The Golden Fool. Robin Hobb

in my role as servant. ‘The truth is that I have not been to bed. Hap did not come home until the dim hours of the morning. And on my walk home, I encountered some Piebalds who delayed me a bit longer.’

      The smile melted from his face. He did not take his chair, but seized my wrist in a cool grip. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked earnestly.

      ‘No,’ I assured him, and gestured him to the table. He sat down reluctantly. I moved to the side of the table and uncovered the dishes before him. ‘That was not their intent. They just wanted to let me know that they knew my name, where I lived, and that I am Witted. And that my wolf is dead.’

      I had to force out the last words. It was as if I could live with that truth so long as I did not utter it aloud. I coughed and hastily took up the cut flowers. I handed the nosegay to him and muttered, ‘I’ll put these ones by your bedside.’

      ‘Thank you,’ he returned in a voice as muted as mine.

      I found a vase in his room. Evidently even the garden-maid was more familiar with Lord Golden’s niceties than I was. I filled it with water from his wash-pitcher and set the flowers on a small table adjacent to his bed. When I returned, he had donned his blue jacket and the white nosegay was pinned to the front of it.

      ‘I need to speak to Chade as soon as I can,’ I said as I poured his tea. ‘But I can’t very well go and hammer on his door.’

      He lifted the cup and sipped. ‘Don’t the secret passages offer you access to his rooms?’

      I gave Lord Golden a look. ‘You know that old fox. His secrets belong to him alone, and he will not risk anyone spying on him in an unguarded moment. He must have access to the corridors, but I don’t know how. Was he up very late last night?’

      Lord Golden winced. ‘He was still dancing when I decided to seek my bed. For an old man, he finds an amazing wealth of energy when he wishes to enjoy himself. But I’ll send a page round with a message to him. I’ll invite him to ride with me this afternoon. Is that soon enough?’ He had caught the anxiety in my voice but was not asking questions. I was grateful for that.

      ‘It will do,’ I assured him. ‘It will probably be the soonest that his mind is clear.’ I rattled my own head as if it would settle my thoughts. ‘There is suddenly so much to think of, so many things I must worry about. If these Piebalds know about me, then they know about the Prince.’

      ‘Did you recognize any of them? Were they from Laudwine’s band?’

      ‘It was dark. And they stayed well back from me. I heard a woman’s voice and a man’s, but I’m sure there were at least three of them. One was bonded with a dog, and another with a small, swift mammal – a rat or a weasel or a squirrel, perhaps.’ I took a breath. ‘I want the guards at Buckkeep’s gates to be put on alert. And the Prince should have someone accompanying him at all times. “A tutor of the well-muscled sort”, as Chade himself once suggested. And I need to make arrangements with Chade, for ways to contact him if I need his help or advice immediately. And the keep should be patrolled daily for rats, especially the Prince’s chambers.’ He took a breath to speak, then bit down on his questions. Instead, he said, ‘I fear I must give you one more thing to think about. Prince Dutiful passed a note to me last night, demanding to know when you will begin his Skill lessons.’

      ‘He wrote down those words?’

      At Lord Golden’s reluctant nod, I was horrified. I had been aware that the Prince missed me. Linked by the Skill as we were, I must be aware of such things. I had put up my own Skill-walls to keep my thoughts private from the young man, but he was not so adept. Several times I had felt his feeble efforts to reach towards me, but I had ignored them, promising myself that a better time would soon present itself. Evidently my prince was not so patient. ‘Oh, the boy must be taught caution. Some things should never be committed to paper, and those—’

      My tongue suddenly faltered. I must have gone pale, for Lord Golden stood up abruptly and became my friend the Fool as he offered me his chair. ‘Are you all right, Fitz? Is it a seizure coming on?’

      I dropped into the chair. My head was spinning as I pondered the depth of my folly. I could scarcely get the breath to admit my idiocy. ‘Fool. All my scrolls, all my writings. I came so swiftly to Chade’s summons, I left them there in my cottage. I told Hap to close up the house before he came to Buckkeep, but he would not have hidden them, only shut the door to my study. If the Piebalds are clever enough to connect me with Hap …’

      I let the thought trail away. I needed to say no more to him. His eyes were huge. The Fool had read all that I had so recklessly committed to paper. Not only my own identity was bared there, but also many Farseer matters better left forgotten. And personal vulnerabilities also were exposed in those cursed scrolls. Molly, my lost love. Nettle, my bastard daughter. How could I have been so stupid as to set such thoughts to paper? How could I have let the false comfort of writing about such things lull me into exposing them? No secret was safe unless it was locked solely in a man’s own mind. It should all have been burned, long ago.

      ‘Please, Fool. See Chade for me. I have to go there. Now. Today.’

      The Fool set a cautious hand to my shoulder. ‘Fitz. If they are gone, it is already too late. If Tom Badgerlock goes racing off today, you will only stir curiosity and invite pursuit. You may lead the Piebalds straight to them. They will be expecting you to bolt after they threatened you. They’ll be watching the gates out of Buckkeep. So, think coolly. It could be that your fears are groundless. How would they connect Tom Badgerlock to Hap, let alone know where the boy came from? Take no reckless action. See Chade first and tell him what you fear. And speak to Prince Dutiful. His betrothal is tonight. The lad holds himself well, but his is a thin and brittle façade. See him, reassure him.’ Then he paused and ventured, ‘Perhaps someone else could be dispatched to—’

      ‘No.’ I cut him off firmly. ‘I must go myself. Some of what is there I will take, and the rest I will destroy.’ My mind danced past the charging buck that the Fool had carved into my tabletop. FitzChivalry Farseer’s emblem graced Tom Badgerlock’s board. Even that seemed a threat to me now. Burn it, I decided. Burn the whole cottage to the ground. Leave no trace that I had ever lived there. Even the herbs growing in the garden told too much about me. I should never have left that shell of myself for anyone to nose through; I should never have allowed myself to leave my marks so plainly on anything.

      The Fool patted me on the shoulder. ‘Eat something,’ he suggested. ‘Then wash your face and change your clothes. Make no abrupt decisions. If we hold our course, we’ll survive this, Fitz.’

      ‘Badgerlock,’ I reminded him, and hauled myself to my feet. The roles, I decided, must be adhered to sharply. ‘I beg pardon, my lord. I felt a moment’s faintness, but I am recovered now. I apologize for interrupting your breakfast.’

      For an instant the Fool’s sympathy for me shone naked in his eyes. Then, without a word, he resumed his seat at the table. I refilled his teacup, and he ate in pondering silence. I moved about the room, seeking tasks to busy myself, but his innate tidiness had left me little to do in my role as servant. I suddenly perceived that his neatness was a part of his privacy. He had schooled himself to leave no sign of himself save those that he wished to be seen. It was a discipline I would do well to adopt. ‘Would my lord excuse me for a few moments?’ I asked.

      He set down his cup and thought for a moment. Then, ‘Certainly. I expect to go out shortly, Badgerlock. See that you clear away the breakfast things, bring fresh water for the pitchers, tidy the hearth and bring wood for the fire. Then, I suggest you continue to sharpen your fighting skills with the guardsmen. I shall expect you to accompany me when I ride this afternoon. Please see that you are dressed appropriately.’

      ‘Yes, my lord,’ I agreed quietly. I left him eating and went into my own dim chamber. I considered it quickly. Nothing would I keep here, I decided, save the items appropriate to Tom Badgerlock. I washed my face and flattened my butchered hair. I donned my blue servant’s garb. Then I gathered all my old clothing and saddlepack, the roll of lock-picks and tools that Chade had given me, and the few other items that