Nighteyes' doing. Half of it was mine, my retreat from him for fear that his death would be unbearably painful for me. I was the one who had set him at a distance; I was the one who had been hoarding my thoughts from him. Yet enough of my feelings had reached past that wall that he was wounded by them. I had been on the verge of abandoning him. My slow pulling away from him had been my resignation to his mortality. Truly, since the day I had pulled him back from death, I had not seen him as fully alive.
I sat for a time feeling shabby and small. I did not need to tell him I felt ashamed. The Wit forms a bond that makes many explanations unnecessary. I spoke my apology aloud. “Hap is really old enough to take care of himself. From now on, we belong together, come what may.” I felt his concurrence. So. What is it we hunt? A boy and a cat. Prince Dutiful.