The Tawny Man Series Books 2 and 3: The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate. Robin Hobb

to visit Icefyre, they both could be the richer for it.

       Outislander Scroll, Icefyre’s Lair

      The following morning the Outislanders departed, sailing with the dawn tide. I didn’t envy them their trip. The day was rough and cold, spray flying from the tips of the waves. Yet they seemed to make little of the harsh weather, accepting it as routine. I heard that there was a procession down to the docks, and a formal farewell as Elliania boarded the ship that would carry her back to the God Runes. Dutiful bent over her hand and kissed it. She curtseyed to him and to the Queen. Then Bloodblade made his formal farewells, followed by his nobles. Peottre was the last to bid goodbye to the Farseers. He was also the one who escorted the Narcheska aboard the ship. They all stood on the deck to wave as the ship was pulled out of the harbour. I think the folk who went to witness it were disappointed that there were no last-minute dramatics. Almost, it was a calm following a storm. Perhaps Elliania was still too dazed from the previous evening’s late night and cataclysmic agreements to present any last-minute hurdles.

      I knew that a quiet meeting between the Queen, Chade, Blackwater and Bloodblade had followed the formal banquet. It had been arranged hastily and lasted into the early hours of the morning. The behaviour of the Prince and Narcheska had doubtless been discussed, but more importantly, the Prince’s quest had now metamorphosed into but one element of an extended visit to the Outislands. Chade told me later that the slaying of the questionable dragon had not been discussed so much as the time-table for the Prince to meet not only the Hetgurd of the Outislands but to visit the Motherhouse of Elliania’s family. The Hetgurd was a loose alliance of head men and tribal chiefs who functioned more as a trade clearinghouse than any sort of a government. Elliania’s Motherhouse was a different matter. Chade told me later that Peottre had seemed very uneasy when Blackwater had calmly assumed that it must be a part of Dutiful’s visit to the Outislands, almost as if he would have refused it if he could. The Prince and his entourage would depart for the Outislands in spring. My private response to that was that it gave Chade precious little time for his information gathering.

      I was not a witness to that hastily-convened negotiation, nor to any of the farewell events. Lord Golden, much to Chade’s annoyance, still begged off of any public appearances, citing his health. I was just as glad not to go. I was cramped and stiff from an evening spent wedged in a wall peering through a spyhole. A nice stormy ride down to Buckkeep Town and back was not alluring.

      In the wake of the departure of the Outislanders, many of the lesser lords and ladies of the Six Duchies began to leave the court also. The festivities and occasions of the Prince’s betrothal were over, and they had many stories to share with those at home. Buckkeep Castle emptied out like an upended bottle. The stables and servants’ quarters suddenly became roomier, and life settled into a quieter winter routine.

      To my dismay, the Bingtown Traders lingered on. This meant that Lord Golden continued to keep to his rooms lest he be recognized, and that at any hour I might encounter Jek visiting him. Propriety meant nothing to her. She had grown up rough, the daughter of fisherfolk, and had kept the carefree ways of that people. Several times I met her in the halls of the castle. Always she grinned at me and gave me a jovial good day. Once, when our steps were carrying us in the same direction, she thumped me on the arm and told me not to be so sombre all the time. I made some neutral reply to that, but before I could get away, she clamped her hand on my forearm and drew me to one side.

      She glanced all about us to be sure the hall was deserted and then spoke in a low voice. ‘I suppose this will get me into trouble, but I can’t stand to see the two of you like this. I refuse to believe you don’t know “Lord Golden’s” secret. And knowing it –’ She paused for a moment, then said quietly and urgently, ‘Open your eyes, man, and see what could be yours. Don’t wait. Love such as you could have doesn’t –’

      I cut her off before she could say anything more. ‘Perhaps “Lord Golden’s secret” is not what you think it is. Or perhaps you have lived among Jamaillians for too long,’ I suggested, offended.

      At my sour look, she had only laughed. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘You might as well trust me. “Lord Golden” has, for years now. Believe in my friendship for both of you, and know that, like you, I can keep a friend’s secrets when they deserve to be kept.’ She turned her head and regarded me as a bird looks at a worm. ‘But some secrets beg to be betrayed. The secret of undeclared love is like that. Amber is a fool not to voice her feelings for you. It does neither of you any good to ignore such a secret.’ She stared into my eyes earnestly, her hand still gripping my wrist.

      ‘I don’t know what secret you refer to,’ I replied stiffly, even as I wondered uneasily just how many of my secrets the Fool had shared with her. At that moment, two serving maids appeared at the end of the hall and continued towards us, gossiping merrily.

      She had dropped my wrist, sighed for me and shook her head in mock pity. ‘Of course you don’t,’ she replied, ‘and you won’t even see what is put right on the table before you. Men. If it was raining soup, you’d be out there with a fork.’ She slapped me on the back, and then our ways parted, much to my relief.

      After that, I began to long to have things out with the Fool. Like an aching tooth, I jiggled over and over what I would say to him. The frustration was that he excluded me from his bedchamber, even as he seemed to welcome Jek in for private talks. Not that I rapped at his door and demanded entrance. I had been maintaining a sullen silence towards him, waiting hungrily for him to demand just what ailed me. The problem was that he did not. He seemed focused elsewhere; it was as if he did not notice my silence or my surliness. Is there anything more provoking than waiting for someone to open the lowering quarrel? My mood became ever darker. That Jek believed the Fool was some woman named Amber did nothing to soothe my irritation. It only made the situation ever more bizarre.

      In vain, I tried to distract myself with other mysteries. Laurel was gone. In the dwindling days of winter, I had noticed her absence. My discreet inquiries as to where the Huntswoman was had led me to rumours that she had gone to visit her family. Under the circumstances, I doubted that. When asked bluntly, Chade informed me that it was not my concern if the Queen had decided to send her Huntswoman out of harm’s way. When I asked where, he gave me a scathing look. ‘What you don’t know is less danger for you and for her.’

      ‘And is there more danger, then, that I should know of?’

      He considered for a moment before replying, then sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know. She begged a private audience with the Queen. What was said there, I don’t know, for Kettricken refuses to tell me. She gave some foolish promise to the Huntswoman that it would remain a secret between the two of them. Then, Laurel was gone. I don’t know if the Queen sent her away, or if she asked permission to leave, or if she simply fled. I have told Kettricken that it is not wise to leave me uninformed about this. But she will not budge from her promise.’

      I thought of Laurel as I had last seen her. I suspected she had gone forth to fight the Piebalds in her own way. What that could be, I had no idea. But I feared for her. ‘Have we had any word about Laudwine and his followers?’

      ‘Nothing that we know is absolutely true. But three rumours might as well be the truth, as the saying goes. And there are plentiful rumours that Laudwine has recovered from the injury you dealt him, and that he will once more take up the reins of power over the Piebalds. The closest we have to good news is that some may dispute his right to lead them. We can only hope that he has problems of his own.’

      And so I hoped, fervently, but in my heart I did not believe it.

      There was little to lighten my life elsewhere. The Prince had not come to the Skill-tower on the morning of the Narcheska’s departure. I thought little of that. He had had a late night, and his presence was demanded early on the docks. But on the two mornings since then, I had waited in vain for him. I had arrived at our appointed hour, and waited, labouring over some scroll translations alone, and then I left. He sent me no word of explanation. After simmering in my own anger through the second morning, I made a firm decision that I would not contact him. It was, I told myself firmly, not my place. I tried to put myself in the Prince’s skin. How would I have felt if I had